Lonesome Land by B. M. Bower (reading strategies book .TXT) đź“–
- Author: B. M. Bower
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Val shivered. “I—that's the only thing I can't bear,” she admitted, as if the time for proud dignity and reserve had gone by. “If I could be sure I wouldn't need to meet him, I'd rather go alone; really and truly, I would. You know the horses are perfectly safe—I've driven them to town fifty times if I have once. I had to, out there alone so much of the time. I'd rather not have Polycarp spying around. I've got to pack up—there are so many things of no value to—to him, things I brought out here with me. And there are all my manuscripts; I can't leave them lying around, even if they aren't worth anything; especially since they aren't worth anything.” She pushed back her hair with a weary movement. “If I could only be sure—if I knew where he is,” she sighed.
“I'll lend you my gun,” Arline offered in good faith. “If he comes around you and starts any funny business again, you can stand him off, even if you got some delicate feelin's about blowin' his brains out.”
“Oh, I couldn't. I'm deadly afraid of guns.” Val shuddered.
“Well, then you can't go atone. I'd go with you, if you could git packed up so as to come back to-day. I guess Min could make out to git two meals alone.”
“Oh, no. Really and truly, Arline, I'd just as soon go alone. I would rather, dear.”
Arline was not accustomed to being called “dear.” She surrendered with some confusion and a blush.
“Well, you better wait,” she admonished temporizingly. “Something may turn up.”
Presently something did turn up. She rushed breathlessly into Val's room and caught her by the arm.
“Now's your chancet, Val,” she hissed in a loud whisper. “Man jest now rode into town; he's over in Pop's place—I seen him go in. He's good for the day, sure. I'll have Hank hitch right up, an' you can go down to the stable and start from there, so'st he won't see you. An' I'll keep an eye out, 'n' if he leaves town I won't be fur behind, lemme tell you. He won't, though; there ain't one chancet in a hundred he'll leave that saloon till he's full—an' if he tries t' go then, I'll have somebody lock 'im up in the ice house till you git back. You want to hurry up that packin', an' git in here quick's you can.”
She went to the stable with Val, her apron thrown over her head for want of a hat. “When Val was settling herself in the seat, Arline caught at the wheel.
“Say! How'n time you goin' to git your trunks loaded into the wagon?” she cried. “You can't do it alone.” Val parsed her lips; she had not thought of that.
“But Polycarp will come, by the time I am ready,” she decided. “You couldn't keep him away, Arline; he would be afraid he might miss something, because I suppose ours is the only ranch in the country where the wheels aren't turning smoothly. Polycarp and I can manage.”
Hank, grinning under his ragged, brown mustache, handed her the lines. “I've got my orders,” he told her briefly. “I'll watch out the trail's kept clear.”
“Oh, thank you. I've so many good friends,” Val answered, giving him a smile to stir his sluggish blood. “Good-bye, Arline. Don't worry about me, there's a dear. I shall not be back before to-morrow night, probably.”
Both Arline and Hank stood where they were and watched her out of sight before they turned back to the sordid tasks which made up their lives.
“She'll make it—she's the proper stuff,” Hank remarked, and lighted his pipe. Arline, for a wonder, sighed and said nothing.
CHAPTER XXIII. CAUGHT!
After two nights and a day of torment unbearable, Kent bolted from his work, which would have taken him that day, as it had done the day before, in a direction opposite to that which his mind and his heart followed, and without apology or explanation to his foreman rode straight to Cold Spring Coulee. He had no very definite plan, except to see Val. He did not even know what he would say when he faced her.
Michael was steaming from nose to tail when he stopped at the yard gate, which shows how impatience had driven his master. Kent glanced quickly around the place as he walked up the narrow path to the house. Nothing was changed in the slightest particular, as far as he could see, and he realized then that he had been uneasy as well as anxious. Both doors were closed, so that he was obliged to knock before Val became visible. He had a fleeting impression of extreme caution in the way she opened the door and looked out, but he forgot it immediately in his joy at seeing her.
“Oh, it's you. Come in, and—you won't mind if I close the door? I'm afraid I'm the victim of nerves, to-day.”
“Why?” Kent was instantly solicitous. “Has anything happened since I was here?”
Val shook her head, smiling faintly. “Nothing that need to worry you, pal. I don't want to talk about worries. I want to be cheered up; I haven't laughed, Kent, for so long I'm afraid my facial muscles are getting stiff. Say something funny, can't you?”
Kent pushed his hat far back on his head and sat down upon a corner of the table. “Such is life in the far West—and the farther West you go, the livelier—” he began to declaim dutifully.
“The livelier it gets. Yes, I've heard that a million tunes, I believe. I can't laugh at that; I never did think it funny.” She sighed, and twitched her shoulders impatiently because of it. “I see you brought back the glasses,” she remarked inanely. “You certainly weren't in any great hurry, were you?”
“Oh, they had us riding over east of the home ranch, hazing in some outa the hills. I'm supposed to be over there right now—but I ain't. I expect I'll get the can, all right—”
“If you're going away, what do you care?” she taunted.
“H'm—sure, what do I care?” He eyed her from under his brows while he bent to light a match upon the sole of his boot. Val had long ago settled his compunctions about smoking in her presence. “You seem to be all tore up, here,” he observed irrelevantly. “Cleaning house?”
“Yes—cleaning house.” Val smiled ambiguously.
“Hubby in town?”
“Yes—he went in yesterday, and hasn't come back yet.”
Kent smoked for a moment meditatively. “I found that calf, all right,” he informed her at last. “It was too late to ride around this way and tell you that night. So you needn't worry any more about that.”
“I'm not worrying about that.” Val stooped and picked up a hairpin from the floor, and twirled it absently in her fingers.
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