The Fighting Shepherdess Part 34

"Isn't he a character!" exclaimed a lady in an Alpine hat, delightedly.

Teeters wrapped the lines around the brake and descended leisurely.

"Set on their heads, Old Timers"--to the volunteers who were endeavoring to disentangle the struggling horses--and shook hands with Disston.

"This is Mrs. Rathburn and Miss Rathburn, Clarence--"

Mr. Teeters bowed profoundly, and as he removed his hat his bang fell in his eyes, so that he looked like a performing Shetland pony.

"Much obliged to meet you, ladies," deferentially. Then to Disston, darkly:

"I'll take that from you onct, or twict, maybe,--but if you call me Clarence three times I'll cut your heart out."

Disston grinned understandingly.

Toomey was among those who went to the Prouty House to look at the "bunch of millionaires" waiting on the veranda, and his surprise equalled Teeters' at seeing Disston.

"Say, Hughie--I got a deal on that's a pippin--a pippin. There isn't a flaw in it!" said Toomey confidentially.

"Glad to hear it, j.a.p," Disston replied cordially, and presented him to Mrs. Rathburn and her daughter.

The mother was a small woman of much distinction of appearance. A well-poised manner, together with snow-white hair worn in a smooth moderate roll away from her face, and very black eyes that had a rather hard brilliancy, made her a person to be noticed. Having engineered her own life successfully, her sole interest now lay in engineering that of her daughter.

The last place Mrs. Rathburn would have selected to spend a summer was an isolated ranch in the sagebrush, but propinquity, she knew, had done wonders in friendships that had seemed hopelessly platonic, so, when Hugh urged them to join him, and endeavored to impart some of his own enthusiasm for the country, she a.s.sented.

In another way the daughter was not less noticeable than the mother, though more typically southern, with her soft drawl and appealing manner. Her skin had been so carefully protected since infancy that it was of a dazzling whiteness that might never have known the sunshine.

Her feet were conspicuously small, her hands white, perfectly kept and helpless. Nature had given her the bronze hair that dyers strive for, and her brown eyes corresponded. She was as unlike the other alert self-sufficient young persons of the "millionaire bunch"--who were either dressed for utilitarian purposes only, or in finery of a past mode as could well be imagined.

Miss Rathburn had managed to remain immaculate, while their faces were smudged and streaked with soot and car dust, their hats awry and hair dishevelled. Cool, serene, with a filmy veil thrown back from her hat brim, she rocked idly, utterly unconscious of the eyes of the populace.

"The scenery is grand--Wagnerian! Out here one forgets one's ego, doesn't one?" the lady in the Alpine hat was saying when, leading the party like a bewhiskered gander, the gentleman from Canton, Ohio, dashed to the end of the veranda with his camera ready for action.

"What a picturesque character!" she cried ecstatically, following. "And see how beau-tee-fully she manages those horses!"

The cameras clicked as a young woman sitting very erect on the high spring seat of a wagon and looking straight ahead of her came past the hotel at a brisk trot, holding the reins over four spirited horses.

Disston straightened and asked quickly:

"Who's that, j.a.p? It looks like--"

"Mormon Joe's Kate," Toomey finished. His tone had a sneer in it. "You were very good friends when you left, I remember."

The eyes of both Mrs. Rathburn and her daughter showed surprise when Disston colored.

"That we are not now is her fault entirely," he answered. "How is she?"

Toomey shrugged a shoulder.

"If you mean physically--I should say her health was perfect. No one ever sees her. She lives out in the hills alone with her sheep and a couple of herders."

"How very extraordinary!" Miss Rathburn observed languidly.

"Plucky, I call it," Disston answered.

"They've named her the 'Sheep Queen of Bitter Crick.'" Toomey laughed disagreeably.

"It's curious you've never mentioned her, Hughie, when you've told us about everyone else in the country."

"I didn't think you'd be interested, Beth," he answered stiffly.

Toomey changed the subject and the incident seemed forgotten, but Mrs.

Rathburn's eyes rested upon Hugh frequently with a look that was inquiring and speculative.

Kate's heart always hardened and her backbone stiffened involuntarily the moment she had her first glimpse of Prouty. Invariably it had this effect upon her and to-day was no different from any other. Her eyes narrowed and her nerves tightened as though to meet the attack of an advancing enemy when at the edge of the bench, before she set the brake for the steep descent, she looked upon the town below her.

While her own feeling never altered and her att.i.tude remained as implacable as the day she had sworn vengeance upon it, the bearing of the town had changed considerably. With cold inscrutable eyes she had watched open hostility and active enmity become indifference. Engrossed in its own troubles, Prouty had forgotten her, save when one of her rare visits reminded it of her existence. The comments upon such occasions were mostly of a humorous nature, pertaining to the "Sheep Queen," a t.i.tle which had been bestowed upon her in derision.

They heard exaggerated accounts of her losses through storms and coyotes, knew that she acted as camptender and herder when necessary, continued to live in a sheep wagon, and they presumed that she was still deeply in debt to the mysterious person or persons from whom she had obtained money at the time the bank threatened foreclosure.

She was seldom mentioned except in connection with the murder of Mormon Joe, a story with which the inhabitants occasionally entertained strangers. In other words, she was of no consequence socially or financially.

Looking neither to the right nor to the left as she swung her leaders around the corner, yet no sign of the town's retrogression since her last visit escaped her--any more than did the mean small-town smirk upon the faces of a group of doorway loafers, who commented humorously upon the "Sheep Queen's" arrival.

Yet there were tiny straws which showed that the wind was quartering. A few persons inclined their heads slightly in greeting, while the deference due a customer who paid cash was creeping into the manner of Scales of the Emporium. And there were others.

These small things she noted with satisfaction. It was the kind of coin she demanded in payment for isolation and hardships. She did not want their friendship; she wanted merely their recognition. To force from those who had gone out of their way to insult and belittle her the tacit admission of her success was a portion of the task she had set herself.

Her purpose, and the means of attaining it were as clear in her mind as a piece of war strategy.

Kate gauged her position with intuitive exactness, and could quite impersonally see herself as Prouty saw her. She had no hallucinations on that score and knew that she was a long way yet from the fulfillment of her ambition. When she had reached a point where to decry her success was to proclaim her disparager envious or absurd, she would be satisfied; until then, she considered herself no more successful than the failures about her who yet found room to laugh at her.

Kate now shrugged a shoulder imperceptibly as she noted that another store building was empty. So the tailor had flitted? She recalled the Western adage concerning towns with no Jews in them and smiled faintly.

Two doors below, still another shop was vacant. "To Let" signs were not synonymous with prosperity. Hiram Butefish supported his back against the door jamb in an att.i.tude which did not suggest any pressing business. Mrs. Sudds, who formerly had pa.s.sed Kate with a face that was ostentatiously blank, now stared at her with a certain inquisitive amiability. Major Prouty sitting in front of the post office waved a hand at her that was comparatively friendly. Oh, yes--the wind was beginning to blow from a new direction, undoubtedly.

She stopped in front of the bank, where she kept an account only sufficiently large to pay her current expenses. She had set the brake and was wrapping the lines about them when a curious sound attracted her attention. Looking up she saw approaching the first automobile in Prouty, driven by Mrs. Abram Pantin. Beside her, elated and self-conscious, was Mrs. Jasper Toomey. Kate got down quickly to hold the heads of the leaders, who were snorting at the monster. The machine was of a type which gave the driver the appearance of taking a sitz bath in public. Mrs. Pantin when driving sat up so straight that she looked like a prairie dog. Mrs. Toomey unconsciously imitated her, so they looked like two prairie dogs out for an airing--a thought which occurred to Kate as she watched the approaching novelty.

The sheep woman had not met Mrs. Toomey since the day when the final blow had been given to her faith in human nature. Now while Kate's face was masklike she felt a keen curiosity as to how Time was using the woman who had had so much to do with the molding of her character and future.

She saw Mrs. Toomey's mental start when the latter recognized her, and the momentary hesitation before she drew back far enough not to be seen by Mrs. Pantin, and inclined her head slightly. It was the languid air of a great lady acknowledging the existence of the awed peasantry.

The incident filled Kate with a white fury that was like one of her old-time rages. Yet she was helpless to resent it. Her resentment would mean nothing to anybody, even if she had any way of showing it. It was quite useless at the moment for her to tell herself that Mrs. Toomey was only a pitiful inconsequential little coward, whose action was in keeping with her nature. She knew it to be true, yet she was stirred to her depths by the insult, and if anything more had been needed to keep her steadfast to her purpose, the incident would have accomplished it.

Sensitive to the extent of morbidness--it was impossible for her to ignore the occurrence.

Kate's hands were trembling with the violence of her emotions as she tied a slip noose in a leather strap and secured the horses to the railing. She made a pretence of examining the harness in order to regain sufficient self-possession to transact her business in the bank with the impersonal coolness to which she had schooled herself when it was necessary to enter that inst.i.tution.

Mr. Vernon Wentz at his near-mahogany desk was deep in thought when Kate pa.s.sed him. He bowed absently and she responded in the same manner. It occurred to Mr. Wentz that a time when everyone else was either borrowing, or endeavoring to, she was one of the few customers whose balances appeared ample for their expenses.