the cool night breeze died out under the increasing heat of the early sun. away to the west gossamer melted upon the hillsides. the mountain tops stood out under their eternal snows, above the lower cloud belts. the summer dews on thirsty foliage dried up before their mission was completed. but the wide prairie world stood up refreshed to withstand the day's heat yet to come.
elvine masters was on the veranda of her new home gazing after the receding figure of her husband, who had just left her to discuss with his partner those vital things which they had touched upon at the moment of his arrival yesterday.
everywhere about her the busy life of the ranch was stirring. inside the house the maids were at work garnishing the home which nan had already left spotless. the corrals, which stood out from the shelter of a wood bluff, were claiming attention from several cow-hands. sounds reached her from the region of the bunkhouse, away to the right. then at the barns, and other ranch buildings, the voices of men implied the work that was going forward in their region. away in the distance isolated horsemen were moving about in the apparently aimless fashion of all fence riders, while, dotted about, small bands of cattle proceeded leisurely with the endless task of endeavoring to satisfy the craving of insatiable appetites.
the woman's farewell smile had left her eyes cold as she surveyed the scene. there was no sign of the expressed delight with which she had followed nan at her first inspection of her new home. the recollection of it had even left her. only a certain sense of the irony of it all occupied her. that, and a painful wonder as to when the dread under which she labored would materialize into the shattering of every hope within her heart.
presently a "hand" appeared leading a saddle horse. he was a youngster, a "barn-hand" who only worked around cattle in times of pressure. but he possessed all the air of a cowpuncher, which he ultimately purposed to become. elvine watched his leisurely approach, and remembered the days when she would have saddled her own pony.
the boy displayed no sign of deference. he stood before her chewing a straw with all the unconcern of his kind, his arm linked through the reins, and his hands thrust into the tops of his trousers. he was probably not more than thirteen years of age, but he possessed all the independence bred in the calling of the cattle world.
elvine broke in upon his meditative curiosity as he surveyed the new mistress of the ranch.
"what's your name, boy?" she demanded, in a tone of authority.
but the youngster was not to be startled out of his leisurely regard. an amiable smile upon his unclean face was the preliminary result of the question.
"pete, ma'am," he replied after a moment. "an' around this bum lay-out i mostly reckon to have to do the stunts other folks don't notion."
"chore boy?"
"wal, mebbe that's how i figger on the pay roll. i allow i ain't allus called that way."
the smile had left his eyes. he was talking with the frank candor of one unused to being taken notice of. there was a deep curiosity in the look with which he surveyed her. he had already been told that the boss's wife was a "swell piece," and his youthful mind was eager to verify the opinion.
"how do they call you then?" elvine took the reins and threw them back over the horse's head, and examined the cinching of the saddle with the touch of experience.
"mostly a 'mule-headed bussock,' ma'am. sometimes i allow they change it to 'slap-sided hoboe,' or somethin' more fancy. but that's jest the ignorant bums that ain't got no more learnin' than'll let 'em lose their cents reg'lar at 'draw.' ther's others who don't jest use langwidge--only their feet. then ther's the foreman, lal hobhouse. mebbe you ain't acquainted yet--you bein' new around these parts. he's a fine bully feller till he gits mad. then he's mean, ma'am. guess he's most as mean as a skunk. he needs watching if you want to get on a racket. i don't guess he ever laffed in his life. not even at a cirkis. yep. he's a holy terror when he's mad. he cowhided me t'other day so i ain't sat right in a week. if he was to start in to fix you that way, why----"
"i don't guess he'll cowhide me," said elvine quickly, as she swung herself into the saddle. "i'm not likely go on a racket." then she leaned forward over the horn of the saddle, and smiled down into the unclean face gawking up at her. "how'd you fancy looking after my horses and saddle and things? i mean just look after them for me, and nothing else?"
the boy's eyes lit.
"bully!" he cried eagerly. "that way i wouldn't have to wash lousy clothes for the bunkhouse. would i? then they wouldn't be able to fire rocks at me when i sassed 'em. bully!"
"i'll speak to lal hobhouse about it."
the hope died out of the boy's eyes.
"you won't tell him wot i said, ma'am?" he pleaded. "you see, i was jest settin' you wise, you bein' new around here. it ain't friendly not to put folks wise, is it? he's a bully feller sure, ma'am, an' i ain't got a word agin him. i hain't reely. i wouldn't 'a' sed a word if i'd tho't----"
"don't you worry, boy," elvine cried, as she turned her horse about. "i wouldn't give you away. i wouldn't give anybody away--now. you see, you never know how things of that sort can come back on you."
the obvious relief in the boy's dirty face was more than sufficient to bring back the smile to elvine's eyes, which, for the moment, had become almost painfully serious. but as she rode away leaving the boy gawking after her she quickly returned to the mood which had only been broken by the interlude.
it was an interlude not easily forgotten, however. it had brought home to her a fresh revelation. and it had come in the boy's final appeal not to give him away. a fierce sense of shame surged through her heart. it communicated itself to her eyes, and displayed itself further in the deep flush on her beautiful cheeks. yet its reason must have remained obscure to any observer.
she rode on urging her pony to a gait which set him reaching at his bit. she sat her saddle in a fashion which belonged solely to the prairie. the long stirrups and straight limb. the lightness, and that indescribable something which suggests the single personality of horse and rider.
she had no intention of returning to the ranch house until the noonday meal, and meanwhile it was her purpose to explore something of the vast domain which her husband controlled.
it was curious that her purpose should lead her thus. for somehow all sense of delight in these possessions had passed from her. at one time the thought of his thousands upon thousands of acres had filled her with a world of desire, and pride that she was to share in them. but not now. with every furlong she covered her mood depressed, and her sense of dread increased. she felt as though she were surveying from a great distance the details of the prize she had coveted, but the possession of which was denied her. this--this was the wealth her husband had bestowed upon her, she told herself bitterly, and some greater power, some fatalistic power, purposed to snatch it from her before it reached her hands.
she rode straight for the rising land of the foothills. it almost seemed as though she were drawn thither by some magnetic influence. she had formed no definite decision to travel that way. perhaps it was the result of a subconscious realization of the monotony of the rolling tawny grass-land on the flat. the distant view of grazing cattle failed to break it. the occasional station shack and corral. the hills rose up in sharp contrast and great variety. there were the woodland bluffs. there were little trickling streams. there was that sense of the wild beyond. perhaps it was all this. or perhaps it was the call of a memory, which drew her beyond her power of resistance.
she had long since left all beaten trails, and her way took her over the wiry growth of seeding grass. she had arrived at the bank of a narrow reed-grown creek, which meandered placidly in the deeps of a trough between two waves of grass-land. it had been her intention to cross it, but the marshy nature of its bed deterred her. so she rode on until the rising ground abruptly mounted and merged into the two great hills which formed the portals through which the stream had found an outlet from its mountain prison to the freedom of the plains beyond.
for a moment she paused at the edge of a woodland bluff which mounted the slope to her right, and crowned the hillock with a thatch of dark green pine foliage. she gazed up with questioning eyes. and the familiarity of the tattered foliage left her without enthusiasm for its beauty. then she gazed ahead along the course of the stream. and it was obvious that she was in some doubt as to whether she should still proceed.
after a moment of deep consideration she lifted her reins and her horse moved forward. then, suddenly, he was still again, held with a tightened rein. the soft but rapid plod of galloping hoofs came out of the distance. it was coming toward her from the hills, and an unaccountable but overwhelming desire to beat a hasty retreat took possession of her.
but the action never matured. she was still facing the hills when a horseman emerged from a narrow pathway which split up converging bluffs. he was riding at a great pace, and was heading straight for the bank of the river where she had paused.
elvine remained where she was. she made no effort either to proceed or retreat. somehow curiosity had caught her up and left her with no other emotion. she regarded the stranger with searching eyes. at the moment his features were too indistinct to obtain an impression. but his general appearance left nothing to question. he was a cow-hand without a doubt. his open shirt and loose waistcoat, his chapps, and the plaited rawhide rope which hung from the horn of his saddle. these were sufficient evidence. but for the rest, the wide flapping brim of his hat left her no estimate of the face beneath it.
he came on. he even swerved his horse on one side as though to pass her without pausing. elvine's pony stirred restlessly in a desire to join the stranger. then, in a flash, the whole position was changed. the man reined up his horse with a heavy "yank" which almost flung it on its haunches, and a pair of fierce black eyes were staring into the woman's face with a light of startled recognition shining in their depths.
"you!" he cried, without any other form of greeting. and into the word he flung a world of harsh meaning.
elvine's reply was a blank stare, which had in it not a fraction of the recognition he displayed. not for an instant did her regard waver. it was full of a haughty displeasure at the nature of the greeting. nor did she deign reply.
the man sat for a moment as though incredulous. then he thrust his hat back from his head, displaying the brutal ugliness of his face. elvine observed the coarse moustache, the lean cheeks, the low forehead and vicious eyes. the lips were hidden behind their curtain of hair.
"say, kind o' fergotten--ain't yer?" he demanded. then the woman's perfectly fitting riding suit seemed to attract his attention. "gee," he exclaimed, "wher' you get that dandy rig?" but even as he spoke a change in his expression came when he recognized the horse elvine was riding. suddenly he raised one hand and smoothed the tangle of moustache with a downward gesture. it was a gesture implying complete lack of comprehension. "well, i'm darned!"
"you'll be more than that if you don't pass on to your work, whatever that may be."
the coldness of the woman's tone matched the light in her dark eyes. every ounce of her courage had been summoned to meet the situation.
but the man displayed not the slightest regard for the threat. the incredulity of his expression changed. and the change was subtle. it was perfectly apparent, however, to the woman. and she nerved herself for what was to come. an evil smile grew in the piercing black eyes, as the man regarded the beauty which, with him, was a long stored up memory.
"say, when d'you quit orrville way?" he cried derisively. "maybe you hadn't a heap o' use for it when your man, bob, got shot up. maybe you didn't need to stop around after you got your hands on the dollars i guess he left lying around. say, it beats hell meetin' you this way."
but elvine was no longer laboring under the shock of the encounter. she had no longer any thought of the remoteness of the spot, or the obviously brutish man with whom she was confronted. she set about dealing with the situation with a desperate courage. "i don't know if you're mad, or only--drunk," she said, with icy sharpness. "but you're on my husband's land, and i suppose you work for him. what's your name? i need to know it so i can tell him of your insolence. jeffrey masters is not the man to allow his wife to be insulted with impunity by one of his cattlemen. it will be my business to see to it that he is told--everything. you were riding that way." she pointed the way she had come. "i s'pose toward the ranch house. let me pass!"
she moved her horse as though to proceed. there was no sign of fear in her. no haste. at that moment her dignity was superb. every word she had spoken had been calculated, and the sting she had conveyed with her information had not been overdone. she looked for its effect, which came with a dramatic change in the man's whole demeanor. his evil face lost its smile, and, in a moment, he had bared his bristling head. but even as elvine beheld these things she understood the curious expression which he seemed powerless to banish from his ferretty eyes.
"you're mrs. masters, ma'am?" the fellow cried. "say, ma'am, i'm just kind o' knocked all of a mush. i hadn't a notion. i truly hadn't. guess i took you for a leddy i kind o' remember up orrville way. an' the likeness is jest that o' two beans. i'm beat, ma'am, beat sore. i wouldn't have offered you insult for a farm. i'm sorry. i'd heerd the boss's wife was around, but i didn't figger i----" then he replaced his hat, and made as though to pass on. but he remained where he was. "y'see, i was ridin' in about last night. we lost another bunch. on'y ten cows and their calves, but i had to make a report."
"another raid?"
in a moment the woman caught him up. and her attitude had taken on a calculated change.
the man observed her interest, and took prompt advantage of it.
"yep. an' things are lookin' pretty bad. this gang's jest workin' how, an' when, an' wher' they fancy. if the boss 'ud on'y listen to me he'd leave no stock around the outstations. it's devilish luck, ma'am, that's what it is--devilish."
elvine remained lost in thought, and the man's narrow eyes never left the profile she presented to him. when she turned to him again, however, his whole attitude was one of bland humility.
"you can ride back to your station," she declared, with perfect authority. "i'll convey your report. what's your name? you didn't give it me."
"sikkem. sikkem bruce. i'm out at spruce crossing, back ther' in the hills. it's jest a piece. mebbe three miles, wher' this stream makes a joining with the gophir creek. say----"
"well?" elvine inquired as he paused.
"you ain't makin' no complaint to the boss, ma'am? it was jest a darn fool mistake of mine. it surely was. i ken see it was. i can't figger how i mistook you fer the lady i was thinkin' of. y'see, she was no account anyway. she was jest one o' them vampire sorts who'd sell her soul fer a price, yep, and sell any man's life that way, too. y'see, that's how i come to know her. she handed over a bunch o' guys, scallawags, sure, who didn't need nothin' better, fer the price o' ten thousand dollars. she corralled the information, an' drove her weak-livered man to do the lousy work. i tell you, ma'am, a woman who gits that low is pretty mean. you was sure right to figger on an insult when i guessed you was that 'piece.' but i didn't mean it that way, i sure didn't."
the marble coldness of elvine's face as she listened to the man's words gave no indication of any feeling behind it. at the end, however, she forced a smile to her lips.
"you can forget it," she said. then she added deliberately: "i shall not inform my husband."
"thank you, ma'am. then i guess i'll get right on back--if you'll carry in the report. y'see, we're huntin' the trail. that-a-way i'll be able to join up with the boys."
"yes."
the man hesitated as though waiting for her to depart first, but as she made no movement, and offered no further word, he was forced to the initiative. with an astonishing deference, which, perhaps, was even too elaborate, he wheeled his horse about and rode off.
elvine watched him until he was swallowed up by the narrow pathway between the bluffs, then she turned back and rode slowly homeward.
but the face which was now turned down the river was no longer the face which had confronted sikkem bruce. it was ghastly. it was the face of a soul-tortured woman.
"she was jest one of them vampire sorts who'd sell her soul fer a price, yes, an' sell any man's life that way, too."
the words, even the tones of the man's voice dinned in her brain, and she knew that the legions of fate had appeared upon a fresh horizon.
