Black Jack | Page 6

he get that red devil?"
"Terence ran him down--in the mountains--somewhere," she answered, speaking as one who had only half heard the question. "Two months of constant trailing to do it, I think. But oh, you're right! The horse is a devil! And sometimes I think--"
She stopped, shuddering. Vance had returned to the ranch only the day before after a long absence. More and more, after he had been away, he found it difficult to get in touch with things on the ranch. Once he had been a necessary part of the inner life. Now he was on the outside. Terence and Elizabeth were a perfectly completed circle in themselves.
CHAPTER 3
"If Terry worries you like this," suggested her brother kindly, "why don't you forbid these pranks?"
She looked at him as if in surprise.
"Forbid Terry?" she echoed, and then smiled. Decidedly this was her first tone, a soft tone that came from deep in her throat. Instinctively Vance contrasted it with the way she had spoken to him. But it was always this way when Terry was mentioned. For the first time he saw it clearly. It was amazing how blind he had been. "Forbid Terence? Vance, that devil of a horse is part of his life. He was on a hunting trip when he saw Le Sangre--"
"Good Lord, did they call the horse that?"
"A French-Canadian was the first to discover him, and he gave the name. And he's the color of blood, really. Well, Terence saw Le Sangre on a hilltop against the sky. And he literally went mad. Actually, he struck out on foot with his rifle and lived in the country and never stopped walking until he wore down Le Sangre somehow and brought him back hobbled--just skin and bones, and Terence not much more. Now Le Sangre is himself again, and he and Terence have a fight--like that--every day. I dream about it; the most horrible nightmares!"
"And you don't stop it?"
"My dear Vance, how little you know Terence! You couldn't tear that horse out of his life without breaking his heart. I know!"
"So you suffer, day by day?"
"I've done very little else all my life," said Elizabeth gravely. "And I've learned to bear pain."
He swallowed. Also, he was beginning to grow irritated. He had never before had a talk with Elizabeth that contained so many reefs that threatened shipwreck. He returned to the gist of their conversation rather too bluntly.
"But to continue, Elizabeth, any banker would lend me money on my prospects."
"You mean the property which will come to you when I die?"
He used all his power, but he could not meet her glance. "You know that's a nasty way to put it, Elizabeth."
"Dear Vance," she sighed, "a great many people say that I'm a hard woman. I suppose I am. And I like to look facts squarely in the face. Your prospects begin with my death, of course."
He had no answer, but bit his lip nervously and wished the ordeal would come to an end.
"Vance," she went on, "I'm glad to have this talk with you. It's something you have to know. Of course I'll see that during my life or my death you'll be provided for. But as for your main prospects, do you know where they are?"
"Well?"
She was needlessly brutal about it, but as she had told him, her education had been one of pain.
"Your prospects are down there by the river on the back of Le Sangre."
Vance Cornish gasped.
"I'll show you what I mean, Vance. Come along."
The moment she rose, some of her age fell from her. Her carriage was erect. Her step was still full of spring and decision, as she led the way into the house. It was a big, solid, two-story building which the mightiest wind could not shake. Henry Cornish had merely founded the house, just as he had founded the ranch; the main portion of the work had been done by his daughter. And as they passed through, her stern old eye rested peacefully on the deep, shadowy vistas, and her foot fell with just pride on the splendid rising sweep of the staircase. They passed into the roomy vault of the upper hall and went down to the end. She took out a big key from her pocket and fitted it into the lock; then Vance dropped his hand on her arm. His voice lowered.
"You've made a mistake, Elizabeth. This is Father's room."
Ever since his death it had been kept unchanged, and practically unentered save for an occasional rare day of work to keep it in order. Now she nodded and resolutely turned the key and swung the door open. Vance went in with an exclamation of wonder. It was quite changed from the solemn old room and the brown, varnished woodwork which he remembered. Cream-tinted paint now