The Man of the Forest - Zane Grey (white hot kiss txt) 📗

don’t you

ever bother your head again about him. I’ll bet they’re all

men out here. And I wouldn’t be in Harve Riggs’s boots for a

lot.”

 

After that Bo talked of her uncle and his fatal illness, and

from that she drifted back to the loved ones at home, now

seemingly at the other side of the world, and then she broke

down and cried, after which she fell asleep on Helen’s

shoulder.

 

But Helen could not have fallen asleep if she had wanted to.

 

She had always, since she could remember, longed for a

moving, active life; and for want of a better idea she had

chosen to dream of gipsies. And now it struck her grimly

that, if these first few hours of her advent in the West

were forecasts of the future, she was destined to have her

longings more than fulfilled.

 

Presently the stage rolled slower and slower, until it came

to a halt. Then the horses heaved, the harnesses clinked,

the men whispered. Otherwise there was an intense quiet. She

looked out, expecting to find it pitch-dark. It was black,

yet a transparent blackness. To her surprise she could see a

long way. A shooting-star electrified her. The men were

listening. She listened, too, but beyond the slight sounds

about the stage she heard nothing. Presently the driver

clucked to his horses, and travel was resumed.

 

For a while the stage rolled on rapidly, evidently downhill,

swaying from side to side, and rattling as if about to fall

to pieces. Then it slowed on a level, and again it halted

for a few moments, and once more in motion it began a

laborsome climb. Helen imagined miles had been covered. The

desert appeared to heave into billows, growing rougher, and

dark, round bushes dimly stood out. The road grew uneven and

rocky, and when the stage began another descent its violent

rocking jolted Bo out of her sleep and in fact almost out of

Helen’s arms.

 

“Where am I?” asked Bo, dazedly.

 

“Bo, you’re having your heart’s desire, but I can’t tell you

where you are,” replied Helen.

 

Bo awakened thoroughly, which fact was now no wonder,

considering the jostling of the old stage.

 

“Hold on to me, Nell! … Is it a runaway?”

 

“We’ve come about a thousand miles like this, I think,”

replied Helen. “I’ve not a whole bone in my body.”

 

Bo peered out of the window.

 

“Oh, how dark and lonesome! But it’d be nice if it wasn’t so

cold. I’m freezing.”

 

“I thought you loved cold air,” taunted Helen.

 

“Say, Nell, you begin to talk like yourself,” responded Bo.

 

It was difficult to hold on to the stage and each other and

the cloak all at once, but they succeeded, except in the

roughest places, when from time to time they were bounced

around. Bo sustained a sharp rap on the head.

 

“Oooooo!” she moaned. “Nell Rayner, I’ll never forgive you

for fetching me on this awful trip.”

 

“Just think of your handsome Las Vegas cowboy,” replied

Helen.

 

Either this remark subdued Bo or the suggestion sufficed to

reconcile her to the hardships of the ride.

 

Meanwhile, as they talked and maintained silence and tried

to sleep, the driver of the stage kept at his task after the

manner of Western men who knew how to get the best out of

horses and bad roads and distance.

 

By and by the stage halted again and remained at a

standstill for so long, with the men whispering on top, that

Helen and Bo were roused to apprehension.

 

Suddenly a sharp whistle came from the darkness ahead.

 

“Thet’s Roy,” said Joe Beeman, in a low voice.

 

“I reckon. An’ meetin’ us so quick looks bad,” replied Dale.

“Drive on, Bill.”

 

“Mebbe it seems quick to you,” muttered the driver, “but if

we hain’t come thirty mile, an’ if thet ridge thar hain’t

your turnin’-off place, why, I don’t know nothin’.”

 

The stage rolled on a little farther, while Helen and Bo sat

clasping each other tight, wondering with bated breath what

was to be the next thing to happen.

 

Then once more they were at a standstill. Helen heard the

thud of boots striking the ground, and the snorts of horses.

 

“Nell, I see horses,” whispered Bo, excitedly. “There, to

the side of the road … and here comes a man… . Oh,

if he shouldn’t be the one they’re expecting!”

 

Helen peered out to see a tall, dark form, moving silently,

and beyond it a vague outline of horses, and then pale

gleams of what must have been pack-loads.

 

Dale loomed up, and met the stranger in the road.

 

“Howdy, Milt? You got the girl sure, or you wouldn’t be

here,” said a low voice.

 

“Roy, I’ve got two girls — sisters,” replied Dale.

 

The man Roy whistled softly under his breath. Then another

lean, rangy form strode out of the darkness, and was met by

Dale.

 

“Now, boys — how about Anson’s gang?” queried Dale.

 

“At Snowdrop, drinkin’ an’ quarrelin’. Reckon they’ll leave

there about daybreak,” replied Roy.

 

“How long have you been here?”

 

“Mebbe a couple of hours.”

 

“Any horse go by?”

 

“No.”

 

“Roy, a strange rider passed us before dark. He was hittin’

the road. An’ he’s got by here before you came.”

 

“I don’t like thet news,” replied Roy, tersely. “Let’s

rustle. With girls on hossback you’ll need all the start you

can get. Hey, John?”

 

“Snake Anson shore can foller hoss tracks,” replied the

third man.

 

“Milt, say the word,” went on Roy, as he looked up at the

stars. “Daylight not far away. Here’s the forks of the road,

an’ your hosses, an’ our outfit. You can be in the pines by

sunup.”

 

In the silence that ensued Helen heard the throb of her

heart and the panting little breaths of her sister. They

both peered out, hands clenched together, watching and

listening in strained attention.

 

“It’s possible that rider last night wasn’t a messenger to

Anson,” said Dale. “In that case Anson won’t make anythin’

of our wheel tracks or horse tracks. He’ll go right on to

meet the regular stage. Bill, can you go back an’ meet the

stage comin’ before Anson does?”

 

“Wal, I reckon so — an’ take it easy at thet,” replied

Bill.

 

“All right,” continued Dale, instantly. “John, you an’ Joe

an’ Hal ride back to meet the regular stage. An’ when you

meet it get on an’ be on it when Anson holds it up.”

 

“Thet’s shore agreeable to me,” drawled John.

 

“I’d like to be on it, too,” said Roy, grimly.

 

“No. I’ll need you till I’m safe in the woods. Bill, hand

down the bags. An’ you, Roy, help me pack them. Did you get

all the supplies I wanted?”

 

“Shore did. If the young ladies ain’t powerful particular

you can feed them well for a couple of months.”

 

Dale wheeled and, striding to the stage, he opened the door.

 

“Girls, you’re not asleep? Come,” he called.

 

Bo stepped down first.

 

“I was asleep till this — this vehicle fell off the road

back a ways,” she replied.

 

Roy Beeman’s low laugh was significant. He took off his

sombrero and stood silent. The old driver smothered a loud

guffaw.

 

“Veehicle! Wal, I’ll be doggoned! Joe, did you hear thet?

All the spunky gurls ain’t born out West.”

 

As Helen followed with cloak and bag Roy assisted her, and

she encountered keen eyes upon her face. He seemed both

gentle and respectful, and she felt his solicitude. His

heavy gun, swinging low, struck her as she stepped down.

 

Dale reached into the stage and hauled out baskets and bags.

These he set down on the ground.

 

“Turn around, Bill, an’ go along with you. John an’ Hal will

follow presently,” ordered Dale.

 

“Wal, gurls,” said Bill, looking down upon them, “I was shore

powerful glad to meet you-all. An’ I’m ashamed of my country

— offerin’ two sich purty gurls insults an’ lowdown

tricks. But shore you’ll go through safe now. You couldn’t

be in better company fer ridin’ or huntin’ or marryin’ or

gittin’ religion —”

 

“Shut up, you old grizzly!” broke in Dale, sharply.

 

“Haw! Haw! Good-by, gurls, an’ good luck!” ended Bill, as he

began to whip the reins.

 

Bo said good-by quite distinctly, but Helen could only

murmur hers. The old driver seemed a friend.

 

Then the horses wheeled and stamped, the stage careened and

creaked, presently to roll out of sight in the gloom.

 

“You’re shiverin’,” said Dale, suddenly, looking down upon

Helen. She felt his big, hard hand clasp hers. “Cold as

ice!”

 

“I am c-cold,” replied Helen. “I guess we’re not warmly

dressed.”

 

“Nell, we roasted all day, and now we’re freezing,” declared

Bo. “I didn’t know it was winter at night out here.”

 

“Miss, haven’t you some warm gloves an’ a coat?” asked Roy,

anxiously. “It ‘ain’t begun to get cold yet.”

 

“Nell, we’ve heavy gloves, riding-suits and boots — all

fine and new — in this black bag,” said Bo,

enthusiastically kicking a bag at her feet.

 

“Yes, so we have. But a lot of good they’ll do us,

to-night,” returned Helen.

 

“Miss, you’d do well to change right here,” said Roy,

earnestly. “It’ll save time in the long run an’ a lot of

sufferin’ before sunup.”

 

Helen stared at the young man, absolutely amazed with his

simplicity. She was advised to change her traveling-dress

for a riding-suit — out somewhere in a cold, windy desert

— in the middle of the night — among strange young men!

 

“Bo, which bag is it?” asked Dale, as if she were his

sister. And when she indicated the one, he picked it up.

“Come off the road.”

 

Bo followed him, and Helen found herself mechanically at

their heels. Dale led them a few paces off the road behind

some low bushes.

 

“Hurry an’ change here,” he said. “We’ll make a pack of your

outfit an’ leave room for this bag.”

 

Then he stalked away and in a few strides disappeared.

 

Bo sat down to begin unlacing her shoes. Helen could just

see her pale, pretty face and big, gleaming eyes by the

light of the stars. It struck her then that Bo was going to

make eminently more of a success of Western life than she

was.

 

“Nell, those fellows are n-nice,” said Bo, reflectively.

“Aren’t you c-cold? Say, he said hurry!”

 

It was beyond Helen’s comprehension how she ever began to

disrobe out there in that open, windy desert, but after she

had gotten launched on the task she found that it required

more fortitude than courage. The cold wind pierced right

through her. Almost she could have laughed at the way Bo

made things fly.

 

“G-g-g-gee!” chattered Bo. “I n-never w-was so c-c-cold in

all my life. Nell Rayner, m-may the g-good Lord forgive

y-you!”

 

Helen was too intent on her own troubles to take breath to

talk. She was a strong, healthy girl, swift and efficient

with her hands, yet this, the hardest physical ordeal she

had ever experienced, almost overcame her. Bo outdistanced

her by moments, helped her with buttons, and laced one whole

boot for her. Then, with hands that stung, Helen packed the

traveling-suits in the bag.

 

“There! But what an awful mess!” exclaimed Helen. “Oh, Bo,

our pretty traveling-dresses!”

 

“We’ll press them t-to-morrow — on a l-log,” replied Bo,

and she giggled.

 

They started for the road. Bo,