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"Mr. Bowles," she said at last, "you're an awfully interesting man, but there are some things I can't understand. There's something mysterious about you. I know you must be all right, because I met you at Mrs.
Melvine's, but at the same time you're hiding out like an ordinary horse-stealing Texican. What are you up to, anyway?"
"Why, I thought you knew all about that," explained Bowles, the old baffling smile coming back into his eyes. "Don't you remember, I told you about it on the train?"
"Yes, I remember, all right," answered Dixie. "But you didn't tell me very much--and then you told me different at Chula Vista. I thought I had a line on you once, but you're too deep for me. What's this I hear about a girl?"
"A girl?" repeated Bowles, with questioning gravity. "Why, what do you mean? What did you hear?"
"A girl back in New York," continued Dixie, glancing at him shrewdly as she hazarded a guess--and as she gazed he flushed and looked away.
"Whatever you have heard," he said at last, "I have nothing to be ashamed of--would you like me to get you some water?"
"Aw, Mr. Bowles," cried Dixie reproachfully, "are you trying to side-step me on this?"
"No, indeed!" replied Bowles, settling back with masterful calm. "What is it you have heard--and what would you like to know?"
He paused and regarded her expectantly, and Dixie saw that she was called. A shadow pa.s.sed over her face; a shadow of annoyance, and of suspicion, perhaps, as well; but she felt the rebuke of his frankness and pursued her inquiry no further.
"Well, perhaps you are right," she said, as if answering an unspoken reproof. "It was nothing to your discredit, Mr. Bowles; and I am sure it is none of my business. I guess I'm kind of spoiled out here--I get to jos.h.i.+ng with these cowboys until I don't know anything else. I believe I would like that drink."
Bowles leaped up promptly at the word and came back with his new hat full of water. He held it for her to drink, and as she finished and looked up she saw that his eyes were troubled.
"Oh, dear!" she cried impulsively, "have I made you any trouble? You've been so good to me here--what have I gone and done now?"
"Oh, it's not you at all," he a.s.sured her, and then his voice broke and he faltered. "But have you really heard from New York?"
"Why, no, Mr. Bowles," soothed Dixie, laying her hand on his arm. "Not a word--I don't know anything about you--I was only making it up."
"Oh!" said Bowles, and drew his arm away. He looked out at the horses for a moment, poured the water out of his hat, and turned back, his old smiling self.
"How is your knee now?" he inquired kindly. "Do you think you can ride?
I suppose we ought to be going pretty soon."
Dixie glanced over at him and her heart sank--she had observed these sudden changes in Bowles before, and even his boyish smile could not lighten the veiled rebuke. When Bowles had thoughts that were anti-social he was always unusually kind, and his way of expressing disapproval was to tactfully change the subject. And now he was talking of going! Dixie scowled and felt of her knee, and rose stiffly to her feet.
"Well, if you're in such a hurry," she sulked; but Bowles was at her side in an instant.
"Oh, my dear Miss Lee!" he cried, catching her as she poised for a limp.
"Please don't do that! Let me carry you, when the time comes, but we will rest as long as you please."
He pa.s.sed a compelling arm about her and lowered her gently to her place; then he sat down beside her, and breathed hard as he set her free.
"Really," he murmured, "we don't seem to understand each other very well, Miss Lee!"
"That's because neither one of us is telling the truth!" observed Dixie with a certain bitterness.
They sat for a moment in silence, and then she turned about and looked him squarely in the eye.
"Mr. Bowles," she said, in measured tones, "who are you, anyway?"
"Who--me?" parried Bowles, lapsing into the vernacular. "Why, you know me! I'm Bowles, the gentleman you met at Mrs. Melvine's."
"There! You see?" commented Dixie. "You're afraid to tell your own name, and I'm----"
"Yes?" questioned Bowles.
"Well, I don't know what I'm afraid of," she went on bluntly, "but I've got _something_ on my mind."
"Why, surely," began Bowles, apprehensively, "I--I hope I haven't given offense in any way. You were hurt, you know--and I was a little excited--and----"
"Oh, that's all right," said Dixie heartily. "You're a perfect gentleman--I always knew that. But you haven't had much to do with women, have you, Mr. Bowles?"
Her voice trailed off a little at the close, and Bowles looked up at her mystified. He thought quickly, wondering where she was leading him, and decided to tell the truth.
"Why, no, Miss Lee," he stammered, "I suppose not. I hope I haven't----"
"Oh, no, no!" cried Dixie. "I don't mean that. I was just thinking--well, I mustn't take advantage of you, then."
She favored him with one of her sudden, tantalizing smiles, and his brain whirled as he looked away.
"No," he muttered, taking a deep breath; "it wouldn't be fair, you know."
"Well, go and cinch up my horse, then," she said, "and I'll make an exception of you."
He looked up at her suddenly, startled by the way she spoke, and went to do her will.
"Now," he announced, when the horse was ready, "shall I help you while you mount?"
"Why, yes," she said, "if you think it's safe!"
And then he gathered her into his arms.
"I'll be careful," he said. But the devil tempted him--and Dixie forgot and smiled.
"Never mind," she whispered, as he lifted her to the saddle; "that was to pay you for being nurse."
CHAPTER XIX
A COMMON BRAWL
There is a madness which comes to certain people at certain times and makes them forget the whole world. In such a moment Bowles had stolen a kiss--for the first time in his life--and Dixie Lee had forgiven him. He had stolen it quickly, and she had forgiven him quickly, and then they had ridden on together without daring so much as a glance. That kiss had meant a great deal to both of them, and they needed time to think. So they rode down to the hold-up herd in silence and parted without a word.
Dixie went on to camp, to rest and care for her hurts; and Bowles, with a sad and preoccupied smile, stayed by to help with the herd. But the jealous eyes of hate are quick to read such smiles, and as Bowles rode along on the swing he was suddenly startled out of his dreams. Hardy Atkins went out of his way to ride past him, and as he spurred his horse in against his stirrup he hissed: