The Cow Puncher | Page 7

with this thought came recognition of the curious fact
that Dave had not presumed upon her frankness; that it was not by her
word that he would attempt to justify his. Indeed, she was convinced
that he would have called her Reenie anyway,--just as she had called
him Dave, without premeditation or intention. Then she remembered
she was in the ranch country, in the foothills, where the
conventions--the conventions she hated--had not yet become rooted,
and where the souls of men and women stood bare in the clear light of
frank acceptance of the fact. It would be idle--dangerous--to trifle with
this boy by any attempt at concealment or deception. And what were
conventions but a recognized formula of concealment and deception?
She could see his form now, as he led the horses toward the corral.
How straight he was, and how bravely his footsteps fell on the hard
earth! The poetry of his motion reached her through the darkness. She
heard the harness jingle as the horses rubbed between the posts of the
corral gate.
"He's a wonderful boy," said the doctor, of whose presence she had
been unconscious. "Cat's eyes. Full gallop through the dark; side hills,
mountain streams, up and down; break-neck. Well, here we are." The
doctor breathed deeply, as though this last fact were one to occasion
some wonderment. "Your brother tells me you have an injured man
here; accident; stranger, I believe? Well, shall we go in?"
Brother! But why should she explain? Dave hadn't bothered. Why
hadn't he? He had told about the stranger; why had he not told about
both strangers? Why had he ignored her altogether? This time came
another flush, born of that keen womanly intuition which understands.
With a commonplace she led the doctor into the house and to the
bedside of her father. She was struck by the change in attitude of the
visiting physician when he learned that his patient was of his own

profession. It was like the meeting of brothers in a secret order. There
was an exchange of technical terms that might have served as password
or sign into some fine fraternity, and the setting of the limb was
accompanied by a running fire of professional comment as effective
upon the nerves of the sufferer as an opiate.
When the operation was completed the girl turned her attention to the
kitchen, where she found Dave, sweating in vicarious suffering. He had
helped to draw the limb into place, and it had been his first close
contact with human pain. It was different from branding calves, and he
had slipped out of the room as soon as possible. The morning sun was
now pouring through the window, and the distraught look on the boy's
face touched her even more than the frankness of the words spoken in
the darkness. She suddenly remembered that he had been up all
night--for her. She would not deceive herself with the thought that it
was for her father's sake Dave had galloped to town, found a doctor,
secured a fresh team and driven back along the little-used foothill trails.
She recalled the doctor's terse description of that journey. No doubt
Dave would have done it all for her father, had her father been there
alone, but as things were she had a deep conviction that he had done it
for her. And it was with a greater effort than seemed reasonable that
she laid her fingers on his arm and said, "Thank you, Dave."
"What for?" he asked, and she could not doubt the genuineness of his
question.
"Why, for bringing the doctor, and all that. Driving all night on those
awful roads. We fell off them in day time. I am sure I can't--Father
won't be able to--"
"Oh, shucks," he interrupted, with a manner which, on the previous
afternoon, she would have called rudeness. "That's nothin'. But say, I
brought home some grub. The chuck here was pretty tame; guess you
found that out last night." He looked about the room, and she knew that
he was taking note of her house-cleaning, but he made no remark on
the subject.
"Well, let's get breakfast," she said, after a moment's pause, and for

lack of other conversation. "You must be hungry."
Dave's purchases had been liberal. They included fresh meat and
vegetables, canned goods, coffee, rice and raisins. He laid the last three
items on the table with a great dissembling of indifference, for he was
immensely proud of them. They were unwonted items on the Elden bill
of fare; he had bought them especially for her. From somewhere the
knowledge had been borne in upon him that city people frequently
drink coffee for breakfast, and the rice and raisins were an inspiration
quite his own. He would see what