Essential Western Novels - Volume 4. Max Brand
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oil and that, prompted by silly vanity, he was trying to pretend to be something that he was not. The more she saw of him and the longer she talked with him, the more convinced she became, however, that he was genuine at heart; and before they rode into camp that night she would have had to have admitted, had she asked herself the question, that she had found Marvel tremendously congenial and that she was more than a little interested in him.
Nor was she alone the troubled victim of an awakened interest. Perhaps a consciousness of the girl's personality had been developing within Marvel during the several days that he had known her, but it had not been until this afternoon that it had made itself objectively felt by him. It came suddenly, like an awakening, and with it a realization that this girl, a type such as he had never before met, had achieved a place in his thoughts that he had believed reserved forever for another.
The man's loyalty was inherent and almost entirely apart from any objective mental processes, so that the realization of his interest in Kay came at first in the nature of a distinct shock. He tried to put her out of his mind by conjuring the features of the girl to whom he believed he owed all the loyalty of his heart and mind; but if the features of the absent one faded easily to be replaced by those of a little blonde in blue overalls, it was not entirely surprising, for the one was close and very real, while the other he had not seen for years.
When she had gone away there had been no understanding, only in his own heart; but to that understanding he had always been loyal, and upon it had been built a secret dream castle of hope and longing.
Some day she would come back and he would claim her, or, if she did not, he would go after her wherever she might be; and so it was when he looked at Kay and thoughts that he could not govern came into his mind, he felt a distinct sense of disloyalty to the other; and then Fate stepped in and upset the applecart, for she caused him to recall the moment that the girl had clung to him with both arms about his neck. He felt again the soft, lithe body pressed against his own; and in that instant he was lost. But he tried not to admit it even to himself; and inwardly he swore that he would never speak of it to her, or, at least, until he had laid his heart at the feet of the other girl. If she would not have it; then he could take it to Kay White with a clear conscience. But these were only dreams. When he brought his reason to bear upon the subject, he smiled cynically for he knew that there was little likelihood that Kay White would want his heart after he had brought it to her.
"A guy sure looks funny," he thought, "running around with his heart in his hand, offering it to different girls. That's what comes of reading poetry, I guess."
As the party sat around the fire that night after supper spinning yarns and discussing the events of the trip, it was noticeable that Cory Blaine had lost some of the suave and courteous manner of the host, and that he was especially short and almost disagreeable in the few remarks he was forced to address to Marvel.
The latter expressed his liking for Baldy. "Want to sell him, Blaine?" he asked.
"No," replied Cory shortly.
"I've taken a sort of fancy to him," said Bruce. "I'll give you more than he's worth."
"He wouldn't be much good to you," said Butts, "unless you hired me to go along and top him for you every morning."
"Maybe I could learn to ride him," said Bruce. "I've learned lots of things since I've been up here. I'll give you seventy- five dollars for him, Blaine; and he aint worth over fifty, with the way the cattle business is today."
"What do you know about the cattle business?" demanded Blaine.
"Just what I hear," replied Marvel, "and since I've been out here I aint heard anything very good about it."
"That Baldy horse is worth a hundred dollars if he's worth a cent," said Cory, his avarice getting the better of his ill temper.
Marvel reached in his pocket and drew out a roll of bills. He handed Blaine five twenties. "Here you are," he said.
Blaine hesitated a moment and then reached out and took the money. "Baldy's yourn," he said.
As Bruce returned the roll of bills to his pocket, he commenced a hurried search of all the pockets in his clothes.
"Lost something?" asked Bud.
"Yes, I can't find my lucky tooth. I thought I had it this morning."
"Lucky tooth?" asked Dora.
"Sure," said Bruce. "Horse's tooth—better than a rabbit's foot."
"I never heard of such a thing," said Birdie Talbot.
"Live and learn," Marvel told her. "Now I'll have to find another one. Wouldn't do without a horse's tooth for anything."
One by one the members of the party rose and sought their blankets until only Kay White and Bruce Marvel were left sitting gazing into the glowing embers of the cook fire; but neither one felt the silence, and so they sat for some time until Kay finally roused herself and rose. "We both better go to bed," she said; "we have a long, hard ride tomorrow."
"Yes," he said, rising.
As she turned to go she paused. "Why did you buy Baldy?" she asked.
"He saved your life," he said simply.
She stood looking at him for a moment, the firelight playing on her golden hair and upon his bronzed face. Then she turned and walked away into the darkness, making no comment.
Marvel lit a cigarette, strolled over to the chuck wagon and picked up his bedroll; then he walked over and put it down close to where Cory Blaine lay.
After he had unrolled it, he went back to the fire and threw some more wood upon it before he removed his boots and crawled into his blankets.
Silence had fallen upon the camp, a silence broken only by the heavy breathing of some of the sleepers and the distant yapping of a coyote.
A half hour passed. The fire was still burning merrily. Bruce Marvel rose upon one elbow and listened attentively. Slowly he sat up and looked about the camp; then he reached over and picked up one of Cory Blaine's boots, where it lay under the edge of the sleeper's blankets. Taking careful and deliberate aim, he threw the boot into the fire; then he shouted loudly, "Get out of here, you!" whereupon Blaine and the other men awoke and sat up on their blankets.
"What's eatin' you?" demanded Blaine.
"There was a coyote sneaking around right in camp here," said Marvel, "and I threw my boot at him."
Blaine grunted and lay down again; and once more quiet reigned over the sleeping camp, and the smell of burning leather rose upward from the dying camp fire.
––––––––
IX
THE SORREL COLT
BEFORE dawn broke the cook was astir, growling and grumbling among his pots and kettles; and then Cory Blaine awoke and reached for his boots, but he found only one. He looked about the camp in all directions and then he reached over and shook Marvel by the shoulder. "Say," he demanded, as the sleeper awoke, "who the hell's boot did you throw at that coyote?"
Marvel sat up and turned back the edge of his bed, revealing a pair of natty English riding boots. "By golly, Blaine," he exclaimed, "I'm awfully sorry. I must have thrown one of yours by mistake. I'll get into mine and go out and find it for you."
"It's funny how you could get hold of mine instead of your own," grumbled Cory.
"Isn't it?" agreed Marvel.
After Bruce had pulled on his boots he searched the camp, but no boot could he find. He questioned the cook and the cook helped him in the search, but all to no avail. Then Cory Blaine joined them with one foot bootless.
"The son-of-a-gun must have grabbed it and run off with it," suggested the cook.