The Ranchman Part 13

He looked gravely at her.

"The porter threw them out of the window," he said. "That is, I gave him orders to."

"What?" she said, perplexed. "I don't understand. What did the porter throw out of the window?"

"My dude clothes," he said.

So he _had_ observed the ridicule in her eyes.

She met his gaze, and both laughed.

He had been curious about her all along, and he artfully questioned her about Westwood, gradually drawing from her the rather unexciting details of her life. Yet these details were chiefly volunteered, Taylor noticed, and did not result entirely from his questions.

Carrington's name came into the discussion, also, and Parsons. Taylor discovered that Carrington and Parsons had been partners in many business deals, and that they had come to Dawes because the town offered many possibilities. The girl quoted Carrington's words; Taylor was convinced that she knew nothing of the character of the business the men had come to Dawes to transact.

Their talk strayed to minor subjects and to those of great importance, ranging from a discussion of prairie hens to sage comment upon certain abstruse philosophy. Always, however, the personal note was dominant and the personal interest acute.

That atmosphere-the deep interest of each for the other-made their conversation animated. For half the time the girl paid no attention to Taylor's words. She watched him when he talked, noting the various shades of expression of his eyes, the curve of his lips, wondering at the deep music of his voice. She marveled that at first she had thought him uninteresting and plain.

For she had discovered that he was rather good-looking; that he was endowed with a natural instinct to reach accurate and logical conclusions; that he was quiet-mannered and polite-and a gentleman. Her first impressions of him had not been correct, for during their talk she discovered through casual remarks, that Taylor had been educated with some care, that his ancestors were of that st.u.r.dy American stock which had made the settling of the eastern New-World wilderness possible, and that there was in his manner the unmistakable gentleness of good breeding.

However, Taylor's first impressions of the girl had endured without amendations. At a glance he had yielded to the spell of her, and the intimate and informal conversation carried on between them; the flashes of personality he caught merely served to convince him of her desirability.

Twice during their talk Martha cleared her throat significantly and loudly, trying to attract their attention.

The efforts bore no fruit, and Martha might have been entirely forgotten if she had not finally got to her feet and laid a hand on Marion's shoulder.

"I's gwine to lie down a spell, honey," she said. "You-all don't need no third party to entertain you. An' I's powerful tiahd." And over the girl's shoulder she smiled broadly and sympathetically at Taylor.

The sun was filling the western level with a glowing, golden haze when Miss Harlan got to her feet and announced that she was going home.

"It's the first day I have really enjoyed," she told Taylor as she sat in the saddle, looking at him. He had got up and was standing at the porch edge. "That is, it is the first enjoyable day I have pa.s.sed since I have been here," she added.

"I wouldn't say that I've been exactly bored myself," he grinned at her.

"But I'm not so sure about Friday; for if you come Friday the chances are that my ankle will be well again, and I'll have to make myself scarce. You see, my excuse will be gone."

Martha was sitting on her horse close by, and her eyes were dancing.

"Don' you go an' bust your haid, Mr. Taylor!" she warned. "I knows somebuddy that would be powerful sorry if that would happen to you!"

"Martha!" said Marion severely. But her eyes were eloquent as they met Taylor's twinkling ones; and she saw a deep color come into Taylor's cheeks.

Taylor watched her until she grew dim in the distance; then he turned and faced the tall young puncher, who had stepped upon the porch and had been standing near.

The puncher grinned. "Takin' 'em off now, boss?" he asked.

He pointed to the bandages on Taylor's right foot. In one of the young puncher's hands was Taylor's right boot.

"Yes," returned Taylor.

He sat down in the rocker he had occupied all afternoon, and the young puncher removed the bandages, revealing Taylor's bare foot and ankle, with no bruise or swelling to mar the white skin.

Taylor drew on the sock which the puncher drew from the boot; then he pulled on the boot and stood up.

The puncher was grinning hugely, but no smile was on Taylor's face.

"It worked, boss," said the puncher; "she didn't tumble. I thought I'd laff my head off when I seen her fixin' the pillow for you-an' your foot not hurt more than mine. You ought to be plumb tickled, pullin' off a trick like that!"

"I ain't a heap tickled," declared Taylor glumly. "There's no fun in fooling _her_!"

Which indicated that Taylor's thoughts were now serious.

CHAPTER XII-LIFTING THE MASK

Elam Parsons awoke early in the morning following that on which Marion Harlan's visit to the Arrow occurred. He lay for a long time smiling at the ceiling, with a feeling that something pleasurable was in store for him, but not able to determine what that something was.

It was not long, however, before Parsons remembered.

When he had got out of bed the previous morning he had discovered the absence of Marion and Martha. Also, he found that two of the horses were missing-Marion's, and one of the others he had personally bought.

Parsons spent the day in Dawes. Shortly before dusk he got on his horse and rode homeward. Dismounting at the stable, he noted that the two absent horses had not come in. He grinned disagreeably and went into the house. He emerged almost instantly, for Marion and Martha had not returned.

Later he saw them, Marion leading, coming up the slope that led to the level upon which the house stood.

Marion had retired early, and after she had gone to her room Parsons had questioned Martha.

Twice while getting into his clothes this morning Parsons chuckled audibly. There was malicious amus.e.m.e.nt in the sound.

Once he caught himself saying aloud:

"I knew it would come, sooner or later. And she's picked out the clodhopper! This will tickle Carrington!"

Again he laughed-such a laugh as the good people of Westwood might have used had they known what Parsons knew-that Marion Harlan had visited a stranger at his ranchhouse-a lonely place, far from prying eyes.

Parsons hated the girl as heartily as he had hated her father. He hated her because of her close resemblance to her parent; and he had hated Larry Harlan ever since their first meeting.

Parsons likewise had no affection for Carrington. They had been business a.s.sociates for many years, and their a.s.sociation had been profitable for both; but there was none of that respect and admiration which marks many partnerships.

On several occasions Carrington had betrayed greediness in the division of the spoils of their ventures. But Carrington was the strong man, ruthless and determined, and Parsons was forced to nurse his resentment in silence. He meant some day, however, to repay Carrington, and he lost no opportunity to hara.s.s him. And yet it had been Parsons who had brought Carrington to Westwood two years before. He knew Carrington; he knew something of the big man's way with women, of his merciless treatment of them. And he had invited Carrington to Westwood, hoping that the big man would add Marion Harlan to his list of victims.

So far, Carrington had made little progress. This fact, contrary to Parsons' principles, had afforded the man secret enjoyment. He liked to see Carrington squirm under disappointment. He antic.i.p.ated much pleasure in watching Carrington's face when he should tell him where Marion had been the day before.

He breakfasted alone-early-chuckling his joy. And shortly after he left the table he was on a horse, riding toward Dawes.