Chapter XII.

       The Dance

       Table of Contents

      The day after Fraser changed his quarters, Dick France rode up to the Howard ranch. Without alighting, he nodded casually to Alec, and then to his guest.

      “Hello, Steve! How’s the shoulder?”

      “Fine and dandy.”

      “You moved, I see.” The puncher grinned.

      “If you see it for yourself, I’ll not attempt to deny it.”

      “Being stood in the corner some more, looks like! Little Willie been telling some more lies?”

      “Come in, Dick, and I’ll put you wise.”

      Steve went over the story again. When he mentioned the Squaw Creek raid, he observed that his two friends looked quickly at each other and then away. He saw, however, that Dick took his pledge in regard to the raiders at face value, without the least question of doubt. He made only one comment on the situation.

      “If Jed has served notice that he’s going after you, Steve, he’ll ce’tainly back the play. What’s more, he won’t be any too particular how he gets you, just so he gets you. He may come a-shooting in the open. Then, again, he may not. All according to how the notion strikes him.”

      “That’s about it,” agreed Howard.

      “While it’s fresh on my mind, I’ll unload some more comfort. You’ve got an enemy in this valley you don’t know about.”

      “The one that shot me?”

      “I ain’t been told that. I was to say, ‘One enemy more than he knows of.’”

      “Who told you to say it?”

      “I was to forget to tell you that, Steve.”

      “Then I must have a friend more than I know of, too.”

      “I ain’t so sure about that. You might call her a hostile friend.”

      “It’s a lady, then. I can guess who.”

      “Honest, I didn’t mean to tell you, Steve. It slipped out.”

      “I won’t hold it against you.”

      “She sent for me last night, and this morning I dropped round. Now, what do you reckon she wanted with me?”

      “Give it up.”

      “I’m to take a day off and ride around among the boys, so as to see them before Jed does. I’m to load ‘em up with misrepresentations about how you and the sheriff happen to be working in cahoots. I gathered that the lady is through with you, but she don’t want your scalp collected by the boys.”

      “I’m learning to be thankful for small favors,” Fraser said dryly. “She figures me up a skunk, but hates to have me massacreed in her back yard. Ain’t that about it, Dick?”

      “Somewheres betwixt and between,” France nodded. “Say, you lads going to the dance at Millikan’s?”

      “Didn’t know there was one.”

      “Sure. Big doings. Monday night. Always have a dance after the spring round-up. Jed and his friends will be there—that ought to fetch you!” Dick grinned.

      “I haven’t noticed any pressing invitation to my address yet,” said Steve.

      “I’m extending it right now. Millikan told me to pass the word among the boys. Everybody and his neighbor invited.” Dick lit a cigar, and gathered up his reins. “So-long, boys. I got to be going.” Over his shoulder he fired another joyous shot as he cantered away. “I reckon that hostile friend will be there, too, Steve, if that’s any inducement.”

      Whether it was an inducement is not a matter of record, but certain it is that the Texan found it easy to decide to go. Everybody in the valley would be there, and absence on his part would be construed as weakness, even as a confession of guilt. He had often observed that a man’s friends are strong for him only when he is strong for himself.

      Howard and his guest drove to Millikan’s Draw, for the wound of the latter was still too new to stand so long a horseback ride. They arrived late, and the dance was already in full swing. As they stabled and fed the team, they could hear the high notes of the fiddles and the singsong chant of the caller.

      “Alemane left. Right han’ t’yer pardner, an’ gran’ right and left. Ev-v-rybody swing.”

      The ranch house was a large one, the most pretentious in the valley. A large hall opened into a living room and a dining room, by means of large double doors, which had been drawn back, so as to make one room of them.

      As they pushed their way through the crowd of rough young fellows who clustered round the door, as if afraid their escape might be cut off, Fraser observed that the floor was already crowded with dancers.

      The quadrille came to an end as he arrived, and, after they had seated their partners, red-faced perspiring young punchers swelled the knot around the door.

      Alec stayed to chaff with them, while the Texan sauntered across the floor and took a seat on one of the benches which lined the walls. As he did so, a man and his partner, so busy in talk with each other that they had not observed who he was, sat down beside him in such position that the young woman was next him. Without having looked directly at either of them, Fraser knew that the girl was Arlie Dillon, and her escort Jed Briscoe. She had her back half turned toward him, so that, even after she was seated she did not recognize her neighbor.

      Steve smiled pleasantly, and became absorbed in a rather noisy bout of repartee going on between one swain and his lass, not so absorbed, however, as not to notice that he and his unconscious neighbors were becoming a covert focus of attention. He had already noticed a shade of self-consciousness in the greeting of those whom he met, a hint of a suggestion that he was on trial. Among some this feeling was evidently more pronounced. He met more than one pair of eyes that gave back to his genial nod cold hostility.

      At such an affair as this, Jed Briscoe was always at his best. He was one of the few men in the valley who knew how to waltz well, and music and rhythm always brought out in him a gay charm women liked. His lithe grace, his assurance, his ease of manner and speech, always differentiated him from the