The Range Boss by Charles Alden Seltzer (best novels to read to improve english .TXT) đ
The girl cleared her throat. "We have had an accident," she informed the rider, her voice a little husky.
At this word he swept his hat from his head and bowed to her. "Why, I reckon you have, ma'am," he said. "Didn't you have no driver?"
"Why, yes," returned the girl hesitatingly, for she thought she detected sarcasm in his voice, and she had to look twice at him to make sure--and then she couldn't have told. "The gentleman on the bank, there, is our driver."
"The gentleman on the bank, eh?" drawled the rider. And now for the first time he seemed to become aware of Willard's presence, for he looked narrowly at him. "Why, he's all wet!" he exclaimed. "I expect he come pretty near drownin', didn't he, ma'am?" He looked again at the girl, astonishment in his eyes. "An' so he drove you into that suck-hole, an' he got throwed out! Wasn't there no one to tell him that Calamity ain't to be trusted?"
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The tale was related in strictest confidence, and Uncle Jepson did not repeat it.
But the main fact, that Randerson had killed another man in his outfit, found its way to Ruthâs ears through the medium of a roaming puncher who had stopped for an hour at the ranchhouse. Ruth had confirmed the news through questioning several Flying W men, and, because of their reluctance to answer her inquiries, their expressionless faces, she gathered that the shooting had not met with their approval. She did not consider that they had given her no details, that they spoke no word of blame or praise. She got nothing but the bare factâthat Randersonâs gun had again wrought havoc.
She had not seen Masten. A month had slipped by since the day of his departure, when she got a note from him, by messenger, from Lazette, saying that his business was not yet concluded, and that possibly, two weeks more would elapse before he would be able to visit the Flying W.
Had Randerson, standing near the chuck wagon on the night of the shooting of Kelso, known what effect the news would have on Ruth? âI reckon she would have wanted it different,â he had reflected, then. And he had been entirely correct, for the news had destroyed something that had been growing and flourishing in her heart. It had filled her soul with disappointment, at least; repugnance and loathing were not very far away. She had almost been persuaded, that day when he had taught her how to use the pistol. The killing of Pickett had grown dim and distant in her mental vision; Randerson had become a compelling figure that dominated her thoughts. But this second killing! She could no longer interpret the steady, serene gleam in his eyes as mild confidence and frank directness; as she saw them now they reflected hypocrisyâthe cold, designing cunning of the habitual taker of human life.
She had been very near to making a mistake; she had almost yielded to the lure of the romance that had seemed to surround him; the magnetic personality of him had attracted her. He attracted her no longerâher heart was shut to him. And, during the days of Mastenâs continuing absenceâin the times when she reflected on her feelings toward Randerson on the day he had taught her the use of the pistol, she bitterly reproached herself for her momentary lack of loyalty to the Easterner. She had been weak for an instantâas life is measuredâand she would make it up to Mastenâby ceasing to be irritated by his moods, through paying no attention to his faults, which, she now saw, were infinitely less grave than those of the man who had impressed her for an instantâand by yielding to his suggestion that she marry him before the fall round-up.
In these days, too, she seriously thought of discharging Randerson, for he had not ridden in to report the killing and to offer a defense for it, but she remembered Vickersâ words: âRanderson is square,â and she supposed that all cowboys were alike, and would shootâto killâif they considered their provocation to be great enough.
But these thoughts did not occupy all of her time. She found opportunities to ride and sew and talkâthe latter mostly with Aunt Martha and Uncle Jepson. And she kept making her visits to Hagar Catherson.
Of late Ruth had noticed a change in the girlâs manner. She seemed to have lost the vivacity that had swept upon her with the coming of her new clothes; she had grown quiet and thoughtful, and had moods of intense abstraction. Ruth rode to the cabin one morning, to find her sitting on the edge of the porch, hugging Nig tightly and whispering to him. Her eyes were moist when Ruth rode up to the porch and looked down at her, but they filled with delight when they rested upon her visitor.
She did not get up, though, and still held Nig, despite the dogâs attempts to release himself.
âHave you been crying, Hagar?â Ruth inquired as she dismounted and sat on the edge of the porch close to the girl.
Hagar smiled wanly and rubbed her eyes vigorously with the back of her free hand, meanwhile looking sidelong at Ruth.
âWhy, I reckon not,â she answered hesitatingly, âthat is, not cryinâ regular. But I was just tellinâ Nig, here, that heâs the only sure enough friend Iâve gotâthat can be depended on not to fool anybody.â
âWhy, Hagar!â Ruth was astonished and perhaps a little hurt by this pessimistic view. âWhat an odd idea for you to have! Who has fooled you, Hagar?â
âNobody,â said the girl almost sullenly. She dug her bare toe into the deep sand at the edge of the porch and looked down at the miniature hill she was making, her lips set queerly. Ruth had already noticed that she was dressed almost as she had been at their first meetingâa slipover apron that Ruth had given her being the only new garment. It was the lonesomeness, of course, Ruth reflected, and perhaps a vision of the dreary future, prospectless, hopeless, to be filled with the monotony of the past. Her arm stole out and was placed on Hagarâs shoulder.
âI havenât fooled you, Hagar,â she said; âhave I?â
âNo, maâam.â Her lips quivered. She glanced furtively at Ruth, and a half frightened, half dreading look came into her eyes. âNobodyâs fooled me,â she added with a nervous laugh. âI was just feelinâ sorta dumpish, I reckon.â
âYou mustnât brood, you know,â consoled Ruth. âIt ruins character.â
âWhatâs character?â
âWhyâwhy,â hesitated Ruth, âthe thing that makes you yourselfâapart from every other person; your reputation; the good that is in youâthe good you feel.â
âI ainât got any,â said the girl, morosely, grimly.
âWhy, Hagar, you have! Everybody hasâeither good or bad.â
âMineâs bad, I reckonâif Iâve got any.â She suddenly buried her face on Ruthâs shoulder and sobbed.
Perplexed, astonished, almost dismayed, Ruth held her off and tried to look at her face. But the girl only buried it deeper and continued to cry.
âWhy, Hagar; whatever is the matter?â
There was no answer, and after holding her for a time, Ruth succeeded in getting a look at her face. It was tear-stained, but dogged in expression, and had Ruth been experienced in reading the human emotions, she could have seen the guilt in the girlâs eyes, lurking far back. She also might have seen the determination in themâa determination not to tell her secret. And a sorrow, also, was thereâaroused through the thought that she had deceived Ruth, and could not tell her.
Hagar realized now that she had permitted her emotions to carry her too far, that she had aroused Ruthâs curiosity. Ruth must never know! She made an effort and sat up, laughing grimly through her tears, shaking her hair back from her eyes, brushing it away fiercely.
âDad says thereâs times when Iâm half loco,â she said. âI reckon heâs right.â She recovered her composure rapidly, and in a few minutes there were no traces of tears or of mental distress. But Ruth was puzzled, and after she left the cabin she tried in vain to provide an explanation for the girlâs strange conduct.
On her next visit to the cabin, Ruth was astonished when Hagar asked her bluntly:
âAinât there no punishment for men who deceive girls?â
âVery little, Hagar, I fearâunless it is Godâs punishment.â
âShucks!â The girlâs eyes flashed vindictively. âThere ought to be. Durn âem, anyway!â
âHagar, what has brought such a subject into your mind?â said Ruth wonderingly.
The girl reddened, but met Ruthâs eyes determinedly. âIâve got a book in here, that dad got with some other traps from olâ man Cullenâs girls, back in Red Rockâthey thought we was poorly, anâ they helped us that-a-way. Itâs âMillieâs Lovers,â anâ it tells how a man deceived a girl, anâ run away anâ left herâthe sneakinâ coyote!â
âGirls shouldnât read such books, Hagar.â
âYes, they ought to. But it ought to tell in âem how to get even with the men who do things like that!â She frowned as she looked at Ruth. âWhat would you think of a man that done that in real life?â
âI should think that he wouldnât be much of a man,â said Ruth.
As before, Ruth departed from this visit, puzzled and wondering.
On another morning, a few days following Ruthâs discovery of the shooting of Kelso, she found Hagar standing on the porch. The dog had apprised Hagar of the coming of her visitor. Hagarâs first words were:
âDid you hear? Rex Randerson killed Kelso.â
âI heard about it some days ago,â said Ruth. âItâs horrible!â
âWhat do you reckon is horrible about it?â questioned Hagar, with a queer look at her friend.
âWhy,â returned Ruth, surprised; âthe deed itself! The very thought of one human being taking the life of another!â
âThereâs worse things than killinâ a man thatâs tryinâ to make you shuffle off,â declared Hagar evenly. âRex Randerson wouldnât kill nobody unless they made him do it. Anâ accordinâ to what dad says, Kelso pulled first. Rex ainât lettinâ nobody perforate him, you bet!â
âHe is too ready with his pistol.â
The girl caught the repugnance in Ruthâs voice. âI thought you kind of liked Randerson,â she said.
Ruth blushed. âWhat made you think that?â she demanded.
âIâve heard that youâve gone ridinâ with him a lot. I just reckoned it.â
âYou are mistaken, Hagar. I do not like Randerson at all. He is my range bossâthat is all. A murderer could never be a friend to me.â
A shadow came over Hagarâs face. âRex Randerson has got a clean heart,â she said slowly. She stood looking at Ruth, disappointment plain in her eyes. The disappointment was quickly succeeded by suspicion; she caught her breath, and the hands that were under her apron gripped each other hard.
âI reckon youâll take up with Masten again,â she said, trying to control her voice.
Ruth looked intently at her, but she did not notice the girlâs emotion through her interest in her words.
âWhat do you mean by âagainâ?â
âI heard that youâd broke your engagement.â
âWho told you that?â Ruthâs voice was sharp, for she thought Randerson perhaps had been talking.
Hagar blushed crimson and resorted to a lie. âMy dad told me. He said heâd heard it.â
âWell, it isnât true,â Ruth told her firmly; âI have never broken with Mr. Masten. And we are to be married soon.â
She turned, for she was slightly indignant at this evidence that the people in the country near her had been meddling with her affairs, and she did not see the ashen pallor that quickly spread over Hagarâs face. Had Ruth been looking she must have suspected the girlâs secret. But it took her some time to mount her pony, and then looking back she waved her hand at Hagar, who was smiling, though with pale and drawn face.
Hagar stood rigid on the porch until she could no longer see Ruth. Then she sank to the edge of the porch, gathered the dog Nig into her arms, and buried her face in his unkempt shoulder. Rocking back and forth in a paroxysm of impotent passion, she spoke to the dog:
âI canât kill him now, Nig, heâs goinâ to marry her! Oh Nig, Nig, what am I goinâ to do now?â And then she looked up scornfully, her eyes flashing. âShe wonât let Rex be a friend of hers,
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