"A month back -- when I changed sudden-like," mused Bo. "Iwonder what he meant by that. . . . Nell, did I change --right after the talk you had with me -- about him?""Indeed you did, Bo," replied Helen. "But it was for the better. Only he can't see it. How proud and sensitive he is!
You wouldn't guess it at first. Bo, your reserve has wounded him more than your flirting. He thinks it's indifference.""Maybe that 'll be good for him," declared Bo. "Does he expect me to fall on his neck? He's that thick-headed! Why, he's the locoed one, not me.""I'd like to ask you, Bo, if you've seen how he has changed?" queried Helen, earnestly. "He's older. He's worried. Either his heart is breaking for you or else he fears trouble for us. I fear it's both. How he watches you!
Bo, he knows all you do -- where you go. That about Riggs sickens me.""If Riggs follows me and tries any of his four-flush desperado games he'll have his hands full," said Bo, grimly.
"And that without my cowboy protector! But I just wish Riggs would do something. Then we'll see what Las Vegas Tom Carmichael cares. Then we'll see!"Bo bit out the last words passionately and jealously, then she lifted her bridle to the spirited mustang, "Nell, don't you fear for me," she said. "I can take care of myself."Helen watched her ride away, all but willing to confess that there might be truth in what Bo said. Then Helen went about her work, which consisted of routine duties as well as an earnest study to familiarize herself with continually new and complex conditions of ranch life. Every day brought new problems. She made notes of all that she observed, and all that was told her, which habit she had found, after a few weeks of trial, was going to be exceedingly valuable to her.
She did not intend always to be dependent upon the knowledge of hired men, however faithful some of them might be.
This morning on her rounds she had expected developments; of some kind, owing to the presence of Roy Beeman and two of his brothers, who had arrived yesterday. And she was to discover that Jeff Mulvey, accompanied by six of his co-workers and associates, had deserted her without a word or even sending for their pay. Carmichael had predicted this. Helen had half doubted. It was a relief now to be confronted with facts, however disturbing. She had fortified herself to withstand a great deal more trouble than had happened. At the gateway of the main corral, a huge inclosure fenced high with peeled logs, she met Roy Beeman, lasso in hand, the same tall, lean, limping figure she remembered so well. Sight of him gave her an inexplicable thrill -- a flashing memory of an unforgettable night ride.
Roy was to have charge of the horses on the ranch, of which there were several hundred, not counting many lost on range and mountain, or the unbranded colts.
Roy took off his sombrero and greeted her. This Mormon had a courtesy for women that spoke well for him. Helen wished she had more employees like him.
"It's jest as Las Vegas told us it 'd be," he said, regretfully. "Mulvey an' his pards lit out this mornin'. I'm sorry, Miss Helen. Reckon thet's all because I come over.""I heard the news," replied Helen. "You needn't be sorry, Roy, for I'm not. I'm glad. I want to know whom I can trust.""Las Vegas says we're shore in for it now."
"Roy, what do you think?"
"I reckon so. Still, Las Vegas is powerful cross these days an' always lookin' on the dark side. With us boys, now, it's sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. But, Miss Helen, if Beasley forces the deal there will be serious trouble. I've seen thet happen. Four or five years ago Beasley rode some greasers off their farms an' no one ever knowed if he had a just claim.""Beasley has no claim on my property. My uncle solemnly swore that on his death-bed. And I find nothing in his books or papers of those years when he employed Beasley. In fact, Beasley was never uncle's partner. The truth is that my uncle took Beasley up when he was a poor, homeless boy.""So my old dad says," replied Roy. "But what's right don't always prevail in these parts.""Roy, you're the keenest man I've met since I came West.
Tell me what you think will happen."
Beeman appeared flattered, but be hesitated to reply. Helen had long been aware of the reticence of these outdoor men.
"I reckon you mean cause an' effect, as Milt Dale would say," responded Roy, thoughtfully.
"Yes. If Beasley attempts to force me off my ranch what will happen?"Roy looked up and met her gaze. Helen remembered that singular stillness, intentness of his face.
"Wal, if Dale an' John get here in time I reckon we can bluff thet Beasley outfit.""You mean my friends -- my men would confront Beasley --refuse his demands -- and if necessary fight him off?""I shore do," replied Roy.
"But suppose you're not all here? Beasley would be smart enough to choose an opportune time. Suppose he did put me off and take possession? What then?""Then it 'd only be a matter of how soon Dale or Carmichael -- or I -- got to Beasley.""Roy! I feared just that. It haunts me. Carmichael asked me to let him go pick a fight with Beasley. Asked me, just as he would ask me about his work! I was shocked. And now you say Dale -- and you --"Helen choked in her agitation.
"Miss Helen, what else could you look for? Las Vegas is in love with Miss Bo. Shore he told me so. An' Dale's in love with you! . . . Why, you couldn't stop them any more 'n you could stop the wind from blowin' down a pine, when it got ready. . . . Now, it's some different with me. I'm a Mormon an' I'm married. But I'm Dale's pard, these many years. An' I care a powerful sight for you an' Miss Bo. So I reckon I'd draw on Beasley the first chance I got."Helen strove for utterance, but it was denied her. Roy's simple statement of Dale's love had magnified her emotion by completely changing its direction. She forgot what she had felt wretched about. She could not look at Roy.
