The Man of the Forest by Zane Grey (fb2 epub reader .txt) 📕

showed pink and gold on the ragged spruce

line of the mountain rims. Bo was on her knees, braiding her

hair with shaking hands, and at the same time trying to peep

out.

 

And the echoes of a ringing cry were cracking back from the

cliffs. That had been Dale’s voice.

 

“Nell! Nell! Wake up!” called Bo, wildly. “Oh, some one’s

come! Horses and men!”

 

Helen got to her knees and peered out over Bo’s shoulder.

Dale, standing tall and striking beside the campfire, was

waving his sombrero. Away down the open edge of the park

came a string of pack-burros with mounted men behind. In the

foremost rider Helen recognized Roy Beeman.

 

“That first one’s Roy!” she exclaimed. “I’d never forget him

on a horse… . Bo, it must mean Uncle Al’s come!”

 

“Sure! We’re born lucky. Here we are safe and sound — and

all this grand camp trip… . Look at the cowboys… .

LOOK! Oh, maybe this isn’t great!” babbled Bo.

 

Dale wheeled to see the girls peeping out.

 

“It’s time you’re up!” he called. “Your uncle Al is here.”

 

For an instant after Helen sank back out of Dale’s sight she

sat there perfectly motionless, so struck was she by the

singular tone of Dale’s voice. She imagined that he

regretted what this visiting cavalcade of horsemen meant —

they had come to take her to her ranch in Pine. Helen’s

heart suddenly began to beat fast, but thickly, as if

muffled within her breast.

 

“Hurry now, girls,” called Dale.

 

Bo was already out, kneeling on the flat stone at the little

brook, splashing water in a great hurry. Helen’s hands

trembled so that she could scarcely lace her boots or brush

her hair, and she was long behind Bo in making herself

presentable. When Helen stepped out, a short, powerfully

built man in coarse garb and heavy boots stood holding Bo’s

hands.

 

“Wal, wal! You favor the Rayners,” he was saying, “I remember

your dad, an’ a fine feller he was.”

 

Beside them stood Dale and Roy, and beyond was a group of

horses and riders.

 

“Uncle, here comes Nell,” said Bo, softly.

 

“Aw!” The old cattle-man breathed hard as he turned.

 

Helen hurried. She had not expected to remember this uncle,

but one look into the brown, beaming face, with the blue

eyes flashing, yet sad, and she recognized him, at the same

instant recalling her mother.

 

He held out his arms to receive her.

 

“Nell Auchincloss all over again!” he exclaimed, in deep

voice, as he kissed her. “I’d have knowed you anywhere!”

 

“Uncle Al!” murmured Helen. “I remember you — though I was

only four.”

 

“Wal, wal, — that’s fine,” he replied. “I remember you

straddled my knee once, an’ your hair was brighter — an’

curly. It ain’t neither now… . Sixteen years! An’ you’re

twenty now? What a fine, broad-shouldered girl you are! An’,

Nell, you’re the handsomest Auchincloss I ever seen!”

 

Helen found herself blushing, and withdrew her hands from

his as Roy stepped forward to pay his respects. He stood

bareheaded, lean and tall, with neither his clear eyes nor

his still face, nor the proffered hand expressing anything

of the proven quality of fidelity, of achievement, that

Helen sensed in him.

 

“Howdy, Miss Helen? Howdy, Bo?” he said. “You all both look

fine an’ brown… . I reckon I was shore slow rustlin’

your uncle Al up here. But I was figgerin’ you’d like Milt’s

camp for a while.”

 

“We sure did,” replied Bo, archly.

 

“Aw!” breathed Auchincloss, heavily. “Lemme set down.”

 

He drew the girls to the rustic seat Dale had built for them

under the big pine.

 

“Oh, you must be tired! How — how are you?” asked Helen,

anxiously.

 

“Tired! Wal, if I am it’s jest this here minit. When Joe

Beeman rode in on me with thet news of you — wal, I jest

fergot I was a worn-out old hoss. Haven’t felt so good in

years. Mebbe two such young an’ pretty nieces will make a

new man of me.”

 

“Uncle Al, you look strong and well to me,” said Bo. “And

young, too, and —”

 

“Haw! Haw! Thet ‘ll do,” interrupted Al. “I see through you.

What you’ll do to Uncle Al will be aplenty… . Yes,

girls, I’m feelin’ fine. But strange — strange! Mebbe

thet’s my joy at seein’ you safe — safe when I feared so

thet damned greaser Beasley —”

 

In Helen’s grave gaze his face changed swiftly — and all

the serried years of toil and battle and privation showed,

with something that was not age, nor resignation, yet as

tragic as both.

 

“Wal, never mind him — now,” he added, slowly, and the

warmer light returned to his face. “Dale — come here.”

 

The hunter stepped closer.

 

“I reckon I owe you more ‘n I can ever pay,” said

Auchincloss, with an arm around each niece.

 

“No, Al, you don’t owe me anythin’,” returned Dale,

thoughtfully, as he looked away.

 

“A-huh!” grunted Al. “You hear him, girls… . Now listen,

you wild hunter. An’ you girls listen… . Milt, I never

thought you much good, ‘cept for the wilds. But I reckon

I’ll have to swallow thet. I do. Comin’ to me as you did —

an’ after bein’ druv off — keepin’ your council an’ savin’

my girls from thet hold-up, wal, it’s the biggest deal any

man ever did for me… . An’ I’m ashamed of my hard

feelin’s, an’ here’s my hand.”

 

“Thanks, Al,” replied Dale, with his fleeting smile, and he

met the proffered hand. “Now, will you be makin’ camp here?”

 

“Wal, no. I’ll rest a little, an’ you can pack the girls’

outfit — then we’ll go. Sure you’re goin’ with us?”

 

“I’ll call the girls to breakfast,” replied Dale, and he

moved away without answering Auchincloss’s query.

 

Helen divined that Dale did not mean to go down to Pine with

them, and the knowledge gave her a blank feeling of

surprise. Had she expected him to go?

 

“Come here, Jeff,” called Al, to one of his men.

 

A short, bow-legged horseman with dusty garb and

sun-bleached face hobbled forth from the group. He was not

young, but he had a boyish grin and bright little eyes.

Awkwardly he doffed his slouch sombrero.

 

“Jeff, shake hands with my nieces,” said Al. “This ‘s Helen,

an’ your boss from now on. An’ this ‘s Bo, fer short. Her

name was Nancy, but when she lay a baby in her cradle I

called her Bo-Peep, an’ the name’s stuck… . Girls, this

here’s my foreman, Jeff Mulvey, who’s been with me twenty

years.”

 

The introduction caused embarrassment to all three

principals, particularly to Jeff.

 

“Jeff, throw the packs an’ saddles fer a rest,” was Al’s

order to his foreman.

 

“Nell, reckon you’ll have fun bossin’ thet outfit,” chuckled

Al. “None of ‘em’s got a wife. Lot of scalawags they are; no

women would have them!”

 

“Uncle, I hope I’ll never have to be their boss,” replied

Helen.

 

“Wal, you’re goin’ to be, right off,” declared Al. “They

ain’t a bad lot, after all. An’ I got a likely new man.”

 

With that he turned to Bo, and, after studying her pretty

face, he asked, in apparently severe tone, “Did you send a

cowboy named Carmichael to ask me for a job?”

 

Bo looked quite startled.

 

“Carmichael! Why, Uncle, I never heard that name before,”

replied Bo, bewilderedly.

 

“A-huh! Reckoned the young rascal was lyin’,” said

Auchincloss. “But I liked the fellar’s looks an’ so let him

stay.”

 

Then the rancher turned to the group of lounging riders.

 

“Las Vegas, come here,” he ordered, in a loud voice.

 

Helen thrilled at sight of a tall, superbly built cowboy

reluctantly detaching himself from the group. He had a

red-bronze face, young like a boy’s. Helen recognized it,

and the flowing red scarf, and the swinging gun, and the

slow, spur-clinking gait. No other than Bo’s Las Vegas

cowboy admirer!

 

Then Helen flashed a look at Bo, which look gave her a

delicious, almost irresistible desire to laugh. That young

lady also recognized the reluctant individual approaching

with flushed and downcast face. Helen recorded her first

experience of Bo’s utter discomfiture. Bo turned white then

red as a rose.

 

“Say, my niece said she never heard of the name Carmichael,”

declared Al, severely, as the cowboy halted before him.

Helen knew her uncle had the repute of dealing hard with his

men, but here she was reassured and pleased at the twinkle

in his eye.

 

“Shore, boss, I can’t help thet,” drawled the cowboy. “It’s

good old Texas stock.”

 

He did not appear shamefaced now, but just as cool, easy,

clear-eyed, and lazy as the day Helen had liked his warm

young face and intent gaze.

 

“Texas! You fellars from the Pan Handle are always hollerin’

Texas. I never seen thet Texans had any one else beat — say

from Missouri,” returned Al, testily.

 

Carmichael maintained a discreet silence, and carefully

avoided looking at the girls.

 

“Wal, reckon we’ll all call you Las Vegas, anyway,”

continued the rancher. “Didn’t you say my niece sent you to

me for a job?”

 

Whereupon Carmichael’s easy manner vanished.

 

“Now, boss, shore my memory’s pore,” he said. “I only says

—”

 

“Don’t tell me thet. My memory’s not p-o-r-e,” replied Al,

mimicking the drawl. “What you said was thet my niece would

speak a good word for you.”

 

Here Carmichael stole a timid glance at Bo, the result of

which was to render him utterly crestfallen. Not improbably

he had taken Bo’s expression to mean something it did not,

for Helen read it as a mingling of consternation and fright.

Her eyes were big and blazing; a red spot was growing in

each cheek as she gathered strength from his confusion.

 

“Well, didn’t you?” demanded Al.

 

From the glance the old rancher shot from the cowboy to the

others of his employ it seemed to Helen that they were

having fun at Carmichael’s expense.

 

“Yes, sir, I did,” suddenly replied the cowboy.

 

“A-huh! All right, here’s my niece. Now see thet she speaks

the good word.”

 

Carmichael looked at Bo and Bo looked at him. Their glances

were strange, wondering, and they grew shy. Bo dropped hers.

The cowboy apparently forgot what had been demanded of him.

 

Helen put a hand on the old rancher’s arm.

 

“Uncle, what happened was my fault,” she said. “The train

stopped at Las Vegas. This young man saw us at the open

window. He must have guessed we were lonely, homesick girls,

getting lost in the West. For he spoke to us — nice and

friendly. He knew of you. And he asked, in what I took for

fun, if we thought you would give him a job. And I replied,

just to tease Bo, that she would surely speak a good word

for him.”

 

“Haw! Haw! So thet’s it,” replied Al, and he turned to Bo

with merry eyes. “Wal, I kept this here Las Vegas Carmichael

on his say-so. Come on with your good word, unless you want

to see him lose his job.”

 

Bo did not grasp her uncle’s bantering, because she was

seriously gazing at the cowboy. But she had grasped

something.

 

“He — he was the first person — out West — to speak

kindly to us,” she said, facing her uncle.

 

“Wal, thet’s a pretty good word, but it ain’t enough,”

responded Al.

 

Subdued laughter came from the listening