LITMIR.BIZ

      Chapter VIII. Sheila Fans a Flame

       Table of Contents

      Sheila departed from the quicksand crossing nursing her wrath against the man who had rescued her, feeling bitterly vindictive against him, yet aware that the Dakota who had saved her life was not the Dakota whom she had feared during her adventure with him in his cabin on the night of her arrival in the country. He had changed, and though she assured herself that she despised him more than ever, she found a grim amusement in the recollection of his manner immediately following the rescue, and in a review of the verbal battle, in which she had been badly worsted.

      His glances had had in them the quality of inward mirth and satisfaction which is most irritating, and behind his pretended remorse she could see a pleasure over her dilemma which made her yearn to inflict punishment upon him that would cause him to ask for mercy. His demeanor had said plainly that if she wished to have the marriage set aside all well and good—he would offer no objection. But neither would he take the initiative. Decidedly, it was a matter in which she should consult her own desires.

      It was late in the afternoon when she rode up to the Double R corral gates and was met there by her father and Duncan. Langford had been worried, he said, and was much concerned over her appearance. In the presence of Duncan Sheila told him the story of her danger and subsequent rescue by Dakota and she saw his eyes narrow with a strange light.

      “Dakota!” he said. “Isn’t that the chap who shot that half-breed over in Lazette the day I came?”

      To Sheila’s nod he ejaculated: “He’s a trump!”

      “He is a brute!” As the words escaped her lips—she had not meant to utter them—Sheila caught a glint in Duncan’s eyes which told her that she had echoed the latter’s sentiments, and she felt almost like retracting the charge. She had to bite her lips to resist the impulse.

      “A brute, eh?” laughed Langford. “It strikes me that I wouldn’t so characterize a man who had saved my life. The chances are that after saving you he didn’t seem delighted enough, or he didn’t smile to suit you, or——”

      “He ain’t so awful much of a man,” remarked Duncan disparagingly.

      Langford turned and looked at Duncan with a comprehending smile. “Evidently you owe Dakota nothing, my dear Duncan,” he said.

      The latter’s face darkened, and with Sheila listening he told the story of the calf deal, which had indirectly brought about the death of Blanca.

      “For a long time we had suspected Texas Blanca of rustling,” said Duncan, “but we couldn’t catch him with the goods. Five years ago, after the spring round-up, I branded a bunch of calves with a secret mark, and then we rode sign on Blanca.

      “We had him then, for the calves disappeared and some of the boys found some of them in Blanca’s corral, but we delayed, hoping he would run off more, and while we were waiting he sold out to Dakota. We didn’t know that at the time; didn’t find it out until we went over to take Blanca and found Dakota living in his cabin. He had a bill of sale from Blanca all right, showing that he’d bought the calves from him. It looked regular, but we had our doubts, and Dakota and me came pretty near having a run-in. If the boys hadn’t interfered——”

      He hesitated and looked at Sheila, and as her gaze met his steadily his eyes wavered and a slow red came into his face, for the recollection of what had actually occurred at the meeting between him and Dakota was not pleasant, and since that day Duncan had many times heard the word “Yellow” spoken in connection with his name—which meant that he lacked courage.

      “So he wasn’t a rustler, after all?” said Sheila pleasantly. For some reason which she could not entirely explain, she suspected that Duncan had left many things out of his story of his clash with Dakota.

      “Well, no,” admitted Duncan grudgingly.

      Sheila was surprised at the satisfaction she felt over this admission. Perhaps Duncan read her face as she had read his, for he frowned.

      “Him and Blanca framed up—making believe that Blanca had sold him the Star brand,” he said venomously.

      “I don’t believe it!” Sheila’s eyes met Duncan’s and the latter’s wavered. She was not certain which gave her the thrill she felt—her defense of Dakota or Duncan’s bitter rage over the exhibition of that defense.

      “He doesn’t appear to me to be the sort of man who would steal cows,” she said with a smile which made Duncan’s teeth show. “Although,” she continued significantly, “it does seem that he is the sort of man I would not care to trifle with—if I were a man. You told me yourself, if you remember, that you were not taking any chances with him. And now you accuse him. If I were you,” she warned, “I would be more careful—I would keep from saying things which I could not prove.”

      “Meaning that I’m afraid of him, I reckon?” sneered Duncan.

      Sheila looked at him, her eyes alight with mischief. That day on the edge of the butte overlooking the river, when Duncan had talked about Dakota, she had detected in his manner an inclination to belittle the latter; several times since then she had heard him speak venomously of him, and she had suspected that all was not smooth between them. And now since Duncan had related the story of the calf incident she was certain that the relations between the two men were strained to the point of open rupture. Duncan had bothered her, had annoyed her with his attentions, had adopted toward her an air of easy familiarity, which she had deeply resented, and she yearned to humiliate him deeply.

      “Afraid?” She appeared to hesitate. “Well, no,” she said, surveying him with an appraising eye in which the mischief was partly concealed, “I do not believe that you are afraid. Perhaps you are merely careful where he is concerned. But I am certain that even if you were afraid of him you would not refuse to take his pony back. I promised to send it back, you know.”

      A deep red suddenly suffused Duncan’s face. A sharp, savage gleam in his eyes—which Sheila met with a disarming smile—convinced her that he was aware of her object. She saw also that he did not intend to allow her to force him to perform the service.

      He bowed and regarded her with a shallow smile.

      “I will have one of the boys take the pony over to him the first thing in the morning,” he said.

      Sheila smiled sweetly. “Please don’t bother,” she said. “I wouldn’t think of allowing one of the men to take the pony back. Perhaps I shall decide to ride over that way myself. I should not care to have you meet Dakota

Скачать книгу