The Last Straw Part 10

He left her then and when he had gone she felt a quick panic come. It all seemed so absurd, her struggling in the things which held her back; and his manner left her with a sense that he thought more than he had spoken, that his a.s.surance was founded well, that he would not be the tacit waiter he had suggested. She knew his pa.s.sion for her, she knew his will and it came to her then that beneath his sleekness he was ruthless.

She stared down Coyote creek, not following him with her eyes.

"The things I have wanted.... Yes," she thought. "But love: is that anywhere?"

The sound of the car departing roused her and she watched it go. Then a commotion in the corral attracted her. She saw horses milling, saw Tom Beck standing ready, rope in his hand; then, with a dexterous flip of the loop, a slight, overhand motion, he snared a pinto and braced his feet against the antics of the animal and held firmly until it had quieted.

She watched him go down the rope slowly, hand over hand, with caution and a.s.surance until he rested his fingers on the nose of the frightened animal. A forefoot shot out in a lightning stroke at him but he did not flinch. She saw that he was talking to the horse, gently, quietly, with the born confidence of the master.

"Anywhere?" she asked herself again, this time aloud, still watching Beck. "Why,"--eyes lighting in surprise that was almost astonishment--"it might be ... _might_ be!"

CHAPTER IV

THE CHAMPION

Beck was still busy with the horses when Jane appeared, bareheaded and clad in a riding habit. He had separated the unbroken stock from the horses that had been turned loose for the winter and was playing with these last, overcoming the shyness that months on the range had engendered.

As she stopped at the corral he walked toward her, studying her face.

There was no trace of confusion or embarra.s.sment and for all he could discern she might have had her mind on horses only since early forenoon. That puzzled him because, though he was far from certain, he had felt that the scene which he had interrupted had caused her distress. Still, he reminded himself, this was not the type of woman he knew. She was completely strange to him; good margin, that, for coming to mistaken conclusions.

"These, ma'am, are the gentle horses," he explained. "I cut 'em out for you. They're some of the best you've got."

"They're rough, of course," she remarked after eyeing the animals a moment and he looked at her sharply because her manner was of one who is familiar with horses, "but nothing here looks particularly good. Are these all you brought in?"

"I cut the rest into the little corral. There's some good ones there, but they ain't gentle."

They walked toward the other enclosure and at their approach the colts gave evidence of alarm.

"Now that brown horse's been ridden some--"

"But what about the sorrel?" she broke in as a shapely head with a white star between the eyes and a flowing forelock tossed back over delicate ears rose above the ma.s.s of backs.

"Him, ma'am? He's probably the best colt you own; got the makin's of a fine horse, but he's a bad actor."

Just then the crowding of the horses broke into a milling and the sorrel came into full view. A beautiful beast with white stockings behind, deep chest, high withers, short, straight back.

"He's a beauty!" she declared. "He has bone and leg. He's gaunt now; not enough belly, but I suppose that's because he's been on the range.

I like that square hipped sort when you can get its strength without sacrificing looks."

"You're acquainted with horses somewhat, I take it."

"I've ridden some; hunted a little. Can you bring him out?"

Beck entered the corral and roped the horse. For an instant he resisted, head flung back and feet securely planted; then he came out of the bunch on a trot.

"He knows what a rope is. It don't take an intelligent creature, man or beast, long to learn."

The horse stood watching him suspiciously, ready to run if given the opportunity.

"Where shall we try him?" Jane asked.

"In the big corral," he replied and led the sorrel through the gate.

The colt, closely snubbed, stood trembling while the blanket was put on; then flinched and breathed loudly as the weight of the saddle was gently placed on his back. He stepped about and kicked as the cinch was drawn tight and resisted a long time the efforts of the man to slip a bit between his teeth.

Jane stood by watching, her attention divided between admiration of the man and the horse. The former was a.s.sured, gentle, positive in every move; the latter alarmed, rebellious but recognized the fact that he was under control.

"Now, if you'll shorten the stirrups I'll try him," she said.

"_You_'ll try him, ma'am? Why, this horse ain't been ridden three times in his life. He'll buck an' buck hard."

"So much more reason why I should try him. We spoke of reputations last night; they can only be formed at the cost of knocks. There are many things I must try to do out here; there are bound to be some that I can't even try but this is not one."

"But you--"

"Must I order you to let me ride him?"

There was no lightness in the question; she meant business, Beck realized. And her bruskness delighted him for when he turned to give the cinch one more hitch--his only reply to her question--he was smiling merrily.

It was not much of a ride as western riding goes. Beck blindfolded the sorrel with the black silk scarf he wore about his neck, helped Jane to mount, saw that she had both stirrups, took the rope cautiously from the trembling bronco's neck and, at her nod, drew off the blind.

For a moment the great colt stood there as if bewildered. Then, with a grunt and a bound, he bowed his back, hung his head and pitched.

"Keep his head up! His head!" warned Beck, watching with intense interest. "Watch him...."

The horse went straight forward for a half dozen jumps. Erect in the saddle, sitting too far back, trusting too much to her stirrups, Jane rode.

The violence of the lunging jerked her head unmercifully but she had her balance.... Until he sunfished, with a wrenching movement that heaved her forward against the fork, dangerously near a fall.

"Grab it all!" called Beck, not remembering that his injunction to hang on was as Greek to her. "He--Look out!"

With a vicious fling of his whole body the sorrel swapped ends and as he came down, head toward the man, the girl shot into the air, turned completely over and struck full on her back.

Beck ran to her, heedless of the horse, which circled at a gallop. She lay very still with her eyes closed; a smudge of dirt was on her white cheek. He knelt beside her.

"Are you hurt, ma'am?" he asked, and when she did not reply raised her head to his knee. Her body was surprisingly light, surprisingly firm, as he held it with an arm beneath her shoulders. He was fumbling with her collar to open it, knuckles against her soft throat, when she opened her eyes and gasped and coughed. She tried to speak but for a moment continued to choke; then smiled and said weakly:

"I didn't ... ride him."

"But you made a fine try!" he said with more enthusiasm than she had seen him display. "And I sure _am_ glad you ain't hurt bad!"

She laughed feebly and he felt her breath on his cheek, for their faces were very close; he felt his heart leap, too, and helped her up, saying words of which he was not conscious.

"I can stand alone," she said after he had steadied her an interval and reluctantly he took his arm from about her. "I'd like to try him again."