Sundown Slim Part 7

"John Corliss is not usually interested in our sheep," said the girl.

"No. Of the sheep he knows nothing." And the old herder smiled. "But many times he look out there," he added, pointing toward the Loring rancho.

"He was afraid father would catch him talking to one of the herders,"

laughed the girl.

"The vaquero Corlees he afraid of not even the bear, I think, Senorita."

Eleanor Loring laughed. "Don't you let father catch you calling him a bear!" she cautioned, provoking the old herder to immediate apology and a picturesque explanation of the fact that he had referred not to the patron, but the grizzly.

"All right, Fernando. I'll not forget to tell the patron that you called him a bear."

The old herder grinned and waved farewell as she mounted and rode down the trail. Practical in everyday affairs, he untied his bandanna and neatly folded and replaced it among his effects. As he came out of the tent he picked up his hat. He was no longer the cavalier, but a stoop-shouldered, shriveled little Mexican herder. He slouched out toward the flock and called his son to dinner. No, it was not so many years--was not the Senorita but twenty years old?--since he had wooed the Senora Loring, then a slim dark girl of the people, his people, but now the wealthy Senora, wife of his patron. Ah, yes! It was good that she should have the comfortable home and the beautiful daughter. He had nothing but his beloved sheep, but did they not belong to his Senorita?

At the ford the girl took the trail to the uplands, deciding to visit the farthest camp first, and then, if she had time, to call at one or two other camps on her way back to the rancho. As the trail grew steeper, she curbed the impatient Challenge to a steadier pace and rode leisurely to the level of the timber. On the park-like level, clean-swept between the boles of the great pines, she again put Challenge to a lope until she came to the edge on the upper mesa. Then she drew up suddenly and held the horse in.

Far out on the mesa was the figure of a man, on foot. Toward him came a horse without bridle or saddle. She recognized the figure as that of John Corliss, and she wondered why he was on foot and evidently trying to coax a stray horse toward him. Presently she saw Corliss reach out slowly and give the horse something from his hand. Still she was puzzled, and urging Challenge forward, drew nearer. The stray, seeing her horse, p.r.i.c.ked up its ears, swung round stiffly, and galloped off.

Corliss turned and held up his hand, palm toward her. It was their old greeting; a greeting that they had exchanged as boy and girl long before David Loring had become recognized as a power to be reckoned with in the Concho Valley.

"Peace?" she queried, smiling, as she rode up.

"Why not, Nell?"

"Oh, cattle and sheep, I suppose. There's no other reason, is there?"

Corliss was silent, thinking of his brother Will.

"Unless--Will--" she said, reading his thought.

He shook his head, "That would be no reason for--for our quarreling, would it?"

She laughed. "Why, who has quarreled? I'm sure I haven't."

"But you don't seem the same--since Will left."

"Neither do you, John. You haven't called at the rancho for--well, about a year."

"And then I was told to stay away even longer than that."

"Oh, you mustn't mind Dad. He growls--but he won't bite."

Corliss glanced up at her. His steady gray eyes were smiling, but his lips were grave. "Would it make any difference if I did come?"

The girl's dark face flushed and her eyes sparkled. "Lots! Perhaps you and Dad could agree to stop growling altogether. But we won't talk about it. I'd like to know what you are doing up here afoot?"

"Wouldn't tell you for a dollar," he replied, smiling. "My horse is over there--near the timber. The rest of the band are at the waterhole."

"Oh, but you will tell me!" she said. "And before we get back to the canon."

"I wasn't headed that way--" he began; but she interrupted quickly.

"Of course. I'm not, either." Then she glanced at him with mischief scintillating in her dark eyes. "Fernando told me you were talking with him this morning. I don't see that it has done you much good."

His perplexity was apparent in his silence.

"Fernando is--is polite," she a.s.serted, wheeling her horse.

Corliss stood gazing at her unsmilingly. "I want to be," he said presently.

"Oh, John! I--you always take things so seriously. I was just 'joshing' you, as Fernando says. Of course you do! Won't you shake hands?"

He strode forward. The girl drew off her gauntlet and extended her hand. "Let's begin over again," she said as he shook hands with her.

"We've both been acting."

Before she was aware of his intent, he bowed his head and kissed her fingers. She drew her hand away with a little cry of surprise. She was pleased, yet he mistook her expression.

He flushed and, confused, drew back. "I--I didn't mean it," he said, as though apologizing for his gallantry.

The girl's eyes dilated for an instant. Then she laughed with all the joyous _abandon_ of youth and absolute health. "You get worse and worse," she said, teasingly. "Do go and have another talk with Fernando, John. Then come and tell me all about it."

Despite her teasing, Corliss was beginning to enjoy the play. As a rule undemonstrative, he was when moved capable of intense feeling, and the girl knew it. She saw a light in his eyes that she recognized; a light that she remembered well, for once when they were boy and girl together she had dared him to kiss her, and had not been disappointed.

"You are cross this morning," she said, making as though to go.

"Well, I've begun over again, Nell. You wait till I get Chinook and we'll ride home together."

"Oh, but I'm--you're not going that way," she mocked.

"Yes, I am--and so are you. If you won't wait, I'll catch you up, anyway. You daren't put Challenge down the canon trail faster than a walk."

"I daren't? Then, catch me!"

She wheeled her pony and sped toward the timber. Corliss, running heavily in his high-heeled boots, caught up his own horse and leaped to the saddle as Chinook broke into a run. The young rancher knew that the girl would do her best to beat him to the canon level. He feared for her safety on the ragged trail below them.

Chinook swung down the trail taking the turns without slackening his speed and Corliss, leaning in on the curves, dodged the sweeping branches.

Arrived at the far edge of the timber, he could see the girl ahead of him, urging Challenge down the rain-gutted trail at a lope. As she pulled up at an abrupt turn, she waved to him. He accepted the challenge and, despite his better judgment, set spurs to Chinook.

Round the next turn he reined up and leaped from his horse. Below him he saw Challenge, riderless, and galloping along the edge of the hillside. On the trail lay Eleanor Loring, her black hair vivid against the gray of the shale. He plunged toward her and stooping caught her up in his arms. "Nell! Nell!" he cried, smoothing back her hair from her forehead. "G.o.d, Nell! I--I didn't mean it."

Her eyelids quivered. Then she gasped. He could feel her trembling.

Presently her eyes opened and a faint smile touched her white lips.

"I'm all right. Challenge fell--and I jumped clear. Struck my head.

Don't look at me like that! I'm not going to die."

"I'm--I'm mighty glad, Nell!" he said, helping her to a seat on the rock against which she had fallen.

Her hands were busy with her hair. He found her hat and handed it to her. "If my head wasn't just splitting, I'd like to laugh. You are the funniest man alive! I couldn't speak, but I heard you call to me and tell me you didn't mean it! Then you say you are mighty glad I'm alive. Doesn't that sound funny enough to bring a person to life again?"