Riders of the Silences Part 20

"Awfully. You don't mind me being frank, do you, Pierre?"

He could only stammer: "Sometimes I wish to G.o.d you _were_ a man, Jack!"

"You don't often remember that I'm a woman."

"Do you mean that I'm rude or rough with you, Jacqueline?" Still the silence, but Wilbur was grinning broader than ever. "Answer me!"

She started up and faced him, her face convulsed with rage.

"What do you want me to say? Yes, you are rude--I hate you and your lot. Go away from me; I don't want you; I hate you all."

And she would have said more, but furious sobs swelled her throat and she could not speak, but dropped, face down, on the bunk and gripped the blankets in each hardset hand. Over her Pierre leaned, utterly bewildered, found nothing that he could say, and then turned and strode, frowning, from the room. Wilbur hastened after him and caught him just as the door was closing.

"Come back," he pleaded. "This is the best game I've ever seen. Come back, Pierre! You've made a wonderful start."

Pierre le Rouge shook off the detaining hand and glared up at Wilbur.

"Don't try irony, d.i.c.k. I feel like murder. Think of it! All this time she's been hating me; and now it's making her weep; think of it--Jack--weeping!"

"Why, you're a child, Pierre. She's in love with you."

"With me?"

"With Red Pierre."

"You can't make a joke out of Jack with me. You ought to know that."

"Pierre, I'd as soon make a joke out of a wildcat."

"Grinning still? Wilbur, I'm taking more from you than I would from any man on the ranges."

"I know you are, and that's why I'm stringing this out because I'm going to have a laugh--ha, ha, ha!--the rest of my life--ha, ha, ha, ha!--whenever I think of this!"

The burst of merriment left him speechless, and Pierre, glowering, his right hand twitching dangerously close to that holster at his hip.

He sobered, and said: "Go in and talk to her and prove that I'm right."

"Ask Jack if she loves me? Why, I'd as soon ask any man the same question."

The big long-rider was instantly curious.

"Has she never appealed to you as a woman, Pierre?"

"How could she? I've watched her ride; I've watched her use her gun; I've slept rolled in the same blankets with her, back to back; I've walked and talked and traveled with her as if she were my kid brother."

Wilbur nodded, as if the miracle were being slowly unfolded before his eyes.

"And you've never noticed anything different about her? Never watched a little lift and grace in her walk that no man could ever have; never seen her color change just because you, Pierre, came near or went far away from her?"

"Because of me?" asked the bewildered Pierre.

"You fool, you! Why, lad, I've been kept amused by you two for a whole evening, watching her play for your attention, saving her best smiles for you, keeping her best att.i.tudes for you, and letting all the richness of her voice go out for--a block--a stone. Gad, the thing still doesn't seem possible! Pierre, one instant of that girl would give romance to a man's whole life."

"This girl? This Jack of ours?"

"He hasn't seen it! Why, if I hadn't seen years ago that she had tied her hands and turned her heart over to you, I'd have been begging her for a smile, a shadow of a hope."

"If I didn't know you, d.i.c.k, I'd say that you were partly drunk and partly a fool."

"Here's a hundred--a cold hundred that I'm right. I'll make it a thousand, if you dare."

"Dare what?"

"Ask her to marry you." "Marry--me?"

"d.a.m.n it all--well, then--whatever you like. But I say that if you go back into that room and sit still and merely look at her, she'll be in your arms within five minutes."

"I hate to take charity, but a bet is a bet. That hundred is in my pocket already. It's a go!"

They shook hands.

"But what will be your proof, d.i.c.k, whether I win or lose?"

"Your face, blockhead, when you come out of the room."

Upon this Pierre pondered a moment, and then turned toward the door.

He set his hand on the k.n.o.b, faltered, and finally set his teeth and entered the room.

CHAPTER 18

She lay as he had left her, except that her face was now pillowed in her arms, and the long sobs kept her body quivering. Curiosity swept over Pierre, looking down at her, but chiefly a puzzled grief such as a man feels when a friend is in trouble. He came closer and laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Jack!"

She turned far enough to strike his hand away and instantly resumed her former position, though the sobs were softer. This childish anger irritated him. He was about to storm out of the room when the thought of the hundred dollars stopped him. The bet had been made, and it seemed unsportsmanlike to leave without some effort.

The effort which he finally made was that suggested by Wilbur. He folded his arms and stood silent, waiting, and ready to judge the time as nearly as he could until the five minutes should have elapsed. He was so busy computing the minutes that it was with a start that he noticed some time later that the weeping had ceased. She lay quiet.

Her hand was dabbing furtively at her face for a purpose which Pierre could not surmise.

At last a broken voice murmured: "Pierre!"

He would not speak, but something in the voice made his anger go.

After a little it came, and louder this time: "Pierre?"

He did not stir.