A. M. Chisholm

“ You can't fight rumours and gossip in that way. That's the trouble with you—you depend on force alone. Can't you see the position this puts us in—puts me in? You can't come here any more."
"I don't see that at all," he objected. "I'll blow up your dam myself if you think it will help, but as for not seeing you—why, it's out of the question. I've got to see you. I'm going to see you. I can't help it. I tell you I think of you all the time. Why, hang it, Sheila, I think of you when I ought to be thinking of my work." ”

“ But Farwell paid no attention to these things. Instead, he was thinking of Sheila McCrae—reconstructing her pose as she bade him good-bye, the direct, level gaze of her dark eyes, the contour of her face, the cloudy masses of her brown hair. He was unconsciously engaged in the perilous, artistic work of drawing for his sole and exclusive use a mental "portrait of a lady"; and, after the manner of man attracted by woman, he idealized the picture of his creation. ”

“ I'm not a monster. Or do you mean that you care for somebody else? Is that it? Do you care anything for that Dunne? A fellow that's in love with another woman!"
Even in the dying light he could see the dark flush that surged over cheek and brow. She rose to the full height of her lithe figure, facing him.
"No, I don't!" she flamed. "But if I did what business would it be of yours? Casey Dunne is my friend—a gentleman—which is more than you seem to be, Mr. Farwell." ”

“ But he railed inwardly at the intense masculinity of his life, for the same reason that the sailorman curses the sea and the plainsman the plains. Just as the tragedian is certain in his inmost soul that his proper rôle is light comedy, while the popular comedian is equally positive that he should be starring in the legitimate; so Farwell, harsh, dominant, impatient, brutal on occasion, a typical lone male of his species, knowing little of and caring less for the softer side of life, cherished a firm belief that his proper place was the exact centre of a family circle. ”

“ But the atmosphere of the ranch appealed to him. Its people were not silly folk, babbling of trivial things which he neither understood nor cared to understand. Mrs. McCrae, as he mentally appraised her, was a sensible woman. In her husband—big, quiet, self-contained—he recognized a man as hard as himself. Young McCrae, silent, too grim of mouth for his years, was the makings of another hard man. But it was at Sheila that he looked the most, and at her if not to her his conversation was directed. ”

“ But nevertheless she did not enjoy the drive.
"I sent word that we were coming," said Casey, as they sighted the ranch. "That was in the interests of the ladies mostly."
"Of course," Wade agreed. "Women always like people to find them all togged up, as if they never did a day's work in their lives. I catch it from Kitty if I bring any one home with me without due notice. If women only knew how much better they look in ordinary clothes!"
Kitty Wade, turning her head to retort, surprised a quiet, enigmatic smile on Clyde's face. ”

“ He imagined Clyde Burnaby in Sheila's place, riding Beaver Boy over the brown swells, along the narrow trails and abrupt rises of the foothills, raising several hundred chickens, helping with the housework, the mending—all the daily feminine chores that fell to the lot of a rancher's womenkind. Would she be as good a friend to him as Sheila had been? And he fancied Sheila in her place—tailor-mades and evening gowns instead of riding skirts, Paris instead of pony hats, with nothing in particular to do but have a good time and spend money. Make good? ”

“ Do you know horses, Miss Burnaby?"
"A very little. I ride and drive; but I like quiet animals."
"Oh, these are quiet." He smiled back at Mrs. Wade.
"Are they?" that lady commented. "Then I don't want to drive behind wild ones."
A light wind was in their faces, blowing the dust backward. The town vanished suddenly, lost behind swells of brown grasses. The road wound tortuously onward, skirting little groves of cottonwoods, swinging along gulches, sometimes plunging down them and ascending in long grades on the thither side.
Clyde drank in the sweet, thin air eagerly. ”

“ Farwell. You'd get tired of me."
"No, I wouldn't; no, I wouldn't. I know what I'm talking about. I tell you, I love you, Sheila. Do you think it's easy to say good-bye and leave you? It's the hardest job I ever had. It's—it's—oh, it's hell, that's what it is. I used to love work just for the work's sake. But now, to think of grubbing away year after year, to get money that I can't use, that I don't want—that can't get me what I want! ”

“ The heat of the Pullman seemed stifling, the odour of coal unbearable. The land was dead-brown, flat, dreary, monotonous. Leaning back with closed eyes, she longed for the deck of a liner, the strong, salt breezes, the steady pulse of the engines—even for cold rain from a gray sky, sullen, shouldering seas, and the whip of spindrift on her cheeks. Beside her Nita prattled steadily.
"We're going to stop, Clyde. Here's a station. Look at the yard with all the cows in it. I wonder if those men are cowboys. ”

“ Clyde had listened in amazement. Once more she had experienced the sensation of standing on the brink of tragedy. Once more it had failed to occur.
"And that's one of the gunmen," said Casey. "That's what we have been putting up with. I think it will have to stop."
"Don't get into any trouble," she begged. "Promise me you won't. What do you care what men like that say?"
"I'm partly human," he replied grimly. "I can stand as much as most men, but there are some things I won't stand. I'm not going to climb a tree for any man. ”

“ The horses themselves seemed to exult in the change of pace, filling their great lungs through widened nostrils and expelling the air noisily, shaking their heads, proud of themselves and their work.
Mrs. Wade laid a nervous hand on her husband's arm as the light wagon rattled down a descent. But Clyde sat quietly, her lips slightly parted, her eyes shining as the warm wind poured past in a torrent plucking at vagrant strands of her coppery golden hair.
"Fifteen miles an hour," said Casey. "Like it?"
"It's better than fifty in a car," she replied. ”

“ From them branched veins supplying the fields with the water that gave them life—the water without which the land was waste and barren; but with which it bore marvellously with the stored fertility of fallow centuries. Away at one end of the ranch, sheltered to north and west by low hills, was the ranch house itself, surrounded by young orchards, the stables, the corrals, the granaries, the cattle sheds, tool and implement houses. ”

“ And later that night Kitty Wade said to her lord:
"For a rancher, Harry, your Casey Dunne has class. I never knew Clyde Burnaby to give a flower to any man before."
"And you see a case of love at first sight," said Wade, scornfully and sleepily. "Pshaw, Kitty, you're barking at a knot. Casey's a fine chap, but Lord! she's got too much money for him. Suppose she did give him a rose! Didn't she call you over to chaperon the transaction? That puts the sentimental theory out of business." ”

“ Sandy returned, with surprising calmness. "I'm not crowding trouble with you, but get this clear: You know why you're hanging around the ranch, and I don't. All the same, if you are up to any monkey business, you'll settle it with me."
Farwell's temper, never reliable, rose at once.
"Quite a Wild West kid, aren't you?" he observed, with sarcasm. "You make me tired. It's a good thing for you your people are decent." He crowded his horse close to the other. "Now, look here, young fellow, I won't stand for any fool boy's talk. You're old enough to know better. ”

“ When that dam is built and those ditches are filled our ranches must go dry. It spells our ruin. We are living on sufferance. And yet you ask us what we have to complain of!"
"I need scarcely assure you," said York, "that unless and until we require the water it will not be taken."
"Not nearly good enough," Dunne returned. "We can't work and improve our ranches with that hanging over us. Such an assurance is of no practical value."
"It is all I can give you."
Casey Dunne nodded as one who sees things turning out as he expected. "Then naturally we shall be forced to fight you." ”

“ Casey put out his hand. It was caught, thumb crotch to thumb crotch, in a grip of steel. He laughed as he threw every ounce of strength into his own fingers.
"Good man," said Farwell. "I like a man with a handgrip, and you've got it. Any time you're ready, Miss McCrae?"
Sheila went up as lightly as a boy. Beaver Boy was off as she touched the saddle. Farwell followed. They melted into the distance, galloping side by side, the dust, in spite of the night's rain, puffing up from the flying hoofs. ”

“ Even in the darkness he could see the trouble in her eyes.
"You really mean it?" she questioned. "You mean that he has killed a man?"
"Either that or shot him up pretty badly."
"I can scarcely believe it. I like McHale; he's droll, humorous, so cheerful, so easy-going. I can't think of him as a murderer."
"Nonsense!" said Casey. "No murder about it. It was a fair gun fight—an even break. This fellow came at Tom, shooting. He had to protect himself."
"He could have avoided it. He had time to get on his horse and ride away. But he waited."
"He did right," said Casey. ”

“ Later Casey, having stabled the horses, came up with McCrae. "Well, Sheila, what's the good word?" he asked. "What yarns have you been telling Miss Burnaby?"
"I was telling her of your poultry system."
"Miss McCrae has been suggesting all sorts of things for our amusement," said Clyde; "from a dance to riding lessons."
"I didn't say a word about lessons," Sheila protested.
"But I need them," Clyde admitted. "I never pretend to know what I don't know."
"Sheila can give most men lessons," said Casey. "The only objection I have is that I intended to instruct you myself." ”

“ I tried my best to be a friend. And the end of it was that I started gossip, and you told me to keep away. That was pretty hard lines. It made me angry. And then I was jealous of Dunne."
"He is going to marry Miss Burnaby."
"Lucky devil!" growled Farwell dejectedly. "Things run smooth for him. I'll bet he doesn't think half as much of her as I do of you."
Sheila smiled for the first time. "You wouldn't tell her that."
"I'd tell it to anybody. It's a fact. Why, look here: I'm a practical man; I've no more imagination than a stump. ”

“ Casey Dunne for her. And so, if you don't mind——"
"Of course not," said Clyde. "But post me a little, Kitty. What has Mr. Casey Dunne done, or what is he going to do? What does one talk about to him?"
"Crops," replied Mrs. Wade.
Clyde sighed resignedly. "My dear, I don't mind for once, but I never could understand the market. May wheat, September options, war and rumours of wars, and the effect on prices of the weather sent by divine Providence, probabilities of a large or short crop—these be sealed mysteries to me."
"But Mr. Dunne isn't a broker," said Mrs. Wade. "He's a farmer." ”

“ I got Pugh and another, and they're both busy. I allow not to get lost. I've been out by myself before now."
"The reason I ask," said Casey, "is that I'd like to go with you myself. The boys might listen to me, and not to you. Mind, I'm not offering to guide you to them. You find your own trail. But I'll make all the peace talk I can if you do find them. Besides, there's this Dade. If he goes after Tom, there will be trouble. It's a feud. I declare myself in on it."
"I hate trouble and I love peace," said the sheriff. "No feuds is goin' to flourish around where I am. But you come along. ”

“ Dunne told a story, and told it well. He spoke casually of the West, but instituted no comparisons.
"You are really an exception," Clyde told him. "The average Westerner is such a superior mortal. He looks down on the East, and when he comes among Easterners he condescends."
"It's a relief to have some one admit that Chicago is in the East," he laughed. "No, I don't brag about the West. It's a good country, and it will be better when we have approximated more to Eastern conditions. We are undeveloped as yet. ”

“ The leader whirled instantly to look into the ominous muzzle of a heavy automatic held by Casey Dunne.
"Put that gun down, and your hands up!" snapped Casey. "Quick! No nonsense! I'll kill the first man that tries anything."
The quiet had gone from his voice; it bit like acid. Strange, hard lights danced in his eyes. The hand that held the gun had not a tremor. Clyde, looking at him, saw and recognized in his face the cold deadliness which she had once seen in McHale's. ”

“ I want something different from the daily and yearly round of sameness. If I were a man I'd work sixteen hours a day. If I had any special talent I'd cultivate it. But I haven't. I'm just an ordinary rich girl, in danger of physical and mental stagnation—in danger of marrying some equally rich man whom I don't love, in order to provide myself with new interests."
"Casey Dunne is a new interest, I suppose," said Kitty Wade dryly.
"I wish you wouldn't, Kitty," said Clyde. ”

“ So could the others."
"You don't mean me, do you?" laughed Sheila. "Sandy gives me all I can handle."
"Of course I never thought of such a thing," said Farwell seriously. "Did it sound like that?"
"No, I am joking. I think you take things seriously, Mr. Farwell."
"I suppose so," he admitted. "Yes, I guess I do. I can't help it. I'm no joker; no time for that. Jokers don't get anywhere. Never saw one that did. It's the fellow who keeps thinking about his job and banging away at it who gets there." ”