Part 9 (1/2)
”There's Red Tarken, foreman on the M Square. He'd be good to yuh, I know, and he's a hum-dinger about cows.”
”I am glad he has one qualification aside from his red hair,” put in Julie seriously. ”However, I am afraid that as a husband Red would be about as steady as a bronco saddled for the first time after the winter feeding.
He'd better have free range as long as he lives. Once more, father.”
”Well, see here, Julie, it seems to me you could do a lot worse than take our own Mike Stelton. I've never thought of it much before, but to-night it sort of occurred to me an'--”
Juliet Bissell broke into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, at which her father fixed her with a regard as wondering as it was hurt. His cherished inspiration so tactfully approached had burst like a soap-bubble under the gale of Juliet's merriment.
”Bud was right, after all,” said the girl, after her nervous outbreak. ”He told me Mike had some silly hope or other, and I believe Stelton has given you absent treatment until you have made this suggestion. Father, he's just as preposterous as the others.”
”I don't agree with you,” contended Bissell stubbornly. ”Mike is faithful, and has been for years. He knows the ins and outs of the business, and is willing to take the hard knocks that I'm getting tired of. Then there's another thing. I could be half-blind an' still see what Mike has been wanting these last five years.”
Juliet suddenly rose to her feet, all the laughter gone from her eyes and her heart. With a feeling of frightened helplessness she realized that her father was serious.
”Are you taking Mike's part against me?” she asked calmly.
”Well, I still don't see why you couldn't marry him.”
”You've forgotten the mush, father, but that isn't all. There's something different about Mike lately, something I have never noticed before. His eye seems s.h.i.+fty; he avoids all the family. If I didn't know him so well, I should think he was a criminal. Leaving out the fact that I don't love him, and that the very thought of his ever touching me makes me shudder, this distrust of him would be enough to block any such arrangements.
Why”--and her lip curled scornfully--”I would marry Bud Larkin a hundred times rather than Mike Stelton once.”
”What!”
Bissell rose to his feet with the quiet, amazed exclamation. He could hardly credit his ears.
”Marry that dirty sheepman?” he continued in a tense, even voice. ”I'd like to know what put that crazy notion in yore head. Don't tell me you are in love with that dude.”
”No, I am not,” answered the girl just as evenly, ”but I may as well tell you frankly, that he is the only man within a radius of three hundred miles who has certain things I must have in a husband. I'm sorry if I displease you, father!” she cried, going to him affectionately, ”but I could never love any one not of our cla.s.s.”
That diplomatic ”our” did not deceive Bissell. For the first time he saw that the greatest treasure of his whole life had grown beyond him; that there were needs and ideals in her existence of which he had but the faintest inkling, and that in her way she was as much of a ”dude” as the man she had mentioned.
He was encountering the seemingly cruel fate of parents who glorify their children by their own immolation, and who watch those same children pa.s.s up and out of their humble range of vision and understanding nevermore to return. Henceforth he could never see his daughter without feeling his own lack of polish.
Such a moment of realization is bitter on both sides, but especially for the one who has given all and can receive less in return than he had before the giving. The iron of this bitterness entered into Beef Bissell's soul as he stood there, silent, on the low, rickety veranda under the starlight of the plains.
With the queer vagary of a mind at great tension, his senses became particularly acute for a single moment. He saw the silver-pierced vault of the sky, smelled the fragrance of the plains borne on the gentle wind, and heard the rustle of the dappled cottonwoods and the howling of the distant coyotes.
Then he came back to the reality of the moment, and exhibited the simple greatness that had always been his in dealings with his daughter. He slipped his heavy arm across her shoulders and drew her to him.
”Never mind, Prairie Bell,” he said gently. ”You know best in everything.
Do as your heart dictates.” He sighed and added: ”I wish I was your mother to-night.”
CHAPTER VIII
FOR REVENGE
Breakfast next morning at the Bar T ranch was disturbed by the arrival of a cowboy on a lathering, wicked-eyed pony who announced to Stelton that Bud Larkin and his sheep had crossed over into the range. What then occurred is already known, and after Bissell had returned from his final parley with Larkin, he retired sullenly into himself to rage silently.