The Long Shadow, page 23
CHAPTER XXIII.
_Oh, Where Have You Been, Charming Billy?_
Presently they were in the little room which Dill had kept for himselfby the simple method of buying the shack that held it, and Billy wasdrinking something which Dill poured out for him and which steadiedhim wonderfully.
"If you are not feeling quite yourself, William, perhaps we would dobetter to postpone our conversation until morning," Dill was sayingwhile he rocked awkwardly, his hands folded loosely together, hiselbows on the rocker--arms and his round, melancholy eyes regardingBilly solemnly. "I wanted to ask how you came out--with theDouble-Crank."
"Go ahead; I'm all right," said Billy. "I aim to hit the trail bysun-up, so we'll have our little say now." He made him a cigarette andlooked wistfully at Dill, while he felt for a match. "Go ahead. Whatdo yuh want to know the worst?"
"Well, I did not see Brown, and it occurred to me that after I leftyou must have gathered more stock than you anticipated. I discoveredfrom the men that you have paid them off. I rode out there to-day, youknow. I arrived about two hours after you had left."
"You're still in the hole on the cow-business," Billy stated flatly,as if there were no use in trying to soften the telling. "Yuh oweBrown two thousand odd dollars. I turned in a few over two hundredhead--I've got it all down here, and yuh can see the exact figureyourself. Yuh didn't show up, and I didn't want to hold the men andlet their time run on and nothing doing to make it pay, so I give 'emtheir money and let 'em off--all but Jim Bleeker. I didn't pay him,because I wanted him to look after things at the Bridger place tillyuh got back, and I knew if I give him any money he'd burn the earthgetting to where he could spend it. He's a fine fellow when he'sbroke--Jim is."
"But I owed the men for several months' work. Where did you raise theamount, William?" Dill cleared his throat raspingly.
"Me? Oh, I had some uh my wages saved up. I used that." It neveroccurred to Billy that he had done anything out of the ordinary.
"_H-m-m!_" Dill cleared his throat again and rocked, his eyes onBilly's moody face. "I observe, William, that--er--they are notshipping any skates to--er--hell, yet!"
"Huh?" Billy had not been listening.
"I was saying, William, that I appreciate your fidelity to myinterests, and--"
"Oh, that's all right," Billy cut in carelessly.
"--And I should like to have you with me on a new venture I have inmind. You probably have not heard of it here, but it is an assuredfact that the railroad company are about to build a cut-off that willshut out Tower completely and put Hardup on the main line. In fact,they have actually started work at the other end, and though theyare always very secretive about a thing like that, I happen to have afriend on the inside, so that my information is absolutely authentic.I have raised fifty thousand dollars among my good friends inMichigan, and I intend to start a first-class general store here. Ihave already bargained for ten acres of land over there on the creek,where I feel sure the main part of the town will be situated. If youwill come in with me we will form a partnership, equal shares. Itis borrowed capital," he added hastily, "so that I am not giving youanything, William. You will take the same risk I take, and--"
"Sorry, Dilly, but I couldn't come through. Fine counter-jumper I'dmake! Thank yuh all the same, Dilly."
"But there is the Bridger place. I shall keep that and go intothoroughbred stock--good, middle-weight horses, I think, that willfind a ready sale among the settlers who are going to flock in here.You could take charge there and--"
"No, Dilly, I couldn't. I--I'm thinking uh drifting down into NewMexico. I--I want to see that country, bad."
Dill crossed his long legs the other way, let his hands drop loosely,and stared wistfully at Billy. "I really wish I could induce you tostay, William," he murmured.
"Well, yuh can't. I hope yuh come through better than yuh did with theDouble-Crank--but I guess it'll be some considerable time before thetowns and the gentle farmer (damn him!) are crowded to the wall byyour damn' Progress." It was the first direct protest against changingconditions which Billy had so far put into words, and he looked sorryfor having said so much. "Oh, here's your little blue book," he added,feeling it in his pocket. "I found it behind the trunk when everythingelse was packed."
"You saw--er--you saw Bridger, then? He is going to take his wife andFlora up North with him in the spring. It seems he has done well."
"I know--he told me."
Dill turned the leaves of the book slowly, and consciously refrainedfrom looking at Billy. "They were about to leave when I was there. Itis a shame. I am very sorry for Flora--she does not want to go. If--"He cleared his throat again and guiltily pretended to be readinga bit, here and there, and to be speaking casually. "If I werea marrying man, I am not sure but I should make love toFlora--h-m-m!--this 'Bachelor's Complaint' here--have you read it,William? It is very--here, for instance--'Nothing is to me moredistasteful than the entire complacency and satisfaction which beam inthe countenances of a new-married couple'--and so on. I feel temptedsometimes when I look at Flora--only she looks upon me as a--er--pieceof furniture--the kind that sticks out in the way and you have to feelyour way around it in the dark--awkward, but necessary. Poor girl,she cried in the most heartbroken way when I told her we would not belikely to see her again, and--I wonder what is the trouble between herand Walland? They used to be quite friendly, in a way, but she has notspoken to him, to my certain knowledge, since last spring. Wheneverhe came to the ranch she would go to her room and refuse to come outuntil he had left. H-m-m! Did she ever tell you, William?"
"No," snapped William huskily, smoking with his head bent and turnedaway.
"I know positively that she cut him dead, as they say, at the lastFourth-of-July dance. He asked her to dance, and she refusedalmost rudely and immediately got up and danced with that boy ofGunderson's--the one with the hair-lip. She could not have been takenwith the hair-lipped fellow--at least, I should scarcely think so.Should you, William?"
This time William did not answer at all. Dill, watching his bent headtenderly, puckered his face into his peculiar smile.
"H-m-m! They stopped at the hotel to-night--Bridgers, I mean. Drovein after dark from the ranch. They mean to catch the noon train fromTower to-morrow, Bridger told me. It will be an immense benefit,William, when those big through-trains get to running through Hardup.There is some talk among the powers-that-be of making this a divisionpoint. It will develop the country wonderfully. I really feel temptedto cut down my investment in a store for the present, and buy moreland. What do you think, William?"
"Oh, I dunno," said Billy in a let-me-alone kind of tone.
"Well, it's very late. Everybody who lays any claim to respectabilityshould be in his bed," Dill remarked placidly. "You say you start atsunrise? H-m-m! You will have to call me so that I can go over to thehotel and get the money to refund what you used of your own. I leftmy cash in the hotel safe. But they will be stirring early--they willhave to get the Bridgers off, you know."
It was Dill who lay and smiled quizzically into the dark and listenedto the wide-awake breathing of the man beside him--breathing whichbetrayed deep emotion held rigidly in check so far as outward movementwent. He fell asleep knowing well that the other was lying therewide-eyed and would probably stay so until day. He had had a hard dayand had done many things, but what he had done last pleased him best.
Now this is a bald, unpolished record of the morning: Billy saw thedawn come, and rose in the perfect silence he had learned from yearsof sleeping in a tent with tired men, and of having to get up at allhours and take his turn at night-guarding; for tired, sleeping cowboysdo not like to be disturbed unnecessarily, and so they one and alllearn speedily the Golden Rule and how to apply it. That is why Dill,always a light sleeper, did not hear Billy go out.
Billy did not quite know what he was going to do, but habit bade himfirst feed and water his horse. After that--well, he did not know.Dill might not have things straight, or he might just be trying tojolly him up a little, or he might be a meddlesome old granny-gossip.What had looked dear and straight, say at three o'clock in themorning, was at day-dawn hazy with doubt. So he led Barney down tothe creek behind the hotel, where in that primitive little place theywatered their horses.
The sun was rising redly, and the hurrying ripples were all tippedwith gold, and the sky above a bewildering, tumbled fabric of barbariccoloring. Would the sun rise like that in New Mexico? Billy wondered,and watched the coming of his last day here, where he had lived, hadloved, had dreamed dreams and builded castles--and had seen the dreamschange to bitterness, and the castles go toppling to ruins. He wouldlike to stay with Dill, for he had grown fond of the lank, whimsicalman who was like no one Billy had ever known. He would have stayedeven in the face of the change that had come to the range-land--but hecould not bear to see the familiar line of low hills which marked theDouble-Crank and, farther down, the line-camp, and know that Flora wasgone quite away from him into the North.
He caught himself back from brooding, and gave a pull at the halterby way of hinting to Barney that he need not drink the creek entirelydry--when suddenly he quivered and stood so still that he scarcelybreathed.
"Oh, where have you been, Billy boy, Billy boy? Oh, where have you been, charming Billy?"
Some one at the top of the creek-bank was singing it; some one with anexceedingly small, shaky little voice that was trying to be daring andmocking and indifferent, and that was none of these things--but onlywistful and a bit pathetic.
Charming Billy, his face quite pale, turned his head cautiously asthough he feared too abrupt a glance would drive her away, and lookedat her standing there with her gray felt hat tilted against the sun,flipping her gloves nervously against her skirt. She was obviouslytrying to seem perfectly at ease, but her eyes were giving the lie toher manner.
Billy tried to smile, but instead his lips quivered and his eyesblinked.
"I have been to see my wife--"
he began to sing gamely, and stuck there, because something came upin his throat and squeezed his voice to a whisper. By main strengthhe pulled Barney away from the gold-tipped ripples, and came stumblingover the loose rocks.
She watched him warily, half-turned, ready to run away. "We--I--aren'tyou going to be nice and say good-by to me?"
He came on, staring at her and saying nothing.
"Well, if you still want to sulk--I wouldn't be as nasty as that,and--and hold a grudge the way you do--and I was going to be nice andforgiving; but if you don't care, and don't want--"
By this time he was close--quite close. "Yuh know I care! And yuh knowI want--_you_. Oh, girlie, girlie!"
* * * * *
The colors had all left the sky, save blue and silver-gray, and thesun was a commonplace, dazzling ball of yellow. Charming Billy Boyle,his hat set back upon his head at a most eloquent angle, led Barneyfrom the creek up to the stable. His eyes were alight and his brow wasunwrinkled. His lips had quite lost their bitter lines, and once morehad the humorous, care-free quirk at the corners.
He slammed the stable-door behind him and went off down the street,singing exultantly:
"--I have been to see my-wife, She's the joy of my life--"
He jerked open the door of the shack, gave a whoop to raise the dead,and took Dill ungently by the shoulder.
"Come alive, yuh seven-foot Dill-pickle! What yuh want to lay heresnoring for at this time uh day? Don't yuh know it's morning?"
Dill sat up and blinked, much like an owl in the sunshine. He puckeredhis face into a smile. "Aren't you rather uproarious--for so earlyin the day, William? I was under the impression that one usually grewhilarious--"
"Oh, there's other things besides whisky to make a man feel good,"grinned Billy, his cheeks showing a tinge of red. "I'm in a hurry,Dilly. I've got to hit the trail immediate--and if it ain't too muchtrouble to let me have that money yuh spoke about--"
Dill got out of bed, eying him shrewdly. "Have you been gambling,William?"
Billy ran the green shade up from the window so energetically thatit slipped from his fingers and buzzed noisily at file top. He cranedhis neck, trying to see the hotel. "Maybe yuh'd call it that--an oldbachelor like you! Yuh see, Dilly, I've got business over in Tower.I've got to be there before noon, and I need--aw, thunder! How's a mangoing to get married when he's only got six dollars in his jeans?"
"I should say that would be scarcely feasible, William." Dill wassmiling down at the lacing of his shoes. "We can soon remedy that,however. I'm--I'm very glad, William."
The cheeks of Charming Billy Boyle grew quite red. "And, by the way,Dilly," he said hurriedly, as if he shied at the subject of his loveand his marriage, "I've changed my mind about going to New Mexico.I--we'll settle down on the Bridger place, if yuh still want me to.She says she'd rather stay here in this country."
Dill settled himself into his clothes, went over, and laid a handawkwardly upon Billy's arm, "I am very glad, William," he said simply.
THE END.
