The Bandit of Hell's Bend - Edgar Rice Burroughs (reading tree .txt) 📗

LILLIAN MANILL awoke early and viewed the brilliant light of the new day through the patio windows of her room-the outer windows were securely shuttered against Indians. She stretched languorously and turned over for another nap, but suddenly changed her mind, threw off the covers and arose. It was a hideously early hour for Lillian Manill to arise; but she had recalled that there was to be a riding lesson after breakfast and Diana had explained to her that the breakfast hour was an early one. Dressing, she selected a tailored walking suit-she would change into her riding habit after breakfast-for she wanted to stroll about the yard a bit before breakfast, and she knew that this new walking suit was extremely fetching.

A few minutes later as she stepped into the yard she saw signs of activity in the direction of the horse corrals and thither she bent her steps. Texas Pete, who was helping the chore boy with the morning feeding, saw her coming and looked for an avenue of escape, being in no sense a lady’s man and fully aware of the fact; but he was too late-there was no avenue left, Lillian Manill being already between him and the bunkhouse. So he applied himself vigorously to the pitchfork he was wielding and pretended not to see her, a pretense that made no impression whatever upon Lillian Manill. She paused outside the bars and looked in.

“Good morning!” she said.

Texas Pete pretended that he had not heard.

“Mornin’,” replied Pete, pulling at the brim of his hat and immediately resuming the fork. He wished she would move on. The horses were fed and there was no other excuse for him to remain in the corral, but in order to reach the bunkhouse he must pass directly by this disconcerting person. Diana he did not mind-he was used to Diana, and aside from the fact that he was madly in love with her she caused him little embarrassment or concern except upon those few occasions when he had attempted to maintain an extended conversation with her. Dr. Johnson would have found nothing in Pete’s conversational attainments to have aroused his envy.

Pete continued feeding the horses. He fed them twice as much as they could eat in a day, notwithstanding the fact that he knew perfectly well they were to be fed again that evening; but finally he realized that he could defer the embarrassing moment no longer and that the girl had not left. He stuck the fork viciously into the haystack and crossed the corral. He tried to appear unconcerned and to pass her by without looking at her, but in both he failed-first because he was very much concerned and second because she placed herself directly in his path and smiled sweetly at him.

“I don’t believe I had the pleasure of meeting you last night,” she said. “I am Miss Manill-Miss Renders’ cousin.”

“Yes’m,” said Pete.

“And I suppose you are one of the cowgentlemen,” she added.

Pete turned suddenly and violently purple. A choking sound issued from his throat; but quickly he gained control of himself. Something in that remark of hers removed instantly all of Texas Pete’s embarrassment. He found himself at once upon an even footing with her.

“No’m,” he said, “I hain’t one o’ the cowgentlemen-I’m on’y a tendershoe.”

“I’m sure you don’t look it,” she told him, “with those leather trousers with the fleece on. But you ride, don’t you?” she added quickly.

“I ain’t lamed yit,” he assured her.

“Oh, isn’t that too bad! I thought of course you were a wonderful equestrian and I was going to ask you to teach me to ride; but you’d better come along after breakfast and we’ll get Mr. Colby to teach us both.”

“I reckon he wouldn’t like it,” explained Pete. “You see I’m in his afternoon ridin’ class. He don’t take nothin’ but ladies in the mornin’.”

“Oh, does he teach riding regularly?”

“My, yes, that’s what he’s here fer. He’s larnin’ us all to ride so’s we kin go out on hosses an’ catch the cows ‘stid o’ havin’ to hoof-it.”

“I thought he was foreman,” she said.

“Yes’m, but that’s one of his jobs-larnin’ cowgentlemen to ride”

“How interesting! I’ve learned so much already and I’ve only been in Arizona since day before yesterday. Mr. Bull was so kind and patient, answering all my silly little questions.”

“I reckon Bull could answer most any question,” he told her.

“Yes, indeed; but then he’s been here in Arizona so long, and had so much to do with the development of the country. Why, do you know he planted all the willows along that funny little river we followed for so long yesterday-miles and miles of them?”

“Did he tell you that?” inquired Texas Pete.

“Yes, isn’t it wonderful? I think it shows such an artistic temperament.”

“There’s more to Bull than I ever suspected,” murmured Texas Pete, reverently.

A sudden, clamorous, metallic din shattered the quiet of the cool Arizona morning. The girl gave a little scream and sprang for Texas Pete, throwing both arms about his neck.

“O-o-h!” she cried; “what is it-Indians?”

“No’m,” said Pete, striving to disengage himself, for he saw the malevolent eyes of several unholy cowgentlemen gloating upon the scene from the doorway of the bunkhouse. “No’m, that ain’t Injuns-that’s the breakfast bell.”

“How silly of me!” she explained. “Now I suppose I must be going. I’m so glad to have met you, Mr,

“My name’s ‘Texas Pete.”

“Mr. Pete, and I do hope you learn to ride quickly. I am sure we could have some lovely excursions, picnicking among the beautiful hills. Oh, wouldn’t it be divine just you and I, Mr. Pete?” and she let her great, lovely eyes hang for a moment on his in a fashion that had turned more sophisticated heads than Texas Pete’s.

When she had gone and Pete was making his way toward the cook-house he ran his fingers through his shock of hair. “By gollies!” he muttered. “The outside o’ her head’s all right, anyway.”

As he entered the cook-house Shorty seized him and threw both arms about his neck. “Kiss me darlin’ !” he cried. “I ain’t had a single kiss before breakfast.”

“Shet up, you long-legged walrus,” replied Pete, grinning, as he shoved the other aside.

He ate in silence despite the gibes of his companions, who quickly desisted, realizing the futility of attempting to arouse Texas Pete’s ire by raillery. He was quick enough of temper and quicker still with his guns when occasion warranted; but no one could arouse his anger so long as their thrusts were shod with fun.

“Lookee here, cook,” he called promptly to that individual; “you’re the best eddicated bloke in this bunch o’ long-horns-what’s a questreen?”

“Somethin’ you puts soup in,” replied the cook.

Texas Pete scratched his head. “I thought all along that I didn’t like her,” he muttered, “an’ now I knows it.”

Diana Henders greeted her guests with a cheery smile and a word of welcome as they entered the dining room for breakfast. “I hope you slept well,” she said.

“Oh, I did,” exclaimed Lillian Manill. “I never knew a thing from the time my head touched the pillow until broad daylight this morning. I had a perfectly wonderful night.”

“I didn’t,” said Corson, and Diana noticed then that he looked tired and haggard. “What happened last night?” he asked.

“Why, nothing, that I know of,” replied Diana. “Why do you ask?”

“Have you seen any of your men this morning-or any of the neighbors?” he continued.

“I have seen a couple of the men to talk with-we have no neighbors.”

“How many women are there on this place?” he went on.

“Just Lillian and I.”

“Well, something terrible happened last night,” said Corson. “I never spent such a hideous night in my life. It’s funny you didn’t hear it.”

“Hear what?” asked Diana.

“That woman-my God! I can hear her screams yet.

“Oh, Maurice! what do you mean?” cried Miss Manill.

“It was about midnight,” he explained. “I had been rather restless just dozing a little-when all of a sudden the dogs commenced to bark and then a woman screamed-it was the most awful, long-drawn, agonized wail I ever heard-some one must have been torturing her. I’ll bet the Indians were out last night and the first thing you know you’ll hear about a terrible massacre. Well, it stopped all of a sudden and pretty soon the dogs commenced to yap again-there must have been fifty of ‘em-and then that woman shrieked again-I’ll hear that to my dying day. I don’t think you ought to let any of the men go away today until you find out just what happened last night. The Indians may just be waiting for ‘em to go and then they’ll rush down on us and kill us all.”

A faint smile had slowly curved Diana’s lips and brought little wrinkles to the corners of her eyes.

“What are you smiling about, Miss Henders?” demanded Corson. “If you’d heard that woman you wouldn’t feel like smiling-not for a long time.”

“That wasn’t a woman you heard, Mr. Corson-they were coyotes.”

He looked at her blankly. “Are you sure?” he asked, presently.

‘ ‘Of course I’m sure,” she told him.

Corson breathed a sigh of relief. “I’d like to believe it,” he said. “I’d sleep better tonight.”

“Well, you can believe it, for that is what you heard.”

“I’d hate to be caught out after dark by ‘em,” he