The Range Boss Part 18

It was more than a mile to where the animal stood, and curiously, as though to make amends for his previous bad behavior to Ruth, he came trotting forward to Randerson, whinnying gently.

Randerson seized the bridle, and grinned at the animal.

"I reckon I ought to lam you a-plenty, you miserable deserter," he said severely, "runnin' away from your mistress that-a-way. Is that the way for a respectable horse to do? You've got her all nervous an' upset--an'

she sure roasted me. Do you reckon there's any punishment that'd fit what you done? Well, I reckon! You come along with me!"

Leading the animal, he rode Patches to the edge of the timber. There, unbuckling one end of the reins from the bit ring, he doubled them, pa.s.sed them through a gnarled root, made a firm knot and left the pony tied securely. Then he rode off and looked back, grinning.

"You're lost, you sufferin' runaway. Only you don't know it."

He loped Patches away and made a wide detour of the mesa, making sure that he appeared often on the sky line, so that he would be seen by Ruth.

At the end of half an hour he rode back to where the girl was standing, watching him. He dismounted and approached her, standing before her, his expression one of grave worry.

"That outlaw of yours ain't anywhere in sight, ma'am," he said. "I reckon he's stampeded back to the ranchhouse. You sure you ain't seen him go past here?"

"No," she said, "unless he went way around, just after it got dark."

"I reckon that's what he must have done. Some horses is plumb mean. But you can't walk, you know," he added after a silence; "I reckon you'll have to ride Patches."

"You would have to walk, then," she objected. "And that wouldn't be fair!"

"Walkin' wouldn't bother me, ma'am." He got Patches and led him closer.

She looked at the animal, speculatively.

"Don't you think he could carry both of us?" she asked.

He scrutinized Patches judicially. A light, which she did not see, leaped into his eyes.

"Why, I didn't think of that. I reckon he could, ma'am. Anyway, we can try it, if you want to."

He led Patches still closer. Then, with much care, he lifted Ruth and placed her in the saddle, mounting behind her. Patches moved off.

After a silence which might have lasted while they rode a mile, Ruth spoke.

"My ankle feels very much easier."

"I'm glad of that, ma'am."

"Randerson," she said, after they had gone on a little ways further; "I beg your pardon for speaking to you the way I did, back there. But my foot _did_ hurt terribly."

"Why, sure. I expect I deserved to get roasted."

Again there was a silence. Ruth seemed to be thinking deeply. At a distance that he tried to keep respectful, Randerson watched her, with wors.h.i.+pful admiration, noting the graceful disorder of her hair, the wisps at the nape of her neck. The delicate charm of her made him thrill with the instinct of protection. So strong was this feeling that when he thought of her pony, back at the timber, guilt ceased to bother him.

Ruth related to him the conversation she had overheard between Chavis and Kester, and he smiled understandingly at her.

"Do you reckon you feel as tender toward them now as you did before you found that out?"

"I don't know," she replied. "It made me angry to hear them talk like that. But as for hanging them--" She s.h.i.+vered. "There were times, tonight, though, when I thought hanging would be too good for them," she confessed.

"You'll shape up real western--give you time," he a.s.sured. "You'll be ready to take your own part, without dependin' on laws to do it for you--laws that don't reach far enough."

"I don't think I shall ever get your viewpoint," she declared.

"Well," he said, "Pickett was bound to try to get me. Do you think that if I'd gone to the sheriff at Las Vegas, an' told him about Pickett, he'd have done anything but poke fun at me? An' that word would have gone all over the country--that I was scared of Pickett--an' I'd have had to pull my freight. I had to stand my ground, ma'am. Mebbe I'd have been a hero if I'd have let him shoot me, but I wouldn't have been here any more to know about it. An' I'm plumb satisfied to be here, ma'am."

"How did you come to hear about me not getting home?" she asked.

"I'd rode in to see Catherson. I couldn't see him--because he wasn't there. Then I come on over to the ranchhouse, an' Uncle Jepson told me about you not comin' in."

"Was Mr. Masten at the ranchhouse?"

He hesitated. Then he spoke slowly. "I didn't see him there, ma'am."

She evidently wondered why it had not been Masten that had come for her.

They were near the house when she spoke again:

"Did you have an accident today, Randerson?"

"Why, ma'am?" he asked to gain time, for he knew that the moonlight had been strong enough, and that he had been close enough to her, to permit her to see.

"Your face has big, ugly, red marks on it, and the skin on your knuckles is all torn," she said.

"Patches throwed me twice, comin' after you, ma'am," he lied. "I plowed up the ground considerable. I've never knowed Patches to be so unreliable."

She turned in the saddle and looked full at him. "That is strange," she said, looking ahead again. "The men have told me that you are a wonderful horseman."

"The men was stretchin' the truth, I reckon," he said lightly.

"Anyway," she returned earnestly; "I thank you very much for coming for me."

She said nothing more to him until he helped her down at the edge of the porch at the ranchhouse. And then, while Uncle Jepson and Aunt Martha were talking and laughing with pleasure at her return, she found time to say, softly to him:

"I really don't blame you so much--about Pickett. I suppose it was necessary."

"Thank you, ma'am," he said gratefully.

He helped her inside, where the glare of the kerosene lamps fell upon him. He saw Uncle Jepson looking at him searchingly; and he caught Ruth's quick, low question to Aunt Martha, as he was letting her gently down in a chair:

"Where is Willard?"

"He came in shortly after dark," Aunt Martha told her. "Jep was talking to him, outside. He left a note for you. He told Jep that he was going over to Lazette for a couple of weeks, my dear."

Randerson saw Ruth's frown. He also saw Aunt Martha looking intently through her gla.s.ses at the bruises on his face.

"Why, boy," she exclaimed, "what has happened to you?"