The Man of the Forest by Zane Grey (readera ebook reader txt) 📕

all I got will go to Nell. Thet ranch will have to be run by a man an' HELD by a man. Do you savvy? It's a big job. An' I'm offerin' to make you my foreman right now.”

“Al, you sort of take my breath,” replied Dale. “An' I'm sure grateful. But the fact is, even if I could handle the job, I—I don't believe I'd want to.”

“Make yourself want to, then. Thet 'd soon come. You'd get interested. This country will develop. I seen thet years ago. The government is goin' to chase the Apaches out of here. Soon homesteaders will be flockin' in. Big future, Dale. You want to get in now. An'—”

Here Auchincloss hesitated, then spoke lower:

“An' take your chance with the girl!... I'll be on your side.”

A slight vibrating start ran over Dale's stalwart form.

“Al—you're plumb dotty!” he exclaimed.

“Dotty! Me? Dotty!” ejaculated Auchincloss. Then he swore. “In a minit I'll tell you what you are.”

“But, Al, that talk's so—so—like an old fool's.”

“Huh! An' why so?”

“Because that—wonderful girl would never look at me,” Dale replied, simply.

“I seen her lookin' already,” declared Al, bluntly.

Dale shook his head as if arguing with the old rancher was hopeless.

“Never mind thet,” went on Al. “Mebbe I am a dotty old fool—'specially for takin' a shine to you. But I say again—will you come down to Pine and be my foreman?”

“No,” replied Dale.

“Milt, I've no son—an' I'm—afraid of Beasley.” This was uttered in an agitated whisper.

“Al, you make me ashamed,” said Dale, hoarsely. “I can't come. I've no nerve.”

“You've no what?”

“Al, I don't know what's wrong with me. But I'm afraid I'd find out if I came down there.”

“A-huh! It's the girl!”

“I don't know, but I'm afraid so. An' I won't come.”

“Aw yes, you will—”

Helen rose with beating heart and tingling ears, and moved away out of hearing. She had listened too long to what had not been intended for her ears, yet she could not be sorry. She walked a few rods along the brook, out from under the pines, and, standing in the open edge of the park, she felt the beautiful scene still her agitation. The following moments, then, were the happiest she had spent in Paradise Park, and the profoundest of her whole life.

Presently her uncle called her.

“Nell, this here hunter wants to give you thet black hoss. An' I say you take him.”

“Ranger deserves better care than I can give him,” said Dale. “He runs free in the woods most of the time. I'd be obliged if she'd have him. An' the hound, Pedro, too.”

Bo swept a saucy glance from Dale to her sister.

“Sure she'll have Ranger. Just offer him to ME!”

Dale stood there expectantly, holding a blanket in his hand, ready to saddle the horse. Carmichael walked around Ranger with that appraising eye so keen in cowboys.

“Las Vegas, do you know anything about horses?” asked Bo.

“Me! Wal, if you ever buy or trade a hoss you shore have me there,” replied Carmichael.

“What do you think of Ranger?” went on Bo.

“Shore I'd buy him sudden, if I could.”

“Mr. Las Vegas, you're too late,” asserted Helen, as she advanced to lay a hand on the horse.

“Ranger is mine.”

Dale smoothed out the blanket and, folding it, he threw it over the horse; and then with one powerful swing he set the saddle in place.

“Thank you very much for him,” said Helen, softly.

“You're welcome, an' I'm sure glad,” responded Dale, and then, after a few deft, strong pulls at the straps, he continued. “There, he's ready for you.”

With that he laid an arm over the saddle, and faced Helen as she stood patting and smoothing Ranger. Helen, strong and calm now, in feminine possession of her secret and his, as well as her composure, looked frankly and steadily at Dale. He seemed composed, too, yet the bronze of his fine face was a trifle pale.

“But I can't thank you—I'll never be able to repay you—for your service to me and my sister,” said Helen.

“I reckon you needn't try,” Dale returned. “An' my service, as you call it, has been good for me.”

“Are you going down to Pine with us?”

“No.”

“But you will come soon?”

“Not very soon, I reckon,” he replied, and averted his gaze.

“When?”

“Hardly before spring.”

“Spring?... That is a long time. Won't you come to see me sooner than that?”

“If I can get down to Pine.”

“You're the first friend I've made in the West,” said Helen, earnestly.

“You'll make many more—an' I reckon soon forget him you called the man of the forest.”

“I never forget any of my friends. And you've been the—the biggest friend I ever had.”

“I'll be proud to remember.”

“But will you remember—will you promise to come to Pine?”

“I reckon.”

“Thank you. All's well, then.... My friend, goodby.”

“Good-by,” he said, clasping her hand. His glance was clear, warm, beautiful, yet it was sad.

Auchincloss's hearty voice broke the spell. Then Helen saw that the others were mounted. Bo had ridden up close; her face was earnest and happy and grieved all at once, as she bade good-by to Dale. The pack-burros were hobbling along toward the green slope. Helen was the last to mount, but Roy was the last to leave the hunter. Pedro came reluctantly.

It was a merry, singing train which climbed that brown odorous trail, under the dark spruces. Helen assuredly was happy, yet a pang abided in her breast.

She remembered that half-way up the slope there was a turn in the trail