The Forfeit Part 51

It had come so simply yet so full of scarcely restrained pa.s.sion.

Would she ever forget? Never, never. Her emotions had been beyond words. She wanted to weep. She wanted to laugh. But more than all she wanted to flee before he could utter another word. She turned to her horse without a word. In a moment she was in the saddle, and had turned the creature about to ride off. But Jeff's voice stayed her.

"Say, little Nan, I----" he broke off. "Oh, I guess I'll eat at the bunkhouse. I haven't time for supper right. I've got to get down to the branding pinch. Say, Nan," a sudden deep urging had filled his voice, and he came to her horse's side and laid a detaining hand upon its reins. "Can I come along up--later? I didn't mean to make you mad. True. I couldn't help it. I---- May I come along--after I get through?"

It had been utterly impossible for her to make articulate reply. Her emotions were too deep, too overwhelming. She had simply nodded her head. And in that trifling movement she knew she had conveyed a sign beyond all misunderstanding.

After that the woman had impelled her. She hurriedly rode off, fearing she knew not what. She knew she fled, incontinently fled. And her first act on arrival home had been to rid herself of the almost mannish suit in which she worked, so that Jeff, when he made his appearance, might find her the woman she really was.

The voices of the men on the veranda reached Nan within the parlor.

She did not want to listen. She told herself so. Besides, she had a perfect right to remain where she was. And, anyway, Bud had no secrets from her. So she placed herself beyond the chance of observation, and remained quiet lest she should lose a word of what the voices were saying.

Bud was talking. His tone and words rumbled pleasantly upon the evening air. His talk was of the round-up. It was the talk of a man wedded to the life of the western plains. It was the talk of a man who is conscious of success achieved in spite of great difficulties and trials. There was a deep note of satisfaction in all he said.

Jeff's voice sounded at intervals. A lighter note. His answers were precise, as was his way. But they lacked the enthusiasm of the other.

It was as though his thoughts were traveling far afield, while his ears subconsciously conveyed the other's talk to a brain ready to formulate adequate reply.

Apparently, however, this abstraction impressed itself upon the other at last, for presently Nan heard her father challenge him in his direct fashion.

"Feelin' beat, eh?"

Nan pictured the steady gaze of her father's deep-set inquiring eyes as he put the question.

"No."

The reply came without hesitation. It was simple, definite. Again the picture presented itself to Nan. Jeff, she felt, was gazing out into the twilight, absorbed in the thoughts which held him. She knew the att.i.tude. She had seen it so often before.

It was Bud's voice which broke the silence that followed.

"Guess the work's pretty tough," he said. "You don't need to fergit you bin a mighty sick man. If you do, why, you'll be li'ble to find yourself on Nan's hands again."

"I couldn't wish for better."

The reply had come on the instant. It must have warned even Bud that he had found a key to the man's abstraction.

"That's so--sure."

The emphasis was unmistakable. Nan waited almost breathlessly in a delicious condition of apprehension.

"Wher's Nan?"

Jeff's demand came sharply.

"Som'eres around inside."

"I came up to see her."

"So?"

"Yes."

The lowing of the cattle in the pastures was dying with the deepening twilight. The calves seemed to have found their mothers and all was contentment. Nan glad of the growing shadows. For her, obscurity the only thing just now.

Jeff's voice again broke the silence. There was something utterly simple in the manner of his words.

"I love Nan, Bud," he said. "I want to tell her so. If she'd marry me, I don't guess there'd be a thing left worth asking for. But I don't guess she will. Why should she? I'm not worth her. Gee! But I want her bad."

Nan buried her face in her hands. Then she drew back, back, far into the dusk of the room. But she could not escape the voices.

Bud's answer came slowly, deliberately. There was a curious note of emotion in it.

"You sure aren't. No man is. Ther' ain't a feller on earth worthy my little Nan. But it's up to her. Guess she's around inside som'eres."

There was the sound of swift footsteps on the veranda. Nan drew further back into the room. The far wall alone stayed her progress.

The door was to her hand, but she made no attempt to avail herself of it. Oh, those delicious moments of terror. It seemed to her as if every joy of life was concentrated in them. Her breath came pantingly.

The moments became insupportable.

Suddenly a figure, tall, slim, filled the open window. Swift as a flash the mind of the girl went back to the long months of nursing when he had lain helpless in her hands. He had been hers then in his helplessness. Now, in his full manhood's strength, he was coming to her again. A choking sensation seized her, a mist grew before her eyes.

"Nan!"

The tone of it The softness. The thrilling pa.s.sion.

"Yes, Jeff."

The answer was low, almost inaudible.

Nor did the man have to search the darkened room. The love which he had for so long thrust aside was--waiting for him.