Paradise Bend Part 30

"I believe you do, just the same. Tom, no matter how much I disliked a person I wouldn't betray him."

"I believe yuh. Honest, I do."

Dorothy and O'Leary pa.s.sing at this juncture, Loudon lifted his hat.

Kate turned and looked after the pair. When her eyes once more met Loudon's there was a faint trouble in their black depths.

"Who are they?" she queried.

"Cap'n Burr's daughter an' Pete O'Leary."

"Oh." There was deep meaning in that "oh."

"She lives up yonder a ways. Mis' Mace knows her, I guess."

"How nice! Perhaps I shall meet her. I should like to, really. Tell me, do you know her well?"

"Not very well. Yuh see, I ain't in town such a lot. Say, Kate, did Mis' Mace write an' tell yuh I was up here at the Bend?"

"Yes, I believe she did." Kate's tone was ingenuous. But the quick upward fling of her eyes was not.

"Did yuh tell yore father an' the boys?"

"Why, I don't remember, Tom. I might have. Very possibly I did. Why?"

"I was just a-wonderin'."

"You mean----" gasped Kate, her eyes widening with genuine horror.

At first, misinterpreting the trend of his questioning, she had believed him brazenly fis.h.i.+ng. Now she understood the significance underlying his words. She wanted to scream. But half the street was watching them. Underlip caught between her teeth, she sucked in her breath. Piteously her eyes searched Loudon's face.

"Tom!" she breathed. "Tom! You do think I betrayed you after all.

Oh, Tom, Tom!"

It was Loudon's turn to be distressed.

"Yo're on the wrong trail, Kate," he soothed. "I know yuh didn't tell Block or the 88 outfit. But if the Bar S boys knowed I was up here it could easy get around. Richie o' the Cross-in-a-box an' Cap'n Burr knowed, too. They might 'a' let it out. I'm sorry I asked yuh if it makes yuh feel that way."

"Oh, I see it now. I must have told. And it was my telling that sent Block up here. Tom, if he had taken you south and--and anything had happened, it--it would have killed me. Life just wouldn't have been worth living any longer."

Was ever mortal man in a similar predicament? Here was a beautiful woman baring her heart to him in broad daylight on a public thoroughfare. Cold p.r.i.c.kles raced madly up and down Loudon's spine.

What could he say? He had a wild impulse to whirl his horse and gallop after Scotty. Obviously this was the safer course to follow. Weakly he temporized.

"Kate, do yuh know what yo're sayin'?"

"Of course. Why shouldn't I say it? I love you, don't you know that?

There, it's out! I suppose I ought to be ashamed of myself, but I'm not. I'm glad."

Throughout the latter part of the conversation Kate had barely spoken above a whisper, but to Loudon it seemed that she fairly shouted. He was positive that all the town had heard. His dismayed eyes slid round. He half-expected to see Mrs. Mace and her neighbours craning their necks with their hands cupped round their ears. But Mrs. Mace was not visible, and the score of people in view were not displaying undue interest. Loudon breathed more easily.

"Yuh--yuh----" he stammered, his face beet-red. "Yuh hadn't ought to 'a' said that."

"Why not?" she demanded, coolly. "It's true."

Her self-possession was extraordinary. She was not even blus.h.i.+ng.

This was a Kate that Loudon did not know. In the face of her bald a.s.sertion he could not tell her that matters had completely changed; that he loved her no longer. No, not that. He realized his disadvantage acutely, and squirmed. Kate looked expectant. He must say something, and quickly, too, or she would propose to him on the spot.

"I--I got to be goin'!" he exclaimed, desperately. "Scotty's waitin'

for me. Gug-gug-good-bye."

"Good-bye, Tom," said Kate, with a radiant smile. "I'll see you some other time."

"Some other time!" groaned Loudon, as he galloped down the street.

"Some other time! She will, too. An' what'll I do? What'll I do? I don't like her any more. I don't like her a little bit. This is sh.o.r.e one h.e.l.luva of a fix!"

"What did she do to yuh?" inquired Scotty, when Loudon joined him.

"Do to me! What do you mean?"

"Yuh look like yuh'd just missed being hugged to death by a b'ar. No offence, Tom, but yuh sure do look a heap s.h.i.+very."

"It's them pickles I had for supper, Scotty. I knowed they'd make me sick."

"They was rich, for a fact."

They loped in silence for a half-hour.

"Scotty," said Loudon, suddenly, "if anybody comes out to the ranch a-lookin' for me, tell 'em I've pulled my freight yuh dunno where."

"Anybody?" Scotty quirked an eyebrow.

"Anybody--man, woman, or child."

"Well, say, look here, Tom!" exclaimed Scotty in alarm. "Yuh don't mean to say that Miss Saltoun girl is a-comin' out to the Flyin' M."

"I dunno. I hope not."

"Which I hope not, too. She's so good-lookin' she scares me, she does.

I don't want to go nowheres near her, an' I won't, neither. No, sirree. If she ever comes a-traipsin' out to the ranch yuh can do yore own talkin'."

"Aw, keep yore s.h.i.+rt on. I guess now she won't come."

"I'll bet she's a-aimin' to, or yuh wouldn't 'a' said what yuh did.

Yuh can't fool me, Tom. She'll come, an' she'll bring Jim Mace's wife along for a chaperon, an' they'll most likely stay for two meals, an'

I'll have to grub in the corral. Great note this is! Druv out o' my own home by a couple o' female women!

"Laugh! It's awful funny! I never could abide Mis' Mace, either.

She's always talkin', talkin'. Talk the hide off a cow, an' not half try. How Jim stands her I can't see nohow. If she was my woman I'd feed her wolf-pizen, or take it myself."