Jim Waring of Sonora-Town Part 16

"I am going to make him sorry he refused to let that man go," she told the mirror. "Oh, I shall be nice to him! So nice that--" She did not complete the thought. She was naturally gracious. When she set out to be exceptionally nice--"Oo, la, la!" she exclaimed. "And he's nothing but a cowboy!"

She heard Lorry clump upstairs and enter a room across the hall. She knew it was he. She could hear the clink of his spurs and the swish of his chaps. While she realized that he was Mrs. Adams's son and had a right to be there, she rather resented his proximity, possibly because she had not expected to see him again.

She had no idea that he had been discharged by his foreman, nor that he had earned the disapproval of his mother for having quarreled. Of course he had ridden to Stacey to bring the prisoner in, but he knew they were in Stacey, and Alice Weston liked to believe that he would make excuse to stay in town while they were there. It would be fun--for her.

After supper that evening Mrs. Weston and Alice were introduced to Waring, who came in late. Waring chatted with Mrs. Weston out on the veranda in the cool of the evening. Alice was surprised that her mother seemed interested in Waring. But after a while, as the girl listened, she admitted that the man was interesting.

The conversation drifted to mines and mining. Mrs. Weston declared that she had never seen a gold mine, but that her husband owned some stock in one of the richest mines in Old Mexico. Waring grew enthusiastic as he described mine operating in detail, touching the subject with the ease of experience, yet lightly enough to avoid wearisome technicalities. The girl listened, occasionally stealing a glance at the man's profile in the dusk. She thought the boy Lorry looked exceedingly like Mr. Waring.

And the person who looked exceedingly like Mr. Waring sat at the far end of the veranda, talking to Buck Hardy, the sheriff. And Lorry was not altogether happy. His interest in the capture and reward had waned. He had never dreamed that a girl could be so captivating as Alice Weston.

At supper she had talked with him about the range, asking many questions; but she had not referred to that morning. Lorry had hoped that he might talk with her after supper. But somehow or other she had managed to evade his efforts. Just now she seemed to be mightily interested in his father.

Presently Lorry rose and strode across the street to the station. He talked with the agent, who showed him a telegraph duplicate for an order on Albuquerque covering a steering-knuckle for an automobile. When Lorry reappeared he was whistling. It would take some time for that steering-knuckle to arrive. Meanwhile, he was out of work, and the Westons would be at the hotel for several days at least.

There was some mighty fine scenery back in the Horseshoe Range, west.

Perhaps the girl liked Western scenery. He wondered if she knew how to ride. He was rather inclined to think that her mother did not. He would suggest a trip to the Horseshoe Mountains, as it would be pretty dull at the hotel. Nothing but cowboys and Indians riding in and out of town.

But there were some Hopi ruins over in the Horseshoe. Most Easterners were interested in ruins. He wished that the Hopis had left a ruin somewhat nearer town.

Yet withal, Lorry was proud to think that his father could be so interesting to real Easterners. If they only knew who his father was!

Lorry's train of thought was making pretty good time when he checked it suddenly. Folks in town didn't know that Waring was his father. And "The whole dog-gone day had just been one gosh-awful mess!"

"Weston, you said?" Waring queried.

"Yes--John Archibald Weston, of New York." And Mrs. Weston nodded.

Waring smiled. J.A. Weston was one of the stockholders in the Ortez Mine, near Sonora.

"The princ.i.p.al stockholder," said Mrs. Weston.

"I met him down there," said Waring.

"Indeed! How interesting! You were connected with the mining industry, Mr. Waring?"

"In a way. I lived in Sonora several years."

"That accounts for your wonderful descriptions of the country. I never imagined it could be so charming."

"We have some hill country west of here worth looking at. If you intend to stay any length of time, I might arrange a trip."

"That's nice of you. But I don't ride. Perhaps Alice would like to go."

"Yes, indeed! But--"

"We might get Mrs. Adams to come. She used to ride."

"I'll ask her," said Alice Weston.

"But, Alice--" And Mrs. Weston smiled. Alice had already gone to look for Mrs. Adams.

Lorry, who had heard, scowled at a veranda post. He had thought of that trip to the Horseshoe Range long before it had been mentioned by his father. Wimmin made him tired, he told the unoffending post.

Shortly afterward Alice appeared. She had cajoled Mrs. Adams into promising that she would ride to the Hopi ruins with them, as the journey there and back could be made in a day. Alice Weston was aglow with excitement. Of course the young cowboy would be included in the invitation, and Alice premeditated a flirtation, either with that good-looking Mr. Waring or Mrs. Adams's son. It didn't matter much which one; it would be fun.

The Westons finally went to their rooms. Lorry, out of sorts with himself and the immediate world, was left alone on the veranda.

"She just acted so darned nice to me I forgot to eat," he told the post confidentially. "And then she forgot I was livin' in the same county--after supper. And she did it a-purpose. I reckon she's tryin' to even up with me for jailin' that hobo after she said 'please.' Well, two can play at that even-up game."

He rose and walked upstairs quietly. As he entered his room he heard the Westons talking. He had noticed that the door of one of their rooms was open.

"No, I think he went away with that tall man," he heard the girl say.

"Cowboys don't go to bed early when in town."

"Weren't you a little too nice to him at dinner?" Mrs. Weston said.

Lorry heard the girl laugh. "Oh, but he's only a boy, mother! And it's such fun to watch his eyes when he smiles. He is really good-looking and interesting, because he hasn't been tamed. I don't think he has any real feeling, though, or he wouldn't have brought that poor creature to Stacey and put him in jail. But Mr. Waring is different. He seems so quiet and kind--and rather distinguished."

Lorry closed his door. He had heard enough for one evening.

He did not want to go to bed. He felt anything but sleepy, so he tiptoed downstairs again and out into the night. He found Buck Hardy in a saloon up the street. Men in the saloon joked with Lorry about his capture. He seldom drank, but to-night he did not refuse Hardy's invitation to "have something." While they were chatting a rider from the Starr Rancho came in. Edging up to Lorry, he touched his arm. "Come on out a minute,"

he whispered.

Outside, he told Lorry that High Chin, with several of the men, was coming to town that night and "put one over" on the sheriff by stealing the prisoner.

"And you know what that means," said the Starr cowboy. "High Chin'll get tanked, and the hobo'll be lucky if the boys don't string him up. High Chin's awful sore about something."

Lorry's first idea was to report all this to Buck Hardy. But he feared ridicule. What if the Starr cowboys didn't come?

"Why don't you tell Buck yourself?" he queried.

His companion insisted that he dare not tell the sheriff. If High Chin heard that he had done so, he would be out of a job. And there was the reward. If the prisoner's ident.i.ty was proven, Lorry would get the reward. The cowboy didn't want to see Lorry lose such easy money.

The subject seemed to require some liquidation, and Lorry finally decided that he himself was the only and legal custodian of the prisoner. As for the reward--shucks! He didn't want blood-money. But High Chin would never lay a hand on the hobo if he could help it.

Alice Weston, antic.i.p.ating a real ride into the desert country and the hills, was too excited to sleep. She drew a chair to the window, and sat back where she could view the vague outline of the hills and a world filled with glowing stars. The town was silent, save for the occasional opening or closing of a door and the infrequent sound of feet on the sidewalk. She forgot the hazards of the day in dreaming of the West; no longer a picture out of books, but a reality. She scarcely noticed the quiet figure that came round the opposite corner and pa.s.sed into the shadows of the jail across the street. She heard the clink of a chain and a sharp, tearing sound as of wood being rent asunder. She peered from her window, trying to see what was going on in the shadows.

Presently a figure appeared. The hat, the att.i.tude, and manner seemed familiar. Then came another figure; that of the tramp. She grew tense with excitement. She heard Lorry's voice distinctly:--

"The best thing for you is to fan it. Don't try the train. They'll get you sure if you do. No, I don't explain anything. Just ramble--and keep a-ramblin'."

She saw one of the figures creep along the opposite wall and shuffle across the street. She felt like calling out. Instead she rose and opened her door. She would tell her mother. But what good would that do?

She returned to the window. Lorry, standing on the street corner, seemed to be watching an invisible something far down the street. Alice Weston heard the sound of running horses. A group of cowboys galloped up. She heard the horses stop. Lorry had disappeared.

She went to bed. It seemed an age before she heard him come in.

Lorry undressed in the dark. As he went to bed he grinned. "And the worst of it is," he soliloquized, "she'll think I did it because she asked me to let him go. Guess I been steppin' on my foot the whole dog-gone day."