Man to Man Page 23

  CHAPTER XXIII

  STEVE RIDES BY THE TEMPLE PLACE

  "Dear me, Mr. Man! How savage you do look!"

  Steve started and whirled. No; this time he was not dreaming. It wasTerry.

  Terry laughed lightly, deliciously. She had grown prettier. She hadlearned a new way to smile. No, it was just the old way, after all.But she had discovered a new way to do her hair, an amazingly charmingway. Her lips were redder than ever before; her eyes were gayer andgrayer and softer and sweeter. Her voice tinkled with new, thrillingmusic. She was just exactly perfect in Steve Packard's eyes.

  "You're super," said Steve. "You're superlative. You haven't done athing all these long, weary months except grow more devilishlyattractive."

  "Are you as savage as you looked?" she asked swiftly.

  For a brief instant he turned his eyes away from her and gazed after aherd that was moving slowly toward the north, Barbee and the other boysheading again toward the home range. But, no matter what rage andsullen chagrin lay in his heart, his eyes, returning to Terry, showedthat already her coming had worked its change. He appeared almostcontent.

  "Are you going to shake hands?" he asked.

  "Shall I?" she asked. "We are to be good friends after all?"

  "Or, are you going to kiss me?"

  Terry arched her brows at him. But there was a live fire in her eyesand a crimsoning tide under her lovely skin.

  "Smarty!" cried the old Terry. "Just try getting fresh with me andyou'll get your face slapped!"

  Whereupon Steve's laughter boomed out joyously.

  "It's Terry come home again!" he announced to the open meadow aboutthem. "Terry herself."

  Was it Terry herself? She seemed strangely embarrassed all of asudden. Just why? Terry didn't know.

  "We are going out in my car," she said hurriedly. It seemed that shemust hasten to make some safe remark each time that his eyes, busiedwith her, rested upon her eyes. "We'll be at the ranch long before youget your cows home. You may come to see me--if you please to."

  "Who is we?" he asked.

  "Oh," said Terry, "that means Mrs. Randall who is going to be cook andchaperon."

  San Juan dozed in the late afternoon heat. The corrals were betweenthem and the quiet street. He threw out his arms, caught Terry in themand kissed her. And Terry, whipping back, slapped his face.

  "You--you----" she panted, her face scarlet.

  He touched tenderly with his finger-tips the place where her hand hadstruck him.

  "I'll be over to call on you and Mrs. Randall," he said. "Real soon."

  Now as Steve Packard rode slowly after his cowboys and a diminishingherd, the dust-filled air, dry and hot as it was, seemed sweet andcaressing to his temples, his eyes mused happily. Blenham had justworsted him, Blenham had tricked him, had put him to the heavy expenseof the long drive, had knocked his steers up for him, had laughed athim.

  Very well; tally for Blenham. A matter to be considered in due time.A body blow, perhaps, but then what in God's good world is a strongbody for if not to buffet and be buffeted? He and Blenham would cometo grips again, soon or late, and in some way still hidden by thefuture matters would finally adjust themselves.

  All considerations with which only some dim future was concerned. Justnow, in the living, breathing, quivering present there was room for butthe one thought: Terry had come back to him.

  Yes. Terry had come back to him. And he had kissed her. And she hadslapped him. He smiled and again his finger-tips went their waytenderly to his cheek. He had kissed her because he loved her, meaningher no harm, offering her no insult. She had slapped him because shewas Terry, and because she couldn't very well help it. Not because shedid not love him!

  Somewhere in the world, off in some misty distance, there was a mannamed Blenham, a trickery, treacherous, cruel hound of a man. He wouldrequire attention presently. Just now----

  "You've come back to me!" whispered Steve Packard.

  And he sighed and shook himself and wished longingly that the returndrive were over and that he had a bath and a shave and were justcalling at the Temple ranch.

  Though presently he overhauled his men Steve rode all that day prettywell apart, maintaining a thoughtful silence which Barbee and theothers supposed had to do solely with the failure of his plans for agood market. His men knew that he had banked pretty heavily on thisdeal; and that now again he would be confronted by the old problem offinding sufficient feed to pull his herds through.

  Hay was scarce and high and would need to be hauled far, making itsfinal cost virtually prohibitive. The herders, grumbling amongthemselves, were for the most part of the opinion that he should haveaccepted his defeat at Blenham's hands and sold to Doan at a sacrificefigure.

  That night they camped at the Bitter Springs, making but a brief stopto water and feed and rest the road-weary cattle. Then in the nightand moving slowly they pushed on planning to get to the nextwater-holes before the heat of another day. And now Steve, giving hisorders to Barbee, left them and struck out ahead.

  There was small need of accommodating his impatience to the sluggishprogress of the leg-dragging brutes and there were matters to bearranged. Further, it was his intention to have a talk with TerryTemple just as soon as might be.

  That day Terry's automobile with shrieking horn swept on by him. Hecaught a glimpse of two veils, a brown and a black; the car's top wasup. Terry appeared not to see him.

  "She hasn't lost a speck of her impudence!"

  He frowned after her departing car, praying in his heart for a punctureor a stalled engine. She deserved as much for the way in which shetooted her infernal horn. But his prayer went unanswered and hisdispleasure vanished presently as he pushed on steadily in her wake,eager to come to the end of his ride.

  But he must never entirely forget the panting herd straggling on farbehind him, choking and coughing in its own dust. He must arrangesomewhere, somehow for pasturage. So he made a detour and looked in onBrocky Lane first, then on Rod Norton. Both old friends were glad tosee him and gave him hard brown hands in grips that were good to feel.

  But they merely shook their heads when he mentioned his errand. Lanehad sold a few head last week; Norton was afraid that he would have tomake a sacrifice sale himself. They would do anything that they couldbut it was only too clear that they could not give him that which theythemselves did not have and could not get.

  "Old man Packard," offered Norton bluntly, "is the only man I can thinkof who has pasture to rent. Drop Off Valley, just up in the mountainsback of your place."

  Steve laughed shortly and swung up into his saddle.

  "So long, Nort," he said colorlessly "The old man would burn his grassoff before he'd let me have it."

  And he rode on, two problems in his mind, both growing more difficultas he drew nearer the home ranch. Problem One: Just what was Terrygoing to say? Problem Two: How was he going to pull his stock through?

  As though he did not already have enough on his hands, Bill Roycegreeted him at the home ranch-house with the significant word--

  "Trouble!"

  "I know it," grunted Packard, swinging down stiffly from his saddle."What kind this time, Bill?"

  "Blenham-brand, I'd reckon," said Bill angrily. Steve noted that bothof the old hand's cheeks were flushed hotly. "Barbee telephoned inabout four hours ago. Seven steers dead, some more sick. An'," theexplanation coming quickly, "Barbee's got the hunch Blenham had rode onahead an' had poisoned the water-holes an'----"

  "Damn him!" cried Steve, a sudden fury seeming to leap out upon him andtake him by the throat. "Am I to stand everything from that man andfrom my old fiend of a grandfather? It's this and that and any otherthing they want to turn loose and here I stick like a cursedtoad-stool, doing nothing for want of proof! Proof," he snorteddisgustedly. "Bill Royce, let's quit waiting for anything but just goget the trouble-seeking outfit!"

  "Which sounds good to me," retorted Royce eager
ly.

  And yet when his rage cooled a bit Steve ground his teeth in hisimpotence. He must wait until Barbee came with what God chose to leavehim of his steers, he must hear the foreman's account and decidewhether Blenham were really at the bottom of this or if it were justhis way and his men's to blame all things upon Blenham.

  "The first thing, Bill," he said when he had turned his tired horseloose in the pasture, "is to decide what we are going to do with whatcattle Blenham hasn't poisoned for us. We are fed off pretty shortdown at this end. I'll ride over to the Temple place and see if wecan't arrange with Miss Terry to run a few head there."

  "Yes," said Royce dryly. "I'd hurry if I was you, Steve. But, say!"He slapped his leg and jerked up his head. "How about the old IndianValley, Drop Off Valley, as they call it now?"

  "Gone crazy, Bill? When did my grandfather ever show any inclinationto help out?"

  Then Royce, thoroughly excited, explained. Andy Sprague from beyondthe ridge had ridden by only yesterday afternoon. If Royce had onlyknown at that time that Steve was bringing back the cattle from SanJuan he would have arranged with Andy. For the man had said that hehad just bought Drop Off Valley from old Packard; that he wouldn't wantthe range this year as he had only recently sold close. He would rentand reasonably.

  "There's close on a couple of thousan' acres in there; there's plentywater an' enough good grass to run two or three hundred head easy untilyour feed comes in again down this way. Nail him, Steve; for the loveof Mike, nail Andy Sprague quick before the crooked little cuss findsout jus' how bad you need the pasture an' sticks you accordin'. Gonail him, Steve."

  And Steve, seeing hope like a brightening flush of a new day, hurriedto the corrals and a fresh horse. He was going straight after AndySprague. But----

  "Guess I'll ride by the Temple place," he said carelessly.