Prescott of Saskatchewan Part 15

Her senses were stirring and she felt a half-guilty pleasure at seeing the bronzed rancher's eyes bent on her tenderly. To think of him except as her host for a few weeks was, of course, folly; but there was a fascination in the gentleness he showed her. She was beginning to understand and sympathize with Cyril's rash daring and contempt for restraints. She felt tempted to follow her impulses; her frigid reserve was melting.

"Will you have more tea?" she asked, shrinking back to safe ground.

"Thank you," he said, holding out the dainty cup.

"Hot water? It's rather strong."

"Before I had a housekeeper we made it black and drank it by the kettleful."

"But the effect on your nerves!"

"Nerves?" he laughed. "We don't cultivate them in this country. Mine make no trouble."

"You're to be envied," she said, and looked up sharply at a sound of footsteps as her father came in.

His clothes were dusty and creased; the neatness which had characterized him on his arrival had gone. His face had grown brown, but it was haggard, hotly flushed, and beaded with perspiration; his lips were tightly set, his eyes had an ominous glitter. Throwing down a riding quirt he carried, he sat down; resting his arms on the table, in an att.i.tude of blank dejection.

"Nothing yet," he said listlessly. "It's hard to bear."

"There's a suggestion I want to make." Prescott spoke quietly. "The offer of a reward here has led to nothing; send another round to the Alberta and British Columbia papers, with a description of your son, saying you'll pay a hundred dollars for trustworthy information about him. I believe it will bring you good news."

Jernyngham turned to him in keen impatience.

"It would be useless--my son is dead! The police have proved that beyond a doubt, and I cannot understand why you should persist in denying it!"

His eyes grew hard with sudden suspicion. "It looks as if you had some motive."

"I'm afraid you're hardly just," Gertrude broke in. "Mr. Prescott only wishes to lessen your anxiety, but he's convinced of what he says."

It was a rare thing for her to oppose him, but Jernyngham was too preoccupied to be surprised at her boldness, and he made a gesture of deprecation.

"You must forgive me, Mr. Prescott--my daughter's right. But to offer me a.s.surances that must prove false is rank cruelty. I have faced the worst; I'm not strong enough to bear a second blow, which is what must follow if I listen to you. As it is, the strain is merciless."

His voice and bearing showed it. Indeed, one could have imagined that it would have been better had he yielded a little more, but his eyes expressed a grim, vengeful determination. He was not the man to weaken, he would hold out until he broke down; but his daughter and Prescott were filled with fears for him.

"I'm sorry," said the rancher. "Has Curtis thought of anything new?"

"No," Jernyngham answered harshly. "The police can entertain only one idea at a time; they can read the meaning of footprints and there their ability ends. They have no power of organization; I can't force them to make investigations on a proper scale, and I'm helpless until harvest's over. Then, when men can be hired, I'll have every bluff and ravine in the country searched. If I spend the rest of my life here, I'll find the guilty man!"

He said nothing further, and there was a strained silence while he sat, leaning forward limply, with bent head, and a thin hand clenched hard upon the table. Rousing himself by and by, he took the cup of tea Gertrude pa.s.sed to him, and set it down without drinking. It made a sharp clatter, but he left it setting near him as if he had forgotten it.

Unable to bear the sight of his distress, Prescott went quietly out, and when he was leaving the house Gertrude joined him.

"Perhaps I should have stayed with him, but I was afraid to speak," she said. "Besides, there was nothing to be said."

"This can't go on," Prescott declared. "It's too much for him. I can't leave here until the harvest's over, and then the grain ought to be hauled in, but I've thought of making a tour of inquiry along the new railroad and round the Alberta ranches and the mines in British Columbia."

Gertrude looked grateful.

"It would be a great relief to feel that something was being done. But--"

she added hesitatingly, "your time is valuable and there would be expense. I have some means, Mr. Prescott, and though I dare not speak to my father about it, you must draw on me."

"We'll talk about it later. I wish I could go now, but that's impossible, and there's no use in suggesting that Mr. Jernyngham should send somebody else. Besides, I believe I'd have the best chance of picking up the right trail. You won't mind my saying that I'm very sorry for you?"

Her eyes grew soft and her whole expression gentle. It was an attractive face Prescott looked into.

"I value your sympathy," she said softly. "Indeed, I can't tell you what a comfort you have been. But you will undertake this search as soon as possible, won't you?"

"Yes," Prescott replied firmly; "you can count on that. If I've made things easier for you, I'm very glad."

Then he turned away and hurried back to the binder.

CHAPTER X

A NEW CLUE

It was a clear, cool morning and Prescott was busily engaged throwing sheaves into his wagon. He had finished his harvest and, in accordance with western custom, had immediately begun the thras.h.i.+ng. Part of the great field was already stripped to a belt of tall stubble, though long ranks of stooks still stretched across the rest, and dusty men were hard at work among them. Wagons rolled through the crackling straw--going slowly, piled high with rustling loads; returning light, jolting wildly, as fast as the teams could trot, for the thrashers were paid by the bushel and would brook no delay. In the background stood their big machine, pouring out a cloud of smoke that stretched in a gray trail across the prairie, and filling the air with its harsh clatter.

It was a scene of strenuous activity, filled with hurriedly moving figures, but its coloring had lost something of its former vividness. The blue of the sky was softer, the light less strong; the varying hues of lemon and copper and ocher had become subdued; the shadows were no longer darkly blue but a cool restful gray. The rus.h.i.+ng winds that had swept the wide plain all summer had come to rest; the air was sharp and still.

The last week or two, however, had brought no change to the inmates of the homestead. Jernyngham still brooded over his loss and worried the police, his daughter looked to her host for comfort, and Prescott did what he could to cheer her. Gertrude, indeed, was sensible of a rapidly growing confidence in him and of the abandonment of many long-held ideas.

The man was not of her station: he was a working farmer, his views at first had jarred on her; and yet the attraction he had for her was steadily increasing. She made a feeble fight against it. In England she had stood on safe ground, hedged in by conventions, ruled by the opinions of a narrow circle of friends. Now all was different; she had lost these supports and restraints and she was helpless without them. Pa.s.sion was beginning to touch her and she mistook the rancher's gentleness and sympathy.

When Prescott had loaded his wagon she joined him as he led his team between the ranks of stooks, but while she walked by his side he thought of another Englishwoman whom he had once brought home with the prairie hay. He remembered how Muriel Hurst had nestled among the yielding gra.s.s, with something delightful in every line of her figure. He recalled her bright good-humor, the music of her laugh, the soft tones of her voice, the hint of courage he had seen in her eyes; and there was pain in the recollection. Gertrude Jernyngham was powerless to move him as Muriel had done, but he was sorry for Cyril's sister and very considerate of her.

"We'll have the crop off the ground before long," he said. "Then I'll start for Alberta, as I promised."

"You will be away some time?"

"I'm afraid so. It's a big province, though there are not a great many settlements in it yet; and I may have to cross over into British Columbia."

Gertrude looked down.

"It is very generous of you to go, but I shall miss you. I shall feel as if I had lost my chief support."

"So far, I've done nothing but talk; and talk is cheap," he laughed.

"You have given me courage," she said with shy hesitation. "And sympathy is worth a good deal."

He did not respond as she thought he might have done, and she continued:

"If my father had been less obstinate, you need not have gone; he could have hired a professional inquiry agent. But you had better not say anything about your object to him--it must be a secret between us."

"Yes," a.s.sented Prescott thoughtfully, "I guess that would be wiser. You want to keep his mind at rest as far as you can. Of course, there's a big chance that I may fail."

Gertrude turned to him with a smile.