Part 5 (1/2)
”Right, you have. But them was particular bad cases. I'm not advisin'
thet way.... Son, it's close to my heart--this hope I have thet you'll--”
The full voice quavered and broke. It would indeed have been a hardened youth who could not have felt something of the deep and unutterable affection in the old man. Jack Belllounds put an arm around his father's shoulder.
”Dad, I'll make you proud of me yet. Give me a chance. And don't be sore if I can't do wonders right at first.”
”Son, you shall have every chance. An' thet reminds me. Do you remember Columbine?”
”I should say so,” replied Jack, eagerly. ”They spoke of her in Kremmling. Where is she?”
”I reckon somewheres about. Jack, you an' Columbine are to marry.”
”Marry! Columbine and me?” he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed.
”Yes. You're my son an' she's my adopted daughter. I won't split my property. An' it's right she had a share. A fine, strong, quiet, pretty la.s.s, Jack, an' she'll make a good wife. I've set my heart on the idee.”
”But Columbine always hated me.”
”Wal, she was a kid then an' you teased her. Now she's a woman, an'
willin' to please me. Jack, you'll not buck ag'in' this deal?”
”That depends,” replied Jack. ”I'd marry 'most any girl you wanted me to. But if Columbine were to flout me as she used to--why, I'd buck sure enough.... Dad, are you sure she knows nothing, suspects nothing of where you--you sent me?”
”Son, I swear she doesn't.”
”Do you mean you'd want us to marry soon?”
”Wal, yes, as soon as Collie would think reasonable. Jack, she's shy an'
strange, an' deep, too. If you ever win her heart you'll be richer than if you owned all the gold in the Rockies. I'd say go slow. But contrariwise, it'd mebbe be surer to steady you, keep you home, if you married right off.”
”Married right off!” echoed Jack, with a laugh. ”It's like a story. But wait till I see her.”
At that very moment Columbine was sitting on the topmost log of a high corral, deeply interested in the scene before her.
Two cowboys were in the corral with a saddled mustang. One of them carried a canvas sack containing tools and horseshoes. As he dropped it with a metallic clink the mustang snorted and jumped and rolled the whites of his eyes. He knew what that clink meant.
”Miss Collie, air you-all goin' to sit up thar?” inquired the taller cowboy, a lean, supple, and powerful fellow, with a rough, red-blue face, hard as a rock, and steady, bright eyes.
”I sure am, Jim,” she replied, imperturbably.
”But we've gotta hawg-tie him,” protested the cowboy.
”Yes, I know. And you're going to be gentle about it.”
Jim scratched his sandy head and looked at his comrade, a little gnarled fellow, like the bleached root of a tree. He seemed all legs.
”You hear, you Wyomin' galoot,” he said to Jim. ”Them shoes goes on Whang right gentle.”
Jim grinned, and turned to speak to his mustang. ”Whang, the law's laid down an' we wanta see how much hoss sense you hev.”