Curly swore again. “Wal, can you beat thet? Shore she wouldn’t give one to me...Women are no good, Bud.”

  “I wouldn’t say it’s thet bad, Curly,” replied Bud. “They’re damn hard to figger. I reckon Glory jest likes me. Why, she laughs an’ cuts up with me. She’s sorta shy with you.”

  “Shy nothin’. Shore I haven’t seen her a lot of times — that is, to talk to. Twice at the corral — three times in the livin’-room, when I went in to see Jim — once at Babbitt’s store — an’ at the dance. That was the best. My Gawd! I cain’t get back my breath...But, she was only curious aboot my gun-play. It makes me sick as a dog to remember the fights I’ve been in, let alone talk aboot them. But she kept at me till I got mad. Then she froze an’ said she guessed I wasn’t much of a desperado, after all.”

  “Haw haw!” laughed Bud, low and mellow. “Curly, what thet little lady needs is a dose of Croak Malloy.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  JIM BLAZED A road out of Yellow Jacket. His authority was not questioned by any one of the cowboys, but his ability as an engineer certainly was.

  “You gotta drive wagons up this grade,” asserted Bud, repeatedly. “You wasn’t so pore runnin’ a straight-line drift fence, but this hyar’s a different matter. You don’t savvy grades.”

  “All right, Bud. Maybe I’m not so darn smart as I think I am,” replied Jim, laying a trap for Bud. “Suppose we go back and run it all over. You can be the engineer. That’ll cut two days off our Christmas vacation in Flag. Too bad, but that road must be right.”

  The howl that went up from the Diamond was vociferous and derisive, and it effectually disposed of Bud.

  “Aw, Boss, mebbe it ain’t. I reckon it’ll work out — an’ any little grade can be eased up after,” he rejoined, meekly.

  Twenty miles on through the slowly ascending forest they struck a cattle trail which afforded good travel, and in due course led them to the Payson road, and eventually the ranch where they had left the chuck-wagon. They stayed there all night, and the following night camped at the edge of the snow, only one more day’s ride to Flag.

  Next afternoon late a tired, cold, dirty, unshaven, but happy group of cowboys rode into town, and there they separated. Jim had reasons to shake Curly and Bud, and they manifested no great desire to continue on with him.

  Flagerstown was windy and bleak. The snow had been shovelled or had blown off the streets, down which piercing dusty gusts whipped in Jim’s face. But it would have taken an unfaceable blizzard or an impassable prairie fire to have daunted Jim’s soaring spirits. He had two important errands before rushing out to the ranch, and he did not want them to take long, for his horse was pretty warm. Dismounting in front of the jeweller’s, Jim hurried in. The proprietor, with whom Jim had left an order, was not in, but his son was, a young Westerner whom Jim did not like.

  “Mr. Miller in?” he asked.

  “No. Father’s out of town. But I can wait on you...The diamond ring is here — if you still want it,” returned the young man.

  Jim stared. What in the devil did this nincompoop mean?

  “Certainly I want it. I paid in advance. Let me have it, quick, please,” retorted Jim.

  The jeweller produced a little white box, from which glistened a beautiful diamond. Tim took it, trying to be cool, but he was burning and thrilling all over. Molly’s engagement ring! It was a beauty — pretty big and valuable, he thought, now he actually saw what he had ordered. Molly would be surprised. She did not even know Jim had ordered it. And sight of her eyes, when they fell upon it, would be worth ten times the price.

  “Thanks. I reckon it’s all right. I was careful about size,” said Jim, and pocketing the ring he strode out to his horse, which he led down the street. “Funny look that gazabo gave me,” he soliloquised, thoughtfully, and he dismissed the incident by admitting to himself he must have been rather amusing to the clerk. Then he went into Babbitt’s, where he had left another order, for a Christmas present for his uncle, and one for Molly. Securing the packages, which were rather large and heavy, and which he did not trouble to open, he hurried out through the store. In the men’s furnishing department a bright-red silk scarf caught his eye, and he swerved to the counter.

  “I’d like that red scarf,” he said to the girl clerk, “and a pair of buckskin gloves.”

  The girl neither spoke nor moved. Then Jim looked at her — and there stood Molly Dunn, with white and agitated face. Jim was perfectly thunderstruck. Could he be dreaming? But Molly’s gasp, “Oh — Jim!” proved this was reality.

  “What — what does this mean?” he stammered.

  “I’m workin’ heah, Jim,” she whispered. “Mawnin’s I go to school an’ afternoons I’m heah.”

  “For Heaven’s sake! A clerk in Babbitt’s?” he exclaimed.

  “Di — didn’t you — get my letter?” she faltered, her eyes unnaturally large and frightened.

  “Letter? No, I didn’t. How could I get a letter when I’ve been three weeks in the woods?”

  “I — I left it — with your uncle.”

  “Molly, I just rode in. Haven’t been home. What’s wrong? Why are you here?” Jim leaned against the counter, fighting to check the whirl of his thoughts. Molly’s eyes suddenly expressed a poignant dismay.

  “Oh, Jim — I’m so sorry — you had to come in heah — not knowin’,” she cried, piteously. “I wouldn’t have hurt you...But I — I’ve left your home...I’ve broke our engagement.”

  “Molly!” he ejaculated, in hoarse incredulity.

  “It’s true, Jim...But you mustn’t stand there...”

  “Why, for God’s sake—” he burst out.

  “Please go, Jim. I — I’ll see you later — an’ tell you—”

  “No. You can tell me here why you jilted me,” he interrupted, harshly.

  “Missouri — I — I didn’t,” she said, huskily, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “Was Gloriana mean to you?” Jim suddenly demanded.

  “She was lovely to me. Kind an’ sweet. An’ she — she tried to meet me on my own level — so I wouldn’t see the difference be — between us...but I did. I — I wasn’t fit to be her sister. I shore wasn’t goin’ to disgrace you. So I — I left an’ come heah to work. Mother went back home to the Cibeque.”

  “You swear Glory didn’t hurt you?”

  “No, Jim, I cain’t swear thet. But she never hurt me on purpose. There’s nothin’ mean aboot your sister...I just loved her — an’ thet made it worse.”

  “Molly Dunn, you’re a damn little fool,” exploded Jim, overcome by a frenzy of pain and fury. “You were good enough for any man, let alone me...But if you’re as fickle — as that—”

  Jim choked, and gathering up his packages he gave Molly a terrible look and rushed out of the store.

  In an ordinary moment he could not have mounted his horse, burdened as he was, but he leaped astride, scarcely feeling the weight of the packages. And he spurred Baldy into a run, right down the main street of Flagerstown. The violence of action suited the violent tumult in his breast. But by the time he reached the ranch-house the furious anger had given way somewhat to consternation and a stunned surprise. That simple, honest, innocent child! But even so she might be protecting Gloriana. Jim left his horse at the barn, and taking his bundles he ran into the house and into the living-room, bursting in upon the old cattleman like a hurricane.

  “Jim! Good Lord! I thought it was Injuns,” exclaimed Traft. “Wal, I expected you along soon. How are you, son?”

  “Howdy, Uncle!” replied Jim, throwing aside his bundles and meeting the glad hand extended. “I was fine, till I struck town...Glad to report the Hash-Knife got off Yellow Jacket without a fight.”

  “Jim Traft! — You’re not foolin’ the old man?”

  “No, I’m happy to say. It’s a fact, Uncle.”

  “Wal! — You long-headed, big-fisted tenderfoot son-of-a-gun from Mizzouri!...Jim, I’m clear locoed. I’m dead beat. I’m — wal, I don’t know what. How’n hell did you do it?”

  “I went straight to see Jed Stone.”

  “You braved thet outfit?” yelled Traft.

  “Sure. Jed Stone was sure decent. He agreed to get out. But Croak Malloy shot a match out of my fingers, then the cigarette out of my mouth. I sure was mad. I cussed him — called him a crooked-faced little runt. He’d shot at me then, but Stone kicked his gun. It went off in the air. Then I piled into Croak. I banged him around then knocked him about a mile out of the door. He was trying to get up when I went out, and I gave him a good stiff kick, and left.”

  “My Gawd! — Son, don’t tell me you punched thet gunman, same as these cowboys?” ejaculated Traft.

  “I reckon I did, Uncle. It was foolish, of course. But I was mad. And I didn’t know then that the little runt was Malloy. It mightn’t have made any difference.”

  “Croak Malloy! Beat and kicked around by a Mizzouri tenderfoot!...Jim, my boy, you’re as good as dead,” wailed the old rancher.

  “Don’t you believe it,” retorted Jim. “And how long do I have to serve as a tenderfoot...Well, no more about the Hash-Knife now. We moved up to Yellow Jacket and went to cutting poles. And on our way out we blazed a line out to the road. After the holidays we’ll go back, and by spring be ready—”

  Suddenly it dawned upon him that something had happened which made the home-building at Yellow Jacket a useless and superfluous task. His heart contracted and sank like cold lead.

  “Wal, you’re an amazin’ youngster,” said Traft, with his keen blue eyes full of admiration and pride. “You scare me, though. I reckon it’s a more Christian thing to slug a man than to shoot him. You ‘pear to have a hankerin’ to use your fists. I heard aboot your hittin’ Bambridge in the station at Winslow. You never told me that, you sly young dog. Didn’t want to worry your old uncle, huh?...Wal, I can see you’ve more on your mind. An’ I’ll wait to hear aboot Bambridge, the Hash-Knife deal, an’ Yellow Jacket.”

  “Uncle, I ran into Babbitt’s, and there, behind a counter, was Molly,” burst out Jim, and the mere telling of it aloud causing a regurgitation of fierce emotions. “She’s broken our engagement...She’s gone to work...I’m stunned.”

  “Jim, don’t take it too hard,” replied the old rancher, soothingly. “Don’t imagine it a permanent break. Why, she done it because she loves you so much. She came to me an’ told me, Jim. How she wasn’t good enough for you — she hadn’t the courage to marry you — your family would stick up their noses at her, an’ all that sort of thing. I tried to argue her out of goin’. But she’s a stubborn little minx. Independent, an’ proud, too, in her way. So I jest told her thet you’d understand, but you’d never take her at her word. She cried at thet. Jim, she couldn’t hold out against you for five minutes. So don’t let it break you all up.”

  “My word, Uncle, but you’re a lifesaver,” replied Jim, with intense relief. “It’s bad enough, Lord knows, but if there’s any hope I can stand it. Do you think Glory made it hard for Molly?”

  “Wal, I reckon she did,” said Traft, seriously. “An’ all the time she was tryin’ to put poor Molly at her ease. But she couldn’t. An’ that’ll never come until Molly gets Glory on her own ground. Then there’ll be a balance struck. Glory an’ I have got on fine, Jim. She’s a comfort to me, an’ has been confidin’ a little of her troubles at home. I reckon we’ll never let her go back.”

  “No, we’ll keep her out West. Uncle, how is she? Has her health improved?”

  “Wal, Glory’s got thet bad cough yet, an’ she gains but slow. I reckon she has improved. It’ll take summer an’ outdoors among the pines an’ cedars to make her strong again. Suppose you hunt her up. Then after supper you can get the rest off your chest.”

  “All right, Uncle, but just one word more,” returned Jim, eagerly. “You tell me not to fear a permanent break with Molly. When she’s made it, already! I’m sick. I’m dumbfounded. I was so furious I called her a damn little fool.”

  “So she is. An’ thet won’t hurt your cause none. Now, Jim, don’t fall into this broken-heart cowboy style an’ go to drinkin’. I tell you Molly worships the ground you walk on. An’ if I was you I’d jest go an’ pack her back home here to the ranch.”

  “Pack her?” echoed Jim, aghast.

  “Shore. She won’t come willin’, not very soon. So I’d jest fetch her back by force. A good spankin’ wouldn’t do no harm. But I reckon you haven’t nerve enough for thet. Molly has given the town people lots to gossip about. Glory will tell you. An’ you in turn can give them somethin’ to gossip about.”

  “Ahuh...Thanks, Uncle,” rejoined Jim, soberly. “I’ll consider your advice. It appeals to me, especially the spanking part.”

  Jim left the living-room, absent-mindedly fingering the ring box in his pocket. He did not take all his uncle had said as absolute gospel, but it surely checked the riot of his feelings. Then he knocked at Gloriana’s door.

  “Who’s there?” she called, in rather a startled voice.

  Some devil beset Jim, perhaps the besetting sin of his joke-loving cowboys, and without reflection he announced in a gruff voice:

  “Darnell.”

  He heard an exclamation, followed by quick footsteps, and a sudden locking of the door.

  “You nagging scoundrel!” called Gloriana, her voice ringing. “The nerve of you! I’m sick of your chasing after me. Get out of this house or I’ll scream for my uncle. You’ll reckon with Jim and his cowboys for the way you’ve treated me.”

  Jim was thunderstruck again, though in a vastly different way.

  “Oh, Glory,” he cried, “it’s only Jim. I thought I was being funny.”

  “Jim!”

  “Sure. Don’t you know my voice? I just rode in. Had a word with Uncle and here I am.”

  “Are you — alone?” she asked, fumbling at the lock.

  Wherewith she opened the door to disclose a lovely though most agitated countenance. Jim went in, stricken at the scare he had evidently given her.

  “Glory, I’m darn sorry. I don’t know what possessed me — to think of that fellow Darnell. Please forgive me.”

  “Have you heard — anything?” she asked, searching his face with darkly troubled eyes.

  “About Darnell? I think I did hear that name. Before I left for Yellow Jacket. But I only just got back. Saw Molly!...Imagine my luck! I ran in Babbitt’s — and almost fell over her. We had a few words, sister...Then I came home. Saw Uncle for a minute...Aren’t you glad to see me?”

  “You great big handsome hairy — bear!” she cried, breathlessly. “You look like a tramp. You smell like horses and smoke...Oh, Jim, I’m so glad to see you!”

  “We’re square on that, then,” he said. “Come to the fire. Gee! I’m nearly frozen. I’ve been so knocked out I hardly knew it was cold. Let me look at you.”

  “Well, what’s your verdict?” she asked, meeting his gaze with a wistful smile. Gloriana’s eyes had the inscrutable quality of beauty that was a blending of purple hue and a light which anyone might well mistake. But Jim saw deeper, and he was satisfied.

  “I couldn’t ask more. You’re on the mend.”

  “Jim, I was fine until that damned Darnell turned up here in Flag,” she replied. “I told you he would. It was a couple of weeks ago. But I found out before I saw him. He came here — coaxed and threatened. I told him I would have absolutely nothing more to do with him. He has bobbed up every time I went downtown, to stores, post-office, everywhere. Finally I stayed home. And you bet I was angry when I took you for him.”

  “What’s he doing out here, Glory?” asked Jim.

  “He followed me. But he’ll have more than one string to his bow. Said he had gone to work for a rancher named Bambridge—”

  “Oh, I remember now,” interrupted Jim, “I saw him that day at the station. So your erstwhile beau has thrown in with Bambridge? Interesting — and funny.”

  “Jim, it’s not funny to me,” she spoke up, hurriedly. “I’m afraid of Darnell. He’s a two-faced slicker. But he has become acquainted in town. He’s already popular with the girls. I’m deathly afraid.”

  “Of what?” laughed Jim. He was in fact a little amused at the way he found his Western development disposed of Mr. Darnell.

  “He’ll talk about me — disgrace you, hurt you in Flag.”

  “Talk about you, will he? Glory, what do you suppose Curly Prentiss or Slinger Dunn would do — if he so much as spoke one slighting word of you?”

  “I — I can’t imagine, Jim,” she replied, her great eyes dilating.

  “Well, it will be funny — unless I get to him first...Glory dear, this Darnell has no claim on you?”

  “No, Jim, on my honour,” she replied.

  “Then dismiss him from your mind. He has struck the wrong place to hound a girl.”

  “I’m afraid he’ll wheedle Uncle out of money,” went on Gloriana, slowly yielding to relief.

  “Ha ha! That’s funny. He can’t do it, Glory. He’s not slick enough. Besides, he has gotten in with the wrong rancher. Bambridge is a cattle thief. We know it, and we can prove it presently. Darnell will have to step mighty slow and careful. Have you had any other trouble, sister? Come out with it.”

  “Yes, with Molly. Jim, she’s the sweetest kid. Honestly, I just fell in love with her. But I made a tactless start. I wanted only to help her. She misunderstood. She thought I was stuck up, and she got the idea she wasn’t good enough for you. When she told me she was leaving here I begged and I scolded. I talked sense to her. I argued myself hoarse. I was sincere, too. Only she imagined me afraid of you and lying to her. Then I lost my temper — I have one, if you remember, Jim — and I — well, I made it worse by telling her how lucky she was — that you meant to marry her...But she has a will of her own. She left. And I haven’t been able to get her back. I’ve been to that store I don’t know how many times. Then I heard Molly had met Darnell — one of the Flag girls, Elsie Roberts, told me. And she went to a dance with him. I—”