Partners of Chance Part 29

"Sure! Is dad gone?"

"Yes. He left here last night. I thought Miss Gray was with you," said Bartley.

"Sure! She had to come to town to buy some things. She's over to Hodges'

now."

Dorothy had not waited for him to appear. Bartley was a bit piqued. But he asked himself why should he be? They were the merest acquaintances.

True, they had spent several hours together, reading and discussing verse. But no doubt that had been purely impersonal, on her part. With Little Jim as his guide, Bartley entered Hodges' general store. Dorothy was at the back of the store making purchases. Bartley watched her a moment. He felt a tug at his sleeve.

"The guns is over on this side," declared Little Jim.

"We'll have to wait until Mr. Hodges gets through waiting on Miss Gray,"

said Bartley.

Little Jim scampered across the aisle and stood on tiptoe peering into a showcase. There were pistols, cheap watches, and a pair of spurs.

Little Jim gazed a moment and then shot over to Dorothy. "Say, Dorry, can't you hurry up? Me and Mr. Bartley are waitin' to look at that twenty-two in the window."

"Now, Jimmy! Oh, how do you do!" And Dorothy greeted Bartley with considerable poise for a young woman who was as interested in the Easterner as she was.

"Don't let us interrupt you," said Bartley. "Our business can wait."

Little Jim scowled, and grimaced at Dorothy, who excused herself to Bartley and went on making her purchases. They were really insignificant purchases--some pins, some thread, and a roll of binding tape.

Insignificant as they were, Bartley offered to carry them to the wagon for her. Dorothy declined his offer and took them to the wagon herself.

"Now for that rifle," said Bartley.

Little Jim, itching all over to get hold of that new and s.h.i.+ning weapon, squirmed as Hodges took it from the window and handed it to Bartley.

Bartley examined it and pa.s.sed it over to Little Jim.

"Is that the kind you wanted?" he asked.

"This is her! Twenty-two, long or short, genuwine repeater." Jimmy pretended to read the tags tied to the trigger guard. "Yep! This is her."

"And some cartridges," suggested Bartley.

"How many?" queried the storekeeper.

"All you got," said Little Jim.

But Bartley's good nature was not to be imposed upon to that extent.

"Give us five boxes, Mr. Hodges."

"That cleans me out of twenty-twos," declared Hodges.

Jimmy grinned triumphantly. Dorothy had come in and was viewing the purchase with some apprehension. She knew Little Jim.

Bearing the rifle proudly, Jimmy marched from the store. Dorothy and Bartley followed him, and Bartley briefly outlined Cheyenne's recent sprightly exodus from San Andreas.

"I heard about it, from Mr. Hodges," said Dorothy. "And I also noticed that you have hurt your hand."

Bartley glanced at his right hand--and then at Dorothy, who was gazing at him curiously. It had become common news in town that Cheyenne Hastings and the Easterner had engaged in a free-for-all fight with the Sneed outfit, and that two of the Sneed boys were laid up for repairs.

That was Mr. Hodges' version.

"I also heard that you had left town," said Dorothy.

Bartley's egoism was slightly deflated. Then Dorothy had come to town to buy a few trinkets, and not to find out how it fared with him.

"We have to get back before dark," she declared.

"And you got to drive," said Little Jim. "I want to try my new gun!"

"Did you thank Mr. Bartley for the gun?"

Little Jim admitted that he had forgotten to do so. He stuck out his small hand. "Thanks, pardner," he said heartily.

Bartley laughed and patted Jimmy's shoulder--something that Jimmy utterly detested, but suffered n.o.bly, under the circ.u.mstances.

"You earned that gun--and thank you for fetching Miss Dorry to town."

"Huh! I didn't fetch _her_. She fetched me. Uncle Frank was comin', but Dorry said she just had to get some things--"

"Jimmy, please don't point that gun at the horses."

Bartley felt better. He didn't know just why he felt better. Yet he felt more than grateful to Little Jim.

Nevertheless, Dorothy met Bartley's eyes frankly as he said farewell. "I hope you will find time to ride over to the ranch," she said. "I'm sure Aunt Jane would be glad to see you."

"Thanks. Say, day after to-morrow?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter. Aunt Jane is nearly always at home."

"And I got lots of ca'tridges," chirruped Little Jim. "We can shoot all day."

"I wouldn't miss such an opportunity for anything," declared Bartley, yet he was looking at Dorothy when he spoke.

CHAPTER XX

ALONG THE FOOTHILLS

Bartley, enjoying his after-dinner smoke, felt that he wanted to know more about the girl who had invited him to call at the Lawrence ranch again. He told himself that he wanted to study her; to find out her preferences, her ideals, her att.i.tude toward life, and how the thought of always living in the San Andreas Valley, shut away from the world, appealed to her.