Six Feet Four Read online

  CHAPTER IV

  THE FORD

  "These little cotton-tail rabbits," he said to her slowly, withoutturning his eyes from hers to those of whom he spoke, "haven't any moresense than you'd think to look at them. Once let them get a notion intheir heads.... Look here!" he broke off sharply. "You don't think thesame way they do, do you?"

  "No!" she said hurriedly.

  Hurriedly, because for the moment her poise had fled from her and sheknew that he must note the high colour in her cheeks. And the colour hadcome not in response to his words but in quick answer to his look. Ayoung giant of a man, he stood staring at her like some artless boy whoat a bend in the road had stopped, breathless, to widen his eyes to thesmile of a fairy fresh from fairy land.

  And her "No," was the true reply to his question and burst spontaneouslyfrom her lips. Her first swift suspicion when she had seen the bulk ofhim framed against the bleak night had been quite natural. But now thatshe had marked the man's carriage and had seen his face and looked forone instant deep into his clear eyes, she set her conjecture aside as anabsurdity. It was not so much that her reason had risen to demand why asuccessful highwayman should return into danger and the likelihood ofswift punishment. It was rather and simply because she felt that thisbronzed young stranger, seeming to her woman's instinct a sort of breezyincarnation of the outdoors, partook of none of the characteristics ofthe footpad, sneak thief or nocturnal gentleman of the road. Anessential attribute of the boldest and most picturesque of that gentrywas the quality of deceit and subterfuge and hypocrisy. Consecutivelogical thought being, after all, a tedious process, she had had no timeto progress from step to step of deduction and inference; he had askedhis question with a startling abruptness and as abruptly she had givenhim her answer. The rest might believe what they chose to believe. Shefor her part, held Buck Thornton, whoever he might be, guiltless of theearlier affair of the evening. And, moreover, she could quite understandthe impulse that sent an innocent man to toss a handkerchief into thefire and let them ponder on the act's significance. The act may havebeen foolhardy and certainly had the youthful flavour of bravado; nonethe less in her eyes the man achieved through it a sort of magnificence.

  He stood looking at her very gravely and gravely she returned the look.And it was borne in upon the girl's inner consciousness that now and forthe first time in her life she had come face to face with a manabsolutely without guile or the need thereof. He was in character as hewas in physique, or she read him wrongly. He thought his thoughtstraight out and made no pretence of hiding it for the simple andsufficient reason that there was in all the universe no slightest needof hiding it. As she looked straight back into his eyes little flashesof impressions which had fastened upon her mind during the day came backto her, things which he suggested, which were like him. She was verytired and further she was overwrought from the nervous excitement of theevening; hence her mental processes were the quicker and more prone tofly off at wild tangents.... She had seen a tall, rugged cedar on arocky ridge blown through by the tempest, standing out in clear reliefagainst the sky; this man recalled the scene, the very atmosphere. Shehad seen a wild swollen torrent hurtling on its way down themountainside; the man had threatened to become like that, headlong withunbounded passion, fierce and destructive when a moment ago they opposedhim.... Again she bit her lip; she was thinking of this huge malecreature in hyperboles. Yes; she was overwrought; it was not well tothink thusly of any mere male creature.

  And yet she but liked him the better and her fancies were smitten anewby what he did now. Having filled his eyes with her as a man athirst mayfill himself with water from a brook, he turned abruptly away and lefther. He did not tarry to say "Thank you," that she had been almost eagerin asserting her belief in his innocence. He did not go back to a futileand perhaps quarrelsome discussion with Hap Smith and old man Adams andthe rest. He simply dropped everything where it was, shoved his bigrevolver out of sight under his left arm-pit and went to the long diningtable. There, his back to the room, he helped himself generously to coldmeat, bread and luke-warm coffee and ate hungrily.

  She sank back into her chair and let her eyes wander to his breadth ofshoulder, straightness of back and even to the curl of his hair thatcast its dancing shadows upon the wall in front of him. She had neverhad a man turn his back on her this way, and yet now the accomplisheddeed struck her in nowise as boorish or rude. He had paid her thetribute of a deep admiration, as clear and strong and unsullied as aracing mountain stream in spring time. The few words which he deemednecessary had passed between them. Then he had withdrawn himself fromher attention. Not rude, the act savoured somehow of the downright freebigness of unconvention.

  "It's silly, jumping to conclusions, any way," she informed herself."Why suspect him just because he wears the costume of the country, hasthe usual red handkerchief in his possession and is tall? There are halfa dozen big red handkerchiefs in this room right now ... and this wouldseem to be the land of tall men."

  Only once again did he speak to her that night and then just to say inplain matter-of-fact style: "You'd better lie down there and get somesleep. Good night." And this remark had come only after fifteen minutesof busy preparation on his part and curiosity on hers. He had gone outof the room into the night with no offered explanation and with manyeyes following him; men began to show rising signs of excitement and toregret audibly that they had not "gathered him in." But in a few minuteshe was back, his arms filled with loose hay from the barn. He spread itout in a corner, down by the long table. The table itself he drew out ofthe way. On the hay he smoothed out her quilt. Then, after a brief wordwith Poke Drury, he made another expedition into the night, returningwith a strip of weather beaten, patched canvas; this he hung by thecorners from the nails he hammered into a beam of the low ceiling,letting the thing drop partition-wise across the room. It had been thenthat he said quietly: "You'd better lie down there and get some sleep.Good night."

  "Good night," she answered him. And as it was with his eyes that againhe told her frankly what he thought of her, so was it with her eyes thatshe thanked him.

  The night passed somehow. She lay down and slept, awoke, moved her bodyfor more comfort, slept again. And through her sleep and dreams andwakeful moments she heard the quiet voices of the men who had no beds togo to; that monotonous sound and an occasional clink of glass andbottle neck or the rustling of shuffled cards. Once she got up andlooked through a hole in the canvas; she had taken off her shoes andmade no noise to draw attention to her spying. It must have been chance,therefore, which prompted Thornton to lift his head quickly and looktoward her. The light was all on his side of the room; she knew that hehad not heard her and could not see her; the tear in her flimsy wall wasscarcely more than a pin-hole. He was playing cards; furthermore he waswinning, there being a high stack of blue and red and white chips infront of him and a sprinkling of gold. But she saw no sign of thegambling fever in his eyes. Rather, there was in them a look which madeher draw back guiltily; which sent her creeping back to her rude bedwith suffused cheeks. He was still thinking of her, solely of her,despite the spoils of chance at his hand....

  All night the storm beat at the lone house in the mountain pass,rattling at doors and windows, whistling down the chimney, shaking thebuilding with its fierce gusts. The rain ceased only briefly when thecold congealed it into a flurry of beating hail stones; thereafter camethe rain again, scarcely less noisy. And in the morning when she awokewith a start and smelled boiling coffee the wind was still raging, therain was falling heavily and steadily.

  In the dark and with the lamps burning on palely into the dim day shebreakfasted. Together with several of the men she ate in the kitchenwhere a fire roared in an old stove, and where a table was placedconveniently. Ma Drury was about, sniffling with her cold, but cookingand serving her guests sourly, slamming down the enamelled ware in frontof them and challenging them with a look to find fault anywhere. Shereported that in some mysterious way, for which God be thanked, therewere n
o dead men in her house this morning. Bert Stone was alive andshowed signs of continuing to live, a thing to marvel at. And the manwhom Buck Thornton had winged, beyond displaying a sore arm anddisposition, was for the present a mere negligible and disagreeablequantity.

  Hap Smith came in from the barn while she was eating. He was going tostart right away. There was no use, however, in her attempting to makethe rest of the trip with him. His other passengers would lie over herefor a day or two. She looked at him curiously: why should she not go on?It certainly was not pleasant to think of remaining in these crampedquarters indefinitely.

  Hap Smith, hastily eating hot cakes and ham, answered briefly and to thepoint. Mountain streams were all up, filling their narrow beds, spillingover. A rain like this downpour brought them up in a few hours; it wouldstop raining presently and they'd go down as fast as they had risen.Just two miles from the road house was the biggest stream of all tonegotiate, being the upper waters of Alder Creek. It was up to Hap tomake it because he represented a certain Uncle Samuel who was not to bestopped by hell or high water; literally that. He'd tie his mail bagsin; leave all extras at Poke Drury's, drive his horses into theturbulent river high above the ford and ... make it somehow. It was upto her to stay here.

  He gobbled down his breakfast, rolled a fat brown cigarette, buttoned uphis coat and went out to his stage. Before he could snap back his brakeshe was at his side.

  "My business is as important to me as Uncle Samuel's is to him," shetold him in a steady, matter-of-fact voice. "What is more, I have paidmy fare and mean to go through with you."

  He saw that she did mean it. He expostulated, but briefly. He was behindtime, he knew that already they had sought to argue with her in thehouse, he recognized the futility of further argument. He had a wife ofhis own, had Hap Smith. He grunted his displeasure with the arrangement,informed her curtly that it was up to her and that, if they went under,his mail bags would require all of his attention, shrugged his twoshoulders at once and high up, released his brake and went clatteringdown the rocky road. The girl cast a quick look behind her as they drewaway from the road house; she had not seen Buck Thornton this morningand wondered if he had been loitering about the barn or had turned backinto the mountains or had ridden ahead.

  Alder Creek was a mad rush and swirl of muddy water; the swish and hissof it smote their ears five minutes before they saw the brown, writhingthing itself. The girl tensed on her seat; her breathing was momentarilysuspended; her cheek went a little pale. Then, conscious of a quickmeasuring look from the stage driver, she said as quietly as she could:

  "It doesn't look inviting, does it?"

  Hap Smith grunted and gave his attention forthwith and solely to thedexterous handling of his tugging reins. He knew the crossing; had madeit with one sort of a team and another many times in his life. But hehad never seen it so swollen and threatening and he had never heard itshissing sound upgathered into such a booming roar as now greeted them.He stopped his team and looked from under drawn brows at the water.

  "You'd better get out," he said shortly.

  "But I won't!" she retorted hurriedly. "And, since we are going to makethe crossing ... go ahead, quick!"

  He winked both eyes at the rain driving into his face and sat still,measuring his chances. While he did so she looked up and down; not ahundred paces from them, upstream on the near bank, the figure of a manloomed unnaturally large in the wet air. He was mounted upon a tall,rangy horse that might have been foaled just for the purpose of carryinga man of his ilk, a pale yellow-sorrel whose two forefeet, had it notbeen for the mud, would have shone whitely. She wondered what he wasdoing there. His attitude was that of one who was patiently waiting.

  "Hold on good an' tight," said Smith suddenly. "I'm goin' to tackle it."

  She gripped the back of the seat firmly, braced her feet, set her teethtogether, a little in quick fear, a great deal in determination. Smithswung his team upstream fifty paces, then in a short arc out and awayfrom the creek; then, getting their heads again to the stream he calledto them, one by one, each of the four in turn, saying crisply: "You,Babe! Charlie! that's the boy! Baldy! You Tom, you Tom! Into it; intoit; _get up_!"

  With shaking heads that flung the raindrops from tossing manes, withgingerly lifted forefeet, with a snort here and a crablike sidling dancethere, they came down to the water's edge at a brisk trot. The off-lead,Charlie, fought shy and snorted again; the long whip in Hap Smith's handshot out, uncurled, flicked Charlie's side, and with a last defiantshake of the head the big bay drove his obedient neck into his collarand splashed mightily in the muddy current. Babe plunged forward at hisside; the two other horses followed as they were in the habit offollowing.

  The girl, fascinated, saw the water curl and eddy and whiten about theirknees; she saw it surge onward and rise about the hubs of the slowturning wheels. Higher it came and higher until the rushing sound of itfilled her ears, the dark yellow flash of it filled her eyes and shesat breathless and rigid.... A quick glance showed her the man,Thornton, still above them on the bank of the stream. She noted that hehad drawn a little closer to the water's edge.

  They were half way across, fairly in midstream, and Hap Smith, utterlyoblivious of his one passenger, cursing mightily, when the mishap came.The mad stream, rolling its rocks and boulders and jagged tree trunks,had gouged holes in the bank here and there and had digged similar holesin the uneven bed itself. Into such a hole the two horses on the lowerside floundered, with no warning and with disastrous suddenness. Thenwent down, until only their heads were above the current. They lost allsolid ground under their threshing hoofs and, as they rose a little,began to swim, flailing about desperately. Hap Smith yelled at them,yanked at his reins, seeking to turn them straight down stream for aspell until the hole be passed. But already another horse was in andengulfed, the wagon careened, was whipped about in the furious struggle,a wheel struck a submerged boulder and Hap Smith leaped one way whileWinifred Waverly sprang the other as the awkward stage tipped and wenton its side.

  She knew on the instant that one had no chance to swim here, no matterhow strong the swimmer. For the current was stronger than the merestrength of a human being. She knew that if Hap Smith clung tight to hisreins he might be pulled ashore in due time, if all went well for him.She knew that Winifred Waverly had never been in such desperatestraits. And finally she understood, and the knowledge was infinitelysweet to her in her moment of need, why the man yonder had been sittinghis horse so idly in the rain, and just why he had been waiting.

  She did not see him as his horse, striking out valiantly, swimming andfinding precarious foothold by turns, bore down upon her; she saw onlythe yellow, dirty current when she saw anything at all. She could notknow when, the first time, he leaned far out and snatched at her ... andmissed. For at the moment a sucking maelstrom had caught her and whippedher out of his reach and flung her onward, for a little piling thechurning water above her head. She did not see when finally he succeededin that which he had attempted. But she felt his two arms about her andin her heart there was a sudden glow and, though the water battled withthe two of them, strangely enough a feeling of safety.

  Perhaps it was only because he had planned on the possibility of justthis and was ready for it that she came out of Alder Creek alive. He hadslipped the loop of his rope about the horn of his saddle, making itsecure with an additional half hitch; when he was sure of her he flunghimself from the saddle, still keeping the rope in his hand as he tookher into his arms. Then, swimming as best he could, seeking to keep herhead and his above the water, he left the rest to a certain rangy,yellow-sorrel saddle horse. And as Hap Smith and his struggling teammade shore just below the ford, Buck Thornton and Winifred Waverly weredrawn to safety by Buck Thornton's horse.

  Just as there had been no spoken thanks last night for a kindnessrendered, so now on this larger occasion there was no gush of gratefulwords. He released her slowly and their eyes met. As he turned to helpHap Smith with the frightened horses entangled
in their harness, theonly words were his:

  "A couple of miles farther on you'll pass a ranch house. You can getwarm and dry your clothes there. This is the last bad crossing."

  And so, lifting his hat, he left her.