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diff --git a/old/lazya10.txt b/old/lazya10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3cdd2ec --- /dev/null +++ b/old/lazya10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9392 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Etext of Jean of the Lazy A, By B. M. Bower + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. We need your donations. + + +Jean of the Lazy A + +by B. M. 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If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Association / Illinois + Benedictine College" within the 60 days following each + date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) + your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, +scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty +free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution +you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg +Association / Illinois Benedictine College". + +*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +Scanned by Charles Keller with +OmniPage Professional OCR software +donated by Caere Corporation, 1-800-535-7226. +Contact Mike Lough <Mikel@caere.com> + + + + + +Jean of the Lazy A + +By B. M. BOWER + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + +I HOW TROUBLE CAME TO THE LAZY A +II CONCERNING LITE AND A FEW FOOTPRINTS +III WHAT A MAN'S GOOD NAME IS WORTH +IV JEAN +V JEAN RIDES INTO A SMALL ADVENTURE +VI AND THE VILLAIN PURSUED LITE +VII ROBERT GRANT BURNS GETS HELP +VIII JEAN SPOILS SOMETHING +IX A MAN-SIZED JOB FOR JEAN +X JEAN LEARNS WHAT FEAR IS LIKE +XI LITE'S PUPIL DEMONSTRATES +XII TO "DOUBLE" FOR MURIEL GAY +XIII PICTURES AND PLANS AND MYSTERIOUS FOOTSTEPS +XIV PUNCH VERSUS PRESTIGE +XV A LEADING LADY THEY WOULD MAKE OF JEAN +XVI FOR ONCE AT LEAST LITE HAD HIS WAY +XVII "WHY DON'T YOU GIVE THEM SOMETHING REAL?" +XVIII A NEW KIND OF PICTURE +XIX IN LOS ANGELES +XX CHANCE TAKES A HAND +XXI JEAN BELIEVES THAT SHE TAKES MATTERS INTO HER OWN HANDS +XXII JEAN MEETS ONE CRISIS AND CONFRONTS ANOTHER +XXIII A LITTLE ENLIGHTENMENT +XXIV THE LETTER IN THE CHAPS +XXV LITE COMES OUT OF THE BACKGROUND +XXVI HOW HAPPINESS RETURNED TO THE LAZY A + + + + + +JEAN OF THE LAZY A + + + +CHAPTER I + + +HOW TROUBLE CAME TO THE LAZY A + + +Without going into a deep, psychological discussion +of the elements in men's souls that breed +events, we may say with truth that the Lazy A ranch +was as other ranches in the smooth tenor of its life +until one day in June, when the finger of fate wrote +bold and black across the face of it the word that blotted +out prosperity, content, warm family ties,--all those +things that go to make life worth while. + +Jean, sixteen and a range girl to the last fiber of her +being, had gotten up early that morning and had washed +the dishes and swept, and had shaken the rugs of the +little living-room most vigorously. On her knees, with +stiff brush and much soapy water, she had scrubbed the +kitchen floor until the boards dried white as kitchen +floors may be. She had baked a loaf of gingerbread, +that came from the oven with a most delectable odor, +and had wrapped it in a clean cloth to cool on the +kitchen table. Her dad and Lite Avery would show +cause for the baking of it when they sat down, fresh +washed and ravenous, to their supper that evening. I +mention Jean and her scrubbed kitchen and the gingerbread +by way of proving how the Lazy A went unwarned +and unsuspecting to the very brink of its disaster. + +Lite Avery, long and lean and silently content with +life, had ridden away with a package of sandwiches, +after a full breakfast and a smile from the slim girl +who cooked it, upon the business of the day; which +happened to be a long ride with one of the Bar Nothing +riders, down in the breaks along the river. Jean's +father, big Aleck Douglas, had saddled and ridden away +alone upon business of his own. And presently, in mid- +forenoon, Jean closed the kitchen door upon an +immaculately clean house filled with the warm, fragrant +odor of her baking, and in fresh shirt waist and her +best riding-skirt and Stetson, went whistling away down +the path to the stable, and saddled Pard, the brown colt +that Lite had broken to the saddle for her that spring. +In ten minutes or so she went galloping down the coulee +and out upon the trail to town, which was fifteen miles +away and held a chum of hers. + +So Lazy A coulee was left at peace, with scratching +hens busy with the feeding of half-feathered chicks, +and a rooster that crowed from the corral fence seven +times without stopping to take breath. In the big +corral a sorrel mare nosed her colt and nibbled +abstractedly at the pile of hay in one corner, while the +colt wabbled aimlessly up and sniffed curiously and then +turned to inspect the rails that felt so queer and hard +when he rubbed his nose against them. The sun was +warm, and cloud-shadows drifted lazily across the coulee +with the breeze that blew from the west. You never +would dream that this was the last day,--the last few +hours even,--when the Lazy A would be the untroubled +home of three persons of whose lives it formed so +great a part. + +At noon the hens were hovering their chickens in the +shade of the mower which Lite was overhauling during +his spare time, getting it ready for the hay that was +growing apace out there in the broad mouth of the +coulee. The rooster was wallowing luxuriously in a +dusty spot in the corral. The young colt lay stretched +out on the fat of its side in the sun, sound asleep. The +sorrel mare lay beside it, asleep also, with her head +thrown up against her shoulder. Somewhere in a shed +a calf was bawling in bored lonesomeness away from its +mother feeding down the pasture. And over all the +coulee and the buildings nestled against the bluff at +its upper end was spread that atmosphere of homey +comfort and sheltered calm which surrounds always a +home that is happy. + +Lite Avery, riding toward home just when the shadows +were beginning to grow long behind him, wondered +if Jean would be back by the time he reached the +ranch. He hoped so, with a vague distaste at finding +the place empty of her cheerful presence. Be looked +at his watch; it was nearly four o'clock. She ought to +be home by half-past four or five, anyway. He glanced +sidelong at Jim and quietly slackened his pace a little. +Jim was telling one of those long, rambling tales of +the little happenings of a narrow life, and Lite was +supposed to be listening instead of thinking about when +Jean would return home. Jim believed he was listening, +and drove home the point of his story. + +"Yes, sir, them's his very words. Art Osgood heard +him. He'll do it, too, take it from me, Crofty is shore +riled up this time." + +"Always is," Lite observed, without paying much +attention. "I'll turn off here, Jim, and cut across. +Got some work I want to get done yet to-night. So +long." + +He swung away from his companion, whose trail to +the Bar Nothing led him straight west, passing the Lazy +A coulee well out from its mouth, toward the river. +Lite could save a half mile by bearing off to the north +and entering the coulee at the eastern side and riding +up through the pasture. He wanted to see how the +grass was coming on, anyway. The last rain should +have given it a fresh start. + +He was in no great hurry, after all; he had merely +been bored with Jim's company and wanted to go on +alone. And then he could get the fire started for +Jean. Lite's life was running very smoothly indeed; +so smoothly that his thoughts occupied themselves +largely with little things, save when they concerned +themselves with Jean, who had been away to school for +a year and had graduated from "high," as she called it, +just a couple of weeks ago, and had come home to keep +house for dad and Lite. The novelty of her presence +on the ranch was still fresh enough to fill his thoughts +with her slim attractiveness. Town hadn't spoiled her, +he thought glowingly. She was the same good little +pal,--only she was growing up pretty fast, now. She +was a young lady already. + +So, thinking of her with the brightening of spirits +which is the first symptom of the world-old emotion +called love, Lite rounded the eastern arm of the bluff +and came within sight of the coulee spread before him, +shaped like the half of a huge platter with a high rim of +bluff on three sides. + +His first involuntary glance was towards the house, +and there was unacknowledged expectancy in his eyes. +But he did not see Jean, nor any sign that she had +returned. Instead, he saw her father just mounting in +haste at the corral. He saw him swing his quirt down +along the side of his horse and go tearing down the +trail, leaving the wire gate flat upon the ground behind +him,--which was against all precedent. + +Lite quickened his own pace. He did not know why +big Aleck Douglas should be hitting that pace out of +the coulee, but since Aleck's pace was habitually +unhurried, the inference was plain enough that there was +some urgent need for haste. Lite let down the rails of +the barred gate from the meadow into the pasture, +mounted, and went galloping across the uneven sod. +His first anxious thought was for the girl. Had something +happened to her? + +At the stable he looked and saw that Jean's saddle did +not hang on its accustomed peg inside the door, and he +breathed freer. She could not have returned, then. He +turned his own horse inside without taking off the saddle, +and looked around him puzzled. Nothing seemed +wrong about the place. The sorrel mare stood placidly +switching at the flies and suckling her gangling colt in +the shady corner of the corral, and the chickens were +pecking desultorily about their feeding-ground in +expectation of the wheat that Jean or Lite would fling +to them later on. Not a thing seemed unusual. + +Yet Lite stood just outside the stable, and the +sensation that something was wrong grew keener. He was +not a nervous person,--you would have laughed at the +idea of nerves in connection with Lite Avery. He felt +that something was wrong, just the same. It was not +altogether the hurried departure of Aleck Douglas, +either, that made him feel so. He looked at the house +setting back there close to the bluff just where it began +to curve rudely out from the narrowest part of the +coulee. It was still and quiet, with closed windows and +doors to tell there was no one at home. And yet, to +Lite its very silence seemed sinister. + +Wolves were many, down in the breaks along the +river that spring; and the coyotes were an ever-present +evil among the calves, so that Lite never rode abroad +without his six-shooter. He reached back and loosened +it in the holster before he started up the sandy path +to the house; and if you knew the Lazy A ranch as +well as Lite knew it, from six years of calling it home, +you would wonder at that action of his, which was +instinctive and wholly unconscious. + +So he went up through the sunshine of late afternoon +that sent his shadow a full rod before him, and he +stepped upon the narrow platform before the kitchen +door, and stood there a minute listening. He heard +the mantel clock in the living-room ticking with the +resonance given by a room empty of all other sound. +Because his ears were keen, he heard also the little +alarm clock in the kitchen tick-tick-tick on the shelf +behind the stove where Jean kept it daytimes. + +Peaceful enough, for all the silence; yet Lite reached +back and laid his fingers upon the smooth butt of his +six-shooter and opened the door with his left hand, +which was more or less awkward. He pushed the door +open and stepped inside. Then for a full minute he +did not move. + +On the floor that Jean had scrubbed till it was so +white, a man lay dead, stretched upon his back. His +eyes stared vacantly straight up at the ceiling, where a +single cobweb which Jean had not noticed swayed in +the air-current Lite set in motion with the opening of +the door. On the floor, where it had dropped from his +hand perhaps when he fell, a small square piece of +gingerbread lay, crumbled around the edges. Tragic +halo around his head, a pool of blood was turning brown +and clotted. Lite shivered a little while he stared down +at him. + +In a minute he lifted his eyes from the figure +and looked around the small room. The stove shone +black in the sunlight which the open door let in. On +the table, covered with white oilcloth, the loaf of gingerbread +lay uncovered, and beside it lay a knife used to +cut off the piece which the man on the floor had not +eaten before he died. Nothing else was disturbed. +Nothing else seemed in the least to bear any evidence +of what had taken place. + +Lite's thoughts turned in spite of him to the man +who had ridden from the coulee as though fiends had +pursued. The conclusion was obvious, yet Lite loyally +rejected it in the face of reason. Reason told him +that there went the slayer. For this dead man was +what was left of Johnny Croft, the Crofty of whom +Jim had gossiped not more than half an hour before. +And the gossip had been of threats which Johnny Croft +had made against the two Douglas brothers,--big +Aleck, of the Lazy A, and Carl, of the Bar Nothing +ranch adjoining. + +Suicide it could scarcely be, for Crofty was the type +of man who would cling to life; besides, his gun was +in its holster, and a man would hardly have the strength +or the desire to put away his gun after he has shot +himself under one eye. Death had undoubtedly been +immediate. Lite thought of these things while he stood +there just inside the door. Then he turned slowly and +went outside, and stood hesitating upon the porch. He +did not quite know what he ought to do about it, and +so he did not mean to be in too great a hurry to do +anything; that was Lite's habit, and he had always +found that it served him well. + +If the rider had been fleeing from his crime, as was +likely, Lite had no mind to raise at once the hue and +cry. An hour or two could make no difference to the +dead man,--and you must remember that Lite had for +six years called this place his home, and big Aleck +Douglas his friend as well as the man who paid him +wages for the work he did. He was half tempted to +ride away and say nothing for a while. He could let +it appear that he had not been at the house at all and so +had not discovered the crime when he did. That would +give Aleck Douglas more time to get away. But there +was Jean, due at any moment now. He could not go +away and let Jean discover that gruesome thing on the +kitchen floor. He could not take it up and hide it away +somewhere; he could not do anything, it seemed to him, +but just wait. + +He went slowly down the path to the stable, his chin +on his chest, his mind grappling with the tragedy and +with the problem of how best he might lighten the blow +that had fallen upon the ranch. It was unreal,--it +was unthinkable,--that Aleck Douglas, the man who +met but friendly glances, ride where he might, had +done this thing. And yet there was nothing else to believe. +Johnny Croft had worked here on the ranch for +a couple of months, off and on. He had not been steadily +employed, and he had been paid by the day instead +of by the month as was the custom. He had worked +also for Carl Douglas at the Bar Nothing; back and +forth, for one or the other as work pressed. He was +too erratic to be depended upon except from day to +day; too prone to saddle his horse and ride to town and +forget to return for a day or two days or a week, as +the mood seized him or his money held out. + +Lite knew that there had been some dispute when he +had left; he had claimed payment for more days than +he had worked. Aleck was a just man who paid honestly +what he owed; he was also known to be "close- +fisted." He would pay what he owed and not a nickel +more,--hence the dispute. Johnny had gone away +seeming satisfied that his own figures were wrong, but +later on he had quarreled with Carl over wages and +other things. Carl had a bad temper that sometimes +got beyond his control, and he had ordered Johnny off +the ranch. This was part of the long, full-detailed +story Jim had been telling. Johnny had left, and he +had talked about the Douglas brothers to any one who +would listen. He had said they were crooked, both of +them, and would cheat a working-man out of his pay. +He had come back, evidently, to renew the argument +with Aleck. With the easy ways of ranch people, he +had gone inside when he found no one at home,-- +hungry, probably, and not at all backward about helping +himself to whatever appealed to his appetite. That +was Johnny's way,--a way that went unquestioned, +since he had lived there long enough to feel at home. +Lite remembered with an odd feeling of pity how +Johnny had praised the first gingerbread which Jean +had baked, the day after her arrival; and how he had +eaten three pieces and had made Jean's cheeks burn +with confusion at his bold flattery. + +He had come back, and he had helped himself to the +gingerbread. And then he had been shot down. He +was lying in there now, just as he had fallen, and his +blood was staining deep the fresh-scrubbed floor. And +Jean would be coming home soon. Lite thought it would +be better if he rode out to meet her, and told her what +had happened, so that she need not come upon it +unprepared. There was nothing else that he could bring +himself to do, and his mood demanded action of some +sort; one could not sit down at peace with a fresh +tragedy like that hanging over the place. + +He had reached the stable when a horse walked out +from behind the hay corral and stopped, eyeing him +curiously. It was Johnny's horse. Even as improvident +a cowpuncher as Johnny Croft had been likes to +own a "private" horse,--one that is his own and can +be ridden when and where the owner chooses. Lite +turned and went over to it, caught it by the dragging +bridle-reins, and led it into an empty stall. He did +not know whether he ought to unsaddle it or leave it as +it was; but on second thought, he loosened the cinch in +kindness to the animal, and took off its bridle, so that +it could eat without being hampered by the bit. Lite +was too thorough a horseman not to be thoughtful of +an animal's comfort. + +He led his own horse out, and then he stopped +abruptly. For Pard stood in front of the kitchen door, +and Jean was untying a package or two from the saddle. +He opened his mouth to call to her; he started forward; +but he was too late to prevent what happened. Before +his throat had made a sound, Jean turned with the +packages in the hollow of her arm and stepped upon the +platform with that springy haste of movement which +belongs to health and youth and happiness; and before +he had taken more than the first step away from his +horse, she had opened the kitchen door. + +Lite ran, then. He did not call to her. What was +the use? She had seen. She had dropped her packages, +and turned and ran to meet him, and caught him +by the arm in a panic of horror. Lite patted her hand +awkwardly, not knowing what he ought to say. + +"What made you go in there?" came of its own +accord from his lips. "That's no place for a girl." + +"It's Johnny Croft!" she gasped just above her +breath. "How--did it happen, Lite?" + +"I don't know," said Lite slowly, looking down and +still patting her hand. "Your father and I have both +been gone all day. I just got back a few minutes ago +and found out about it." His tone, his manner and +his words impressed upon Jean the point he wanted her +to get,--that her father had not yet returned, and so +knew nothing of the crime. + +He led her back to where Pard stood, and told her to +get on. Without asking him why, Jean obeyed him, +with a shudder when her wide eyes strayed fascinated +to the open door and to what lay just within. Lite +went up and pulled the door shut, and then, walking beside +her with an arm over Pard's neck, he led the way +down to the stable, and mounted Ranger. + +"You can't stay here," he explained, when she looked +at him inquiringly. "Do you want to go over and stay +at Carl's, or would you rather go back to town?" He +rode down toward the gate, and Jean kept beside him. + +"I'm going to stay with dad," she told him shakily. +"If he stays, I'll--I'll stay." + +"You'll not stay," he contradicted her bluntly. +"You can't. It wouldn't be right." And he added +self-reproachfully: "I never thought of your cutting +across the bench and riding down the trail back of the +house. I meant to head you off--" + +"It's shorter," said Jean briefly. "I--if I can't +stay, I'd rather go to town, Lite. I don't like to stay +over at Uncle Carl's." + +Therefore, when they reached the mouth of the +coulee, Lite turned into the trail that led to town. +All down the coulee the trail had been dug deep with +the hoofprints of a galloping horse; and now, on the +town trail, they were as plain as a primer to one +schooled in the open. But Jean was too upset to +notice them, and for that Lite was thankful. They +did not talk much, beyond the commonplace speculations +which tragedy always brings to the lips of the +bystanders. Comments that were perfectly obvious +they made, it is true. Jean said it was perfectly awful, +and Lite agreed with her. Jean wondered how it +could have happened, and Lite said he didn't know. +Neither of them said anything about the effect it would +have upon their future; I don't suppose that Jean, at +least, could remotely guess at the effect. It is certain +that Lite preferred not to do so. + +They were no more than half way to town when they +met a group of galloping horsemen, their coming heralded +for a mile by the dust they kicked out of the trail. + +In the midst rode Jean's father. Alongside him +rode the coroner, and behind him rode the sheriff. +The rest of the company was made up of men who had +heard the news and were coming to look upon the +tragedy. Lite drew a long breath of relief. Aleck +Douglas, then, had not been running away. + + + +CHAPTER II + + +CONCERNING LITE AND A FEW FOOTPRINTS + + +"Lucky you was with me all day, up to four +o'clock, Lite," Jim said. "That lets you out +slick and clean, seeing the doctor claims he'd been dead +six hours when he seen him last night. Crofty--why, +Crofty was laying in there dead when I was talking +about him to you! Kinda gives a man the creeps to +think of it. Who do you reckon done it, Lite?" + +"How'n hell do _I_ know?" Lite retorted irritably. +"I didn't see it done." + +Jim studied awhile, an ear cocked for the signal that +the coroner was ready to begin the inquest. "Say," +he leaned over and whispered in Lite's ear, "where +was Aleck at, all day yesterday?" + +"Riding over in the bend, looking for black-leg +signs," said Lite promptly. "Packed a lunch, same as +I did." + +The answer seemed to satisfy Jim and to eliminate +from his mind any slight suspicion he may have held, +but Lite had a sudden impulse to improve upon his +statement. + +"I saw Aleck ride into the ranch as I was coming +home," he said. As he spoke, his face lightened as +with a weight lifted from his mind. + +Later, when the coroner questioned him about his +movements and the movements of Aleck, Lite repeated +the lie as casually as possible. It might have carried +more weight with the jury if Aleck Douglas himself had +not testified, just before then, that he had returned +about three o'clock to the ranch and pottered around the +corral with the mare and colt, and unsaddled his horse +before going into the house at all. It was only when +he had discovered Johnny Croft's horse at the haystack, +he said, that he began to wonder where the rider could +be. He had gone to the house--and found him on +the kitchen floor. + +Lite had not heard this statement, for the simple +reason that, being a closely interested person, he had +been invited to remain outside while Aleck Douglas +testified. He wondered why the jury,--men whom +he knew and had known for years, most of them,-- +looked at one another so queerly when he declared that +he had seen Aleck ride home. The coroner also had +given him a queer look, but he had not made any comment. +Aleck, too, had turned his head and stared at +Lite in a way which Lite preferred to think he had not +understood. + +Beyond that one statement which had produced such +a curious effect, Lite did not have anything to say that +shed the faintest light upon the matter. He told where +he had been, and that he had discovered the body just +before Jean arrived, and that he had immediately +started with her to town. The coroner did not cross- +question him. Counting from four o'clock, which Jim +had already named as the time of their separation, Lite +would have had just about time to do the things he +testified to doing. The only thing he claimed to have +done and could not possibly have done, was to see Aleck +Douglas riding into the coulee. Aleck himself had +branded that a lie before Lite had ever uttered it. + +The result was just what was to be expected. Aleck +Douglas was placed under arrest, and as a prisoner he +rode back to town alongside the sheriff,--an old friend +of his, by the way,--to where Jean waited impatiently +for news. + +It was Lite who told her. "It'll come out all right," +he said, in his calm way that might hide a good deal of +emotion beneath it. "It's just to have something to +work from,--don't mean anything in particular. It's +a funny way the law has got," he explained, "of +arresting the last man that saw a fellow alive, or the first +one that sees him dead." + +Jean studied this explanation dolefully. "They +ought to find out the last one that saw him alive," she +said resentfully, "and arrest him, then,--and leave +dad out of it. There's no sense in the law, if that's +the way it works." + +"Well, I didn't make the law," Lite observed, in +a tone that made Jean look up curiously into his +face. + +"Why don't they find out who saw him last?" she +repeated. "Somebody did. Somebody must have +gone there with him. Lite, do you know that Art Osgood +came into town with his horse all in a lather of +sweat, and took the afternoon train yesterday? I saw +him. I met him square in the middle of the street, and +he didn't even look at me. He was in a frightful hurry, +and he looked all upset. If I was the law, I'd leave +dad alone and get after Art Osgood. He acted to me," +she added viciously, "exactly as if he were running +away!" + +"He wasn't, though. Jim told me Art was going to +leave yesterday; that was in the forenoon. He's going +to Alaska,--been planning it all spring. And Carl +said he was with Art till Art left to catch the train. +Somebody else from town here had seen him take the +train, and asked about him. No, it wasn't Art." + +"Well, who was it, then?" + +Never before had Lite failed to tell Jean just what +she wanted to know. He failed now, and he went away +as though he was glad to put distance between them. +He did not know what to think. He did not want to +think. Certainly he did not want to talk, to Jean +especially. For lies never came easily to the tongue of +Lite Avery. It was all very well to tell Jean that he +didn't know who it was; he did tell her so, and made +his escape before she could read in his face the fear that +he did know. It was not so easy to guard his fear from +the keen eyes of his fellows, with whom he must mingle +and discuss the murder, or else pay the penalty of having +them suspect that he knew a great deal more about +it than he admitted. + +Several men tried to stop him and talk about it, but +he put them off. He was due at the ranch, he said, to +look after the stock. He didn't know a thing about it, +anyway. + +Lazy A coulee, when he rode into it, seemed to wear +already an air of depression, foretaste of what was to +come. The trail was filled with hoofprints, and cut +deep with the wagon that had borne the dead man to +town and to an unwept burial. At the gate he met +Carl Douglas, riding with his head sunk deep on his +chest. Lite would have avoided that meeting if he +could have done so unobtrusively, but as it was, he +pulled up and waited while Carl opened the wire gate +and dragged it to one side. From the look of his face, +Carl also would have avoided the meeting, if he +could have done so. He glanced up as Lite passed +through. + +"Hell of a verdict," Lite made brief comment when +he met Carl's eyes. + +Carl stopped, leaning against his horse with one +hand thrown up to the saddle-horn. He was a small +man, not at all like Aleck in size or in features. He +looked haggard now and white. + +"What do you make of it?" he asked Lite. "Do +you believe--?" + +"Of course I don't! Great question for a brother +to ask," Lite retorted sharply. "It's not in Aleck to +do a thing like that." + +"What made you say you saw him ride home? You +didn't, did you?" + +"You heard what I said; take it or leave it." Lite +scowled down at Carl. "What was there queer about +it? Why--" + +"If you'd been inside ten minutes before then," +Carl told him bluntly, "you'd have heard Aleck say he +came home a full hour or more before you say you saw +him ride in. That's what's queer. What made you +do that? It won't help Aleck none." + +"Well, what are you going to do about it?" Lite +slouched miserably in the saddle, and eyed the other +without really seeing him at all. "They can't prove +anything on Aleck," he added with faint hope. + +"I don't see myself how they can." Carl brightened +perceptibly. "His being alone all day is bad; he can't +furnish the alibi you can furnish. But they can't prove +anything. They'll turn him loose, the grand jury will; +they'll have to. They can't indict him on the evidence. +They haven't got any evidence,--not any more than +just the fact that he rode in with the news. No need +to worry; he'll be turned loose in a few days." He +picked up the gate, dragged it after him as he went +through, and fumbled the wire loop into place over the +post. "I wish," he said when he had mounted with +the gate between them, "you hadn't been so particular +to say you saw him ride home about the same time you +did. That looks bad, Lite." + +"Bad for who?" Lite turned in the saddle aggressively. + +"Looks bad all around. I don't see what made you +do that;--not when you knew Jim and Aleck had both +testified before you did." + +Lite rode slowly down the road to the stable, and +cursed the impulse that had made him blunder so. He +had no compunctions for the lie, if only it had done any +good. It had done harm; he could see now that it had. +But he could not believe that it would make any material +difference in Aleck's case. As the story had been +repeated to Lite by half a dozen men, who had heard +him tell it, Aleck's own testimony had been responsible +for the verdict. + +Men had told Lite plainly that Aleck was a fool +not to plead self-defense, even in face of the fact that +Johnny Croft had not drawn any weapon. Jim had +declared that Aleck could have sworn that Johnny +reached for his gun. Others admitted voluntarily that +while it would be a pretty weak defense, it would beat +the story Aleck had told. + +Lite turned the mare and colt into a shed for the +night. He milked the two cows without giving any +thought to what he was doing, and carried the milk to +the kitchen door before he realized that it would be +wasted, sitting in pans when the house would be empty. +Still, it occurred to him that he might as well go on +with the routine of the place until they knew to a +certainty what the grand jury would do. So he went in +and put away the milk. + +After that, Lite let other work wait while he cleaned +the kitchen and tried to wash out that brown stain on +the floor. His face was moody, his eyes dull with +trouble. Like a treadmill, his mind went over and over +the meager knowledge he had of the tragedy. He could +not bring himself to believe Aleck Douglas guilty of the +murder; yet he could not believe anything else. + +Johnny Croft, it had been proven at the inquest, +rode out from town alone, bent on mischief, if vague, +half-drunken threats meant anything. He had told +more than one that he was going to the Lazy A, but it +was certain that no one had followed him from town. +His threats had been for the most part directed against +Carl, it is true; but if he had meant to quarrel with +Carl, he would have gone to the Bar Nothing instead of +the Lazy A. Probably he had meant to see both Carl +and Aleck, and had come here first, since it was the +nearest to town. + +As to enemies, no one had particularly liked Johnny. +He was not a likeable sort; he was too "mouthy" +according to his associates. He had quarreled with a +good many for slight cause, but since he was so notoriously +blatant and argumentative, no one had taken him +seriously enough to nurse any grudge that would be +likely to breed assassination. It was inconceivable to +Lite that any man had trailed Johnny Croft to the +Lazy A and shot him down in the kitchen while he was +calmly helping himself to Jean's gingerbread. Still, +he must take that for granted or else believe what he +steadfastly refused to confess even to himself that he +believed. + +It was nearly dark when he threw out the last pail +of water and stood looking down dissatisfied at the +result of his labor, while he dried his hands. The stain +was still there, in spite of him, just as the memory of +the murder would cling always to the place. He went +out and watered Jean's poppies and sweet peas and +pansies, still going over and over the evidence and trying +to fill in the gaps. + +He had blundered with his lie that had meant to +help. The lie had proven to every man who heard him +utter it that his faith in Aleck's innocence was not +strong; it had proven that he did not trust the facts. +That hurt Lite, and made it seem more than ever his +task to clear up the matter, if he could. If he could +not, then he would make amends in whatever way he +might. + +Almost as if he were guarding that gruesome room +which was empty now and silent,--since the clock had +not been wound and had run down,--he sat long upon +the narrow platform before the kitchen door and smoked +and stared straight before him. Once he thought he +saw a man move cautiously from the corner of the +shed where the youngest calf slept beside its mother, +He had been thinking so deeply of other things that +he was not sure, but he went down there, his cigarette +glowing in the gloom, and stood looking and listening. + +He neither saw nor heard anything, and presently +he went back to the house; but his abstraction was +broken by the fancy, so that he did not sit down again +to smoke and think. He had thought until his brain +felt heavy and stupid; and the last cigarette he lighted; +he threw away, for he had smoked until his tongue was +sore. He went in and went to bed. + +For a long time he lay awake. Finally he dropped +into a sleep so heavy that it was nearer to a torpor, and +it was the sunlight that awoke him; sunlight that was +warm in the room and proved how late the morning was. +He swore in his astonishment and got up hastily, a +great deal more optimistic than when he had lain down, +and hurried out to feed the stock before he boiled coffee +and fried eggs for himself. + +It was when he went in to cook his belated breakfast +that Lite noticed something which had no logical +explanation. There were footprints on the kitchen floor +that he had scrubbed so diligently. He stood looking +at them, much as he had looked at the stain that would +not come out, no matter how hard he scrubbed. He had +not gone in the room after he had pulled the door shut +and gone off to water Jean's dowers. He was positive +upon that point; and even if he had gone in, his tracks +would scarcely have led straight across the room to the +cupboard where the table dishes were kept. + +The tracks led to the cupboard, and were muddled +confusedly there, as though the maker had stood there +for some minutes. Lite could not see any sense in +that. They were very distinct, just as footprints always +show plainly on clean boards. The floor had evidently +been moist still,--Lite had scrubbed man-fashion, +with a broom, and had not been very particular +about drying the floor afterwards. Also he had thrown +the water straight out from the door, and the fellow +must have stepped on the moist sand that clung to his +boots. In the dark he could not notice that, or see that +he had left tracks on the floor. + +Lite went to the cupboard and looked inside it, +wondering what the man could have wanted there. It was +one of those old-fashioned "safes" such as our +grandmothers considered indispensable in the furnishing of +a kitchen. It held the table dishes neatly piled: dinner +plates at the end of the middle shelf, smaller plates +next, then a stack of saucers,--the arrangement stereotyped, +unvarying since first Lite Avery had taken dishtowel +in hand to dry the dishes for Jean when she was +ten and stood upon a footstool so that her elbows would +be higher than the rim of the dishpan. The cherry- +blossom dinner set that had come from the mail-order +house long ago was chipped now and incomplete, but +the familiar rows gave Lite an odd sense of the +unreality of the tragedy that had so lately taken place +in that room. + +Clearly there was nothing there to tempt a thief, and +there was nothing disturbed. Lite straightened up and +looked down thoughtfully upon the top of the cupboard, +where Jean had stacked out-of-date newspapers +and magazines, and where Aleck had laid a pair of +extra gloves. He pulled out the two small drawers just +under the cupboard top and looked within them. The +first held pipes and sacks of tobacco and books of +cigarette papers; Lite knew well enough the contents of +that drawer. He appraised the supply of tobacco, +remembered how much had been there on the morning of +the murder, and decided that none had been taken. +He helped himself to a fresh ten-cent sack of tobacco +and inspected the other drawer. + +Here were merchants' bills, a few letters of no +consequence, a couple of writing tablets, two lead pencils, +and a steel pen and a squat bottle of ink. This was +called the writing-drawer, and had been since Lite first +came to the ranch. Here Lite believed the confusion +was recent. Jean had been very domestic since her +return from school, and all disorder had been frowned +upon. Lately the letters had been stacked in a corner, +whereas now they were scattered. But they were +of no consequence, once they had been read, and there +was nothing else to merit attention from any one. + +Lite looked down at the tracks and saw that they led +into another room, which was Aleck's bedroom. He +went in there, but he could not find any reason for a +night-prowler's visit. Aleck's desk was always open. +There was never anything there which he wanted to +hide away. His account books and his business +correspondence, such as it was, lay accessible to the +curious. There was nothing intricate or secret about the +running of the Lazy A ranch; nothing that should +interest any one save the owner. + +It occurred to Lite that incriminating evidence is +sometimes placed surreptitiously in a suspected man's +desk. He had heard of such things being done. He +could not imagine what evidence might be placed here +by any one, but he made a thorough search. He did +not find anything that remotely concerned the murder. + +He looked through the living-room, and even opened +the door which led from the kitchen into Jean's room, +which had been built on to the rest of the house a few +years before. He could not find any excuse for those +footprints. + +He cooked and ate his breakfast absent-mindedly, +glancing often down at the footprints on the floor, and +occasionally at the brown stain in the center. He decided +that he would not say anything about those tracks. +He would keep his eyes open and his mouth shut, and +see what came of it. + + + +CHAPTER III + + +WHAT A MAN'S GOOD NAME IS WORTH + + +You would think that the bare word of a man who +has lived uprightly in a community for fifteen +years or so would be believed under oath, even if his +whole future did depend upon it. You would think +that Aleck Douglas could not be convicted of murder +just because he had reported that a man was shot down +in Aleck's house. + +The report of Aleck Douglas' trial is not the main +feature of this story; it is merely the commencement, +one might say. Therefore, I am going to be brief as +I can and still give you a clear idea of the situation, +and then I am going to skip the next three years and +begin where the real story begins. + +Aleck's position was dishearteningly simple, and there +was nothing much that one could do to soften the facts +or throw a new light on the murder. Lite watched, +wide awake and eager, many a night for the return of +that prowler, but he never saw or heard a thing that +gave him any clue whatever. So the footprints seemed +likely to remain the mystery they had seemed on the +morning when he discovered them. He laid traps, +pretending to ride away from the ranch to town before +dark, and returning cautiously by way of the trail +down the bluff behind the house. But nothing came of +it. Lazy A ranch was keeping its secret well, and by +the time the trial was begun, Lite had given up hope. +Once he believed the house had been visited in the +daytime, during his absence in town, but he could not be +sure of that. + +Jean went to Chinook and stayed there, so that Lite +saw her seldom. Carl also was away much of the time, +trying by every means he could think of to swing public +opinion and the evidence in Aleck's favor. He +prevailed upon Rossman, who was Montana's best-known +lawyer, to defend the case, for one thing. He seemed +to pin his faith almost wholly upon Rossman, and +declared to every one that Aleck would never be convicted. +It would be, he maintained, impossible to convict him, +with Rossman handling the case; and he always added +the statement that you can't send an innocent man to +jail, if things are handled right. + +Perhaps he did not, after all, handle things right. For +in spite of Rossman, and Aleck's splendid reputation, +and the meager evidence against him, he was found +guilty of manslaughter and sentenced to eight years in +Deer Lodge penitentiary. + +Rossman had made a great speech, and had made +men in the jury blink back unshed tears. But he could +not shake from them the belief that Aleck Douglas had +ridden home and met Johnny Croft, calmly making +himself at home in the Lazy A kitchen. He could not +convince them that there had not been a quarrel, and +that Aleck had not fired the shot in the grip of a +sudden, overwhelming rage against Croft. By Aleck's +own statement he had been at the ranch some time before +he had started for town to report the murder. By +the word of several witnesses, it had been proven that +Croft had left town meaning to collect wages which he +claimed were due him or else he would "get even." +His last words to a group out by the hitching pole in +front of the saloon which was Johnny's hangout, were: +"I'm going to get what's coming to me, or there'll be +one fine, large bunch of trouble!" He had not +mentioned Aleck Douglas by name, it is true; but the fact +that he had been found at the Lazy A was proof enough +that he had referred to Aleck when he spoke. + +There is no means of knowing just how far-reaching +was the effect of that impulsive lie which Lite had told +at the inquest. He did not repeat the blunder at the +trial. When the district attorney reminded Lite of +the statement he had made, Lite had calmly explained +that he had made a mistake; he should have said that +he had seen Aleck ride away from the ranch instead +of to it. Beyond that he would not go, question him as +they might. + +The judge sentenced Aleck to eight years, and +publicly regretted the fact that Aleck had persisted in +asserting his innocence; had he pleaded guilty instead, +the judge more than hinted, the sentence would have +been made as light as the law would permit. It was +the stubborn denial of the deed in the face of all +reason, he said, that went far toward weaning from the +prisoner what sympathy he would otherwise have commanded +from the public and the court of justice. + +You know how those things go. There was nothing +particularly out of the ordinary in the case; we read +of such things in the paper, and a paragraph or two is +considered sufficient space to give so commonplace a +happening. + +But there was Lite, loyal to his last breath in the +face of his secret belief that Aleck was probably guilty; +loyal and blaming himself bitterly for hurting Aleck's +cause when he had meant only to help. There was +Jean, dazed by the magnitude of the catastrophe that +had overtaken them all; clinging to Lite as to the only +part of her home that was left to her, steadfastly +refusing to believe that they would actually take her dad +away to prison, until the very last minute when she +stood on the crowded depot platform and watched in +dry-eyed misery while the train slid away and bore +him out of her life. These things are not put in the +papers. + +"Come on, Jean." Lite took her by the arm and +swung her away from the curious crowd which she did +not see. "You're my girl now, and I'm going to start +right in using my authority. I've got Pard here in +the stable. You go climb into your riding-clothes, and +we'll hit it outa this darned burg where every man and +his dog has all gone to eyes and tongues. They make +me sick. Come on." + +"Where?" Jean held back a little with vague +stubbornness against the thought of taking up life again +without her dad. "This--this is the jumping-off +place, Lite. There's nothing beyond." + +Lite gripped her arm a little tighter if anything, +and led her across the street and down the high sidewalk +that bridged a swampy tract at the edge of town +beyond the depot. + +"We're taking the long way round," he observed +"because I'm going to talk to you like a Dutch uncle +for saying things like that. I--had a talk with your +dad last night, Jean. He's turned you over to me to +look after till he gets back. I wish he coulda turned +the ranch over, along with you, but he couldn't. That's +been signed over to Carl, somehow; I didn't go into +that with your dad; we didn't have much time. Seems +Carl put up the money to pay Rossman,--and other +things,--and took over the ranch to square it. Anyway, +I haven't got anything to say about the business +end of the deal. I've got permission to boss you, +though, and I'm sure going to do it to a fare-you-well." +He cast a sidelong glance down at her. He could not +see anything of her face except the droop of her mouth, +a bit of her cheek, and her chin that promised firmness. +Her mouth did not change expression in the slightest +degree until she moved her lips in speech. + +"I don't care. What is there to boss me about? +The world has stopped." Her voice was steady, and +it was also sullen. + +"Right there is where the need of bossing begins. +You can't stay in town any longer. There's nothing +here to keep you from going crazy; and the Allens are +altogether too sympathetic; nice folks, and they mean +well,--but you don't want a bunch like that slopping +around, crying all over you and keeping you in mind +of things. I'm going to work for Carl, from now on. +You're going out there to the Bar Nothing--" He +felt a stiffening of the muscles under his fingers, and +answered calmly the signal of rebellion. + +"Sure, that's the place for you. Your dad and Carl +fixed that up between them, anyway. That's to be +your home; so my saying so is just an extra rope to +bring you along peaceable. You're going to stay at +the Bar Nothing. And I'm going to make a top hand +outa you, Jean. I'm going to teach you to shoot and +rope and punch cows and ride, till there won't be a +girl in the United States to equal you." + +"What for?" Jean still had an air of sullen +apathy. "That won't help dad any." + +"It'll start the world moving again." Lite forced +himself to cheerfulness in the face of his own +despondency. "You say it's stopped. It's us that have +stopped. We've come to a blind pocket, you might +say, in the trail we've been taking through life. We've +got to start in a new place, that's all. Now, I know +you're dead game, Jean; at least I know you used to +be, and I'm gambling on school not taking that outa +you. You're maybe thinking about going away off +somewhere among strangers; but that wouldn't do at +all. Your dad always counted on keeping you away +from town life. I'm just going to ride herd on you, +Jean, and see to it that you go on the way your dad +wanted you to go. He can't be on the job, and so I'm +what you might call his foreman. I know how he +wants you to grow up; I'm going to make it my business +to grow you according to directions." + +He saw a little quirk of her lips, at that, and was +vastly encouraged thereby. + +"Has it struck you that you're liable to have your +hands full?" she asked him with a certain drawl that +Jean had possessed since she first learned to express +herself in words. + +"Sure! I'll likely have both hand and my hat full +of trouble. But she's going to be done according to +contract. I reckon I'll wish you was a bronk before +I'm through--" + +"What maddens me so that I could run amuck down +this street, shooting everybody I saw," Jean flared out +suddenly, "is the sickening injustice of it. Dad never +did that; you know he never did it." She turned upon +him fiercely. "Do you think he did?" she demanded, +her eyes boring into his. + +"Now, that's a bright question to be asking me, ain't +it?" Lite rebuked. "That's a real bright, sensible +question, I must say! I reckon you ought to be stood +in the corner for that,--but I'll let it go this time. +Only don't never spring anything like that again." + +Jean looked ashamed. "I could doubt God Himself, +right now," she gritted through her teeth. + +"Well, don't doubt me, unless you want a scrap on +your hands," Lite warned. "I'm sure ashamed of +you. We'll stop here at the stable and get the horses. +You can ride sideways as far as the Allens', and get +your riding-skirt and come on. The sooner you are +on top of a horse, the quicker you're going to come outa +that state of mind." + +It was pitifully amusing to see Lite Avery attempt +to bully any one,--especially Jean,--who might almost +be called Lite's religion. The idea of that long, +lank cowpuncher whose shyness was so ingrained that +it had every outward appearance of being a phlegmatic +coldness, assuming the duties of Jean's dad and undertaking +to see that she grew up according to directions, +would have been funny, if he had not been so absolutely +in earnest. + +His method of comforting her and easing her +through the first stage of black despair was unorthodox, +but it was effective. Because she was too absorbed in +her own misery to combat him openly, he got her started +toward the Bar Nothing and away from the friends +whose enervating pity was at that time the worst influence +possible. He set the pace, and he set it for +speed. The first mile they went at a sharp gallop that +was not far from a run, and the horses were breathing +heavily when he pulled up, well out of sight of the +town, and turned to the girl. + +There was color in her cheeks, and the dullness was +gone from her eyes when she returned his glance +inquiringly. The droop of her lips was no longer the +droop of a weak yielding to sorrow, but rather the +beginning of a brave facing of the future. Lite managed +a grin that did not look forced. + +"I'll make a real range hand outa you yet," he +announced confidently. "You remember the roping and +shooting science I taught you before you went off to +school? You're going to start right in where you left +off and learn all I know and some besides. I'll make +a lady of you yet,--darned if I don't." + +At that Jean laughed unexpectedly. Lite drew a +long breath of relief. + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +JEAN + + +The still loneliness of desertion held fast the clutter +of sheds and old stables roofed with dirt and +rotting hay. The melancholy of emptiness hung like +an invisible curtain before the sprawling house with +warped, weather-blackened shingles, and sagging +window-frames. You felt the silence when first you +sighted the ranch buildings from the broad mouth of +the Lazy A coulee,--the broad mouth that yawned +always at the narrow valley and the undulations of the +open range, and the purple line of mountains beyond. +You felt it more strongly when you rode up to the gate +of barbed-wire, spliced here and there, and having an +unexpected stubbornness to harry the patience of men +who would pass through it in haste. You grew unaccountably +depressed if you rode on past the stables and +corrals to the house, where the door was closed but +never locked, and opened with a squeal of rusty hinges, +if you turned the brown earthenware knob and at the +same instant pressed sharply with your knee against +the paintless panel. + +You might notice the brown spot on the kitchen +door where a man had died; you might notice the brown +spot, but unless you had been told the grim story of +the Lazy A, you would never guess the spot was a +bloodstain. Even though you guessed and shuddered, +you would forget it presently in the amazement with +which you opened the door beyond and looked in upon +a room where the chill atmosphere of the whole place +could find no lodgment. + +This was Jean's room, held sacred to her own needs +and uses, in defiance of the dreariness that compassed +it close. A square of old rag carpet covered the center +of the floor, and beyond its border the warped boards +were painted a dull, pale green. The walls were ugly +with a cheap, flowered paper that had done its best to +fade into inoffensive neutral tints. Jean had helped, +where she could, by covering the intricate rose pattern +with old prints cut from magazines and with cheap, +pretty souvenirs gleaned here and there and hoarded +jealously. And there were books, which caught the +eyes and held them even to forgetfulness of the paper. + +You would laugh at Jean's room. Just at first you +would laugh; after that you would want to cry, or pat +Jean on her hard-muscled, capable shoulder; but if you +knew Jean at all, you would not do either. First you +would notice an old wooden cradle, painted blue, that +stood in a corner. A button-eyed, blank-faced rag doll, +the size of a baby at the fist-sucking age, was tucked +neatly under the red-and-white patchwork quilt made to +fit the cradle. Hanging directly over the cradle by a +stirrup was Jean's first saddle,--a cheap pigskin affair +with harsh straps and buckles, that her father had sent +East for. Jean never had liked that saddle, even when +it was new. She used to stand perfectly still while her +father buckled it on the little buckskin pony she rode; +and she would laugh when he picked her up and tossed her +into the seat. She would throw her dad a kiss and go +galloping off down the trail,--but when she was quite +out of sight around the bend of the bench-land, she would +stop and take the saddle off, and hide it in a certain +clump of wild currant bushes, and continue her journey +bareback. A kit-fox found it one day; that is how the +edge of the cantle came to have that queer, chewed look. + +There was an old, black wooden rocker with an oval +picture of a ship under full sail, just where Jean's +brown head rested when she leaned back and stared +big-eyed down the coulee to the hills beyond. There +was an old-fashioned work-basket always full of stockings +that never were mended, and a crumpled dresser +scarf which Jean had begun to hemstitch more than a +year ago in a brief spasm of domesticity. There were +magazines everywhere; and you may be sure that Jean +had read them all, even to the soap advertisements and +the sanitary kitchens and the vacuum cleaners. There +was an old couch with a coarse, Navajo rug thrown over +it, and three or four bright cushions that looked much +used. And there were hair macartas and hackamores, +and two pairs of her father's old spurs, and her father's +stock saddle and chaps and slicker and hat; and a jelly +glass half full of rattlesnake rattles, and her mother's +old checked sunbonnet,--the kind with pasteboard +"slats." Half the "slats" were broken. There was +a guitar and an old, old sewing machine with a reloading +shotgun outfit spread out upon it. There was +a desk made of boxes, and on the desk lay a shot-loaded +quirt that more than one rebellious cow-horse knew to +its sorrow. There was a rawhide lariat that had parted +its strands in a tussle with a stubborn cow. Jean meant +to fix the broken end of the longest piece and use it +for a tie-rope, some day when she had time, and +thought of it. + +Somewhere in the desk were verses which Jean had +written,--dozens of them, and not nearly as bad as +you might think. Jean laughed at them after they +were written; but she never burned them, and she +never spoke of them to any one but Lite, who listened +with fixed attention and a solemn appreciation when +she read them to him. + +On the whole, the room was contradictory. But Jean +herself was somewhat contradictory, and the place fitted +her. Here was where she spent those hours when her +absence from the Bar Nothing was left unexplained to +any one save Lite. Here was where she drew into her +shell, when her Uncle Carl made her feel more than +usually an interloper; or when her Aunt Ella's burden +of complaints and worry and headaches grew just a +little too much for Jean. + +She never opened the door into the kitchen. There +was another just beyond the sewing-machine, that gave +an intimate look into the face of the bluff which formed +that side of the coulee wall. There were hollyhocks +along the path that led to this door, and stunted +rosebushes which were kept alive with much mysterious +assistance in the way of water and cultivation. There +was a little spring just under the foot of the bluff, +where the trail began to climb; and some young alders +made a shady nook there which Jean found pleasant +on a hot day. + +The rest of the house might be rat-ridden and +desolate. The coulee might wear always the look of +emptiness; but here, under the bluff by the spring, and in +the room Jean called hers, one felt the air of occupancy +that gave the lie to all around it. + +When she rode around the bold, out-thrust shoulder +of the hill which formed the western rim of the coulee, +and went loping up the trail to where the barbed-wire +gate stopped her, you would have said that Jean had +not a trouble to call her own. She wore her old gray +Stetson pretty well over one eye because of the sun- +glare, and she was riding on one stirrup and letting the +other foot swing free, and she was whirling her quirt +round and round, cartwheel fashion, and whistling an +air that every one knows,--and putting in certain +complicated variations of her own. + +At the gate she dismounted without ever missing a +note, gave the warped stake a certain twist and jerk +which loosened the wire loop so that she could slip it +easily over the post, passed through and dragged the +gate with her, dropping it flat upon the ground beside +the trail. There was no stock anywhere in the coulee, +and she would save a little trouble by leaving the gate +open until she came out on her way home. She +stepped aside to inspect the meadow lark's nest +cunningly hidden under a wild rosebush, and then mounted +and went on to the stable, still whistling carelessly. + +She turned Pard into the shed where she invariably +left him when she came to the Lazy A, and went on up +the grass-grown path to the house. She had the +preoccupied air of one who meditates deeply upon things +apart; as a matter of fact, she had glanced down the +coulee to its wide-open mouth, and had thrilled briefly +at the wordless beauty of the green spread of the plain +and the hazy blue sweep of the mountains, and had +come suddenly into the poetic mood. She had even +caught a phrase,--"The lazy line of the watchful hills," +it was,--and she was trying to fit it into a verse, and +to find something beside "rills" that would rhyme with +"hills." + +She followed the path absent-mindedly to where she +would have to turn at the corner of the kitchen and go +around to the door of her own room; and until she +came to the turn she did not realize what was jarring +vaguely and yet insistently upon her mood. Then she +knew; and she stopped full and stared down at the loose +sand just before the warped kitchen steps. There were +footprints in the path,--alien footprints; and they +pointed toward that forbidden door into the kitchen of +gruesome memory. Jean looked up frowning, and saw +that the door had been opened and closed again carelessly. +And upon the top step, strange feet had pressed +a little caked earth carried from the trail where she +stood. There were the small-heeled, pointed prints of +a woman's foot, and there were the larger tracks of a +man,--a man of the town. + +Jean stood with her quirt dangling loosely from her +wrist and glanced back toward the stables and down +the coulee. She completely forgot that she wanted a +rhyme for "hills." What were towns people doing +here? And how did they get here? They had not +ridden up the coulee; there were no tracks through the +gate; and besides, these were not the prints of riding-boots. + +She twitched her shoulders and went around to the +door leading into her own room. The door stood wide +open when it should have been closed. Inside there +were evidences of curious inspection. She went hot +with an unreasoning anger when she saw the wide-open +door into the kitchen; first of all she went over and +closed that door, her lips pressed tightly together. To +her it was as though some wanton hand had forced up +the lid of a coffin where slept her dead. She stood with +her back against the door and looked around the room, +breathing quickly. She felt the woman's foolish amusement +at the old cradle with the rag doll tucked under +the patchwork quilt, and at her pitiful attempts at +adorning the tawdry walls. Without having seen more +than the prints of her shoes in the path, Jean hated the +woman who had blundered in here and had looked and +laughed. She hated the man who had come with the +woman. + +She went over to her desk and stood staring at the +litter. A couple of sheets of cheap tablet paper, +whereon Jean had scribbled some verses of the range, +lay across the quirt she had forgotten on her last trip. +They had prowled among the papers, even! They had +respected nothing of hers, had considered nothing +sacred from their inquisitiveness. Jean picked up the +paper and read the verses through, and her cheeks reddened +slowly. + +Then she discovered something else that turned them +white with fresh anger. Jean had an old ledger +wherein she kept a sporadic kind of a diary which she +had entitled "More or Less the Record of my Sins." +She did not write anything in it unless she felt like +doing so; when she did, she wrote just exactly what +she happened to think and feel at the time, and she had +never gone back and read what was written there. +Some one else had read, however; at least the book had +been pulled out of its place and inspected, along with +her other personal belongings. Jean had pressed the +first wind-flowers of the season between the pages where +she had done her last scribbling, and these were crumpled +and two petals broken, so she knew that the book +had been opened carelessly and perhaps read with that +same brainless laughter. + +She did not say anything. She straightened the +wind-flowers as best she could, put the book back where +it belonged, and went outside, and down to a lop-sided +shack which might pass anywhere as a junk-shop. She +found some nails and a hammer, and after a good deal +of rummaging and some sneezing because of the dust +she raised whenever she moved a pile of rubbish, she +found a padlock with a key in it. More dusty search +produced a hasp and some staples, and then she went +back and nailed two planks across the door which opened +into the kitchen. After that she fastened the windows +shut with nails driven into the casing just above the +lower sashes, and cracked the outer door with twelve- +penny nails which she clinched on the inside with vicious +blows of the hammer, so that the hasp could not be taken +off without a good deal of trouble. She had pulled a +great staple off the door of a useless box-stall, and when +she had driven it in so deep that she could scarcely force +the padlock into place over the hasp, and had put the +key in her pocket, she felt in a measure protected from +future prowlers. As a final hint, however, she went +back to the shop and mixed some paint with lampblack +and oil, and lettered a thin board which she afterwards +carried up and nailed firmly across the outside kitchen +door. Hammer in hand she backed away and read +the words judicially, her head tilted sidewise: + + ONLY SNEAKS GO WHERE THEY ARE NOT WANTED. + ARE YOU A SNEAK? + + +The hint was plain enough. She took the hammer +back to the shop and led Pard out of the stable and down +to the gate, her eyes watching suspiciously the trail for +tracks of trespassers. She closed the gate so thoroughly +with baling wire twisted about a stake that the +next comer would have troubles of his own in getting +it open again. She mounted and went away down the +trail, sitting straight in the saddle, both feet in the +stirrups, head up, and hat pulled firmly down to her +very eyebrows, glances going here and there, alert, +antagonistic. No whistling this time of rag-time tunes +with queer little variations of her own; no twirling of +the quirt; instead Pard got the feel of it in a tender +part of the flank, and went clean over a narrow washout +that could have been avoided quite easily. No +groping for rhythmic phrasings to fit the beauty of the +land she lived in; Jean was in the mood to combat +anything that came in her way. + + + +CHAPTER V + + +JEAN RIDES INTO A SMALL ADVENTURE + + +At the mouth of the coulee, she turned to the left +instead of to the right, and so galloped directly +away from the Bar Nothing ranch, down the narrow +valley known locally as the Flat, and on to the hills that +invited her with their untroubled lights and shadows +and the deep scars she knew for canyons. + +There were no ranches out this way. The land was +too broken and too barren for anything but grazing, +so that she felt fairly sure of having her solitude +unspoiled by anything human. Solitude was what she +wanted. Solitude was what she had counted upon having +in that little room at the Lazy A; robbed of it +there, she rode straight to the hills, where she was most +certain of finding it. + +And then she came up out of a hollow upon a little +ridge and saw three horsemen down in the next coulee. +They were not close enough so that she could distinguish +their features, but by the horses they rode, by the +swing of their bodies in the saddles, by all those little, +indefinable marks by which we recognize acquaintances +at a distance, Jean knew them for strangers. She +pulled up and watched them, puzzled for a minute at +their presence and behavior. + +When first she discovered them, they were driving +a small bunch of cattle, mostly cows and calves, down +out of a little "draw" to the level bottom of the narrow +coulee. While she watched, herself screened effectually +by a clump of bushes, she saw one rider leave +the cattle and gallop out into the open, stand there +looking toward the mouth of the coulee, and wave his +hand in a signal for the others to advance. This looked +queer to Jean, accustomed all her life to seeing men +go calmly about their business upon the range, careless +of observation because they had nothing to conceal. +She urged Pard a little nearer, keeping well behind +the bushes still, and leaned forward over the saddle +horn, watching the men closely. + +Their next performance was enlightening, but +incredibly bold for the business they were engaged in. +One of the three got off his horse and started a little +fire of dry sticks under a convenient ledge. Another +untied the rope from his saddle, widened the loop, +swung it twice over his head and flipped it neatly over +the head of a calf. + +Jean did not wait to see any more than that; she did +not need to see any more to know them for "rustlers." +Brazen rustlers, indeed, to go about their work in broad +daylight like that. She was not sure as to the ownership +of the calf, but down here was where the Bar Nothing +cattle, and what few were left of the Lazy A, +ranged while the feed was good in the spring, so that +the probabilities were that this theft would strike rather +close home. Whether it did or not, Jean was not one +to ride away and leave range thieves calmly at work. + +She turned back behind the bushy screen, rode hastily +along the ridge to the head of the little coulee and +dismounted, leading Pard down a steep bank that was +treacherous with loose shale. The coulee was more or +less open, but it had convenient twists and windings; +and if you think that Jean failed to go down it quietly +and unseen, that merely proves how little you know +Jean. + +She hurried as much as she dared. She knew that +the rustlers would be in something of a hurry themselves, +and she very much desired to ride on them unawares +and catch them at that branding, so that there +would be no shadow of a doubt of their guilt. What +she would do after she had ridden upon them, she did +not quite know. + +So she came presently around the turn that revealed +them to her. They were still fussing with the calf,-- +or it may have been another one,--and did not see her +until she was close upon them. When they did see her, +she had them covered with her 38-caliber six-shooter, +that she usually carried with her on the chance of getting +a shot at a coyote or a fox or something like that. + +The three stood up and stared at her, their jaws +sagging a little at the suddenness of her appearance, +and their eyes upon the gun. Jean held it steady, and +she had all the look of a person who knew exactly what +she meant, and who meant business. She eyed them +curiously, noting the fact that they were strangers, and +cowboys,--though of a type that she had never seen on +the range. She glanced sharply at the beaded, buckskin +jacket of one of them, and the high, wide-brimmed +sombrero of another. + +"Well," she said at length, "turn your backs, you've +had a good look at me. Turn--your--backs, I said. +Now, drop those guns on the ground. Walk straight +ahead of you till you come to that bank. You needn't +look around; I'm still here." + +She leaned a little, sending Pard slowly forward +until he was close to the six-shooters lying on the +ground. She glanced down at them quickly, and again +at the men who stood, an uneasy trio, with their faces +toward the wall, except when they ventured a glance +sidewise or back at her over one shoulder. She glanced +at the cattle huddled in the narrow mouth of the +"draw" behind them, and saw that they were indeed +Bar Nothing and Lazy A stock. The horses the three +had been riding she did not remember to have seen +before. + +Jean hesitated, not quite knowing what she ought to +do next. So far she had acted merely upon instincts +born of her range life and training; the rest would not +be so easy. She knew she ought to have those guns, at +any rate, so she dismounted, still keeping the three in +line with her own weapon, and went to where the +revolvers lay on the ground. With her boot toe she +kicked them close together, and stooped and picked one +up. The last man in the line turned toward her +protestingly, and Jean fired so close to his head that he +ducked. + +"Believe me, I could kill the three of you if I +wanted to, before you could turn around," she informed +them calmly, "so you had better stand still till +I tell you to move." She frowned down at the rustler's +gun in her hand. There was something queer about +that gun. + +"Hey, Burns," called the man in the middle, without +venturing to turn his head, "come out of there and +explain to the lady. This ain't in the scene!" + +"Oh, yes, it is!" a voice retorted chucklingly. +"You bet your life this is in the scene! Lowry's +been pamming it all in; don't you worry about that!" +Jean was startled, but she did not lower her gun +from its steady aiming at the three of them. It was +just some trick, very likely, meant to throw her off her +guard. There were more than the three, and the fourth +man probably had her covered with a gun. But she +would not turn her head toward his voice, for all that. + +"The gentleman called Burns may walk out into the +open and explain, if he can," she announced sharply, +her eyes upon the three whom she had captured so +easily. + +She heard the throaty chuckle again, from somewhere +to the left of her. She saw the three men in front of +her look at each other with sickly grins. She felt that +the whole situation was swinging against her,--that +she had somehow blundered and made herself ridiculous. +It never occurred to her that she was in any +particular danger; men did not shoot down women in +that country, unless they were drunk or crazy, and the +man called Burns had sounded extremely sane, humorous +even. She heard a rattle of bushes and the soft +crunching of footsteps coming toward her. Still she +would not turn her head, nor would she lower the gun; +if it was a trick, they should not say that it had been +successful. + +"It's all right, sister," said the chuckling voice presently, +almost at her elbow. "This isn't any real, +honest-to-John bandit party. We're just movie people, and +we're making pictures. That's all." He stopped, but +Jean did not move or make any reply whatever, so he +went on. "I must say I appreciate the compliment you +paid us in taking it for the real dope, sister--" + +"Don't call me sister again." Jean flashed him a +sidelong glance of resentment. "You've already done +it twice too often. Come around in front where I can +see you, if you're what you claim to be." + +"Well, don't shoot, and I will," soothed the chuckling +voice. "My, my, it certainly is a treat to see a +real, live Prairie Queen once. Beats making them to +order--" + +"We'll omit the superfluous chatter, please." Jean +looked him over and tagged him mentally with one +glance. He did not look like a rustler,--with his fat +good-nature and his town-bred personality, and his gray +tweed suit and pigskin puttees, and the big cameo ring +on his manicured little finger, and his fresh-shaven +face as round as the sun above his head and almost as +cheerful. Perfectly harmless, but Jean would not +yield to the extent of softening her glance or her +manner one hundredth of a degree. The more harmless +these people, the more ridiculous she had made herself +appear. + +The chuckly one grinned and removed his soft gray +hat, held it against his generous equator, and bowed so +low as to set him puffing a little afterward. His eyes, +however, appraised her shrewdly. + +"Omitting all superfluous chatter, as you suggest, +I am Robert Grant Burns, of the Great Western Film +Company. These men are also members of that company. +We are here for the purpose of making Western +pictures, and this little bit of unlawful branding +of stock which you were flattering enough to mistake +for the real thing, is merely a scene which we were +making." He was about to indulge in what he would +have termed a little "kidding" of the girl, but wisely +refrained after another shrewd reading of her face. + +Jean looked at the three men, who had taken it for +granted that they might leave their intimate study of +the clay bank and were coming toward her. She looked +at the gun she had picked up from the ground,--being +loaded with blank cartridges was what had made it look +so queer!--and at Robert Grant Burns of the Great +Western Film Company, who had put on his hat again +and was studying her the way he was wont to study +applicants for a position in his company. + +"Did you get permission to haze our cattle around +like this?" she asked abruptly, to hide how humiliated +she really felt. + +"Why--no. Just for a few scenes, I did not consider +it necessary." Plainly, the chuckly Mr. Burns +was taken at a disadvantage. + +"But it is necessary. Don't make the mistake, Mr. +Burns, of thinking this country and all it contains is +at the disposal of any chance stranger, just because we +do not keep it under lock and key. You are making +rather free with another man's personal property, when +you use my uncle's cattle for your rustling scenes." + +"Your uncle? Well, I shall be very glad to make +some arrangement with your uncle, if that is customary." + +"Why the doubt? Are you in the habit of walking +into a man's house, for instance, and using his kitchen +to make pictures without permission? Has it been +your custom to lead a man's horses out of his stable +whenever you chose, and use them for race pictures?" + +"No, no--nothing like that. Sorry to have +infringed upon your property-rights, I am sure." Mr. +Burns did not sound so chuckly now; but that may have +been because the three picture-rustlers were quite +openly pleased at the predicament of their director. +"It never occurred to me that--" + +"That the cattle were not as free as the hills?" The +quiet voice of Jean searched out the tenderest places +in the self-esteem of Robert Grant Burns. She tossed +the blank-loaded gun back upon the ground and turned +to her horse. "It does seem hard to impress it upon +city people that we savages do have a few rights in this +country. We should have policemen stationed on every +hilltop, I suppose, and `No Trespassing' signs planted +along every cow-trail. Even then I doubt whether we +could convince some people that we are perfectly human +and that we actually do own property here." + +While she drawled the last biting sentences, she stuck +her toe in the stirrup and went up into the saddle as +easily as any cowpuncher in the country could have +done. Robert Grant Burns stood with his hands at his +hips and watched her with the critical eye of the expert +who sees in every gesture a picture, effective or +ineffective, good, bad, or merely so--so. Robert Grant +Burns had never, in all his experience in directing +Western pictures, seen a girl mount a horse with such +unconscious ease of every movement. + +Jean twitched the reins and turned towards him, +looking down at the little group with unfriendly eyes. +"I don't want to seem inhospitable or unaccommodating, +Mr. Burns," she told him, "but I fear that I must +take these cattle back home with me. You probably +will not want to use them any longer." + +Mr. Burns did not say whether she was right or +wrong in her conjecture. As a matter of fact, he did +want to use them for several more scenes; but he stood +silent while Jean, with a chilly bow to the four of them, +sent Pard up the rough bank of the little gulley. +Rather, he made no reply to Jean, but he waved his +three rustlers back, retreating himself to where the +bank stopped them. And he turned toward the bushes +that had at first hidden him from Jean, waved his hand +in an imperative gesture, and called guardedly through +cupped palms. "Take that! All you can get of it!" +Which goes far to show why he was considered one of +the best directors the Great Western Film Company +had in its employ. + +So Jean unconsciously made a picture which caused +the eyes of Robert Grant Burns to glisten while he +watched. She ignored the men who had so fooled her, +and took down her rope that she might swing the loop +of it toward the cattle and drive them back across the +gulley and up the coulee toward home. Cattle are +stubborn things at best, and this little bunch seemed +determined to seek the higher slopes. Put upon her +mettle because of that little audience down below,-- +a mildly jeering audience at that, she imagined,--Jean +had need of her skill and her fifteen years or so of +experience in handling stock. + +She swung her rope and shouted, weaving back and +forth across the gulley, with little lunging rushes now +and then to head off an animal that tried to bolt past +her up the hill. She would not have glanced toward +Robert Grant Burns to save her life, and she did not +hear him saying: + +"Great! Great stuff! Get it all, Pete. By +George, you can't beat the real thing, can you? 'J get +that up-hill dash? Good! Now panoram the drive +up the gulley--get it ALL, Pete--turn as long as you +can see the top of her hat. My Lord! You wouldn't +get stuff like that in ten years. I wish Gay could +handle herself like that in the saddle, but there ain't a +leading woman in the business to-day that could put that +over the way she's doing it. By George! Say, Gil, +you get on your horse and ride after her, and find out +where she lives. We can't work any more now, anyway; +she's gone off with the cattle. And, say! You +don't want to let her get a sight of you, or she might +take a shot at you. And if she can shoot the way she +rides--good night!" + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +AND THE VILLAIN PURSUED HER + + +The young man called Gil,--to avoid wasting +time in saying Gilbert James Huntley,-- +mounted in haste and rode warily up the coulee some +distance behind Jean. At that time and in that +locality he was quite anxious that she should not discover +him. Gil was not such a bad fellow, even though he +did play "heavies" in all the pictures which Robert +Grant Burns directed. A villain he was on the screen, +and a bad one. Many's the man he had killed as cold- +bloodedly as the Board of Censorship would permit. +Many's the girlish, Western heart he had broken, and +many's the time he had paid the penalty to brother, +father, or sweetheart as the scenario of the play might +decree. Many's the time he had followed girls and +men warily through brush-fringed gullies and over +picturesque ridges, for the entertainment of shop girls +and their escorts sitting in darkened theaters and +watching breathlessly the wicked deeds of Gilbert James +Huntley. + +But in his everyday life, Gil Huntley was very good- +looking, very good-natured, and very harmless. His +position and his salary as "heavy" in the Great Western +Company he owed chiefly to his good acting and his +thick eyebrows and his facility for making himself look +treacherous and mean. He followed Jean because the +boss told him to do so, in the first place. In the +second place, he followed her because he was even more +interested in her than his director had been, and he +hoped to have a chance to talk with her. In his work- +aday life, Gil Huntley was quite accustomed to being +discovered in some villainy, and to having some man or +woman point a gun at him with more or less antagonism +in voice and manner. But he had never in his +life had a girl ride up and "throw down on him" +with a gun, actually believing him to be a thief and a +scoundrel whom she would shoot if she thought it +necessary. There was a difference. Gil did not take the +time or trouble to analyze the difference, but he knew +that he was glad the boss had not sent Johnny or Bill +in his place. He did not believe that either of them +would have enough sense to see the difference, and they +might offend her in some way,--though Gil Huntley +need not have worried in the least over any man's +treatment of Jean, who was eminently qualified to attend to +that for herself. + +He grinned when he saw her turn the cattle loose +down the very next coulee and with a final flip of her +rope loop toward the hindermost cow, ride on without +them. He should have ridden in haste then to tell +Robert Grant Burns that the cattle could be brought +back in twenty minutes or so and the picture-making +go on as planned. It was not likely that the girl would +come back; they could go on with their work and get +permission from the girl's uncle afterward. But he +did not turn and hurry back. Instead, he waited +behind a rock-huddle until Jean was well out of sight,-- +and while he waited, he took his handkerchief and +rubbed hard at the make-up on his face, which had +made him look sinister and boldly bad. Without mirror +or cold cream, he was not very successful, so that +he rode on somewhat spotted in appearance and looking +even more sinister than before. But he was much +more comfortable in his mind, which meant a good deal +in the interview which he hoped by some means to bring +about. + +With Jean a couple of hundred yards in advance, +they crossed a little flat so bare of concealment that +Gil Huntley was worried for fear she might look back +and discover him. But she did not turn her head, and +he rode on more confidently. At the mouth of Lazy +A coulee, just where stood the cluster of huge rocks +that had at one time come hurtling down from the +higher slopes, and the clump of currant bushes beneath +which Jean used to hide her much-despised saddle +when she was a child, she disappeared from view. Gil, +knowing very little of the ways of the range folk, and +less of the country, kicked his horse into a swifter pace +and galloped after her. + +Fifty yards beyond the currant bushes he heard a +sound and looked back; and there was Jean, riding out +from her hiding-place, and coming after him almost at +a run. While he was trying to decide what to do about +it, she overtook him; rather, the wide loop of her rope +overtook him. He ducked, but the loop settled over +his head and shoulders and pulled tight about the chest. +Jean took two turns of the rope around the saddle horn +and then looked him over critically. In spite of herself, +she smiled a little at his face, streaked still with +grease paint, and at his eyes staring at her from between +heavily penciled lids. + +"That's what you get for following," she said, after +a minute of staring at each other. "Did you think +I didn't know you were trailing along behind me? I +saw you before I turned the cattle loose, but I just let +you think you were being real sly and cunning about +it. You did it in real moving-picture style; did your +fat Mr. Robert Grant Burns teach you how? What is +the idea, anyway? Were you going to abduct me and +lead me to the swarthy chief of your gang, or band, or +whatever you call it?" + +Having scored a point against him and so put herself +into a good humor again, Jean laughed at him and +twitched the rope, just to remind him that he was at +her mercy. To be haughtily indignant with this honest- +eyed, embarrassed young fellow with the streaky +face and heavily-penciled eyelids was out of the +question. The wind caught his high, peaked-crowned +sombrero and sent it sailing like a great, flapping bird to +the ground, and he could not catch it because Jean had +his arms pinioned with the loop. + +She laughed again and rode over to where the hat +had lodged. Gil Huntley, to save himself from being +dragged ignominiously from the saddle, kicked his horse +and kept pace with her. Jean leaned far over and picked +up the hat, and examined it with amusement. + +"If you could just live up to your hat, my, wouldn't +you be a villain, though!" she commented, in a soft, +drawling voice. "You don't look so terribly blood- +thirsty without it; I just guess I'd better keep it for +a while. It would make a dandy waste-basket. Do +you know, if your face were clean, I think you'd look +almost human,--for an outlaw." + +She started on up the trail, nonchalantly leading her +captive by the rope. Gil Huntley could have wriggled +an arm loose and freed himself, but he did not. He +wanted to see what she was going to do with him. He +grinned when she had her back turned toward him, but +he did not say anything for fear of spoiling the joke +or offending her in some way. So presently Jean began +to feel silly, and the joke lost its point and seemed inane +and weak. + +She turned back, threw off the loop that bound +his arms to his sides, and coiled the rope. "I wish +you play-acting people would keep out of the country," +she said impatiently. "Twice you've made me act +ridiculous. I don't know what in the world you wanted +to follow me for,--and I don't care. Whatever it was, +it isn't going to do you one particle of good, so you +needn't go on doing it." + +She looked at him full, refused to meet half-way the +friendliness of his eyes, tossed the hat toward him, and +wheeled her horse away. "Good-by," she said shortly, +and touched Pard with the spurs. She was out of +hearing before Gil Huntley could think of the right +thing to say, and she increased the distance between +them so rapidly that before he had quite recovered from +his surprise at her sudden change of mood, she was so +far away that he could not have overtaken her if he had +tried. + +He watched her out of sight and rode back to where +Burns mouthed a big, black cigar, and paced up and +down the level space where he had set the interrupted +scene, and waited his coming. + +"Rode away from you, did she? Where'd she take +the cattle to? Left 'em in the next gulch? Well, why +didn't you say so? You boys can bring 'em back, and +we'll get to work again. Where'd you say that spring +was, Gil? We'll eat before we do anything else. One +thing about this blamed country is we don't have to be +afraid of the light. Got to hand it to 'em for having +plenty of good, clear sunlight, anyway?" + +He followed Gil to the feeble spring that seeped from +under a huge boulder, and stooped uncomfortably to +fill a tin cup. While he waited for the trickle to yield +him a drink, he cocked his head sidewise and looked up +quizzically at his "heavy." + +"You must have come within speaking distance, +Gil," he guessed shrewdly. "Got any make-up along? +You look like a mild case of the measles, right now. +What did she have to say, anyhow?" + +"Nothing," said Gil shortly. "I didn't talk to her +at all. I didn't want to run my horse to death trying +to say hello when she didn't want it that way." + +"Huh!" grunted Robert Grant Burns unbelievingly, +and fished a bit of grass out of the cup with his little +finger. He drank and said no more. + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +ROBERT GRANT BURNS GETS HELP + + +"You know the brand, don't you?" the proprietor +of the hotel which housed the Great Western +Company asked, with the tolerant air which the +sophisticated wear when confronted by ignorance. "Easy +enough to locate the outfit, by the cattle brand. What +was it?" + +Whereupon Robert Grant Burns rolled his eyes +helplessly toward Gil Huntley. "I noticed it at the time, +but--what was that brand, Gil?" + +And Gil, if you would believe me, did not remember, +either. He had driven the cattle half a mile or more, +had helped to "steal" two calves out of the little herd, +and yet he could not recall the mark of their owner. + +So the proprietor of the hotel, an old cowman who +had sold out and gone into the hotel business when the +barbed-wire came by carloads into the country, pulled +a newspaper towards him, borrowed a pencil from +Burns, and sketched all the cattle brands in that +part of the country. While he drew one after the +other, he did a little thinking. + +"Must have been the Bar Nothing, or else the Lazy +A cattle you got hold of," he concluded, pointing to +the pencil marks on the margin of the paper. "They +range down in there, and Jean Douglas answers your +description of the girl,--as far as looks go. She ain't +all that wild and dangerous, though. Swing a loop +with any man in the country and ride and all that,-- +been raised right out there on the Lazy A. Say! Why +don't you go out and see Carl Douglas, and see if you +can't get the use of the Lazy A for your pictures? +Seems to me that's just the kinda place you want. +Don't anybody live there now. It's been left alone ever +since--the trouble out there. House and barns and +corrals,--everything you want." He leaned closer +with a confidential tone creeping into his voice, for +Robert Grant Burns and his company were profitable +guests and should be given every inducement to remain +in the country. + +"It ain't but fifteen miles out there; you could go +back and forth in your machine, easy. You go out and +see Carl Douglas, anyway; won't do no harm. You +offer him a little something for the use of the Lazy A; +he'll take anything that looks like money. Take it +from me, that's the place you want to take your pictures +in. And, say! You want a written agreement +with Carl. Have the use of his stock included, or he'll +tax you extra. Have everything included," advised +the old cowman, with a sweep of his palm and his voice +lowered discreetly. "Won't need to cost you much,-- +not if you don't give him any encouragement to expect +much. Carl's that kind,--good fellow enough,--but +he wants--the--big--end. I know him, you bet! +And, say! Don't let on to Carl that I steered you out +there. Just claim like you was scouting around, and +seen the Lazy A ranch, and took a notion to it; not too +much of a notion, though, or it's liable to come kinda +high. + +"And, say!" Real enthusiasm for the idea began +to lighten his eyes. "If you want good range dope, +right out there's where you can sure find it. You play +up to them Bar Nothing boys--Lite Avery and Joe +Morris and Red. You ought to get some great pictures +out there, man. Them boys can sure ride and rope +and handle stock, if that's what you want; and I reckon +it is, or you wouldn't be out here with your bunch of +actors looking for the real stuff." + +They talked a long while after that. Gradually it +dawned upon Burns that he had heard of the Lazy A +ranch before, though not by that euphonious title. It +seemed worth investigating, for he was going to need +a good location for some exterior ranch scenes very soon, +and the place he had half decided upon did not alto- +gether please him. He inquired about roads and +distances, and waddled off to the hotel parlor to ask Muriel +Gay, his blond leading woman, if she would like to go +out among the natives next morning. Also he wanted +her to tell him more about that picturesque place she +and Lee Milligan had stumbled upon the day before, +--the place which he suspected was none other than +the Lazy A. + +That is how it came to pass that Jean, riding out with +big Lite Avery the next morning on a little private +scouting-trip of their own, to see if that fat moving- +picture man was making free with the stock again, met +the man unexpectedly half a mile from the Bar Nothing +ranch-house. + +Along every trail which owns certain obstacles to +swift, easy passing, there are places commonly spoken +of as "that" place. In his journey to the Bar Nothing, +Robert Grant Burns had come unwarned upon that +sandy hollow which experienced drivers approached +with a mental bracing for the struggle ahead, and with +tightened lines and whip held ready. Even then they +stuck fast, as often as not, if the load were heavy, +though Bar Nothing drivers gaged their loads with that +hollow in mind. If they could pull through there +without mishap, they might feel sure of having no trouble +elsewhere. + +Robert Grant Burns had come into the hollow +unsuspectingly. He had been careening along the prairie +road at a twenty-mile pace, his mind fixed upon hurrying +through his interview with Carl Douglas, so that +he would have time to stop at the Lazy A on the way +back to town. He wanted to take a few exterior ranch- +house scenes that day, for Robert Grant Burns was far +more energetic than his bulk would lead one to suppose. +He had Pete Lowry, his camera man, in the seat beside +him. Back in the tonneau Muriel Gay and her mother, +who played the character parts, clung to Lee Mulligan +and a colorless individual who was Lowry's assistant, +and gave little squeals whenever the machine struck a +bigger bump than usual. + +At the top of the hill which guarded the deceptive +hollow, Robert Grant Burns grinned over his shoulder +at his character-woman. "Wait till we start back; +I'll know the road then, and we'll do some traveling!" +he promised darkly, and laid his toe lightly on the +brake. It pleased him to be considered a dare-devil +driver; that is why he always drove whatever machine +carried him. They went lurching down the curving +grade into the hollow, and struck the patch of sand that +had worn out the vocabularies of more eloquent men +than he. Robert Grant Burns fed more gas, and the +engine kicked and groaned, and sent the wheels bur- +rowing like moles to where the sand was deepest. Axles +under, they stuck fast. + +When Jean and Lite came loping leisurely down +the hill, the two women were fraying perfectly good +gloves trying to pull "rabbit" brush up by the roots to +make firmer foothold for the wheels. Robert Grant +Burns was head-and-shoulders under the car, digging +badger-like with his paws to clear the front axle, and +coming up now and then to wipe the perspiration from +his eyes and puff the purple out of his complexion. +Pete Lowry always ducked his head lower over the jack +when he saw the heaving of flesh which heralded these +resting times, so that the boss could not catch him +laughing. Lee Milligan was scooping sand upon the other +side and mumbling to himself, with a glance now and +then at the trail, in the hope of sighting a good samaritan +with six or eight mules, perhaps. Lee thought that +it would take about that many mules to pull them out. + +The two riders pulled up, smiling pityingly, just as +well-mounted riders invariably smile upon stalled +automobilists. This was not the first machine that had come +to grief in that hollow, though they could not remember +ever to have seen one sunk deeper in the sand. + +"I guess you wouldn't refuse a little help, about +now," Lite observed casually to Lee, who was most in +evidence. + +"We wouldn't refuse a little, but a lot is what we +need," Lee amended glumly. "Any ranch within +forty miles of here? We need about twelve good +horses, I should say." Lee's experience with sand had +been unhappy, and his knowledge of what one good +horse could do was slight. + +"Shall we snake 'em out, Jean?" Lite asked her, as +if he himself were absolutely indifferent to their plight. + +"Oh, I suppose we might as well. We can't leave +them blocking the trail; somebody might want to drive +past," Jean told him in much the same tone, just to tease +Lee Milligan, who was looking them over disparagingly. + +"We'll be blocking the trail a good long while if we +stay here till you move us," snapped Lee, who was +rather sensitive to tones. + +Then Robert Grant Burns gave a heave and a wriggle, +and came up for air and a look around. He had +been composing a monologue upon the subject of sand, +and he had not noticed that strange voices were speaking +on the other side of the machine. + +"Hello, sis-- How-de-do, Miss," he greeted Jean +guardedly, with a hasty revision of the terms when he +saw how her eyebrows pinched together. "I wonder +if you could tell us where we can find teams to pull us +out of this mess. I don't believe this old junk-wagon +is ever going to do it herself." + +"How do you do, Mr. Burns? Lite and I offered to +take you out on solid ground, but your man seemed to +think we couldn't do it." + +"What man was that? Wasn't me, anyway. I +think you can do just about anything you start out to +do, if you ask me." + +"Thank you," chilled Jean, and permitted Pard to +back away from his approach. + +"Say, you're some rider," he praised tactlessly, and +got no reply whatever. Jean merely turned and rode +around to where Lite eased his long legs in the stirrups +and waited her pleasure. + +"Shall we help them out, Lite?" she asked distinctly. +"I think perhaps we ought to; it's a long walk to +town." + +"I guess we better; won't take but a minute to tie +on," Lite agreed, his fingers dropping to his coiled rope. +"Seems queer to me that folks should want to ride in +them things when there's plenty of good horses in the +country." + +"No accounting for tastes, Lite," Jean replied +cheerfully. "Listen. If that thin man will start the +engine,--he doesn't weigh more than half as much as you +do, Mr. Burns,--we'll pull you out on solid ground. +And if you have occasion to cross this hollow again, I +advise you to keep out there to the right. There's a +little sod to give your tires a better grip. It's rough, +but you could make it all right if you drive carefully, +and the bunch of you get out and walk. Don't try to +keep around on the ridge; there's a deep washout on +each side, so you couldn't possibly make it. We can't +with the horses, even." Jean did not know that there +was a note of superiority in her voice when she spoke +the last sentence, but her listeners winced at it. Only +Pete Lowry grinned while he climbed obediently into +the machine to advance his spark and see that the gears +were in neutral. + +"Don't crank up till we're ready!" Lite expostulated. +"These cayuses of ours are pretty sensible, and +they'll stand for a whole lot; but there's a limit. Wait +till I get the ropes fixed, before you start the engine. +And the rest of you all be ready to give the wheels a +lift. You're in pretty deep." + +When Jean dismounted and hooked the stirrup over +the horn so that she could tighten the cinch, the eyes +of Robert Grant Burns glistened at the "picture-stuff" +she made. He glanced eloquently at Pete, and Pete +gave a twisted smile and a pantomime of turning the +camera-crank; whereat Robert Grant Burns shook his +head regretfully and groaned again. + +"Say, if I had a leading woman--" he began +discontentedly, and stopped short; for Muriel Gay was +standing quite close, and even through her grease-paint +make-up she betrayed the fact that she knew exactly +what her director was thinking, had seen and understood +the gesture of the camera man, and was close to +tears because of it all. + +Muriel Gay was a conscientious worker who tried +hard to please her director. Sometimes it seemed to +her that her director demanded impossibilities of her; +that he was absolutely soulless where picture-effects +were concerned. Her riding had all along been a subject +of discord between them. She had learned to ride +very well along the bridle-paths of Golden Gate Park, +but Robert Grant Burns seemed to expect her to ride-- +well, like this girl, for instance, which was unjust. + +One could not blame her for glaring jealously while +Jean tightened the cinch and remounted, tying her rope +to the saddle horn, all ready to pull; with her muscles +tensed for the coming struggle with the sand,--and +perhaps with her horse as well,--and with every line +of her figure showing how absolutely at home she was +in the saddle, and how sure of herself. + +"I've tied my rope, Lite," Jean drawled, with a +little laugh at what might happen. + +Lite turned his face toward her. "You better not," +be warned. "Things are liable to start a-popping +when that engine wakes up." + +"Well, then I'll want both hands for Pard. I've +taken a couple of half-hitches, anyway." + +"You folks want to be ready at the wheels," Lite +directed, waiving the argument. "When we start, you +all want to heave-ho together. Good team-work will +do it. + +"All set?" he called to Jean, when Pete Lowry bent +his back to start the engine. "Business'll be pickin' +up, directly!" + +"All set," replied Jean cheerfully. + +It seemed then that everything began to start at once, +and to start in different directions. The engine snorted +and pounded so that the whole machine shook with ague. +When Pete jumped in and threw in the clutch, there +was a backfire that sounded like the crack of doom. The +two horses went wild, as their riders had half expected +them to do. They lunged away from the horror behind +them, and the slack ropes tightened with a jerk. +Both were good rope horses, and the strain of the ropes +almost recalled them to sanity and their training; at +least they held the ropes tight for a few seconds, so that +the machine jumped ahead and veered toward the +firmer soil beside the trail, in response to Pete's turn +of the wheel. + +Then Pard looked back and saw the thing coming +after him, and tried to bolt. When he found that he +could not, because of the rope, he bucked as he had not +done since he was a half-broken broncho. That started +Lite Avery's horse to pitching; and Pete, absorbed in +watching what would have made a great picture, forgot +to shut off the gas. + +Robert Grant Burns picked himself out of the sand +where he had sprawled at the first wild lunge of the +machine, and saw Pete Lowry, humped over the wheel like +any speed demon, go lurching off across the hollow in +the wake of two fear-crazed animals, that threatened at +any instant to bolt off at an angle that would overturn +the car. + +Then Lite let his rope slip from the saddle-horn and +spurred his horse to one side, out of the danger zone of +the other, while he felt frantically in his pockets for his +knife. + +"Don't you cut my rope," Jean warned, when she +saw him come plunging toward her, knife in hand. +"This is--fine training--for Pard!" + +Pete came to himself, then, and killed the engine +before he landed in the bottom of a yawning, water- +washed hole, and Lite rode close and slashed Jean's +rope, in spite of her protest; whereupon Pard went off +up the, slope as though witches were riding him +hard. + +At long rifle range, he circled and faced the thing that +had scared him so, and after a little Jean persuaded +him to go back as far as the trail. Nearer he would not +stir, so she waited there for Lite. + +"Never even thanked us," Lite grumbled when he +came up, his mouth stretched in a wide smile. "That +girl with the kalsomine on her face made remarks about +folks butting in. And the fat man talked into his +double chin; dunno what all he was saying. Here's +what's left of your rope. I'll get you another one, +Jean. I was afraid that gazabo was going to run over +you, is why I cut it." + +"What's the matter over there? Aren't they glad +they're out of the sand?" Jean held her horse quiet +while she studied the buzzing group. + +"Something busted. I guess we done some damage." +Lite grinned and watched them over his shoulder. + +"You needn't go any further with me, Lite. That +fat man's the one that had the cattle. I am going over +to the ranch for awhile, but don't tell Aunt Ella." She +turned to ride on up the hill toward the Lazy A, but +stopped for another look at the perturbed motorists. +"Well anyway, we snaked them out of the sand, didn't +we, Lite?" + +"We sure did," Lite chuckled. "They don't seem +thankful, but I guess they ain't any worse off than they +was before. Anyway, it serves them right. They've +no business here acting fresh." + +Lite said that because he was not given the power +to peer into the future, and so could not know that +Fate herself had sent Robert Grant Burns into their +lives; and that, by a somewhat roundabout method, she +was going to use the Great Western Film Company and +Jean and himself for her servants in doing a work +which Fate had set herself to do. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +JEAN SPOILS SOMETHING + + +Jean found the padlock key where she had hidden +it under a rock ten feet from the door, and let +herself into her room. The peaceful familiarity of +its four walls, and the cheerful patch of sunlight lying +warm upon the faded rag carpet, gave her the feeling +of security and of comfort which she seldom felt elsewhere. + +She wandered aimlessly around the room, brushing +the dust from her books and straightening a tiny fold +in the cradle quilt. She ran an investigative forefinger +along the seat of her father's saddle, brought the finger +away dusty, pulled one of the stockings from the +overflowing basket and used it for a dust cloth. She +wiped and polished the stamped leather with a painstaking +tenderness that had in it a good deal of yearning, +and finally left it with a gesture of hopelessness. + +She went next to her desk and fumbled the quirt that +lay there still. Then she pulled out the old ledger, +picked up a pencil, and began to write, sitting on the +arm of an old, cane-seated chair while she did so. As +I told you before, Jean never wrote anything in that +book except when her moods demanded expression of +some sort; when she did write, she said exactly what +she thought and felt at the time. So if you are +permitted to know what she wrote at this time, you will +have had a peep into Jean's hidden, inner life that +none of her world save Lite knew anything about. She +wrote rapidly, and she did not always take the trouble +to finish her sentences properly,--as if she never could +quite keep pace with her thoughts. So this is what +that page held when finally she slammed the book shut +and slid it back into the desk: + + +I don't know what's the matter with me lately. I feel +as if I wanted to shoot somebody, or rob a bank or run +away--I guess it's the old trouble nagging at me. I KNOW +dad never did it. I don't know why, but I know it just the +same--and I know Uncle Carl knows it too. I'd like to +take out his brain and put it into some scientific machine +that would squeeze out his thoughts--hope it wouldn't hurt +him--I'd give him ether, maybe. What I want is money +--enough to buy back this place and the stock. I don't +believe Uncle Carl spent as much defending dad as he claims +he did--not enough to take the whole ranch anyway. If +I had money I'd find Art Osgood if I had to hunt from +Alaska to Africa--don't believe he went to Alaska at all. +Uncle Carl thinks so. . . . I'd like the price of that machine I +helped drag out of the sand--some people can +have anything they want but all I want is dad back, and this +place the way it was before. . . . + +If I had any brains I could write something wonderful +and be rich and famous and do the things I want to do-- +but there's no profit in just feeling wonderful things; if I +could make the world see and feel what I see and feel-- +when I'm here, or riding alone. . . . + +If I could find Art Osgood I believe I could make him +tell--I know he knows something, even if he didn't do it +himself. I believe he did--But what can you do when +you're a woman and haven't any money and must stay where +you're put and can't even get out and do the little you might +do, because somebody must have you around to lean on and +tell their troubles to. . . . I don't blame Aunt Ella so much +--but thank goodness, I can do without a shoulder to weep +on, anyway. What's life for if you've got to spend your +days hopping round and round in a cage. It wouldn't be +a cage if I could have dad back--I'd be doing things for +him all the time and that would make life worth while. +Poor dad--four more years is--I can't think about it. I'll +go crazy if I do-- + + +It was there that she stopped and slammed the book +shut, and pushed it back out of sight in the desk. She +picked up her hat and gloves, and went out with +blurred eyes, and began to climb the bluff above the +little spring, where a faint, little-used trail led to the +benchland above. By following a rock ledge to where +it was broken, and climbing through the crevice to +where the trail marked faintly the way to the top, one +could in a few minutes leave the Lazy A coulee out of +sight below, and stand on a high level where the winds +blew free from the mountains in the west to the mountains +in the east. + +Some day, it was predicted, the benchland would be +cut into squares and farmed,--some day when the government +brought to reality a long-talked-of irrigation +project. But in the meantime, the land lay unfenced +and free. One could look far away to the north, and +at certain times see the smoke of passing trains through +the valley off there. One could look south to the +distant river bluffs, and east and west to the mountains. +Jean often climbed the bluff just for the wide outlook +she gained. The cage did not seem so small when she +could stand up there and tire her eyes with looking. +Life did not seem quite so purposeless, and she could +nearly always find little whispers of hope in the winds +that blew there. + +She walked aimlessly and yet with a subconscious +purpose for ten minutes or so, and her face was turned +directly toward the eastern hills. She stopped on the +edge of the bluff that broke abruptly there, and sat +down and stared at the soft purple of the hills and the +soft green of the nearer slopes, and at the peaceful blue +of the sky arched over it all. Her eyes cleared of their +troubled look and grew dreamy. Her mouth lost its +tenseness and softened to a half smile. She was not +looking now into the past that was so full of heartbreak, +but into the future as hope pictured it for her. + +She was seeing the Lazy A alive again and all astir +with the business of life; and her father saddling Sioux +and riding out to look after the stock. She was seeing +herself riding with him,--or else cooking the things +he liked best for his dinner when he came back hungry. +She sat there for a long, long while and never moved. + +A sparrow hawk swooped down quite close to Jean +and then shot upward with a little brown bird in its +claws, and startled her out of her castle building. She +felt a hot anger against the hawk, which was like the +sudden grasp of misfortune; and a quick sympathy +with the bird, which was like herself and dad, caught +unawares and held helpless. But she did not move, +and the hawk circled and came back on his way to the +nesting-place in the trees along the creek below. He +came quite close, and Jean shot him as he lifted his +wings for a higher flight. The hawk dropped head +foremost to the grass and lay there crumpled and quiet. + +Jean put back her gun in its holster and went over +to where the hawk lay. The little brown bird fluttered +terrifiedly and gave a piteous, small chirp when +her hand closed over it, and then lay quite still in her +cupped palms and blinked up at her. + +Jean cuddled it up against her cheek, and talked to +it and pitied it and promised it much in the way of +fat little bugs and a warm nest and her tender regard. +For the hawk she had no pity, nor a thought beyond +the one investigative glance she gave its body to make +sure that she had hit it where she meant to hit it. Lite +had taught her to shoot like that,--straight and quick. +Lite was a man who trimmed life down to the essentials, +and he had long ago impressed it upon her that +if she could not shoot quickly, and hit where she aimed, +there was not much use in her attempting to shoot at +all. Jean proved by her scant interest in the hawk +how well she had learned the lesson, and how sure she +was of hitting where she aimed. + +The little brown bird had been gashed in the breast +by a sharp talon. Jean was much concerned over the +wound, even though it did not reach any vital organ. +She was afraid of septic poisoning, she told the bird; +but added comfortingly: "There--you needn't +worry one minute over that. I'm almost sure there's +a bottle of peroxide down at the house, that isn't spoiled. +We'll go and put some on it right away; and then we'll +go bug-hunting. I believe I know where there's the +fattest, juiciest bugs!" She cuddled the bird against +her cheek, and started back across the wide point of +the benchland to where the trail led down the bluff to +the house. + +She was wholly absorbed in the trouble of the little +brown bird; and the trail, following a crevice through +the rocks and later winding along behind some scant +bushes, partially concealed the buildings and the house +yard from view until one was well down into the coulee. +So it was not until she was at the spring, looking at the +moist earth there for fat bugs for the bird, that she had +any inkling of visitors. Then she heard voices and +went quickly around the corner of the house toward the +sound. + +It seemed to her that she was lately fated to come +plump into the middle of that fat Mr. Burns' unauthorized +picture-making. The first thing she saw when +she rounded the corner was the camera perched high +upon its tripod and staring at her with its one round +eye; and the humorous-eyed Pete Lowry turning a +crank at the side and counting in a whisper. Close +beside her the two women were standing in animated +argument which they carried on in undertones with +many gestures to point their meaning. + +"Hey, you're in the scene!" called Pete Lowry, and +abruptly stopped counting and turning the crank. + +"You're in the scene, sister. Step over here to one +side, will you?" The fat director waved his pink- +cameoed hand impatiently. + +An old bench had been placed beside the house, +under a window. Jean backed a step and sat down upon +the bench, and looked from one to the other. The two +women glanced at her wide-eyed and moved away with +mutual embracings. Jean lifted her hands and looked +at the soft little crest and beady eyes of the bird, to make +sure that it was not disturbed by these strangers, before +she gave her attention to the expostulating Mr. +Burns. + +"Did I spoil something?" she inquired casually, +and watched curiously the pulling of many feet of narrow +film from the camera. + +"About fifteen feet of good scene," Pete Lowry told +her dryly, but with that queer, half smile twisting his +lips. + +Jean looked at him and decided that, save for the +company he kept, which made of him a latent enemy, +she might like that lean man in the red sweater who +wore a pencil over one ear and was always smiling to +himself about something. But what she did was to +cross her feet and murmur a sympathetic sentence to +the little brown bird. Inwardly she resented deeply +this bold trespass of Robert Grant Burns; but she +meant to guard against making herself ridiculous again. +She meant to be sure of her ground before she ordered +them off. The memory of her humiliation before the +supposed rustlers was too vivid to risk a repetition of +the experience. + +"When you're thoroughly rested," said Robert +Grant Burns, in the tone that would have shriveled the +soul of one of his actors, "we'd like to make that scene +over." + +"Thank you. I am pretty tired," she said in that +soft, drawly voice that could hide so effectually her +meaning. She leaned her head against the wall and +gave a luxurious sigh, and crossed her feet the other +way. She believed that she knew why Robert Grant +Burns was growing so red in the face and stepping about +so uneasily, and why the women were looking at her +like that. Very likely they expected her to prove +herself crude and uncivilized, but she meant to disappoint +them even while she made them all the trouble she +could. + +She pushed back her hat until its crown rested +against the rough boards, and cuddled the little brown +bird against her cheek again, and talked to it +caressingly. Though she seemed unconscious of his +presence, she heard every word that Robert Grant Burns +was muttering to himself. Some of the words were +plain, man-sized swearing, if she were any judge of +language. It occurred to her that she really ought to +go and find that peroxide, but she could not forego the +pleasure of irritating this man. + +"I always supposed that fat men were essentially; +sweet-tempered," she observed to the world in general, +when the mutterings ceased for a moment. + +"Gee! I'd like to make that," Pete Lowry said in an +undertone to his assistant. + +Jean did not know that he referred to herself and +the unstudied picture she made, sitting there with her +hat pushed back, and the little bird blinking at her +from between her cupped palms. But she looked at +him curiously, with an impulse to ask questions about +what he was doing with that queer-looking camera, and +how he could inject motion into photography. While +she watched, he drew out a narrow, gray strip of film +and made mysterious markings upon it with the pencil, +which he afterwards thrust absent-mindedly behind his +ear. He closed a small door in the side of the camera, +placed his palm over the lens and turned the little +crank several times around. Then he looked at Jean, +and from her to the director. + +Robert Grant Burns gave a sweeping, downward +gesture with both hands,--a gesture which his company +knew well,--and came toward Jean. + +"You may not know it," he began in a repressed +tone, "but we're in a hurry. We've got work to do. +We ain't here on any pleasure excursion, and you'll be +doing me a favor by getting out of the scene so we can +go on with our work." + +Jean sat still upon the bench and looked at him. +"I suppose so; but why should I be doing you favors? +You haven't seemed to appreciate them, so far. Of +course, I dislike to seem disobliging, or anything like +that, but your tone and manner would not make any +one very enthusiastic about pleasing you, Mr. Burns. +In fact, I don't see why you aren't apologizing for being +here, instead of ordering me about as if I worked for +you. This bench--is my bench. This ranch--is +where I have lived nearly all my life. I hate to seem +vain, Mr. Burns, but at the same time I think it is +perfectly lovely of me to explain that I have a right +here; and I consider myself an angel of patience and +graciousness and many other rare virtues, because I +have not even hinted that you are once more taking +liberties with other people's property." She looked at +him with a smile at the corners of her eyes and just +easing the firmness of her lips, as if the humor of the +situation was beginning to appeal to her. + +"If you would stop dancing about, and let your +naturally sweet disposition have a chance, and would +explain just why you are here and what you want to do, +and would ask me nicely,--it might help you more +than to get apoplexy over it." + +The two women exclaimed under their breaths to +each other and moved farther away, as if from an +impending explosion. The assistant camera man gurgled +and turned his back abruptly. Lee Milligan, wandering +up from the stables, stopped and stared. No one, +within the knowledge of those present, had ever spoken +so to Robert Grant Burns; no one had ever dreamed of +speaking thus to him. They had seen him when rage +had mastered him and for slighter cause; it was not an +experience that one would care to repeat. + +Robert Grant Burns walked up to Jean as if he meant +to lift her from the bench and hurl her by sheer brute +force out of his way. He stopped so close to her that +his shadow covered her. + +"Are you going to get out of the way so we can go +on?" he asked, in the tone of one who gives a last +merciful chance of escape from impending doom. + +"Are you going to explain why you're here, and +apologize for your tone and manner, which are +extremely rude?" Jean did not pay his rage the +compliment of a glance at him. She was looking at the +dainty beak of the little brown bird, and was telling +herself that she could not be bullied into losing control +of herself. These two women should not have the satisfaction of +calling her a crude, ignorant, country girl; +and Robert Grant Burns should not have the triumph +of browbeating her into yielding one inch of ground. +She forced herself to observe the wonderfully delicate +feathers on the bird's head. It seemed more content +now in the little nest her two palms had made for it. +Its heart did not flutter so much, and she fancied that +the tiny, bead-like eyes were softer in their bright +regard of her. + +Robert Grant Burns came to a pause. Jean sensed +that he was waiting for some reply, and she looked up +at him. His hand was just reaching out to her shoulder, +but it dropped instead to his coat pocket and fumbled +for his handkerchief. Her eyes strayed to Pete +Lowry. He was looking upward with that measuring +glance which belongs to his profession, estimating the +length of time the light would be suitable for the scene +he had focussed. She followed his glance to where the +shadow of the kitchen had crept closer to the bench. +Jean was not stupid, and she had passed through the +various stages of the kodak fever; she guessed what +was in the mind of the operator, and when she met his +eyes full, she smiled at him sympathetically. + +"I should dearly love to watch you work," she said +to him frankly. "But you see how it is; Mr. Burns +hasn't got hold of himself yet. If he comes to his +senses before he has a stroke of apoplexy, will you show +me how you run that thing?" + +"You bet I will," the red-sweatered one promised +her cheerfully. + +"How much longer will it be before this bench is in +the shade?" she asked him next. + +"Half an hour,--maybe a little longer." Pete +glanced again anxiously upward. + +"And--how long do these spasms usually last?" +Jean's head tilted toward Robert Grant Burns as +impersonally as if she were indicating a horse with +colic. + +But the camera man had gone as far as was wise, +if he cared to continue working for Burns, and he made +no reply whatever. So Jean turned her attention to +the man whose bulk shaded her from the sun, and +whose remarks would have been wholly unforgivable +had she not chosen to ignore them. + +"If you really are anxious to go on making pictures, +why don't you stop all that ranting and be sensible +about it?" she asked him. "You can't bully me into +being afraid of you, you know. And really, you are +making an awful spectacle of yourself, going on like +that." + +"Listen here! Are you going to get off that bench +and out of the scene?" By a tremendous effort Robert +Grant Burns spoke that sentence with a husky kind of +calm. + +"That all depends upon yourself, Mr. Burns. First, +I want to know by what right you come here with your +picture-making. You haven't explained that yet, you +know." + +The highest paid director of the Great Western Film +Company looked at her long. With her head tilted +back, Jean returned the look. + +"Oh, all right--all right," he surrendered finally. +"Read that paper. That ought to satisfy you that we +ain't trespassing here or anywhere else. And if you'd +kindly,"--and Mr. Burns emphasized the word +"kindly,"--"remove yourself to some other spot that +is just as comfortable--" + +Jean did not even hear him, once she had the paper +in her hands and had begun to read it. So Robert +Grant Burns folded his arms across his heaving chest +and watched her and studied her and measured her +with his mind while she read. He saw the pulling +together of her eyebrows, and the pinching of her under- +lip between her teeth. He saw how she unconsciously +sheltered the little brown bird under her left hand in +her lap because she must hold the paper with the other, +and he quite forgot his anger against her. + +Sitting so, she made a picture that appealed to him. +Had you asked him why, he would have said that she +was the type that would photograph well, and that she +had a screen personality; which would have been high +praise indeed, coming from him. + +Jean read the brief statement that in consideration +of a certain sum paid to him that day by Robert G. +Burns, her uncle, Carl Douglas, thereby gave the said +Robert G. Burns permission to use the Lazy A ranch +and anything upon it or in any manner pertaining to +it, for the purpose of making motion pictures. It was +plainly set forth that Robert G. Burns should be held +responsible for any destruction of or damage to the +property, and that he might, for the sum named, use +any cattle bearing the Lazy A or Bar O brands for the +making of pictures, so long as he did them no injury +and returned them in good condition to the range from +which he had gathered them. + +Jean recognized her uncle's ostentatious attempt at +legal phraseology and knew, even without the evidence +of his angular writing, that the document was genuine. +She knew also that Robert Grant Burns was justified in +ordering her off that bench; she had no right there, +where he was making his pictures. She forced back +the bitterness that filled her because of her own +helplessness, and folded the paper carefully. The little +brown bird chirped shrilly and fluttered a feeble protest +when she took away her sheltering hand. Jean +returned the paper hastily to its owner and took up the +bird. + +"I beg your pardon for delaying your work," she +said coldly, and rose from the bench. "But you might +have explained your presence in the first place." She +wrapped the bird carefully in her handkerchief so that +only its beak and its bright eyes were uncovered, pulled +her hat forward upon her head, and walked away from +them down the path to the stables. + +Robert Grant Burns turned slowly on his heels and +watched her go, and until she had led out her horse, +mounted and ridden away, he said never a word. Pete +Lowry leaned an elbow upon the camera and watched +her also, until she passed out of sight around the corner +of the dilapidated calf shed, and he was as silent as +the director. + +"Some rider," Lee Milligan commented to the +assistant camera man, and without any tangible reason +regretted that he had spoken. + +Robert Grant Burns turned harshly to the two +women. "Now then, you two go through that scene +again. And when you put out your hand to stop +Muriel, don't grab at her, Mrs. Gay. Hesitate! You +want your son to get the warning, but you've got your +doubts about letting her take the risk of going. And, +Gay, when you read the letter, try and show a little +emotion in your face. You saw how that girl looked +--see if you can't get that hurt, bitter look GRADUALLY, +as you read. The way she got it. Put in more feeling +and not so much motion. You know what I mean; +you saw the girl. That's the stuff that gets over. +Ready? Camera!" + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +A MAN-SIZED JOB FOR JEAN + + +Jean was just returning wet-lashed from burying +the little brown bird under a wild-rose bush near +the creek. She had known all along that it would die; +everything that she took any interest in turned out +badly, it seemed to her. The wonder was that the bird +had lived so long after she had taken it under her +protection. + +All that day her Aunt Ella had worn a wet towel +turban-wise upon her head, and the look of a martyr +about to enter a den of lions. Add that to the habitual +atmosphere of injury which she wore, and Aunt Ella +was not what one might call a cheerful companion. +Besides, the appearance of the wet towel was a danger +signal to Jean's conscience, and forbade any thought +of saddling Pard and riding away from the Bar Nothing +into her own dream world and the great outdoors. +Jean's conscience commanded her instead to hang her +riding-clothes in the closet and wear striped percale +and a gingham apron, which she hated; and to sweep +and dust and remember not to whistle, and to look +sympathetic,--which she was not, particularly; and to ask +her Aunt Ella frequently if she felt any better, and if +there was anything Jean could do for her. There never +was anything she could do, but conscience and custom +required her to observe the ceremony of asking. Aunt +Ella found some languid satisfaction in replying dolorously +that there was nothing that anybody could do, +and that her part in life seemed to be to suffer. + +You may judge what Jean's mood was that day, +when you are told that she came to the point, not an +hour before the bird died, of looking at her aunt with +that little smile at the corners of her eyes and just +easing her lips. "Well, you certainly play your part +in life with a heap of enthusiasm," she had replied, and +had gone out into the kitchen and whistled when she +did not feel in the least like whistling. Her conscience +knew Jean pretty well, and did not attempt to reprove +her for what she had done. + +Then she found the bird dead in the little nest she +had made for it, and things went all wrong. + +She was returning from the burial of the bird, and +was trying to force herself back to her normal attitude +of philosophic calm, when she saw her Uncle Carl sitting +on the edge of the front porch, with his elbows +resting loosely upon his knees, his head bowed, and his +boot-heel digging a rude trench in the hard-packed +earth. + +The sight of him incensed her suddenly. Once more +she wished that she might get at his brain and squeeze +out his thoughts; and it never occurred to her that she +would probably have found them extremely commonplace +thoughts that strayed no farther than his own +little personal business of life, and that they would +easily be translated to the dollar sign. His attitude +was one of gloomy meditation, and her own mood supplied +the subject. She watched him for a minute or +two, and his abstraction was so deep that he did not feel +her presence. + +"Uncle Carl, just how much did the Lazy A cost +you?" she asked so abruptly that she herself was +surprised at the question. "Or putting it another way, +just how many dollars and cents did you spend in defending +dad?" + +Carl started, which was perfectly natural, and glared +at her, which was natural also, when one considers that +Jean had without warning opened a subject tacitly +forbidden upon that ranch. His eyes hardened a little +while he looked at her, for between these two there was +scant affection. + +"What do you want to know for?" he countered, +when she persisted in looking at him as though she was +waiting for an answer. + +"Because I've a right to know. Some time,-- +within four years,--I mean to buy back the Lazy A. +I want to know how much it will take." Until that +moment Jean had merely dreamed of some day buying +it back. Until she spoke she would have named the +idea a beautiful, impossible desire. + +"Where you going to get the money?" Carl looked +at her curiously, as if he almost doubted her sanity. + +"Rob a bank, perhaps. How much will it take to +square things with you? Of course, being a relative, +I expect to be cheated a little. So I am going to adopt +sly, sleuth-like methods and find out just how much +dad owed you before--it happened, and just how +much the lawyers charged, and what was the real market +value of the outfit, and all that. Dad told me-- +dad told me that there was something left over for me. +He didn't explain--there wasn't time, and I-- +couldn't listen to dollar-talk then. I've gone along all +this time, just drifting and getting used to facts, and +taking it for granted that everything is all right--" + +"Well, what's wrong? Everything is all right, far +as I know. I can see what you're driving at--" + +"And I'm a pretty fair driver, too," Jean cut in +calmly. "I'll reach my destination, I think,--give +me time enough." + +"Whatever fool notion you've got in your head, +you'd better drop it," Carl told her harshly. "There +ain't anything you can do to better matters. I came +out with the worst of it, when you come right down to +facts, and all the nagging-" + +Jean went toward him as if she would strike him +with her uplifted hand. "Don't dare say that! How +can you say that,--and think of dad? He got the +worst of it. He's the one that suffers most--and-- +he's as innocent as you or I. You know it." + +Carl rose from the porch and faced her like an +enemy. "What do you mean by that? I know it? +If I knew anything like that, do you think I'd leave a +stone unturned to prove it? Do you think--" + +"I think we both know dad. And some things were +not proved,--to my satisfaction, at least. And you +know how long the jury was out, and what a time they +had agreeing. Some points were weak. It was simply +that they couldn't point to any one else. You know +that was it. If I could find Art Osgood--" + +"What's he got to do with it?" Her uncle leaned +a little and peered into her face, which the dusk was +veiling. + +"That is what I want to find out." Jean's voice +was quiet, but it had a quality which he had never +before noticed. + +"You'd better," he advised her tritely, "let sleeping +dogs lie." + +"That's the trouble with sleeping dogs; they do lie, +more often than not. These particular dogs have lied +for nearly three years. I'm going to stir them up and +see if I can't get a yelp of the truth out of them." + +"Oh, you are!" Carl laughed ironically. "You'll +stir up a lot of unpleasantness for yourself and the rest +of us, is what you'll do. The thing's over and done +with. Folks are beginning to forget it. You've got a +home--" + +Jean laughed, and her laugh was extremely unpleasant. + +"You get as good as the rest of us get," her uncle +reminded her sharply. "I came near going broke myself +over the affair, if you want to know; and you +stand there and accuse me of cheating you out of +something! I don't know what in heaven's name you +expect. The Lazy A didn't make me rich, I can tell you +that. It just barely helped to tide things over. You've +got a home here, and you can come and go as you +please. What you ain't got," he added bitterly, "is +common gratitude." + +He turned away from her and went into the house, +and Jean sat down upon the edge of the porch and +stared away at the dimming outline of the hills, and +wondered what had come over her. + +Three years on this ranch, seeing her uncle every day +almost, living under the same roof with him, talking +with him upon the everyday business of life,--and to- +night, for the first time, the forbidden subject had been +opened. She had said things that until lately she had +not realized were in her mind. She had never liked +her uncle, who was so different from her father, but +she had never accused him in her mind of unfairness +until she had written something of the sort in her +ledger. She had never thought of quarrelling,--and +yet one could scarcely call this encounter less than a +quarrel. And the strange part of it was that she still +believed what she had said; she still intended to do the +things she declared she would do. Just how she would +do them she did not know, but her purpose was hardening +and coming clean-cut out of the vague background +of her mind. + +After awhile the dim outline of the high-shouldered +hills glowed under a yellowing patch of light. Jean +sat with her chin in her palms and watched the glow +brighten swiftly. Then some unseen force seemed to +be pushing a bright yellow disk up through a gap in +the hills, and the gap was almost too narrow, so that the +disk touched either side as it slid slowly upward. At +last it was up, launched fairly upon its leisurely, drifting +journey across to the farther hills behind her. It +was not quite round. That was because one edge had +scraped too hard against the side of the hill, perhaps. +But warped though it was, its light fell softly upon +Jean's face, and showed it set and still and stern-eyed +and somber. + +She sat there awhile longer, until the slopes lay +softly revealed to her, their hollows filled with inky +shadows. She drew a long breath then, and looked +around her at the familiar details of the Bar Nothing +dwelling-place, softened a little by the moonlight, but +harsh with her memories of unhappy days spent there. +She rose and went into the house and to her room, and +changed the hated striped percale for her riding-clothes. + +A tall, lank form detached itself from the black +shade of the bunk-house as she went by, hesitated +perceptibly, and then followed her down to the corral. +When she had gone in with a rope and later led out +Pard, the form stood forth in the white light of the +moon. + +"Where are you going, Jean?" Lite asked her in a +tone that was soothing in its friendliness. + +"That you, Lite? I'm going--well, just going. +I've got to ride." She pulled Pard's bridle off the peg +where she always hung it, and laid an arm over his +neck while she held the bit against his clinched teeth. +Pard never did take kindly to the feel of the cold steel +in his mouth, and she spoke to him sharply before his +jaws slackened. + +"Want me to go along with you?" Lite asked, and +reached for his saddle and blanket. + +"No, I want you to go to bed." Jean's tone was +softer than it had been for that whole day. "You've +had all the riding you need. I've been shut up with +Aunt Ella and her favorite form of torture." + +"Got your gun?" Lite gave the latigo a final pull +which made Pard grunt. + +"Of course. Why?" + +"Nothing,--only it's a good night for coyotes, and +you might get a shot at one. Another thing, a gun's +no good on earth when you haven't got it with you." + +"Yes, and you've told me so about once a week ever +since I was big enough to pull a trigger," Jean +retorted, with something approaching her natural tone. +"Maybe I won't come back, Lite. Maybe I'll camp +over home till morning." + +Lite did not say anything in reply to that. He +leaned his long person against a corral post and watched +her out of sight on the trail up the hill. Then he +caught his own horse, saddled it leisurely, and rode +away. + +Jean rode slowly, leaving the trail and striking out +across the open country straight for the Lazy A. She +had no direct purpose in riding this way; she had not +intended to ride to the Lazy A until she named the +place to Lite as her destination, but since she had told +him so, she knew that was where she was going. The +picture-people would not be there at night, and she felt +the need of coming as close as possible to her father; +at the Lazy A, where his thoughts would cling, she felt +near to him,--much nearer than when she was at the +Bar Nothing. And that the gruesome memory of +what had happened there did not make the place seem +utterly horrible merely proves how unshakable was her +faith in him. + +A coyote trotted up out of a hollow facing her, +stiffened with astonishment, dropped nose and tail, and +slid away in the shadow of the hill. A couple of +minutes later Jean saw him sitting alert upon his haunches +on a moon-bathed slope, watching to see what she would +do. She did nothing; and the coyote pointed his nose +to the moon, yap-yap-yapped a quavering defiance, and +slunk out of sight over the hill crest. + +Her mind now was more at ease than it had been +since the day of horror when she had first stared black +tragedy in the face. She was passing through that +phase of calm elation which follows close upon the heels +of a great resolve. She had not yet come to the actual +surmounting of the obstacles that would squeeze hope +from the heart of her; she had not yet looked upon the +possibility of absolute failure. + +She was going to buy back the Lazy A from her +Uncle Carl, and she was going to tear away that +atmosphere of emptiness and desolation which it had worn +so long. She was going to prove to all men that her +father never had killed Johnny Croft. She was going +to do it! Then life would begin where it had left off +three years ago. And when this deadening load of +trouble was lifted, then perhaps she could do some of +the glorious, great things she had all of her life dreamed +of doing. Or, if she never did the glorious, great +things, she would at least have done something to justify +her existence. She would be content in her cage if she +could go round and round doing things for dad. + +A level stretch of country lay at the foot of the long +bluff, which farther along held the Lazy A coulee close +against its rocky side. The high ridges stood out boldly +in the moonlight, so that she could see every rock and +the shadow that it cast upon the ground. Little, soothing +night noises fitted themselves into her thoughts and +changed them to waking dreams. Crickets that hushed +while she passed them by; the faint hissing of a half- +wakened breeze that straightway slept upon the grasses +it had stirred; the sleepy protest of some bird which +Pard's footsteps had startled. + +She came into Lazy A coulee, half fancying that it +was a real home-coming. But when she reached the +gate and found it lying flat upon the ground away from +the broad tread of the picture-people's machine, her +mind jarred from dreams back to reality. From sheer +habit she dismounted, picked up the spineless thing of +stakes and barbed wire, dragged it into place across +the trail, and fastened it securely to the post. She +remounted and went on, and a little of the hopefulness +was gone from her face. + +"I'll just about have to rob a bank, I guess," she told +herself with a grim humor at the tremendous undertaking +to which she had so calmly committed herself. +"This is what dad would call a man-sized job, I +reckon." She pulled up in the white-lighted trail and +stared along the empty, sagging-roofed sheds and stables, +and at the corral with its open gate and warped +rails and leaning posts. "I'll just about have to rob +a bank,--or write a book that will make me famous." + +She touched Pard with a rein end and went on slowly. +"Robbing a bank would be the quickest and easiest," +she decided whimsically, as she neared the place where +she always sheltered Pard. "But not so ladylike. I +guess I'll write a book. It should be something real +thrilly, so the people will rush madly to all the bookstores +to buy it. It should have a beautiful girl, and +at least two handsome men,--one with all the human +virtues, and the other with all the arts of the devil and +the cruel strength of the savage. And--I think some +Indians and outlaws would add several dollars' worth of +thrills; or else a ghost and a haunted house. I wonder +which would sell the best? Indians could steal the girl +and give her two handsome men a chance to do chapters +of stunts, and the wicked one could find her first +and carry her away in front of him on a horse (they +do those things in books!) and the hero could follow in +a mad chase for miles and miles-- + +"But then, ghosts can be made very creepy, with +tantalizing glimpses of them now and then in about every +other chapter, and mysterious hints here and there, and +characters coming down to breakfast with white, drawn +faces and haggard eyes. And the wicked one would +look over his shoulder and then utter a sardonic laugh. Sardonic +is such an effective word; I don't believe +Indians would give him any excuse for sardonic laughter." + +She swung down from the saddle and led Pard into +his stall, that was very black next the manger and very +light where the moon shone in at the door. "I must +have lots of moonlight and several stormy sunsets, and +the wind soughing in the branches. I shall have to +buy a new dictionary,--a big, fat, heavy one with the +flags of all nations and how to measure the contents +of an empty hogshead, and the deaf and dumb alphabet, +and everything but the word you want to know the meaning +of and whether it begins with ph or an f." + +She took the saddle off Pard and hung it up by a +stirrup on the rusty spike where she kept it, with the +bridle hung over the stirrup, and the saddle blanket +folded over the horn. She groped in the manger and +decided that there was hay enough to last him till morning, +and went out and closed the door. Her shadow +fell clean cut upon the rough planks, and she stood for a +minute looking at it as if it were a person. Her Stetson +hat tilted a little to one side, her hair fluffed loosely +at the sides, leaving her neck daintily slender where it +showed above the turned-back collar of her gray sweater; +her shoulders square and capable and yet not too heavy, +and the slim contour of her figure reaching down to +the ground. She studied it abstractedly, as she would +study herself in her mirror, conscious of the individuality, +its likeness to herself. + +"I don't know what kind of a mess you'll make of it," +she said to her shadow, "but you're going to tackle it, +just the same. You can't do a thing till you get some +money." + +She turned then and went thoughtfully up to the +house and into her room, which had as yet been left +undisturbed behind the bars she had placed against idle +invasion. + +The moon shone full into the window that faced the +coulee, and she sat down in the old, black wooden rocker +and gazed out upon the familiar, open stretch of sand +and scant grass-growth that lay between the house and +the corrals. She turned her eyes to the familiar bold +outline of the bluff that swung round in a crude oval +to the point where the trail turned into the coulee from +the southwest. Half-way between the base and the +ragged skyline, the boulder that looked like an +elephant's head stood out, white of profile, hooded with +black shade. Beyond was the fat shelf of ledge that +had a small cave beneath, where she had once found a +nest full of little, hungry birds and upon the slope +beneath the telltale, scattered wing-feathers, to show what +fate had fallen upon the mother. Those birds had died +also, and she had wept and given them Christian burial, +and had afterwards spent hours every day with her little +rifle hunting the destroyer of that small home. She +remembered the incident now as a small thread in the +memory-pattern she was weaving. + +While the shadows shortened as the moon swung +high, she sat and looked out upon the coulee and the +bluff that sheltered it, and she saw the things that were +blended cunningly with the things that were not. After +a long while her hands unclasped themselves from behind +her head and dropped numbly to her lap. She +sighed and moved stiffly, and knew that she was tired +and that she must get some sleep, because she could not +sit down in one spot and think her way through the +problems she had taken it upon herself to solve. So she +got up and crept under the Navajo blanket upon the +couch, tucked it close about her shoulders, and shut her +eyes deliberately. Presently she fell asleep. + + + +CHAPTER X + + +JEAN LEARNS WHAT FEAR IS LIKE + + +Sometime in the still part of the night which +comes after midnight, Jean woke slowly from +dreaming of the old days that had been so vivid in her +mind when she went to sleep. Just at first she did not +know what it was that awakened her, though her eyes +were open and fixed upon the lighted square of the +window. She knew that she was in her room at the Lazy +A, but just at first it seemed to her that she was there +because she had always been sleeping in that room. +She sighed and turned her face away from the moonlight, +and closed her eyes again contentedly. + +Half dreaming she opened them again and stared up +at the low ceiling. Somewhere in the house she heard +footsteps. Very slowly she wakened enough to listen. +They were footsteps,--the heavy, measured tread of +some man. They were in the room that had been her +father's bedroom, and at first they seemed perfectly +natural and right; they seemed to be her dad's footsteps, +and she wondered mildly what he was doing, up +at that time of night. + +The footsteps passed from there into the kitchen and +stopped in the corner where stood the old-fashioned +cupboard with perforated tin panels in the doors and at the +sides, and the little drawers at the top,--the kind that +old people call a "safe." She heard a drawer pulled +out. Without giving any conscious thought to it, she +knew which drawer it was; it was the one next the wall, +--the one that did not pull out straight, and so had to +be jerked out. What was her dad . . . ? + +Jean thrilled then with a tremor of fear. She had +wakened fully enough to remember. That was not her +dad, out there in the kitchen. She did not know who +it was; it was some strange man prowling through the +house, hunting for something. She felt again the +tremor of fear that is the heritage of womanhood alone +in the dark. She pulled the Navajo blanket up to her +ears with the instinct of the woman to hide, because +she is not strong enough to face and fight the danger +that comes in the dark. She listened to the sound of +that drawer being pushed back, and the other drawer +being pulled out, and she shivered under the blanket. + +Then she reached out her hand and got hold of her +six-shooter which she had laid down unthinkingly upon a +chair near the couch. She wondered if she had locked +the outside door when she came in. She could not +remember having done so; probably she had not, since it is +not the habit of honest ranch-dwellers to lock their doors +at night. She wanted to get up and see, and fasten +it somehow; but she was afraid the man out there might +hear her. As it was, she reasoned nervously with herself, +he probably did not suspect that there was any +one in the house. It was an empty house. And unless +he had seen Pard in the closed stall. . . . She wondered +if he had heard Pard there, and had investigated and +found him. She wondered if he would come into this +room. She remembered how securely she had nailed +up the door from the kitchen, and she breathed freer. +She remembered also that she had her gun, there under +her hand. She closed her trembling fingers on the +familiar grip of it, and the feel of it comforted her and +steadied her. + +Yet she had no desire, no slightest impulse to get up +and see who was there. She was careful not to move, +except to cover the doorway to the kitchen with her +gun. + +After a few minutes the man came and tried the +door, and Jean lifted herself cautiously upon her elbow +and waited in grim desperation. If he forced that +door open, if he came in, she certainly would shoot; +and if she shot,--well, you remember the fate of that +hawk on the wing. + +The man did not force the door open, which was +perhaps the luckiest thing that ever happened to him. He fussed +there until he must have made sure that it was fastened firmly +upon the inside, and then he left it and went into what had been +the living-room. Jean did not move from her half-sitting +position, nor did she change the aim of her gun. He might come +back and try again. + +She heard him moving about in the living-room. +Surely he did not expect to find money in an empty +house, or anything else of any commercial value. What +was he after? Finally he came back to the kitchen, +crossed it, and stood before the barred door. He +pushed against it tentatively, then stood still for a +minute and finally went out. Jean heard him step +upon the porch and pull the kitchen door shut behind +him. She knew that squeal of the bottom hinge, and +she knew the final gasp and click that proved the latch +was fastened. She heard him step off the porch to the +path, she heard the soft crunch of his feet in the sandy +gravel as he went away toward the stable. Very cautiously +she got off the couch and crept to the window; +and with her gun gripped tight in her hand, she looked +out. But he had moved into a deep shadow of the bluff, +and she could see nothing of him save the deeper shadow +of his swift-moving body as he went down to the corral. +Jean gave a long sigh of nervous relaxation, and crept +shivering under the Navajo blanket. The gun she slid +under the pillow, and her fingers rested still upon the +cool comfort of the butt. + +Soon she heard a horse galloping, and she went to the +window again and looked out. The moon hung low +over the bluff, so that the trail lay mostly in the shadow. +But down by the gate it swung out in a wide curve to +the rocky knoll, and there it lay moon-lighted and +empty. She fixed her eyes upon that curve and +waited. In a moment the horseman galloped out upon +the curve, rounded it, and disappeared in the shadows +beyond. At that distance and in that deceptive light, +she could not tell who it was; but it was a horseman, a +man riding at night in haste, and with some purpose in +mind. + +Jean had thought that the prowler might be some +tramp who had wandered far off the beaten path of +migratory humans, and who, stumbling upon the coulee +and its empty dwellings, was searching at random for +whatever might be worth carrying off. A horseman +did not fit that theory anywhere. That particular +horseman had come there deliberately, had given the +house a deliberate search, and had left in haste when +he had finished. Whether he had failed or succeeded +in finding what he wanted, he had left. He had not +searched the stables, unless he had done that before +coming into the house. He had not forced his way +into her room, probably because he did not want to leave +behind him the evidence of his visit which the door +would have given, or because he feared to disturb the +contents of Jean's room. + +Jean stared up in the dark and puzzled long over the +identity of that man, and his errand. And the longer +she thought about it, the more completely she was at +sea. All the men that she knew were aware that she +kept this room habitable, and visited the ranch often. +That was no secret; it never had been a secret. No +one save Lite Avery had ever been in it, so far as she +knew,--unless she counted those chance trespassers who +had prowled boldly through her most sacred belongings. +So that almost any one in the country, had he any object +in searching the house, would know that this room +was hers, and would act in that knowledge. + +As to his errand. There could be no errand, so far +as she knew. There were no missing papers such as +plays and novels are accustomed to have cunningly hidden +in empty houses. There was no stolen will, no +hidden treasure, no money, no Rajah's ruby, no ransom +of a king; these things Jean named over mentally, and +chuckled at the idea of treasure-hunting at the Lazy +A. It vas very romantic, very mysterious, she told +herself. And she analyzed the sensation of little wet +alligators creeping up her spine (that was her own +simile), and decided that her book should certainly have +a ghost in it; she was sure that she could describe with +extreme vividness the effect of a ghost upon her various +characters. + +In this wise she recovered her composure and laughed +at her fear, and planned new and thrilly incidents for +her novel. + +She would not tell Lite anything about it, she decided. +He would try to keep her from coming over here by +herself, and that would precipitate one of those arguments +between them that never seemed to get them anywhere, +because Lite never would yield gracefully, and +Jean never would yield at all,--which does not make +for peace. + +She wished, just the same, that Lite was there. It +would be much more comfortable if he were near +instead of away over to the Bar Nothing, sound asleep +in the bunk-house. As a self-appointed guardian, Jean +considered Lite something of a nuisance, when he wasn't +funny. But as a big, steady-nerved friend and comrade, +he certainly was a comfort. + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +LITE'S PUPIL DEMONSTRATES + + +Jean awoke to hear the businesslike buzzing of an +automobile coming up from the gate. Evidently +they were going to make pictures there at the house, +which did not suit her plans at all. She intended to +spend the early morning writing the first few chapters +of that book which to her inexperience seemed a simple +task, and to leave before these people arrived. As it +was, she was fairly caught. There was no chance of +escaping unnoticed, unless she slipped out and up the +bluff afoot, and that would not have helped her in the +least, since Pard was in the stable. + +From behind the curtains she watched them for a +few minutes. Robert Grant Burns wore a light overcoat, +which made him look pudgier than ever, and he +scowled a good deal over some untidy-looking papers in +his hands, and conferred with Pete Lowry in a dissatisfied +tone, though his words were indistinguishable. +Muriel Gay watched the two covertly, it seemed to Jean, +and she also looked dissatisfied over something. + +Burns and the camera man walked down toward the +stables, studying the bluff and the immediate surroundings, +and still talking together. Lee Milligan, with +his paint-shaded eyes and his rouged lips and heavily +pencilled eyebrows, came up and stood close to Muriel, +who was sitting now upon the bench near Jean's window. + +"Burns ought to cut out those scenes, Gay," he +began sympathetically. "You can't do any more than +you did yesterday. And believe me, you put it over in +good style. I don't see what he wants more than you +did." + +"What he wants," said Muriel Gay dispiritedly, "is +for me to pull off stunts like that girl. I never saddled +a horse in my life till he ordered me to do it in the +scene yesterday. Why didn't he tell me far enough +ahead so I could rehearse the business? Latigo! It +sounds like some Spanish dish with grated cheese on +top. I don't believe he knows himself what he meant." + +"He's getting nutty on Western dope," sympathized +Lee Milligan. "I don't see where this country's got +anything on Griffith Park for atmosphere, anyway. +What did he want to come away up here in this God- +forsaken country for? What is there TO it, more than +he could get within an hour's ride of Los Angeles?" + +"I should worry about the country," said Muriel +despondently, "if somebody would kindly tell me what +looping up your latigo means. Burns says that he's +got to retake that saddling scene just as soon as the +horses get here. It looks just as simple," she added +spitefully, "as climbing to the top of the Berry Building +tower and doing a leap to a passing airship. In +fact, I'd choose the leap." + +A warm impulse of helpfulness stirred Jean. She +caught up her hat, buckled her gun belt around her +from pure habit, tucked a few loose strands of hair +into place, and went out where they were. + +"If you'll come down to the stable with me," she +drawled, while they were staring their astonishment at +her unexpected appearance before them, "I'll show you +how to saddle up. Pard's awfully patient about being +fussed with; you can practice on him. He's mean +about taking the bit, though, unless you know just how +to take hold of him. Come on." + +The three of them,--Muriel Gay and her mother +and Lee Milligan,--stared at Jean without speaking. +To her it seemed perfectly natural that she should walk +up and offer to help the girl; to them it seemed not so +natural. For a minute the product of the cities and +the product of the open country studied each other curiously. + +"Come on," urged Jean in her lazily friendly drawl. +"It's simple enough, once you get the hang of it." +And she smiled before she added, "A latigo is just the +strap that fastens the cinch. I'll show you." + +"I'll bet Bobby Burns doesn't know that," said +Muriel Gay, and got up from the bench. "It's +awfully good of you; Mr. Burns is so--" + +"I noticed that," said Jean, while Muriel was +waiting for a word that would relieve her feelings without +being too blunt. + +Burns and Pete Lowry and the assistant had gone +down the coulee, still studying the bluff closely. "I've +got to ride down that bluff," Muriel informed Jean, her +eyes following her director gloomily. "He asked me +last night if I could throw a rope. I don't know what +for; it's an extra punch he wants to put in this picture +somewhere. I wish to goodness they wouldn't let him +write his own scenarios; he just lies awake nights, +lately, thinking up impossible scenes so he can bully us +afterwards. He's simply gone nutty on the subject of +punches." + +"Well, it's easy enough to learn how to saddle a +horse," Jean told Muriel cheerfully. "First you want +to put on the bridle--" + +"Burns told me to put on the saddle first; and then +he cuts the scene just as I pick up the bridle. The +trouble is to get the saddle on right, and then--that +latigo dope!" + +"But you ought to bridle him first," Jean insisted. +"Supposing you just got the saddle on, and your horse +got startled and ran off? If you have the bridle on, +even if you haven't the reins, you can grab them when +he jumps." + +"Well, that isn't the way Burns directed the scene +yesterday," Muriel Gay contended. "The scene ends +where I pick up the bridle." + +"Then Robert Grant Burns doesn't know. I've seen +men put on the bridle last; but it's wrong. Lite Avery, +and everybody who knows--" + +Muriel Gay looked at Jean with a weary impatience. +"What I have to do," she stated, "is what Burns tells +me to do. I should worry about it's being right or +wrong; I'm not the producer." + +Jean faced her, frowning a little. Then she laughed, +hung the bridle back on the rusty spike, and took down +the saddle blanket. "We'll play I'm Robert Grant +Burns," she said. "I'll tell you what to do: Lay the +blanket on straight,--it's shaped to Pard's back, so that +ought to be easy,--with the front edge coming forward +to his withers; that's not right. Maybe I had better do +it first, and show you. Then you'll get the idea." + +So Jean, with the best intention in the world, saddled +Pard, and wondered what there was about so simple a +process that need puzzle any one. When she had +tightened the cinch and looped up the latigo, and +explained to Muriel just what she was doing, she +immediately unsaddled him and laid the saddle down upon +its side, with the blanket folded once on top, and stepped +close to the manger. + +"If your saddle isn't hanging up, that's the way it +should be put on the ground," she said. "Now you do +it. It's easy." + +It was easy for Jean, but Muriel did not find it so +simple. Jean went through the whole performance a +second time, though she was beginning to feel that +nature had never fitted her for a teacher of young ladies. +Muriel, she began to suspect, rather resented the process +of being taught. In another minute Muriel confirmed +the suspicion. + +"I think I've got it now," she said coolly. "Thank +you ever so much." + +Robert Grant Burns returned then, and close behind +him rode Gil Huntley and those other desperados who +had helped to brand the calf that other day. Gil was +leading a little sorrel with a saddle on,--Muriel's horse +evidently. Jean had started back to the house and her +own affairs, but she lingered with a very human curiosity +to see what they were all going to do. + +She did not know that Robert Grant Burns was perfectly +conscious of her presence even when he seemed +busiest, and was studying her covertly even when he +seemed not to notice her at all. Of his company, Pete +Lowry was the only one who did know it, but that was +because Pete himself was trained in the art of observation. +Pete also knew why Burns was watching Jean +and studying her slightest movement and expression; +and that was why Pete kept smiling that little, hidden +smile of his, while he made ready for the day's work +and explained to Jean the mechanical part of making +moving-pictures. + +"I'd rather work with live things," said Jean after +a while. "But I can see where this must be rather +fascinating, too." + +"This is working with live things, if anybody wants +to know," Pete declared. "Wait till you see Burns in +action; handling bronks is easy compared to--" + +"About where does the side line come, Pete?" Burns +interrupted. "If Gil stands here and holds the horse +for that close-up saddling--" He whirled upon Gil +Huntley. "Lead that sorrel up here," he commanded. +"We'll have to cut off his head so the halter won't +show. Now, how's that?" + +This was growing interesting. Jean backed to a +convenient pile of old corral posts and sat down to watch, +with her chin in her palms, and her mind weaving +shuttle-wise back and forth from one person to another, +fitting them all into the pattern which made the whole. +She watched Robert Grant Burns walking back and +forth, growling and chuckling by turns as things pleased +him or did not please him. She watched Muriel Gay +walk to a certain spot which Burns had previously +indicated, show sudden and uncalled-for fear and haste, +and go through a pantomime of throwing the saddle on +the sorrel. + +She watched Lee Milligan carry the saddle up and +throw it down upon the ground, with skirts curled under +and stirrups sprawling. + +"Oh, don't leave it that way," she remonstrated. +"Lay it on its side! You'll have the skirts kinked so +it never will set right." + +Muriel Gay gasped and looked from her to Robert +Grant Burns. For betraying your country and your +flag is no crime at all compared with telling your +director what he must do. + +"Bring that saddle over here," commanded Burns, +indicating another spot eighteen inches from the first. +"And don't slop it down like it was a bundle of old +clothes. Lay it on its side. How many times have I +got to tell you a thing before it soaks into your mind?" +Not by tone or look or manner did he betray any +knowledge that Jean had spoken, and Muriel decided +that he could not have heard. + +Lee Milligan moved the saddle and placed it upon its +side, and Burns went to the camera and eyed the scene +critically for its photographic value. He fumbled +the script in his hands, cocked an eye upward at +the sun, stepped back, and gave a last glance to make +sure that nothing could be bettered by altering the detail. + +"How's Gil; outside the line, Pete? All right. +Now, Miss Gay, remember, you're in a hurry, and +you're worried half to death. You've just time enough +to get there if you use every second. You were crying +when the letter-scene closed, and this is about five +minutes afterwards; you just had time enough to catch +your horse and lead him out here to saddle him. Register +a sob when you turn to pick up the saddle. You +ought to do this all right without rehearsing. Get into +the scene and start your action at the same time. Pete, +you pick it up just as she gets to the horse's shoulder +and starts to turn. Don't forget that sob, Gay. +Ready? Camera!" + +Jean was absorbed, fascinated by this glimpse into a +new and very busy little world,--the world of moving- +picture makers. She leaned forward and watched every +moment, every little detail. "Grab the horn with your +right hand, Miss Gay!" she cried involuntarily, when +Muriel stooped and started to pick up the saddle. + +"Don't--oh, it looks as if you were picking up a +wash-boiler! I told you--" + +"Register that sob!" bawled Robert Grant Burns, +shooting a glance at Jean and stepping from one foot to +the other like a fat gobbler in fresh-fallen snow. + +Muriel registered that sob and a couple more before +she succeeded in heaving the saddle upon the back of the +flinching sorrel. Because she took up the saddle by +horn and cantle instead of doing it as Jean had taught +her, she bungled its adjustment upon the horse's back. +Then the sorrel began to dance away from her, and +Robert Grant Burns swore under his breath. + +"Stop the camera!" he barked and waddled irately +up to Muriel. "This," he observed ironically, "is +drama, Miss Gay. We are not making slap-stick +comedy to-day; and you needn't give an imitation of +boosting a barrel over a fence." + +Tears that were real slipped down over the rouge +and grease paint on Muriel's cheeks. "Why don't you +make that girl stop butting in?" she flashed unexpectedly. +"I'm not accustomed to working under two directors!" + +She registered another sob which the camera never got. + +This brought Jean over to where she could lay her +hand contritely upon the girl's shoulder. "I'm +awfully sorry," she drawled with perfect sincerity. +"I didn't mean to rattle you; but you know you never +in the world could throw the stirrup over free, the way +you had hold of the saddle. I thought--" + +Burns turned heavily around and looked at Jean, as +though he had something in his mind to say to her; but, +whatever that something may have been, he did not say +it. Jean looked at him questioningly and walked back +to the pile of posts. + +"I won't butt in any more," she called out to Muriel. +"Only, it does look so simple!" She rested her elbows +on her knees again, dropped her chin into her +palms, and concentrated her mind upon the subject of +picture-plays in the making. + +Muriel recovered her composure, stood beside Gil +Huntley at the horse's head just outside the range of +the camera, waited for the word of command from +Burns, and rushed into the saddle scene. Burns +shouted "Sob!" and Muriel sobbed with her face +toward the camera. Burns commanded her to pick up +the saddle, and Muriel picked up the saddle and flung it +spitefully upon the back of the sorrel. + +"Oh, you forgot the blanket!" exclaimed Jean, and +stopped herself with her hand over her too-impulsive +mouth, just as Burns stopped the camera. + +The director bowed his head and shook it twice +slowly and with much meaning. He did not say anything at +all; no one said anything. Gil Huntley looked +at Jean and tried to catch her eye, so that he might +give her some greeting, or at least a glance of +understanding. But Jean was wholly concerned with the +problem which confronted Muriel. It was a shame, +she thought, to expect a girl,--and when she had +reached that far she straightway put the thought into +speech, as was her habit. + +"It's a shame to expect that girl to do something she +doesn't know how to do," she said suddenly to Robert +Grant Burns. "Work at something else, why don't +you, and let me take her somewhere and show her how? +It's simple--" + +"Get up and show her now," snapped Burns, with +some sarcasm and a good deal of exasperation. "You +seem determined to get into the foreground somehow; +get up and go through that scene and show us how a +girl gets a saddle on a horse." + +Jean sat still for ten seconds and deliberated while +she looked from him to the horse. Again she made a +picture that drove its elusive quality of individuality +straight to the professional soul of Robert Grant +Burns. + +"I will if you'll let me do it the right way," she said, +just when he was thinking she would not answer him. +She did not wait for his assurance, once she had decided to +accept the challenge, or the invitation; she did +not quite know which he had meant it to be. + +"I'm going to bridle him first though," she informed +him. "And you can tell that star villain to back out +of the way. I don't need him." + +Still Burns did not say anything. He was watching +her, studying her, measuring her, seeing her as she +would have looked upon the screen. It was his habit +to leave people alone until they betrayed their limitations +or proved their talent; after that, if they remained +under his direction, he drove them as far as their +limitations would permit. + +Jean went first and placed the saddle to her liking +upon the ground. "You want me to act just as if you +were going to take a picture of it, don't you?" she +asked Burns over her shoulder. She was not sure +whether he nodded, but she acted upon the supposition +that he did, and took the lead-rope from Gil's hand. + +"Shall I be hurried and worried--and shall I sob?" +she asked, with the little smile at the corners of her +eyes and just easing the line of her lips. + +Robert Grant Burns seemed to make a quick decision. +"Sure," he said. "You saw the action as Miss Gay +went through it. Do as she did; only we'll let you have +your own ideas of saddling the horse." He turned his +head toward Pete and made a very slight gesture, and +Pete grinned. "All ready? Start the action!" +After that he did not help her by a single suggestion. +He tapped Pete upon the shoulder, and stood with his +feet far apart and his hands on his hips, watching her +very intently. + +Jean was plainly startled, just at first, by the +business-like tone in which he gave the signal. Then she +laughed a little. "Oh, I forgot. I must be hurried +and worried--and I must sob," she corrected herself. + +So she hurried, and every movement she made counted +for something accomplished. She picked up the bridle +and shortened her hold upon the lead rope, and discovered +that the sorrel had a trick of throwing up his head +and backing away from the bit. She knew how to deal +with that habit, however; but in her haste she forgot +to look as worried as Muriel had looked, and so appeared +to her audience as being merely determined. She got +the bridle on, and then she saddled the sorrel. And for +good measure she picked up the reins, caught the stirrup +and went up, pivoting the horse upon his hind feet as +though she meant to dash madly off into the distance. +But she only went a couple of rods before she pulled +him up sharply and dismounted. + +"That didn't take me long, did it?" she asked. "I +could have hurried a lot more if I had known the +horse." Then she stopped dead still and looked at +Robert Grant Burns. + +"Oh, my goodness, I forgot to sob!" she gasped. +And she caught her hat brim and pulling her Stetson +more firmly down upon her head, turned and ran up the +path to the house, and shut herself into her room. + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +TO "DOUBLE" FOR MURIEL GAY + + +While she breakfasted unsatisfactorily upon +soda crackers and a bottle of olives which +happened to have been left over from a previous luncheon, +Jean meditated deeply upon the proper beginning of a +book. The memory of last night came to her vividly, +and she smiled while she fished with a pair of scissors +for an olive. She would start the book off weirdly +with mysterious sounds in an empty room. That, she +argued, should fix firmly the interest of the reader right +at the start. + +By the time she had fished the olive from the bottle, +however, her thoughts swung from the artistic to the +material aspect of those mysterious footsteps. What +had the man wanted or expected to find? She set +down the olive bottle impulsively and went out and +around to the kitchen door and opened it. In spite of +herself, she shuddered as she went in, and she walked +close to the wall until she was well past the brown stain +on the floor. She went to the old-fashioned cupboard +and examined the contents of the drawers and looked +into a cigar-box which stood open upon the top. She +went into her father's bedroom and looked through +everything, which did not take long, since the room had +little left in it. She went into the living-room, also +depressingly dusty and forlorn, but try as she would to +think of some article that might have been left there +and was now wanted by some one, she could imagine no +reason whatever for that nocturnal visit. At the same +time, there must have been a reason. Men of that country +did not ride abroad during the still hours of the +night just for the love of riding. Most of them went to +bed at dark and slept until dawn. + +She went out, intending to go back to her literary +endeavors; if she never started that book, certainly it +would never make her rich, and she would never be able +to make war upon circumstances. She thought of her +father with a twinge of remorse because she had wasted +so much time this morning, and she scarcely glanced +toward the picture-people down by the corrals, so she +did not see that Robert Grant Burns turned to look at +her and then started hurriedly up the path to the house. + +"Say," he called, just before she disappeared around +the corner. "Wait a minute. I want to talk to you." + +Jean waited, and the fat man came up breathing hard +because of his haste in the growing heat of the forenoon. + +"Say, I'd like to use you in a few scenes," he began +abruptly when he reached her. "Gay can't put over +the stuff I want; and I'd like to have you double for +her in some riding and roping scenes. You're about +the same size and build, and I'll get you a blond wig +for close-ups, like that saddling scene. I believe you've +got it in you to make good on the screen; anyway, the +practice you'll get doubling for Gay won't do you any +harm." + +Jean looked at him, tempted to consent for the fun +there would be in it. "I'd like to," she told him after +a little silence. "I really would love it. But I've got +some work that I must do." + +"Let the work wait," urged Burns, relieved because +she showed no resentment against the proposal. "I +want to get this picture made. It's going to be a +hummer. There's punch to it, or there will be, if--" + +"But you see," Jean's drawl slipped across his +eager, domineering voice, "I have to earn some money, +lots of it. There's something I need it for. It's-- +important." + +"You'll earn money at this," he told her bluntly. +"You didn't think I'd ask you to work for nothing, I +hope. I ain't that cheap. It's like this: If you'll +work in this picture and put over what I want, it'll be +feature stuff. I'll pay accordingly. Of course, I can't +say just how much,--this is just a try-out; you understand +that. But if you can deliver the goods, I'll see +that you get treated right. Some producers might play +the cheap game just because you're green; but I ain't +that kind, and my company ain't that kind. I'm out +after results." Involuntarily his eyes turned toward +the bluff. "There's a ride down the bluff that I want, +and a roping--say, can you throw a rope?" + +Jean laughed. "Lite Avery says I can," she told +him, "and Lite Avery can almost write his name in +the air with a rope." + +"If you can make that dash down the bluff, and do +the roping I want, why--Lord! You'll have to be +working a gold mine to beat what I'd be willing to pay +for the stuff." + +"There's no place here in the coulee where you can +ride down the bluff," Jean informed him, "except back +of the house, and that's out of sight. Farther over +there's a kind of trail that a good horse can handle. I +came down it on a run, once, with Pard. A man was +drowning, over here in the creek, and I was up on the +bluff and happened to see him and his horse turn over, +--it was during the high water. So I made a run +down off the point, and got to him in time to rope him +out. You might use that trail." + +Robert Grant Burns stood and stared at her as though +he did not see her at all. In truth, he was seeing with +his professional eyes a picture of that dash down the +bluff. He was seeing a "close-up" of Jean whirling +her loop and lassoing the drowning man just as he had +given up hope and was going under for the third time. +Lee Milligan was the drowning man! and the agony of +his eyes, and the tenseness of Jean's face, made Robert +Grant Burns draw a long breath. + +"Lord, what feature-stuff that would make!" he +said under his breath. "I'll write a scenario around +that rescue scene." Whereupon he caught himself. It +is not well for a director to permit his enthusiasm to +carry him into injudicious speech. He chuckled to +hide his eagerness. "Well, you can show me that +location," he said, "and we'll get to work. You'll have +to use the sorrel, of course; but I guess he'll be all right. +This saddling scene will have to wait till I send for a +wig. You can change clothes with Miss Gay and get +by all right at a distance, just as you are. A little +make-up, maybe; she'll fix that. Come on, let's get to +work. And don't worry about the salary; I'll tell you +to-night what it'll be, after I see you work." + +When he was in that mood, Robert Grant Burns swept +everything before him. He swept Jean into his plans +before she had really made up her mind whether to +accept his offer or stick to her literary efforts. He had +Muriel Gay up at the house and preparing to change +clothes with Jean, and he had Lee Milligan started for +town in the machine with the key to Burns' emergency +wardrobe trunk, before Jean realized that she was +actually going to do things for the camera to make into +a picture. + +"I'm glad you are going to double in that ride down +the bluff, anyway," Muriel declared, while she blacked +Jean's brows and put shadows around her eyes. "I +could have done it, of course; but mamma is so nervous +about my getting hurt that I hate to do anything risky +like that. It upsets her for days." + +"There isn't much risk in riding down the bluff," +said Jean carelessly. "Not if you've got a good horse. +I wonder if that sorrel is rope broke. Have you ever +roped off him?" + +"No," said Muriel, "I haven't." She might have +added that she never roped off any horse, but she did +not. + +"I'll have to try him out and see what he's like, +before I try to rope for a picture. I wonder if there'll +be time now?" Jean was pleasantly excited over this +new turn of events. She had dreamed of doing many +things, but never of helping to make moving pictures. +She was eager and full of curiosity, like a child invited +to play a new and fascinating game, and she kept wondering +what Lite would have to say about her posing for +moving pictures. Try to stop her, probably,--and +fail, as usual! + +When she went out to where the others were grouped +in the shade, she gave no sign of any inner excitement +or perturbation. She went straight up to Burns and +waited for his verdict. + +"Do I look like Miss Gay?" she drawled. + +The keen eyes of Burns half closed while he studied +her. + +"No, I can't say that you do," he said after a +moment. "Walk off toward the corrals,--and, say! +Mount the sorrel and start off like you were in a deuce +of a hurry. That'll be one scene, and I'd like to see +how you do it when you can have your own way about +it, and how close up we can make it and have you pass +for Gay." + +"How far shall I ride?" Jean's eyes had a betraying +light of interest. + +"Oh--to the gate, maybe. Can you get a long shot +down the trail to the gate, Pete, and keep skyline in the +scene?" + +Pete moved the camera, fussed and squinted, and then +nodded his head. "Sure, I can. But you'll have to +make it right away, or else wait till to-morrow. The +sun's getting around pretty well in front." + +"We'll take it right after this rehearsal, if the girl +can put the stuff over right," Burns muttered. "And +she can, or I'm badly mistaken. Pete, that girl's--" +He stopped short, because the shadow of Lee Milligan +was moving up to them. "All right, Miss--say, +what's your name, anyway?" He was told, and went +on briskly. "Miss Douglas, just start from off that +way,--about where that round rock is. You'll come +into the scene a little beyond. Hurry straight up to +the sorrel and mount and ride off. Your lover is going +to be trapped by the bandits, and you've just heard +it and are hurrying to save him. Get the idea? Now +let's see you do it." + +"You don't want me to sob, do you?" Jean looked +over her shoulder to inquire. "Because if I were going +to save my lover, I don't believe I'd want to waste +time weeping around all over the place." + +Burns chuckled. "You can cut out the sob," he +permitted. "Just go ahead like it was real stuff." + +Jean was standing by the rock, ready to start. She +looked at Burns speculatively. "Oh, well, if it were +real, I'd run!" + +"Go ahead and run then!" Burns commanded. + +Run she did, and startled the sorrel so that it took +quick work to catch him. + +"Camera! She might not do it like that again, +ever!" cried Burns. + +She was up in the saddle and gone in a flurry of dusts +while Robert Grant Burns stood with his hands on his +hips and watched her gloatingly. + +"Lord! But that girl's a find!" he ejaculated, and +this time he did not seem to care who heard him. He +cut the scene just as Jean pulled up at the gate. "See +how she set that sorrel down on his haunches?" he +chuckled to Pete. "Talk about feature-stuff; that girl +will jump our releases up ten per cent., Pete, with the +punches I can put into Gay's parts now. How many +feet was that scene, twenty-five?" + +"Fifteen," corrected Pete. "And every foot with +a punch in it. Too bad she's got to double for Gay. +She's got the face for close-up work, believe me!" + +To this tentative remark Robert Grant Burns made +no reply whatever. He went off down the path to meet +Jean, critically watching her approach to see how +nearly she resembled Muriel Gay, and how close she +could come to the camera without having the substitution +betrayed upon the screen. Muriel Gay was a leading +woman with a certain assured following among +movie audiences. Daring horsewomanship would +greatly increase that following, and therefore the +financial returns of these Western pictures. Burns was +her director, and it was to his interest to build up her +popularity. Since the idea first occurred to him, +therefore, of using Jean as a substitute for Muriel in +all the scenes that required nerve and skill in riding, +he looked upon her as a double for Muriel rather than +from the viewpoint of her own individual possibilities +on the screen. + +"I don't know about your hair," he told her, when +she came up to him and stopped. "We'll run the negative +to-night and see how it shows up. The rest of the +scene was all right. I had Pete make it. I'm going +to take some scenes down here by the gate, now, with +the boys. I won't need you till after lunch, probably; +then I'll have you make that ride down off the bluff +and some close-up rope work." + +"I suppose I ought to ride over to the ranch," Jean +said undecidedly. "And I ought to try out this sorrel +if you want me to use him. Would some other day do +just--" + +"In the picture business," interrupted Robert Grant +Burns dictatorially, "the working-hours of an actor +belong to the director he's working for. If I use you in +pictures, your time will belong to me on the days when +I use you. I'll expect you to be on hand when I want +you; get that?" + +"My time," said Jean resolutely, "will belong to +you if I consider it worth my while to let you have it. +Otherwise it will belong to me." + +Burns chuckled. "Well, we might as well get down +to brass tacks and have things thoroughly understood," +he decided. "I'll use you as an extra to double for +Miss Gay where there's any riding stunts and so on. +Miss Gay is a good actress, but she can't ride to amount +to anything. With the clothes and make-up you-- +impersonate her. See what I mean? And for straight +riding I'll pay you five dollars a day; five dollars for +your time on the days that I want to use you. For +any feature stuff, like that ride down the bluff, and +the roping, and the like of that, it'll be more. Twenty- +five dollars for feature-stuff, say, and five dollars for +straight riding. Get me?" + +"I do, yes." Jean's drawl gave no hint of her inner +elation at the prospect of earning so much money so +easily. What, she wondered, would Lite say to that? + +"Well, that part's all right then. By feature-stuff, +I mean anything I want you to do to put a punch in +the story; anything from riding bucking horses and +shooting--say can you shoot?" + +"Yes, I think so." + +"Well, I'll have use for that, too, later on. The +more stunts you can pull off, the bigger hits these +pictures are going to make. You see that, of course. +And what I've offered you is a pretty good rate; but I +expect to get results. I told you I wasn't any cheap +John to work for. Now get this point, and get it right: +I'll expect you to report to me every morning here, at +eight o'clock. I may need you that day and I may not, +but you're to be on hand. If I do need you, you get +paid for that day, whether it's one scene or twenty you're +to work in. If I don't need you that day, you don't +get anything. That's what being an extra means. You +start in to-day, and if you make the ride down the bluff, +it'll be twenty-five to-day. But you can't go riding +off somewhere else, and maybe not be here when I want +you. You're under my orders, like the rest of the +company. Get that?" + +"I'll try it for a week, anyway," she said. "Obeying +your orders will be the hardest part of it, Mr. +Burns. I always want to stamp my foot and say `I +won't' when any one tells me I must do something." +She laughed infectiously. "You'll probably fire me +before the week's out," she prophesied. "I'll be as +meek as possible, but if we quarrel,--well, you know +how sweet-tempered I can be!" + +Burns looked at her queerly and laughed. "I'll take +a chance on that," he said, and went chuckling back to +the camera. To have a girl absolutely ignore his position +and authority, and treat him in that off-hand manner +of equality was a new experience to Robert Grant +Burns, terror among photo-players. + +Jean went over to where Muriel and her mother were +sitting in the shade, and asked Muriel if she would like +to ride Pard out into the flat beyond the corrals, where +she meant to try out the sorrel. + +"I'd like to use you, anyway," she added frankly, +"to practice on. You can ride past, you know, and let +me rope you. Oh, it won't hurt you; and there'll be no +risk at all," she hastened to assure the other, when she +saw refusal in Muriel's eyes. "I'll not take any turns +around the horn, you know." + +"I don't want Muriel taking risks like that," put in +Mrs. Gay hastily. "That's just why Burns is going to +have you double for her. A leading woman can't afford +to get hurt. Muriel, you stay here and rest while +you have a chance. Goodness knows it's hard enough, at +best, to work under Burns." + +Jean looked at her and turned away. So that was it +--a leading woman could not afford to be hurt! Some +one else, who didn't amount to anything, must take +the risks. She had received her first little lesson in +this new business. + +She went straight to Burns, interrupted him in +coaching his chief villain for a scene, and asked him if +he could spare a man for half an hour or so. "I want +some one to throw a rope over on the run," she explained +naively, "to try out this sorrel." + +Burns regarded her somberly; he hated to be interrupted +in his work. + +"Ain't there anybody else you can rope?" he wanted +to know. "Where's Gay?" + +"`A leading woman,'" quoted Jean serenely, +"`can't afford to get hurt!'" + +Burns chuckled. He knew who was the author of +that sentence; he had heard it before. "Well, if +you're as fatal as all that, I can't turn over my leading +man for you to practice on, either," he pointed out to +her. "What's the matter with a calf or something?" + +"You won't let me ride out of your sight to round +one up," Jean retorted. "There are no calves handy; +that's why I asked for a man." + +Whereupon the villains looked at one another queerly, +and the chuckle of their director exploded into a full- +lunged laugh. + +"I'm going to use all these fellows in a couple +of scenes," he told her. "Can't you practice on a +post?" + +"_I_ don't have to practice. It's the sorrel I +want to try out." Jean's voice lost a little of +its habitual, soft drawl. Really, these picture-people +did seem very dense upon some subjects! + +"Well, now look here." Robert Grant Burns caught +at the shreds of his domineering manner. "My part +of this business is producing the scenes. You'll have +to attend to the getting-ready part. You--you +wouldn't expect me to help you put on your make-up, +would you?" + +"No, now that I recognize your limitations, I shall +not ask any help which none of you are able or have the +nerve to give," she returned coolly. "I wish I had +Lite here; but I guess Pard and I can handle the +sorrel ourselves. Sorry to have disturbed you." + +Robert Grant Burns, his leading man and all his +villains stood and watched her walk away from them to +the stable. They watched her lead Pard out and turn +him loose in the biggest corral. When they saw her +take her coiled rope, mount the sorrel and ride in, they +went, in a hurried group, to where they might look into +that corral. They watched her pull the gate shut after +her, lean from the saddle, and fasten the chain hook +in its accustomed link. By the time she had widened +her loop and turned to charge down upon unsuspecting +Pard, Robert Grant Burns, his leading man and all his +villains were lined up along the widest space between +the corral rails, and Pete Lowry was running over so +as to miss none of the show. + +"Oh, I thought you were all so terribly busy!" +taunted Jean, while her loop was circling over her head. +Pard wheeled just then upon his hind feet, but the loop +settled true over his head and drew tight against his +shoulders. + +The sorrel lunged and fought the rope, and snorted +and reared. It took fully two minutes for Jean to +force him close enough to Pard so that she might flip +off the loop. Pard himself caught the excitement and +snorted and galloped wildly round and round the +enclosure, but Jean did not mind that; what brought her +lips so tightly together was the performance of the +sorrel. While she was coiling her rope, he was making +half-hearted buck jumps across the corral. When she +swished the rope through the air to widen her loop, he +reared and whirled. She jabbed him smartly with the +spurs, and he kicked forward at her feet. + +"Say," she drawled to Burns, "I don't know what +sort of a picture you're going to make, but if you want +any roping done from this horse, you'll have to furnish +meals and beds for your audiences." With that she +was off across the corral at a tearing pace that made the +watchers gasp. The sorrel swung clear of the fence. +He came near going down in a heap, but recovered +himself after scrambling along on his knees. Jean +brought him to a stand before Burns. + +"I'll have to ask you to raise your price, Mr. Burns, +if you want me to run this animal down the bluff," she +stated firmly. "He's just what I thought he was all +along: a ride-around-the-block horse from some livery +stable. When it comes to range work, he doesn't know +as much as--" + +"Some people. I get you," Burns cut in drily. +"How about that horse of yours? Would you be willing +to let me have the use of him--at so much per?" + +"If I do the riding, yes. Now, since you're here, +and don't seem as busy as you thought you were, I'll +show you the difference between this livery-stable beast +and a real rope-horse." + +She dismounted and called to Pard, and Pard came +to her, stepping warily because of the sorrel and the +rope. "Just to save time, will one of you boys go and +bring my riding outfit from the stable?" she asked the +line at the fence, whereupon the leading man and all +the villains started unanimously to perform that slight +service, which shows pretty well how Jean stood in +their estimation. + +"Now, that's a real, typical, livery-stable saddle and +bridle," she observed to Burns, pointing scornfully at +the sorrel. "I was going to tell you that I'd hate to +be seen in a picture riding that outfit, anyway. Now, +you watch how differently Pard behaves with a rope and +everything. And you watch the sorrel get what's coming +to him. Shall I `bust' him?" + +"You mean throw him?" Burns, in his eagerness, +began to climb the corral fence,--until he heard a rail +crack under his weight. "Yes, BUST him, if you want +to. John Jimpson! if you can rope and throw that +sorrel--" + +Jean did not reply to that half-finished sentence. +She was busy saddling Pard; now she mounted and +widened her loop with a sureness of the result that +flashed a thrill of expectation to her audience. Twice +the loop circled over her head before she flipped it out +straight and true toward the frantic sorrel as he surged +by. She caught him fairly by both front feet and +swung Pard half away from him. Pard's muscles stiffened +against the jerk of the rope, and the sorrel went +down with a bump. Pard backed knowingly and braced +himself like the trained rope-horse he was, and Jean +looked at Robert Grant Burns and laughed. + +"I didn't bust him," she disclaimed whimsically. +"He done busted himself!" She touched Pard with +her heel and rode up so that the rope slackened, and +she could throw off the loop. "Did you see how Pard +set himself?" she questioned eagerly. "I could have +gotten off and gone clear away, and Pard would have +kept that horse from getting on his feet. Now you see +the difference, don't you? Pard never would have gone +down like that." + +"Oh, you'll do," chuckled Robert Grant Burns, +"I'll pay you a little more and use you and your horse +together. Call that settled. Come on, boys, let's get +to work." + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +PICTURES AND PLANS AND MYSTERIOUS FOOTSTEPS + + +When Lite objected to her staying altogether at +the Lazy A, Jean assured him that she was +being terribly practical and cautious and businesslike, +and pointed out to him that staying there would save +Pard and herself the trip back and forth each day, and +would give her time, mornings and evenings to work on +her book. + +Lite, of course, knew all about that soon-to-be-famous +book. He usually did know nearly everything that +concerned Jean or held her interest. Whether, after +three years of futile attempts, Lite still felt himself +entitled to be called Jean's boss, I cannot say for a +certainty. He had grown rather silent upon that subject, +and rather inclined to keep himself in the background, +as Jean grew older and more determined in her ways. +But certainly he was Jean's one confidential friend,-- +her pal. So Lite, perforce, listened while Jean told +him the plot of her story. And when she asked him in +all earnestness what he thought would be best for the +tragic element, ghosts or Indians, Lite meditated +gravely upon the subject and then suggested that she +put in both. That is why Jean lavishly indulged in +mysterious footsteps all through the first chapter, and +then opened the second with blood-curdling war-whoops +that chilled the soul of her heroine and led her to +suspect that the rocks behind the cabin concealed +the forms of painted savages. + +Her imagination must have been stimulated by her +new work, which called for wild rides after posses and +wilder flights away from the outlaws, while the flash +of blank cartridges and the smoke-pots of disaster by +fire added their spectacular effect to a scene now and +then. + +Jean, of course, was invariably the wild rider who +fled in a blond wig and Muriel's clothes from pursuing +villains, or dashed up to the sheriff's office to give the +alarm. Frequently she fired the blank cartridges, until +Lite warned her that blank cartridges would ruin her +gun-barrel; after which she insisted upon using bullets, +to the secret trepidation of the villains who must stand +before her and who could never quite grasp the fact that +Jean knew exactly where those bullets were going to +land. + +She would sit in her room at the Lazy A, when the +sun and the big, black automobile and the painted +workers were gone, and write feverishly of ghosts and +Indians and the fair maiden who endured so much and +the brave hero who dared so much and loved so well. +Lee Milligan she visualized as the human wolf who +looked with desire upon Lillian. Gil Huntley became +the hero as the story unfolded; and while I have told +you absolutely nothing about Jean's growing acquaintance +with these two, you may draw your own conclusions +from the place she made for them in her book that she +was writing. And you may also form some idea of +what Lite Avery was living through, during those days +when his work and his pride held him apart, and Jean +did "stunts" to her heart's content with these others. + +A letter from the higher-ups in the Great Western +Company, written just after a trial run of the first +picture wherein Jean had worked, had served to stimulate +Burns' appetite for the spectacular, so that the stunts +became more and more the features of his pictures. +Muriel Gay was likely to become the most famous photo- +play actress in the West, he believed. That is, she +would if Jean continued to double for her in everything +save the straight dramatic work. + +Jean did not care just at that time how much glory +Muriel Gay was collecting for work that Jean herself +had done. Jean was experiencing the first thrills of +seeing her name written upon the face of fat, weekly +checks that promised the fulfillment of her hopes, and +she would not listen to Lite when he ventured a remonstrance +against some of the things she told him about +doing. Jean was seeing the Lazy A restored to its old- +time home-like prosperity. She was seeing her dad +there, going tranquilly about the everyday business of +the ranch, holding his head well up, and looking every +man straight in the eye. She could not and she would +not let even Lite persuade her to give up risking her +neck for the money the risk would bring her. + +If she could change these dreams to reality by +dashing madly about on Pard while Pete Lowry wound yards +and yards of narrow gray film around something on the +inside of his camera, and watched her with that little, +secret smile on his face; and while Robert Grant Burns +waddled here and there with his hands on his hips, and +watched her also; and while villains pursued or else +fled before her, and Lee Milligan appeared furiously +upon the scene in various guises to rescue her,--if she +could win her dad's freedom and the Lazy A's possession +by doing these foolish things, she was perfectly willing +to risk her neck and let Muriel receive the applause. + +She did not know that she was doubling the profit on +these Western pictures which Robert Grant Burns was +producing. She did not know that it would have +hastened the attainment of her desires had her name +appeared in the cast as the girl who put the "punches" +in the plays. She did not know that she was being +cheated of her rightful reward when her name never +appeared anywhere save on the pay-roll and the weekly +checks which seemed to her so magnificently generous. +In her ignorance of what Gil Huntley called the movie +game, she was perfectly satisfied to give the best service +of which she was capable, and she never once questioned +the justice of Robert Grant Burns. + +Jean started a savings account in the little bank +where her father had opened an account before she was +born, and Lite was made to writhe inwardly with her +boasting. Lite, if you please, had long ago started a +savings account at that same bank, and had lately cut +out poker, and even pool, from among his joys, that his +account might fatten the faster. He had the same +object which Jean had lately adopted so zealously, but he +did not tell her these things. He listened instead while +Jean read gloatingly her balance, and talked of what she +would do when she had enough saved to buy back the +ranch. She had stolen unwittingly the air castle which +Lite had been three years building, but he did not say a +word about it to Jean. Wistful eyed, but smiling with +his lips, he would sit while Jean spoiled whole sheets +of perfectly good story-paper, just figuring and estimating +and building castles with the dollar sign. If Robert +Grant Burns persisted in his mania for "feature-stuff" +and "punches" in his pictures, Jean believed that she +would have a fair start toward buying back the Lazy +A long before her book was published and had brought +her the thousands and thousands of dollars she was sure +it would bring. Very soon she could go boldly to a +lawyer and ask him to do something about her father's +case. Just what he should do she did not quite know; +and Lite did not seem to be able to tell her, but she +thought she ought to find out just how much the trial +had cost. And she wished she knew how to get about +setting some one on the trail of Art Osgood. + +Jean was sure that Art Osgood knew something about +the murder, and she frequently tried to make Lite agree +with her. Sometimes she was sure that Art Osgood +was the murderer, and would argue and point out her +reasons to Lite. Art had been working for her uncle, +and rode often to the Lazy A. He had not been friendly +with Johnny Croft,--but then, nobody had been very +friendly with Johnny Croft. Still, Art Osgood was +less friendly with Johnny than most of the men in the +country, and just after the murder he had left the +country. Jean laid a good deal of stress upon the +circumstance of Art Osgood's leaving on that particular +afternoon, and she seemed to resent it because no one +had tried to find Art. No one had seemed to think his +going at that time had any significance, or any bearing +upon the murder, because he had been planning +to leave, and had announced that he would go that +day. + +Jean's mind, as her bank account grew steadily to +something approaching dignity, worked back and forth +incessantly over the circumstances surrounding the murder, +in spite of Lite's peculiar attitude toward the subject, +which Jean felt but could not understand, since +he invariably assured her that he believed her dad was +innocent, when she asked him outright. + +Sometimes, in the throes of literary composition, she +could not think of the word that she wanted. Her +eyes then would wander around familiar objects in the +shabby little room, and frequently they would come to +rest upon her father's saddle or her father's chaps: the +chaps especially seemed potent reminders of her father, +and drew her thoughts to him and held them there. +The worn leather, stained with years of hard usage and +wrinkled permanently where they had shaped themselves +to his legs in the saddle, brought his big, bluff +presence vividly before her, when she was in a certain +receptive mood. She would forget all about her story, +and the riding and shooting and roping she had done +that day to appease the clamorous, professional appetite +of Robert Grant Burns, and would sit and stare, and +think and think. Always her thoughts traveled in a +wide circle and came back finally to the starting point: +to free her father, and to give him back his home, she +must have money. To have money, she must earn it; +she must work for it. So then she would give a great +sigh of relaxed nervous tension and go back to her heroine +and the Indians and the mysterious footsteps that +marched on moonlight nights up and down a long porch +just outside windows that frequently framed white, +scared faces with wide, horror-stricken eyes which saw +nothing of the marcher, though the steps still went up +and down. + +It was very creepy, in spots. It was so creepy that +one evening when Lite had come to smoke a cigarette or +two in her company and to listen to her account of the +day's happenings, Lite noticed that when she read the +creepy passages in her story, she glanced frequently over +her shoulder. + +"You want to cut out this story writing," he said +abruptly, when she paused to find the next page. "It's +bad enough to work like you do in the pictures. This +is going a little too strong; you're as jumpy to-night as +a guilty conscience. Cut it out." + +"I'm all right. I'm just doing that for dramatic +effect. This is very weird, Lite. I ought to have a +green shade on the lamp, to get the proper effect. I-- +don't you think--er--those footsteps are terribly +mysterious?" + +Lite looked at her sharply for a minute. "I sure +do," he said drily. "Where did you get the idea, +Jean?" + +"Out of my head," she told him airily, and went on +reading while Lite studied her curiously. + +That night Jean awoke and heard stealthy footsteps, +like a man walking in his socks and no boots, going all +through the house but never coming to her room. She +did not get up to see who it was, but lay perfectly still +and heard her heart thump. When she saw a dim, yellow +ray of light under the door which opened into the +kitchen, she drew the blanket over her head, and got +no comfort whatever from the feel of her six-shooter +close against her hand. + +The next morning she told herself that she had given +in to a fine case of nerves, and that the mysterious +footsteps of her story had become mixed up with the +midnight wanderings of a pack-rat that had somehow gotten +into the house. Then she remembered the bar of light +under the door, and the pack-rat theory was spoiled. + +She had taken the board off the doorway into the +kitchen, so that she could use the cookstove. The man +could have come in if he had wanted to, and that knowledge +she found extremely disquieting. She went all +through the house that morning, looking and wondering. +The living-room was now the dressing-room of Muriel +and her mother, and the make-up scattered over the +centertable was undisturbed; the wardrobe of the two +women had apparently been left untouched. Yet she +was sure that some one had been prowling in there in the +night. She gave up the puzzle at last and went back to +her breakfast, but before the company arrived in the big, +black automobile, she had found a stout hasp and two +staples, and had fixed the door which led from her room +into the kitchen so that she could fasten it securely on +the inside. + +Jean did not tell Lite about the footsteps. She was +afraid that he might insist upon her giving up staying +at the Lazy A. Lite did not approve of it, anyway, and +it would take very little encouragement in the way of +extra risk to make him stubborn about it. Lite could +be very obstinate indeed upon occasion, and she was +afraid he might take a stubborn streak about this, and +perhaps ride over every night to make sure she was all +right, or do something equally unnecessary and foolish. + +She did not know Lite as well as she imagined, which +is frequently the case with the closest of friends. As +a matter of fact, Jean had never spent one night alone +on the ranch, even though she did believe she was doing +so. Lite had a homestead a few miles away, upon +which he was supposed to be sleeping occasionally to +prove his good faith in the settlement. Instead of spending +his nights there, however, he rode over and slept in +the gable loft over the old granary, where no one ever +went; and he left every morning just before the sky +lightened with dawn. He did not know that Jean was +frightened by the sound of footsteps, but he had heard +the man ride up to the stable and dismount, and he +had followed him to the house and watched him through +the uncurtained windows, and had kept his fingers close +to his gun all the while. Jean did not dream of anything +like that; but Lite, going about his work with the +easy calm that marked his manner always, was quite as +puzzled over the errand of the night-prowler as was +Jean herself. + +For three years Lite had lain aside the mystery of +the footprints on the kitchen floor on the night after +the inquest, as a puzzle he would probably never solve. +He had come to remember them as a vagrant incident +that carried no especial meaning. But now they seemed +to carry a new significance,--if only he could get at the +key. For three years he had gone along quietly, working +and saving all he could, and looking after Jean in +an unobtrusive way, believing that Aleck was guilty,-- +and being careful to give no hint of that belief to any +one. And now Jean herself seemed to be leading him +unconsciously face to face with doubt and mystery. +It tantalized him. He knew the prowler, and for that +reason he was all the more puzzled. What had he +wanted or expected to find? Lite was tempted to face +the man and ask him; but on second thought he knew +that would be foolish. He would say nothing to Jean. +He thanked the Lord she slept soundly! and he would +wait and see what happened. + +Jean herself was thoughtful all that day, and was +slow to lighten her mood or her manner even when Gil +Huntley rode beside her to location and talked +enthusiastically of the great work she was doing for a +beginner, and of the greater work she would do in the +future, if only she took advantage of her opportunities. + +"It can't go on like this forever," he told her +impressively for the second time, before he was sure of her +attention and her interest. "Think of you, working +extra under a three-day guarantee! Why, you're +what's making the pictures! I had a letter from a +friend of mine; he's with the Universal. He'd been +down to see one of our pictures,--that first one you +worked in. You remember how you came down off that +bluff, and how you roped me and jerked me down off +the bank just as I'd got a bead on Lee? Say! that +picture was a RIOT! Gloomy says he never saw a picture get +the hand that scene got. And he wanted to know who +was doubling for Gay, up here. You see, he got next +that it was a double; he knows darned well Gay never +could put over that line of stuff. The photography +was dandy,--Pete's right there when it comes to camera +work, anyway,--and that run down the bluff, he said, +had people standing on their hind legs even before the +rope scene. You could tell it was a girl and no man +doubling the part. Gloomy says everybody around the +studio has begun to watch for our releases, and go just +to see you ride and rope and shoot. And Gay gets all +the press-notices! Say, it makes me sick!" He +looked at Jean wistfully. + +"The trouble is, you don't realize what a raw deal +you're getting," he said, with much discontent in his +tone. "As an extra, you're getting fine treatment and +fine pay; I admit that. But the point is, you've no +business being an extra. Where you belong is playing +leads. You don't know what that means, but I do. +Burns is just using you to boost Muriel Gay, and I say +it's the rawest deal I ever saw handed out in the +picture game; and believe me, I've seen some raw deals!" + +"Now, now, don't get peevish, Gil." Jean's drawl +was soft, and her eyes were friendly and amused. So +far had their friendship progressed. "It's awfully +dear of you to want to see me a real leading lady. I +appreciate it, and I won't take off that lock of hair I said +I'd take when I shoot you in the foreground. Burns +wants a real thrilling effect close up, and he's told me +five times to remember and keep my face turned away +from the camera, so they won't see it isn't Gay. If I +turn around, there will have to be a re-take, he says; and +you won't like that, Gil, not after you've heard a bullet +zip past your ear so close that it will fan your hair. +Are--aren't you afraid of me, Gil?" + +"Afraid of you?" Gil's horse swung closer, and +Gil's eyes threatened the opening of a tacitly forbidden +subject. + +"Because if you get nervous and move the least little +bit-- To make it look real, as Bobby described the +scene to me, I've got to shoot the instant you stop to +gather yourself for a spring at me. It's that lightning- +draw business I have to do, Gil. I'm to stand three +quarters to the camera, with my face turned away, +watching you. You keep coming, and you stop just an +instant when you're almost within reach of me. In +that instant I have to grab my gun and shoot; and it +has to look as if I got you, Gil. I've got to come pretty +close, in order to bring the gun in line with you for the +camera. Bobby wants to show off the quick draw that +Lite Avery taught me. That's to be the `punch' in +the scene. I showed him this morning what it is +like, and Bobby is just tickled to death. You see, I +don't shoot the way they usually do in pictures--" + +"I should say not!" Gil interrupted admiringly. + +"You haven't seen that quick work, either. It'll +look awfully real, Gil, and you mustn't dodge or duck, +whatever you do. It will be just as if you really were +a man I'm deadly afraid of, that has me cornered at +last against that ledge. I'm going to do it as if I meant +it. That will mean that when you stop and kind of +measure the distance, meaning to grab me before I can +do anything, I'll draw and shoot from the level of my +belt; no higher, Gil, or it won't be the lightning-draw +--as advertised. I won't have time to take a fine aim, +you know." + +"Listen!" said Gil, leaning toward her with his eyes +very earnest. "I know all about that. I heard you and +Burns talking about it. You go ahead and shoot, and +put that scene over big. Don't you worry about me; +I'm going to play up to you, if I can. Listen! Pete's +just waiting for a chance to register your face on the +film. Burns has planned his scenes to prevent that, +but we're just lying low till the chance comes. It's +got to be dramatic, and it's got to seem accidental. Get +me? I shouldn't have told you, but I can't seem to +trick you, Jean. You're the kind of a girl a fellow's +got to play fair with." + +"Bobby has told me five times already to remember and +keep my face away from the camera," Jean pointed +out the second time. "Makes me feel as if I had lost +my nose, or was cross-eyed or something. I do feel as +if I'd lose my job, Gil." + +"No, you wouldn't; all he'd do would be to have a +re-take of the whole scene, and maybe step around like +a turkey in the snow, and swear to himself. Anyway, +you can forget what I've said, if you'll feel more +comfortable. It's up to Pete and me, and we'll put it over +smooth, or we won't do it at all. Bobby won't realize +it's happened till he hears from it afterwards. Neither +will you." He turned his grease-painted face toward +her hearteningly and smiled as endearingly as the +sinister, painted lines would allow. + +"Listen!" he repeated as a final encouragement, +because he had sensed her preoccupation and had misread +it for worry over the picture. "You go ahead and +shoot, and don't bother about me. Make it real. +Shoot as close as you like. If you pink me a little I +won't care,--if you'll promise to be my nurse. I want +a vacation, anyway." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +PUNCH VERSES PRESTIGE + + +It seems to be a popular belief among those who are +unfamiliar with the business of making motion +pictures that all dangerous or difficult feats are merely +tricks of the camera, and that the actors themselves +take no risks whatever. The truth is that they take a +good many more risks than the camera ever records; +and that directors who worship what they call "punch" +in their scenes are frequently as tender of the physical +safety of their actors as was Napoleon or any other great +warrior who measured results rather than wounds. + +Robert Grant Burns had discovered that he had at +least two persons in his company who were perfectly +willing to do anything he asked them to do. He had +set tasks before Jean Douglas that many a man would +have refused without losing his self-respect, and Jean +had performed those tasks with enthusiasm. She had +let herself down over a nasty bit of the rim-rock whose +broken line extended half around the coulee bluff, with +only her rope between herself and broken bones, and +with her blond wig properly tousled and her face turned +always towards the rock wall, lest the camera should +reveal the fact that she was not Muriel Gay. She had +climbed that same rock-rim, with the aid of that same +rope, and with her face hidden as usual from the camera. +She had been bound and gagged and flung across Gil +Huntley's saddle and carried away at a sharp gallop, +and she had afterwards freed herself from her bonds in +the semi-darkness of a hut that half concealed her +features, and had stolen the knife from Gil Huntley's +belt while he slept, and crept away to where the horses +were picketed. In the revealing light of a very fine +moon-effect, which was a triumph of Pete's skill, she +slashed a rope that held a high-strung "mustang" (so +called in the scenario), and had leaped upon his bare +back and gone hurtling out of that scene and into +another, where she was riding furiously over dangerously +rough ground, the whole outlaw band in pursuit and +silhouetted against the skyline and the moon (which +was another photographic triumph of Pete Lowry). + +Gil Huntley had also done many things that were +risky. Jean had shot at him with real bullets so many +times that her nervousness on this particular day was +rather unaccountable to him. Jean had lassoed him +and dragged him behind Pard through brush. She +had pulled him from a quicksand bed,--made of cement +that showed a strong tendency to "set" about his form +before she could rescue him,--and she had fought with +him on the edge of a cliff and had thrown him over; +and his director, anxious for the "punch" that was his +fetish, had insisted on a panorama of the fall, so that +there was no chance for Gil to save himself the bruises +he got. Gil Huntley's part it was always to die a +violent death, or to be captured spectacularly, because +he was the villain whose horrible example must bear a +moral to youthful brains. + +Since Jean had become one of the company, he nearly +always died at her hands or was captured by her. This +left Muriel Gay unruffled and unhurt, so that she could +weep and accept the love of Lee Milligan in the artistic +ending of which Robert Grant Burns was so fond. + +Jean had never before considered it necessary to warn +Gil and implore him not to be nervous, and Gil took her +solicitude as an encouraging sign and was visibly +cheered thereby. He knew little of guns and fine +marksmanship, and he did not know that it is extremely +difficult to shoot a revolver accurately and instantaneously; +whereas Jean knew very well that Gil Huntley might +be thrown off ledges every day in the week without taking +the risk he would take that day. + +The scene was to close a full reel of desperate +attempts upon the part of Gil Huntley to win Muriel; +such desperate attempts, indeed, that Muriel Gay spent +most of the time sitting at ease in the shade, talking +with Lee Milligan, who was two thirds in love with her +and had half his love returned, while Jean played her +part for her. Sometimes Muriel would be called upon +to assume the exact pose which Jean had assumed in a +previous scene, for "close-up" that would reveal to +audiences Muriel's well-known prettiness and help to +carry along the deception. Each morning the two stood +side by side and were carefully inspected by Robert +Grant Burns, to make sure that hair and costumes were +exactly alike in the smallest detail. This also helped +to carry on the deception--to those who were not aware +of Muriel's limitations. Their faces were not at all +alike; and that is why Jean's face must never be seen +in a picture. + +This shooting scene was a fitting climax to a long and +desperate chase over a difficult trail; so difficult that +Pard stumbled and fell,--supposedly with a broken +leg,--and Jean must run on and on afoot, and climb +over rocks and spring across dangerous crevices. She +was not supposed to know where her flight was taking +her. Sometimes the camera caught her silhouetted +against the sky (Burns was partial to skyline silhouettes), +and sometimes it showed her quite close,--in +which case it would be Muriel instead of Jean,--clinging +desperately to the face of a ledge (ledges were also +favorite scenes), and seeking with hands or feet for a +hold upon the rough face of the rock. During the last +two or three scenes Gil Huntley had been shown gaining +upon her. + +So they came to the location where the shooting scene +was to be made that morning. Burns, with the camera +and Pete and Muriel and her mother and Lee Milligan, +drove to the place in the machine. Jean and Gil +Huntley found them comfortably disposed in the shade, +out of range of the camera which Pete was setting up +somewhat closer than usual, under the direction of +Burns. + +"There won't be any rehearsal of this," Burns stated +at last, stepping back. "When it's done, if you don't +bungle the scene, it'll be done. You stand here, Jean, +and kind of lean against the rock as if you're all in from +that chase. You hear Gil coming, and you start forward +and listen, and look,--how far can she turn, Pete; +without showing too much of her face?" + +Pete squinted into the finder and gave the information. + +"Well, Gil, you come from behind that bush. She'll +be looking toward you then without turning too much. +You grin, and come up with that eager, I-got-you-now +look. Don't hurry too much; we'll give this scene +plenty of time. This is the feature scene. Jean, +you're at the end of your rope. You couldn't run +another step if you wanted to, and you're cornered +anyway, so you can't get away; get me? You're scared. +Did you ever get scared in your life?" + +"Yes," said Jean simply, remembering last night +when she had pulled the blanket over her head. + +"Well, you think of that time you were scared. And +you make yourself think that you're going to shoot the +thing that scared you. You don't put in half the punch +when you shoot blanks; I've noticed that all along. So +that's why you shoot a bullet. See? And you come +as close to Gil as you can and not hit him. Gil, when +you're shot, you go down all in a heap; you know what +I mean. And Jean, when he falls, you start and lean +forward, looking at him,--remember and keep your face +away from the camera!--and then you start toward +him kind of horrified. The scene stops right there, just +as you start towards him. Then Gay takes it up and +does the remorse and horror stuff because she's killed a +man. That will be a close-up. + +"All right, now; take your places. Sure your gun +is loose so you can pull it quick? That's the feature of +this scene, remember. You want to get it across BIG! +And make it real,--the scare, and all that. Hey, you +women get behind the camera! Bullets glance, sometimes, +and play the very mischief." He looked all +around to make sure that everything was as it should +be, faced Jean again, and raised his hand. + +"All ready? Start your action! Camera!" + +Jean had never before been given so much dramatic +work to do, and Burns watched her anxiously, wishing +that he dared cut the scene in two and give Muriel that +tense interval when Gil Huntley came creeping into the +scene from behind the bush. But after the first few +seconds his strained expression relaxed; anxiety gave +place to something like surprise. + +Jean stood leaning heavily against the rock, panting +from the flight of the day before,--for so must emotion +be carried over into the next day when photo- +players work at their profession. Her face was dropped +upon her arms flung up against the rock in an attitude +of complete exhaustion and despair. Burns involuntarily +nodded his head approvingly; the girl had the +idea, all right, even if she never had been trained to act +a part. + +"Come into the scene, Gil!" he commanded, when +Jean made a move as though she was tempted to drop +down upon the ground and sob hysterically. "Jean, +register that you hear him coming." + +Jean's head came up and she listened, every muscle +stiffening with fear. She turned her face toward Gil, +who stopped and looked at her most villainously. Gil, +you must know, had come from "legitimate" and was +a clever actor. Jean recoiled a little before the leering +face of him; pressed her shoulder hard against the ledge +that had trapped her, and watched him in an agony of +fear. One felt that she did, though one could not see +her face. Gil spoke a few words and came on with a +certain tigerish assurance of his power, but Jean did not +move a muscle. She had backed as far away from him +as she could get. She was not the kind to weep and +plead with him. She just waited; and one felt that she +was keyed up to the supreme moment of her life. + +Gil came closer and closer, and there was a look in his +eyes that almost frightened Jean, accustomed as she had +become to his acting a part; there was an intensity of +purpose which she instinctively felt was real. She did +not know what it was he had in mind, but whatever it +was, she knew what it meant. He was almost within +reach, so close that one saw Jean shrink a little from his +nearness. He stopped and gathered himself for a quick, +forward lunge-- + +The two women screamed, though they had been +expecting that swift drawing of Jean's gun and the shot +that seemed to sound the instant her hand dropped. +Gil stiffened, and his hand flew up to his temple. His +eyes became two staring questions that bored into the +soul of Jean. His hand dropped to his side, and his +head sagged forward. He lurched, tried to steady himself +and then went down limply. + +Jean dropped her gun and darted toward him, her +face like chalk, as she turned it for one horrified instant +toward Burns. She went down on her knees and lifted +Gil's head, looking at the red blotch on his temple and +the trickle that ran down his cheek. She laid his head +down with a gentleness wholly unconscious, and looked +again at Burns. "I've killed him," she said in a small, +dry, flat voice. She put out her hands gropingly and +fell forward across Gil's inert body. It was the first +time in her life that Jean had ever fainted. + +"Stop the camera!" Burns croaked tardily, and Pete +stopped turning. Pete had that little, twisted grin +on his face, and he was perfectly calm and self-possessed. + +"You sure got the punch that time, Burns," he +remarked unfeelingly, while he held his palm over the lens +and gave the crank another turn or two to divide that +scene from the next. + +"She's fainted! She's hit him!" cried Burns, and +waddled over to where the two of them lay. The two +women drew farther away, clinging to each other with +excited exclamations. + +And then Gil Huntley lifted himself carefully so as +not to push Jean upon the ground, and when he was +sitting up, he took her in his arms with some remorse +and a good deal of tenderness. + +"How was that for a punch?" he inquired of his +director. "I didn't tell her I was going to furnish the +blood-sponge; I thought it might rattle her. I never +thought she'd take it so hard--" + +Robert Grant Burns stopped and looked at him in +heavy silence. "Good Lord!" he snapped out at last. +"I dunno whether to fire you off the job--or raise +your salary! You got the punch, all right. And +the chances are you've ruined her nerve for shooting, +into the bargain." He stood looking down perturbedly +at Gil, who was smoothing Jean's hair back from +her forehead after the manner of men who feel +tenderly toward the woman who cries or faints in their +presence. "I'm after the punch every time," Burns +went on ruefully, "but there's no use being a hog about +it. Where's that water-bag, Lee? Go get it out of +the machine. Say! Can't you women do something +besides stand there and howl? Nobody's hurt, or going +to be." + +While Muriel and Gil Huntley did what they could +to bring Jean back to consciousness and composure, +Robert Grant Burns paced up and down and debated within +himself a subject which might have been called "punch +versus prestige." Should he let that scene stand, or +should he order a "re-take" because Jean had, after all, +done the dramatic part, the "remorse stuff"? Of +course, when Pete sent the film in, the trimmers could +cut the scene; they probably would cut the scene just +where Gil went down in a decidedly realistic heap. But +it hurt the professional soul of Robert Grant Burns to +retake a scene so compellingly dramatic, because it had +been so absolutely real. + +Jean was sitting up with her back against the ledge +looking rather pale and feeling exceedingly foolish, while +Gil Huntley explained to her about the "blood-sponge" +and how he had held it concealed in his hand until the +right moment, and had used it in the interest of realism +and not to frighten her, as she might have reason to +suspect. Gil Huntley was showing a marked tendency to +repeat himself. He had three times assured her +earnestly that he did not mean to scare her so, when +the voice of the chief reminded him that this was merely +an episode in the day's work. He jumped up and gave +his attention to Burns. + +"Gil, take that same position you had when you fell. +Put a little more blood on your face; you wiped most +of it off. That right leg is sprawled out too far. Draw +it up a little. Throw out your left arm a little more. +Whoa-- Enough is plenty. Now, Gay, you take +Jean's gun and hold it down by your side, where her +hand dropped right after she fired. You stand right +about here, where her tracks are. Get INTO her tracks! +We're picking up the scene right where Gil fell. She +looked straight into the camera and spoiled the rest, +or I'd let it go in. Some acting, if you ask me, +seeing it wasn't acting at all." He sent one of his +slant-eyed glances toward Jean, who bit her lips and +looked away. + +"Lean forward a little, and hold that gun like you +knew what it was made for, anyway!" He regarded +Muriel glumly. "Say! that ain't a stick of candy +you're trying to hide in your skirt," he pointed out, +with an exasperated, rising inflection at the end of the +sentence. "John Jimpson! If I could take you two +girls to pieces and make one out of the two of you, I'd +have an actress that could play Western leads, maybe! + +"Oh, well--thunder! All you can do is put over +the action so they'll forget the gun. Say, you drop it +the second the camera starts. You pick up the action +where Jean dropped the gun and started for Gil. See +if you can put it over the way she did. She really +thought she'd killed him, remember. You saw the real, +honest-to-John, horror-dope that time. Now see how +close you can copy it. + +"All ready? START your ACTION!" he barked. +"Camera!" + +Brutally absorbed in his work he might be; callous +to the tragedy in Jean's eyes at what might have +happened; unfeeling in his greedy seizure of her horror +as good "stuff" for Muriel Gay to mimic. Yet the +man's energy was dynamic; his callousness was born of +his passion for the making of good pictures. He swept +even Jean out of the emotional whirlpool and into the +calm, steady current of the work they had to do. + +He instructed Pete to count as spoiled those fifteen +feet of film which recorded Jean's swift horror. But +Pete Lowry did not always follow slavishly his +instructions. He sent the film in as it was, without +comment. Then he and Gil Huntley counted on their fingers +the number of days that would probably elapse before they +might hope to hear the result, and exchanged knowing +glances now and then when Robert Grant Burns seemed +especially careful that Jean's face should not be seen +by the recording eye of the camera. And they waited; +and after awhile they began to show a marked interest +in the mail from the west. + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +A LEADING LADY THEY WOULD MAKE OF JEAN + + +Sometimes events follow docilely the plans that +would lead them out of the future of possibilities +and into the present of actualities, and sometimes they +bring with them other events which no man may foresee +unless he is indeed a prophet. You would never think, +for instance, that Gil Huntley and his blood sponge +would pull from the future a chain of incidents that +would eventually--well, never mind what. Just follow +the chain of incidents and see what lies at the end. + +Pete Lowry and Gil had planned cunningly for a +certain readjustment of Jean's standing in the company, +for no deeper reasons than their genuine liking for the +girl and a common human impulse to have a hand in +the ordering of their little world. In ten days Robert +Grant Burns received a letter from Dewitt, president +of the Great Western Film Company, which amply fulfilled +those plans, and, as I said, opened the way for +other events quite unforeseen. + +There were certain orders from the higher-ups which +Robert Grant Burns must heed. They were, briefly, the +immediate transfer of Muriel Gay to the position of +leading woman in a new company which was being sent +to Santa Barbara to make light comedy-dramas. Robert +Grant Burns grunted when he read that, though it +was a step up the ladder for Muriel which she would be +glad to take. The next paragraph instructed him to +place the young woman who had been doubling for Miss +Gay in the position which Miss Gay would leave +vacant. It was politely suggested that he adapt the +leading woman's parts to the ability of this young woman; +which meant that he must write his scenarios especially +with her in mind. He was informed that he should +feature the young woman in her remarkable horsemanship, +etc. It was pointed out that her work was being +noticed in the Western features which Robert Grant +Burns had been sending in, and that other film +companies would no doubt make overtures shortly, in the +hope of securing her services. Under separate cover +they were mailing a contract which would effectually +forestall such overtures, and they were relying upon him +to see that she signed up with the Great Western as per +contract. Finally, it was suggested, since Mr. Dewitt +chose always to suggest rather than to command, that +Robert Grant Burns consider the matter of writing a +series of short stories having some connecting thread +of plot and featuring this Miss Douglas. (This, by the +way, was the beginning of the serial form of motion- +picture plays which has since become so popular.) + +Robert Grant Burns read that letter through slowly, +and then sat down heavily in an old arm-chair in the +hotel office, lighted one of his favorite fat, black cigars, +and mouthed it absently, while he read the letter through +again. He said "John Jimpson!" just above a whisper. +He held the letter in his two hands and regarded +it strangely. Then he looked up, caught the quizzical, +inquiring glance of Pete Lowry, and beckoned that +secret-smiling individual over to him. "Read that!" +he grunted. "Read it and tell me what you think +of it." + +Pete Lowry read it carefully, and grinned when he +handed it back. He did not, however, tell Robert Grant +Burns just exactly what he thought of it. He merely +said that it had to come sometime, he guessed. + +"She can't put over the dramatic stuff," objected +Robert Grant Burns. "She's got the face for it, all +right, and when she registers real emotions, it gets over +big. The bottled-up kind of people always do. But +she's never acted an emotion she didn't feel--" + +"How about that all-in stuff, and the listening-and-- +waiting business she put across before she took a shot at +Gil that time she fainted?" Pete reminded him. "If +you ask me, that little girl can act." + +"Well, whether she can or not, she's got to try it," +said Burns with some foreboding. "She's been going +big, with Gay to do all the close-up, dramatic work. +The trouble is, Pete, that girl always does as she darn +pleases! If I put her opposite Lee in a scene and tell +her to act like she is in love with him, and that he's to +kiss her and she's to kiss back,--" he flung out his +hands expressively. "You must know the rest, as well +as I do. She'd turn around and give me a call-down, +and get on her horse and ride off; and I and my picture +could go to thunder, for all of her. That's the point; +she ain't been through the mill. She don't know +anything about taking orders--from me or anybody else." +It is a pity that Lite did not hear that! He might have +amended the statement a little. Jean had been taking +orders enough; she knew a great deal about receiving +ultimatums. The trouble was that she seldom paid any +attention to them. Lite was accustomed to that, but +Robert Grant Burns was not, and it irked him sore. + +"Well, she's sure got the screen personality," Pete +defended. "I've said it all along. That girl don't +have to act. Put her in the part, and she is the part! +She's got something better than technique, Burns. She's +got imagination. She puts herself in a character and +lives it." + +"Put her on a horse and she does," Burns conceded +gloomily. "But will you tell me what kind of work +she'll make of interior scenes, and love scenes, and all +that? You've got to have it, to pad out your story. +You can't let your leading character do a whole two-- +or three-reel picture on horseback. There wouldn't be +any contrast. Dewitt don't know that girl the way I +do. If he'd had to side-step and scheme and give in +the way I've done to keep her working, he wouldn't put +her playing straight leads, not until she'd had a year or +two of training--" + +"Taming is a better word," Pete suggested drily. +"There'll be fun when she gets to playing love scenes +opposite Lee. You better let him take the heavies, and +put Gil in for leads, Burns." + +Robert Grant Burns was so cast down by the prospect +that he made no attempt to reply, beyond grunting +something about preferring to drive a team of balky +mules to making Jean do something she did not want to +do. But, such is the mind trained to a profession, +insensibly he drifted away into the world of his +imagination, and began to draw therefrom the first tenuous +threads of a plot wherein Jean's peculiar accomplishments +were to be featured. Robert Grant Burns had +long ago learned to adjust himself to circumstances +which in themselves were not to his liking. He adjusted +himself now to the idea of making Jean the +Western star his employers seemed to think was inevitable. + +That night before he went to bed he wrote a play +which had in it fifty-two scenes. Thirty-five of them +were what is known technically as exteriors. In most +of them Jean was to ride on horseback through wild +places. The rest were dramatic close-ups. Robert +Grant Burns went over it carefully when it was finished, +and groaning inwardly he cut out two love scenes which +were tense, and which Muriel Gay and Lee Milligan +would have "eaten up," as he mentally expressed it. +The love interest, he realized bitterly, must be touched +upon lightly in his scenarios from now on; which would +have lightened appreciably the heart of Lite Avery, if +he had only known it, and would have erased from his +mind a good many depressing visions of Jean as the +film sweetheart of those movie men whom he secretly +hated. + +Jean did not hesitate five minutes before she signed +the contract which Burns presented to her the next +morning. She was human, and she had learned enough +about the business to see that, speaking from a purely +professional point of view, she was extremely fortunate. +Not every girl, surely, can hope to jump in a few weeks +from the lowly position of an inexperienced "extra" +to the supposedly exalted one of leading woman. And +to her that hundred dollars a week which the contract +insured her looked a fortune. It spelled home to her, +and the vindication of her beloved dad, of whom she +dared not think sometimes, it hurt her so. + +Her book was not progressing as fast as she had +expected when she began it. She had been working at it +sporadically now for eight weeks, and she had only ten +chapters done,--and some of these were terribly short. +She had looked through all of the novels that she +owned, and had computed the average number of chapters +in each; thirty she decided would be a good, +conservative number to write. She had even divided those +thirty into three parts, and had impartially allotted ten +to adventure, ten to mystery and horror, and ten to love- +making. Such an arrangement should please everybody, +surely, and need only be worked out smoothly to +prove most satisfying. + +But, as it happened, comedy would creep into the +mystery and horror, which she mentally lumped together +as agony. Adventure ran riot, and straight love- +making chapters made her sleepy, they bored her so. +She had tried one or two, and she had found it impossible +to concentrate her mind upon them. Instead, she +had sat and planned what she would do with the money +that was steadily accumulating in the bank; a pitiful +little sum, to be sure, to those who count by the thou- +sands, but cheering enough to Jean, who had never before +had any money of her own. + +So she signed the contract and worked that day so +light-heartedly that Robert Grant Burns forgot his +pessimism. When the light began to fade and grow yellow, +and the big automobile went purring down the trail +to town, she rode on to the Bar Nothing to find Lite, +and tell him how fortune had come and tapped her on +the shoulder. + +She did not see Lite anywhere about the ranch, and +so she did not put her hopes and her plans and her good +fortune into speech. She did see her Aunt Ella, who +straightway informed her that people were talking about +the way she rode here and there with those painted-up +people, and let the men put their arms around her and +make love to her. Her Aunt Ella made it perfectly +plain to Jean that she, for one, did not consider it +respectable. Her Aunt Ella said that Carl was going to +do something about it, if things weren't changed pretty +quick. + +Jean did not appear to regard her aunt's disapproval +as of any importance whatever, but the words stung. +She had herself worried a little over the love-making +scenes which she knew she would now be called upon +to play. Jean, you will have observed, was not given +to sentimental adventurings; and she disliked the idea +of letting Lee Milligan make love to her the way he +had made love to Muriel Gay through picture after +picture. She would do it, she supposed, if she had to; +she wanted the salary. But she would hate it +intolerably. She made reply with sarcasm which she knew +would particularly irritate her Aunt Ella, and left the +house feeling that she never wanted to enter it again as +long as she lived. + +The sight of her uncle standing beside Pard in an +attitude of disgusted appraisement of the new Navajo +blanket and the silver-trimmed bridle and tapideros +which Burns had persuaded her to add to her riding +outfit,--for photographic effect,--brought a hot flush +of resentment. She went up quietly enough, however. +Indeed, she went up so quietly that he started when +she appeared almost beside him and picked up Pard's +reins, and took the stirrup to mount and ride away. +She did not speak to him at all; she had not spoken to +him since that night when the little brown bird had +died! Though perhaps that was because she had managed +to keep out of his way. + +"I see you've been staking yourself to a new bridle," +Carl began in a tone quite as sour as his look. "You +must have bought out all the tin decorations they had in +stock, didn't you?" + +Jean swung up into the saddle before she looked at +him. "If I did, it's my own affair," she retorted. "I +paid for the tin decorations with my own money." + +"Oh, you did! Well, you might have been in better +business than paying for that kind of thing. You +might," he sneered up at her, "have been paying for +your keep these last three years, if you've got more +money of your own than you know what to do with." + +Jean could not ride off under the sting of that +gratuitous insult. She held Pard quiet and looked +down at him with hate in her eyes. "I expect," she +said in a queer, quiet wrath, "to prove before long that +my own money has been paying for my `keep' these +last three years; for that and for other things that did +not benefit me in the least." + +"I'd like to know what you mean by that!" Carl +caught Pard by the bridle-rein and looked up at her in a +white fury that startled even Jean, accustomed as she +was to his sudden rages that contrasted with his sullen +attitude toward the world. + +"What do you think I would mean? Let go my +bridle. I don't want to quarrel with you." + +"What did you mean by proving--what do you +expect to prove?" His hand was heavy on the rein, +so that Pard began to fret under the restraint. "You've +got to quit running around all over the country with +them show folks, and stay at home and behave yourself. +You've got to quit hanging out at the Lazy A. I've +stood as much as I'm going to stand of your performances. +You get down off that horse and go into the +house and behave yourself; that's what you'll do! If +you haven't got any shame or decency--" + +Jean scarcely knew what she did, just then. She +must have dug Pard with her spurs, because the first +thing that she realized was the lunge he gave. Carl's +hold slipped from the rein, as he was jerked sidewise. +He made an ineffective grab at Jean's skirt, and he +called her a name she had never heard spoken before in +her life. A rod or so away she pulled up and turned +to face him, but the words she would have spoken stuck +in her throat. She had never seen Carl Douglas look +like that; she had seen him when he was furious, she +had seen him when he sulked, but she had never seen +him look like that. + +He called her to come back. He made threats of +what he would do if she refused to obey him. He shook +his fist at her. He behaved like a man temporarily +robbed of his reason; his eyes, as he came up glaring at +her, were the eyes of a madman. + +Jean felt a tremor of dread while she looked at him +and listened to him. He was almost within reach of +her again when she wheeled and went off up the trail at +a run. She looked back often, half fearing that he +would get a horse and follow her, but he stood just +where she had left him, and he seemed to be still +uttering threats and groundless accusations as long as she +was in sight. + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +FOR ONCE AT LEAST LITE HAD HIS WAY + + +Half a mile she galloped, and met Lite coming +home. She glanced over her shoulder before she +pulled Pard down to a walk, and Lite's greeting, as he +turned and rode alongside her, was a question. He +wanted to know what was the matter with her. He +listened with his old manner of repression while she +told him, and he made no comment whatever until she +had finished. + +"You must have made him pretty sore," he said +dispassionately. "I don't think myself that you ought +to stay over to the ranch alone. Why don't you do as +he says?" + +"And go back to the Bar Nothing?" Jean shivered +a little. "Nothing could make me go back there! +Lite, you don't understand. He acted like a crazy man; +and I hadn't said anything to stir him up like that. +He was--Lite, he scared me! I couldn't stay on the +ranch with him. I couldn't be in the same room with +him." + +"You can't go on staying at the Lazy A," Lite told +her flatly. + +"There's no other place where I'd stay." + +"You could," Lite pointed out, "stay in town and +go back and forth with the rest of the bunch. It would +be a lot better, any way you look at it." + +"It would be a lot worse. There's my book; I +wouldn't have any chance to write on that. And +there's the expense. I'm saving every nickel I possibly +can, Lite, and you know what for. And there's the +bunch--I see enough of them during working hours. +I'd go crazy if I had to live with them. Lite, they've +put me in playing leads! I'm to get a hundred dollars +a week! Just think of that! And Burns says that +I'll have to go back to Los Angeles with them when they +go this fall, because the contract I signed lasts for a +year." + +She sighed. "I rode over to tell you about it. It +seemed to be good news, when I left home. But now, +it's just a part of the black tangle that life's made up +of. Aunt Ella started things off by telling me what +a disgrace it is for me to work in these pictures. And +Uncle Carl--" She shivered in spite of herself. "I +just can't understand Uncle Carl's going into such a +rage. It was--awful." + +Lite rode for some distance before he lifted his head +or spoke. Then he looked at Jean, who was staring +straight ahead and seeing nothing save what her thoughts +pictured. + +He did not say a word about her going to Los Angeles. + +He was the bottled-up type; the things that hit him +hardest he seldom mentioned, so by that rule it might +be inferred that her going hit hard. But his voice was +normally calm, and his tone was the tone of authority, +which Jean knew very well, and which nearly always +amused her because she firmly believed it to be utterly +useless. + +He said in the tone of an ultimatum: "If you're +bound to stay at the ranch, you've got to have somebody +with you. I'll ride in and get Hepsy Atwood in the +morning. You're getting thin. I don't believe you +take time to cook enough to eat. You can't work on +soda crackers and sardines. The old lady won't charge +much to come and stay with you. I'll come over after +I'm through work to-morrow and help her get things +looking a little more like living." + +"You'll do nothing of the sort." Jean looked at +him mutinously. "I'm all right just as I am. I +won't have her, Lite. That's settled." + +"Sure, it's settled," Lite agreed, with more than his +usual pertinacity. "I'll have her out here by noon, +and a supply of real grub. How are you fixed for bedding?" + +"I won't have her, I tell you. You're always trying +to make me do things I won't do. Don't be +silly." + +"Sure not." Lite shifted in the saddle with the air +of a man who rides at perfect ease with himself and +with the world. "She'll likely have plenty of bedding +of her own," he meditated, after a brief silence. + +"Lite, if you haul Hepsibah out here, I'll send her +back!" + +"I'll haul her out," said Lite in a tone of finality, +"but you won't send her back." He paused. "She +ain't much protection, maybe," he remarked somewhat +enigmatically, "but it'll beat staying alone nights. +You--you can't tell who might come prowling around +the place." + +"What do you mean? Do you know about--" +Jean caught herself on the verge of betrayal. + +"You want to keep your gun handy. Just on general +principles," Lite remonstrated. "You can't tell; +it's away off from everywhere." + +"I won't have Hepsy Atwood. Haven't I enough to +drive me mad, without her?" + +"Is there anybody else that you'd rather have?" +Lite looked at her speculatively. + +"No, there isn't. I won't have anybody. It would +be a nuisance having some old lady in the house gabbling +and gossiping. I'm not the least bit afraid, except,-- +I'm not afraid, and I like to be alone. I won't +have her, Lite." + +Lite said no more about it until they reached the +house, huddled lonesomely against the barren bluff, its +windows staring black into the dusk. Jean did not +seem to expect Lite to dismount, but he did not wait to +see what she expected him to do. In his most matter- +of-fact manner he dismounted and turned his horse, +still saddled, into the stable with Pard. He preceded +Jean up the path, and went into the kitchen ahead of +her; lighted a match and found the lamp, and set its +flame to brightening the dingy room. + +Jean had not done much in the way of making that +part of the house more attractive. She used the +kitchen to cook in, because the stove was there, and the +dishes. She had spread an old braided rug over the +brown stain on the floor, and she ate in her own room +with the door shut. + +Without being told, Lite seemed to know all about her +secret aversion to the kitchen. He took up the lamp +and went now on a tour of inspection through the house. +Jean followed him, wondering a little, and thinking +that this was the way that mysterious stranger came +and prowled at night, except that he must have used +matches to light the way, or a candle, since the lamp +seemed never to be disturbed. Lite went into all the +rooms and held the lamp so that its brightness searched +out all the corners. He looked into the small, stuffy +closets. He stood in the middle of her father's room +and seemed to meditate deeply, while Jean stood in the +doorway and watched him inquiringly. He came back +finally to the kitchen and looked into the cupboard, as +though he was taking an inventory of her supply of provisions. + +"You might cook me some supper, Jean," he said, +when he had put the lamp on the table. "I see you've +got eggs and bacon. I'm pretty hungry,--for a man +that had his dinner six or seven hours ago." + +Jean cooked supper, and they ate together in the +kitchen. It did not seem so gruesome with Lite there, +and she told him some funny things that had happened +in her work, and mimicked Robert Grant Burns with +an accuracy of manner and tone that would have astonished +that pompous person a good deal and flattered him +not at all. She almost recovered her spirits under the +stimulus of Lite's presence, and she quite forgot that he +had threatened her with Hepsibah Atwood. + +But when he had wiped the dishes and had taken up +his hat to go, Lite proved how tenaciously his mind +could hold to an idea, and how even Jean could not +quite match him for stubbornness. + +"That mattress in the little bedroom looks all right," +he said. "I'll pack it outside before I go, so it will +have all day to-morrow out in the sun. I'll have Hepsy +bring her own bedding. Well--so long." + +Jean would have sworn in perfect good faith that +Lite led his horse out of the stable, mounted it, and +rode away to the Bar Nothing. He did mount and ride +away as far as the mouth of the coulee. But that night +he spent in the loft over the shop, and he did not sleep +five minutes during the night. Most of the time he +spent leaning against his rolled bedding, smoking and +gazing at the silent house where Jean slept. You may +interpret that as you will. + +Jean did not see or hear anything more of him, until +about four o'clock the next afternoon, when he drove +calmly up to the house and deposited Hepsibah Atwood +upon the kitchen steps. He did not wait for Jean to +order them away. He hurried the unloading, released +the wagon brake, and drove off. So Jean, coming from +the spring behind the house, really got her first sight +of him as he went rattling down to the gate. + +Jean stood and looked after him, twitched her shoulders +in a mental yielding of the point for the time being, +and said "How-da-do" to the old lady. + +She was not so old, as years go; fifty-five or +thereabouts. And she could have whispered into Lite's ear +without standing on her toes or asking him to bend his +head. Lite was a tall man, at that. She had gray +hair that was frizzy around her brows and at the back +of her neck, and she had an Irish disposition without +the brogue to go with it. + +The first thing she did was to find an axe and chop a +lot of fence-posts into firewood, as easily as Lite +himself could have done it, and in other ways proceeded to +make herself very much at home. The next day she +dipped the spring almost dry, and used up all the soap +in the house; and for three days went around with her +skirts tucked up and her arms bare and the soles of her +shoes soggy from wet floors. Jean kept out of her way, +but she owned to herself that, after all, it was not +unpleasant to come home tired and not have to cook a +solitary supper and eat it in silent meditation. + +The third night after Hepsy's arrival, Jean awoke to +hear a man's furtive footsteps in her father's room. +This was the fifth time that the prowler had come in +the night, and custom had dulled her fear a little. She +had not reached the point yet of getting up to see who +it was and what he wanted. It was much easier to lie +perfectly still with her six-shooter gripped in her hand +and wait for him to go. Beyond stealthily trying her +door and finding it fastened on the inside, he had never +shown any disposition to invade her room + +To-night was as all other nights when he came and +made that mysterious search, until he went into the little +bedroom where slept Hepsibah Atwood. Jean listened +to the faint creaking of old boards which told her +that he was approaching Hepsy's room, and she wondered +if Hepsy would hear him. Hepsy did hear him. +There was a squeak of the old bedstead that told how +a hundred and seventy-two pounds of indignant womanhood +was rising to do battle. + +"Who's that? Git outa here, or I'll smash you!" +There was no fear but a great deal of determination in +Hepsy's voice, and there was the sound of her bare feet +spatting on the floor. + +The man's footsteps retreated hurriedly. Jean +heard the kitchen door open and slam shut with a +shrill squeal of its rusty hinges, and the sound of a man +running down the path. She heard Hepsy muttering +threats while she followed to the door and looked out, +and she heard the muttering continue while Hepsy +returned to bed. + +It was very comforting. Jean tucked her gun under +her pillow, laughed to herself for having shuddered under +the blankets at the sound of a man so easily put to +flight, and went to sleep feeling quite secure and for the +first time really glad that Hepsibah Atwood was in the +house. + +She listened the next morning to Hepsy's colorful +account of the affair, but she did not tell Hepsy that the +man had been there before. She did not even tell her +that she had heard the disturbance, and was lying with +her gun in her hand ready to shoot if he came into her +room. For a girl as frank and outspoken as was Jean, +she had almost as great a talent as Lite for holding her +tongue. + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +"WHY DON'T YOU GIVE THEM SOMETHING REAL?" + + +"Well, you don't seem crazy about it. What's +the matter?" Robert Grant Burns stood in +his favorite attitude with his hands on his hips and +his feet far apart, and looked down at Jean with a secret +anxiety in his eyes. Without realizing it in the least, +Jean's opinion had come to have a certain weight with +Robert Grant Burns. "What's wrong with that?" +Burns, having sat up until two o'clock to finish that +particular scenario to his liking, plainly resented the +expression on Jean's face while she read it. + +"Oh, nothing, only I'm getting awfully sick of these +kidnap-and-rescue, and kiss-in-the-last-scene pictures, +and Wild West stuff without a real Western man in the +whole thing. I'd like to do something real for a +change." + +Robert Grant Burns grunted and reached for his +slighted brain-child. "What you want? Mother on, +knitting. Girl washing dishes. Lover arrives; they sit +on front steps and spoon. Become engaged. Lover +hitches up team, girl climbs into wagon, they drive to +town. Ten scenes of driving to town. Lover gets out, +ties team in front of courthouse. Goes in and gets +license. Three scenes of license business. Goes out. +Two scenes of driving to minister and hitching team +to gate. One scene of getting to door. One scene getting +inside the house. One scene preacher calling his +wife and hired girl. One scene `Do you take this +woman,' one scene `I do.' Fifteen scenes getting team +untied and driving back to ranch. That's about as +much pep as there is in real life in the far West, these +days. Something like that would suit you, maybe. It +don't suit the people who pay good nickels and dimes to +get a thrill, though." + +"Neither does this sort of junk, if they've got any +sense. Think of paying nickel after nickel to see Lee +Milligan rush to the girl's door, knock, learn the fatal +news, stagger back and clap his hand to his brow and +say `Great Heaven! GONE!'" Jean, stirred to combat +by the sarcasm of Robert Grant Burns, did the +stagger and the hand-to-brow and great-heaven scene with a +realism that made Pete Lowry turn his back suddenly. +"They've seen Gil abduct me or Muriel seven times in a +perfectly impossible manner, and they--oh, why don't +you give them something REAL? Things that are thrilling +and dangerous and terrible do happen out here, +Mr. Burns. Real adventures and real tragedies--" +She stopped, and Burns turned his eyes involuntarily +toward the kitchen. He had heard all about the history +of the Lazy A, though he had been very careful to hide +the fact that he had heard it. Jean's glance, following +that of her director, was a revealing one. She bit her +lip; and in a moment she went on, with her chin held +a shade higher and her pride revolting against subterfuge. + +"I didn't mean that," she said quietly. "But-- +well, up to a certain point, I don't mind if you put in +real things, if it will be good picture-stuff. You're +featuring me, anyway, it seems. Listen." Jean's face +changed. Her eyes took that farseeing look of the +dreamer. She was looking full at Burns, but he knew +that she did not see him at all. She was looking at a +mental picture of her own conjuring, he judged. He +stood still and waited curiously, wondering, to use his +manner of speech, what the girl was going to spring +now. + +"Listen: Instead of all this impossible piffle, let's +start a real story. I--I've--" + +"What kind of a real story?" The tone of Robert +Grant Burns was carefully non-committal, but his eyes +betrayed his eagerness. The girl did have some real +ideas, sometimes! And Robert Grant Burns was not +the one to refuse a real idea because it did not come from +his own brain. + +"Well," Jean flushed with an adorable shyness at +the apparent egotism of her idea, "since you seem to +want me for the central figure in everything, suppose +we start a story like this: Suppose I am left here at +the Lazy A with my mother to take care of and a ranch +and a lot of cattle; and suppose it's a hard proposition, +because there's really a gang of rustlers that have been +running off stock and never getting caught, and they +have a grudge against my family and grab our cattle +every chance they get. Suppose--suppose they killed +my brother when he was about to round them up, and +they want to drive me and my mother out of the country. +Scare us out, you know. Well,--" she hesitated +and glanced diffidently at the boys who had edged up to +listen,--"that would leave room for all kinds of feature +stuff. Say that I have just one or two boys that I +can depend on, boys that I know are loyal. With an +outfit the size of ours, that keeps me in the saddle every +day and all day; and I would have some narrow escapes, +I reckon. You've got your rustlers all made to +order,--only I'd make them up differently, if I were +doing it. Have them look real, you know, instead of +stagey." (Whereat Robert Grant Burns winced.) +"Lee could be one of my loyal cowboys; you'd want +some dramatic acting, I reckon, and he could do that. +But I'd want one puncher who can ride and shoot and +handle a rope. For that, to help me do the real work +in the picture, I want Lite Avery. There are things +I can do that you have never had me do, for the simple +reason that you don't know the life well enough ever +to think of them. Real stunts, not these made-to-order, +shoot-the-villain-and-run-to-the-arms-of-the-hero stuff. +I'd have to have Lite Avery; I wouldn't start without +him." + +"Well, go on." Robert Grant Burns still tried to +sound non-committal, but he was plainly eager to hear +all that she had to say. + +"Well, that's the idea. They're trying to drive us +out of the country, without really hurting me. And +I've got my mind set on staying. Not only that, but +I believe they killed my brother, and I'm going to hunt +them down and break up their gang or die in the +attempt. There's your plot. It needn't be overdone in +the least, to have thrills enough. And there would be +all kinds of chance for real range-stuff, like the handling +of cattle and all that. + +"We can use this ranch just as it is, and have the +outlaws down next the river. I'm glad you haven't +taken any scenes that show the ranch as a whole. +You've stuck to your close-up, great-heaven scenes so +much," she went on with merciless frankness, "that +you've really not cheapened the place by showing more +than a little bit at a time. + +"You might start by making Lee up for my brother, +and kill him in the first reel; show the outlaws when +they shoot him and run off with a bunch of stock they're +after. Lite can find him and bring him home. Lite +would know just how to do that sort of thing, and make +people see it's real stuff. I believe he'd show he was +a real cow-puncher, even to the people who never saw +one. There's an awful lot of difference between the +real thing and your actors." She was so perfectly +sincere and so matter-of-fact that the men she criticised +could do no more than grin. + +"You might, for the sake of complications, put a +traitor and spy on the ranch. Oh, I tell you! Have +Hepsibah be the mother of one of the outlaws. She +wouldn't need to do any acting; you could show her +sneaking out in the dark to meet her son and tell him +what she has overheard. And show her listening, perhaps, +through the crack in a door. Mrs. Gay would +have to be the mother. Gil says that Hepsibah has the +figure of a comedy cook and what he calls a character +face. I believe we could manage her all right, for what +little she would have to do, don't you?" + +Jean having poured out her inspiration with a fluency +born of her first enthusiasm, began to feel that she +had been somewhat presumptuous in thus offering advice +wholesale to the highest paid director of the Great +Western Film Company. She blushed and laughed a +little, and shrugged her shoulders. + +"That's just a suggestion," she said with forced +lightness. "I'm subject to attacks of acute imagination, +sometimes. Don't mind me, Mr. Burns. Your +scenario is a very nice scenario, I'm sure. Do you want +me to be a braid-down-the-back girl in this? Or a +curls-around-the-face girl?" + +Robert Grant Burns stood absent-mindedly tapping +his left palm with the folded scenario which Jean had +just damned by calling it a very nice scenario. Nice +was not the adjective one would apply to it in sincere +admiration. Robert Grant Burns himself had mentally +called it a hummer. He did not reply to Jean's tentative +apology for her own plot-idea. He was thinking +about the idea itself. + +Robert Grant Burns was not what one would call +petty. He would not, for instance, stick to his own +story if he considered that Jean's was a better one. +And, after all, Jean was now his leading woman, and +it is not unusual for a leading woman to manufacture +her own plots, especially when she is being featured +by her company. There was no question of hurt pride +to be debated within the mind of him, therefore. He +was just weighing the idea itself for what it was worth. + +"Seems to me your plot-idea isn't so much tamer +than mine, after all." He tested her shrewdly after +a prolonged pause. "You've got a killing in the first +five hundred feet, and outlaws and rustling--" + +"Oh, but don't you see, it isn't the skeleton that +makes the difference; it's the kind of meat you put on +the bones! Paradise Lost would be a howling melodrama, +if some of you picture-people tried to make it. +You'd take this plot of mine and make it just like these +pictures I've been working in, Mr. Burns: Exciting +and all that, but not the real West after all; spectacular +without being probable. What I mean,--I can't +explain it to you, I'm afraid; but I have it in my head." +She looked at him with that lightening of the eyes which +was not a smile, really, but rather the amusement which +might grow into laughter later on. + +"You'd better fine me for insubordination," she +drawled whimsically, "and tell me whether it's to be +braids or curls, so I can go and make up." At that +moment she saw Gil Huntley beckoning to her with a frantic +kind of furtiveness that was a fair mixture of +pinched-together eyebrows and slight jerkings of the +head, and a guarded movement of his hand that hung +at his side. Gil, she thought, was trying to draw her +away before she went too far with her trouble-inviting +freedom of speech. She laughed lazily. + +"Braids or curls?" she insisted. "And please, sir, +I won't do so no more, honest." + +Robert Grant Burns looked at her from under his +eyebrows and made a sound between his grunt of +indignation and his chuckle of amusement. "Sure you +won't?" he queried shortly. "Stay the way you are, +if you want to; chances are you won't go to work right +away, anyhow." + +Jean flashed him a glance of inquiry. Did that mean +that she had at last gone beyond the limit? Was Robert +Grant Burns going to FIRE her? She looked at Gil, +who was sauntering off with the perfectly apparent +expectation that she would follow him; and Mrs. Gay, +who was regarding her with a certain melancholy +conviction that Jean's time as leading woman was short +indeed. She pursed her lips with a rueful resignation, +and followed Gil to the spring behind the house. + +"Say, you mustn't hand out things like that, Jean!" +he protested, when they were quite out of sight and +hearing of the others. "Let me give you a tip, girl. +If you've got any photo-play ideas that are worth talking +about, don't go spreading them out like that for Bobby +to pick and choose!" + +"Pick to pieces, you mean," Jean corrected. +help it; he's putting on some awfully stagey plots, and +they cost just as much to produce as--" + +"Listen here. You've got me wrong. That plot of +yours could be worked up into a dandy series; the idea +of a story running through a lot of pictures is great. +What I mean is, it's worth something. You don't have +to give stuff like that away, make him a present of it, +you know. I just want to put you wise. If you've got +anything that's worth using, make 'em pay for it. Put +'er into scenario form and sell it to 'em. You're in this +game to make money, so why overlook a bet like that?" + +"Oh, Gil! Could I?" + +"Sure, you could! No reason why you shouldn't, +if you can deliver the goods. Burns has been writing +his own plays to fit his company; but aside from the +features you've been putting into it, it's old stuff. He's +a darned good director, and all that, but he hasn't got +the knack of building real stories. You see what I +mean. If you have, why--" + +"I wonder," said Jean with a sudden small doubt of +her literary talents, "if I have!" + +"Sure, you have!" Gil's faith in Jean was of the +kind that scorns proof. "You see, you've got the dope +on the West, and he knows it. Why, I've been watching +how he takes the cue from you right along for his +features. Ever since you told Lee Milligan how to lay +a saddle on the ground, Burns has been getting tips; +and half the time you didn't even know you were giving +them. Get into this game right, Jean. Make 'em pay +for that kind of thing." + +Jean regarded him thoughtfully, tempted to yield. +"Mrs. Gay says a hundred dollars a week--" + +"It's good pay for a beginner. She's right, and she's +wrong. They're featuring you in stuff that nobody else +can do. Who would they put in your place, to do the +stunts you've been doing? Muriel Gay was a good +actress, and as good a Western lead as they could +produce; and you know how she stacked up alongside you. +You're in a class by yourself, Jean. You want to keep +that in mind. They aren't just trying to be nice to +you; it's hard-boiled business with the Great Western. +You're going awfully strong with the public. Why, +my chum writes me that you're announced ahead on the +screen at one of the best theaters on Broadway! `Coming: +Jean Douglas in So-and-so.' Do you know what +that means? No, you don't; of course not. But let +me tell you that it means a whole lot! I wish I'd had +a chance to tip you off to a little business caution +before you signed that contract. That salary clause +should have been doctored to make a sliding scale of it. +As it is, you're stuck for a year at a hundred dollars a +week, unless you spring something the contract does +not cover. Don't give away any more dope. You've +got an idea there, if Burns will let you work up to it. +Make 'em pay for it." + +"O-h-h, Gil!" came the throaty call of Burns; and +Gil, with a last, earnest warning, left her hurriedly. + +Jean sat down on a rock and meditated, her chin in her +palms, and her elbows on her knees. Vague shadows; +of thoughts clouded her mind and then slowly clarified +into definite ideas. Unconsciously she had been growing +away from her first formulated plans. She was +gradually laying aside the idea of reaching wealth and +fame by way of the story-trail. She was almost at the +point of admitting to herself that her story, as far as +she had gone with it, could never be taken seriously by +any one with any pretense of intelligence. It was too +unreal, too fantastic. It was almost funny, in the most +tragic parts. She was ready now to dismiss the book as +she had dismissed her earlier ambitions to become a poet. + +But if she and Lite together could really act a story +that had the stamp of realism which she instinctively +longed for, surely it would be worth while. And if she +herself could build the picture story they would later +enact before the camera,--that would be better, much +better than writing silly things about an impossible +heroine in the hope of later selling the stuff! + +Automatically her thoughts swung over to the actual +building of the scenes that would make for continuity +of her lately-conceived plot. Because she knew every +turn and every crook of that coulee and every board in +the buildings snuggled within it, she began to plan her +scenes to fit the Lazy A, and her action to fit the spirit +of the country and those countless small details of life +which go to make what we call the local color of the +place. + +There never had been an organized gang of outlaws +just here in this part of the country, but--there might +have been. Her dad could remember when Sid Cummings +and his bunch hung out in the Bad Lands fifty +miles to the east of there. Neither had she ever had a +brother, for that matter; and of her mother she had +no more than the indistinct memory of a time when +there had been a long, black box in the middle of the +living-room, and a lot of people, and tears which fell +upon her face and tickled her nose when her father held +her tightly in his arms. + +But she had the country, and she had Lite Avery, and +to her it was very, very easy to visualize a story that +had no foundation in fact. It was what she had done +ever since she could remember--the day-dreaming +that had protected her from the keen edge of her loneliness. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +A NEW KIND OF PICTURE + + +"What you doing now?" Robert Grant Burns +came around the corner of the house looking +for her, half an hour later, and found her sitting on the +doorstep with the old atlas on her knees and her hat far +back on her head, scribbling away for dear life. + +Jean smiled abstractedly up at him. "Why, I'm-- +why-y, I'm becoming a famous scenario writer! Do +you want me to go and plaster my face with grease- +paint, and become a mere common leading lady again?" + +"No, I don't." Robert Grant Burns chuckled fatly +and held out his hand with a big, pink cameo on his +little finger. "Let's see what a famous scenario looks +like. What is it,--that plot you were telling me awhile +ago?" + +"Why, yes. I'm putting on the meat." There was +a slight hesitation before Jean handed him the pages +she had done. "I expect it's awfully crude," she +apologized, with one of her diffident spells. "I'm +afraid you'll laugh at me." + +Robert Grant Burns was reading rapidly, mentally +photographing the scenes as he went along. He held +out his hand again without looking toward her. +"Lemme take your pencil a minute. I believe I'd have +a panoram of the coulee,--a long shot from out there +in the meadow. And show the brother and you leaving +the house and riding toward the camera; at the gate, +you separate. You're going to town, say. He rides +on toward the hills. That fixes you both as belonging +here at the ranch, identifies you two and the home ranch +both in thirty feet or so of the film, with a leader that +tells you're brother and sister. See what I mean?" +He scribbled a couple of lines, crossed out a couple, +and went on reading to where he had interrupted Jean +in the middle of a sentence. + +"I see you're writing in a part for that Lite Avery; +how do you know he'd do it? Or can put it over if he +tries? He don't look to me like an actor." + +"Lite," declared Jean with a positiveness that would +have thrilled Lite, had he heard her, "can put over +anything he tries to put over. And he'll do it, if I tell +him he must!" Which showed what were Jean's ideas, +at least on the subject of which was the master. + +"What you going to call it a The Perils of the +Prairie, say?" Burns abandoned further argument on +the subject of Lite's ability. + +"Oh, no! That's awfully cheap. That would stamp +it as a melodrama before any of the picture appeared +on the screen." + +Robert Grant Burns had not been serious; he had been +testing Jean's originality. "Well, what will we call it, +then?" + +"Oh, we'll call it--" Jean nibbled the rubber on +her pencil and looked at him with that unseeing, +introspective gaze which was a trick of hers. "We'll call +it--does it hurt if we use real names that we've a right +to?" She got a head-shake for answer. "Well, we'll +call it,--let's just call it--Jean, of the Lazy A. +Would that sound as if--" + +"Great! Girl, you're a winner! Jean, of the Lazy +A! Say, that title alone will jump the releases ten +per cent., if I know the game. Featuring Jean herself; +pictures made right at the Lazy A Ranch. Say, the +dope I can give our publicity man--" + +Thereupon Jean, remembering Gil Huntley's lecture +on the commercial side of the proposition, startled his +enthusiasm with one naive question. + +"How much will the Great Western Film Company +pay me extra for furnishing the story I play in? " + +"How much?" Robert Grant Burns blurted the +words automatically. + +"Yes. How much? If it will jump your releases +ten per cent. they ought to pay me quite a lot more than +they're paying me now." + +"You're doing pretty well as it is," Burns reminded +her, with a visible dampening of his eagerness. + +"For keeping your cut-and-dried stories from falling +flat, yes. But for writing the kind of play that will +have just as many `punches' and still be true to life, +and then for acting it all out and putting in those +punches,--that's a different matter, Mr. Burns. And +you'll have to pay Lite a decent salary, or I'll quit right +here. I'm thinking up stunts for us two that are +awfully risky. You'll have to pay for that. But it will +be worth while. You wait till you see Lite in action!" + +Gil would have been exuberant over the literal manner +in which Jean was taking his advice and putting +it to the test, had he overheard her driving her bargain +with Robert Grant Burns. He would have been exuberant, +but he would never have dared to say the things +that Jean said, or to have taken the stand that she +took. Robert Grant Burns found himself very much +in the position which Lite had occupied for three years. +He had well-defined ideas upon the subject before them, +and he had the outer semblance of authority; but his +ideas and his authority had no weight whatever with +Jean, since she had made up her mind. + +Before Jean left the subject of salary, Robert Grant +Burns found himself committed to a promise of an +increase, provided that Jean really "delivered the goods" +in the shape of a scenario serial, and did the stunts +which she declared she could and would do. + +Before she settled down to the actual planning of +scenes, Robert Grant Burns had also yielded to her +demands for Lite Avery, though you may think that he +thereby showed himself culpably weak, unless you realize +what sort of a person Jean was in argument. Without +having more than a good-morning acquaintance with +Lite, Burns agreed to put him on "in stock" and to pay +him the salary Jean demanded for him, provided that, +in the try-out of the first picture, Lite should prove he +could deliver the goods. Burns was always extremely +firm in the matter of having the "goods" delivered; +that was why he was the Great Western's leading director. +Mere dollars he would yield, if driven into a corner +and kept there long enough, but he must have results. + +These things being settled, they spent about two hours +on the doorstep of Jean's room, writing the first reel of +the story; which is to say that Jean wrote, and Burns +took each sheet from her hands as it was finished, and +read and made certain technical revisions now and then. +Several times he grunted words of approbation, and +several times he let his fat, black cigar go out, while he + +visualized the scenes which Jean's flying pencil portrayed. + +"I'll go over and get Lite," she said at last, rubbing +the cramp out of her writing-hand and easing her shoulders +from their strain of stooping. "There'll be time, +while you send the machine after some real hats for your +rustlers. Those toadstool things were never seen in this +country till you brought them in your trunk; and this +story is going to be real! Your rustlers won't look much +different from the punchers, except that they'll be riding +different horses; we'll have to get some paint somewhere +and make a pinto out of that wall-eyed cayuse +Gil rides mostly. He'll lead the rustlers, and you want +the audience to be able to spot him a mile off. Lite +and I will fix the horse; we'll put spots on him like a +horse Uncle Carl used to own." + +"Maybe you can't get Lite," Burns pointed out, +eyeing her over a match blaze. "He never acted to me +like he had the movie-fever at all. Passes us up with a +nod, and has never showed signs of life on the subject. +Lee can ride pretty well," he added artfully, "even if he +wasn't born in the saddle. And we can fake that rope +work." + +"All right; you can send the machine in with a wire +to your company for a leading woman." Jean picked +up her gloves and turned to pull the door shut behind +her, and by other signs and tokens made plain her +intention to leave. + +"Oh, well, you can see if he'll come. I said I'd try +him out, but--" + +"He'll come. I told you that before." Jean stopped +and looked at her director coldly. "And you'll keep +your word. And we won't have any fake stuff in this, +--except the spots on the pinto." She smiled then. +"We wouldn't do that, but there isn't a pinto in the +country right now that would be what we want. You +had better get your bunch together, because I'll be back +in a little while with Lite." + +As it happened, Lite was on his way to the Lazy A, +and met Jean in the bottom of the sandy hollow. His +eyes lightened when he saw her come loping up to him. +But when she was close enough to read the expression +of his face, it was schooled again to the frank +friendship which Jean always had accepted as a matter +of course. + +"Hello, Lite! I've got a job for you with the +movies," Jean announced, as soon as she was within +speaking distance. "You can come right back with +me and begin. It's going to be great. We're going +to make a real Western picture, Lite, you and I. Lee +and Gil and all the rest will be in it, of course; but +we're going to put in the real West. And we're going +to put in the ranch,--the REAL Lazy A, Lite. Not these +dinky little sets that Burns has toggled up with bits of +the bluff showing for background, but the ranch just +as it--it used to be." Jean's eyes grew wistful while +she looked at him and told him her plans. + +"I'm writing the scenario myself," she explained, +"and that's why you have to be in it. I've written in +stuff that the other boys can't do to save their lives. +REAL stuff, Lite! You and I are going to run the ranch +and punch the cows,--Lazy A cattle, what there are left +of them,--and hunt down a bunch of rustlers that have +their hangout somewhere down in the breaks; we don't +know just where, yet. The places we'll ride, they'll +need an airship to follow with the camera! I haven't +got it all planned yet, but the first reel is about done; +we're going to begin on it this afternoon. We'll need +you in the first scenes,--just ranch scenes, with you and +Lee; he's my brother, and he'll get killed-- Now, +what's the matter with you?" She stopped and eyed +him disapprovingly. "Why have you got that stubborn +look to your mouth? Lite, see here. Before you say a +word, I want to tell you that you are not to refuse this. +It--it means money, Lite; for you, and for me, too. +And that means--dad at home again. Lite--" + +Bite looked at her, looked away and bit his lips. It +was long since he had seen tears in Jean's steady, brown +eyes, and the sight of them hurt him intolerably. There +was nothing that he could say to strengthen her faith, +absolutely nothing. He did not see how money could +free her father before his sentence expired. Her faith +in her dad seemed to Lite a wonderful thing, but he +himself could not altogether share it, although he had +lately come to feel a very definite doubt about Aleck's +guilt. Money could not help them, except that it could +buy back the Lazy A and restock it, and make of it the +home it had been three years ago. + +Lite, in the secret heart of him, did not want Jean +to set her heart on doing that. Lite was almost in a +position to do it himself, just as he had planned and +schemed and saved to do, ever since the day when he +took Jean to the Bar Nothing, and announced to her +that he intended to take care of her in place of her +father. He had wanted to surprise Jean; and Jean, +with her usual headlong energy bent upon the same +object, seemed in a fair way to forestall him, unless he +moved very quickly. + +"Lite, you won't spoil everything now, just when I'm +given this great opportunity, will you?" Jean's voice +was steady again. She could even meet his eyes without +flinching. "Gil says it's a great opportunity, in +every way. It's a series of pictures, really, and they +are to be called `Jean, of the Lazy A.' Gil says they +will be advertised a lot, and make me famous. I don't +care about that; but the company will pay me more, and +that means--that means that I can get out and find +Art Osgood sooner, and--get dad home. And you will +have to help. The whole thing, as I have planned it, +depends upon you, Lite. The riding and the roping, +and stuff like that, you'll have to do. You'll have to +work right alongside me in all that outdoor stuff, +because I am going to quit doing all those spectacular, +stagey stunts, and get down to real business. I've made +Burns see that there will be money in it for his company, +so he is perfectly willing to let me go ahead with +it and do it my way. Our way, Lite, because, once you +start with it, you can help me plan things." Whereupon, +having said almost everything she could think of +that would tend to soften that stubborn look in Lite's +face, Jean waited. + +Lite did a great deal of thinking in the next two or +three minutes, but being such a bottled-up person, he +did not say half of what he thought; and Jean, closely +as she watched his face, could not read what was in his +mind. Of Aleck he thought, and the slender chance +there was of any one doing what Jean hoped to do; of +Art Osgood, and the meager possibility that Art could +shed any light upon the killing of Johnny Croft; of the +Lazy A, and the probable price that Carl would put upon +it if he were asked to sell the ranch and the stock; of +the money he had already saved, and the chance that, if +he went to Carl now and made him an offer, Carl would +accept. He weighed mentally all the various elements +that went to make up the depressing tangle of the whole +affair, and decided that he would write at once to Rossman, +the lawyer who had defended Aleck, and put the +whole thing into his hands. He would then know just +where he stood, and what he would have to do, and what +legal steps he must take. + +He looked at Jean and grinned a little. "I'm not +pretty enough for a picture actor," he said whimsically. +"Better let me be a rustler and wear a mask, if you +don't want folks to throw fits." + +"You'll be what I want you to be," Jean told him +with the little smile in her eyes that Lite had learned to +love more than he could ever say. "I'm going to make +us both famous, Lite. Now, come on, Bobby Burns has +probably chewed up a whole box of those black cigars, +waiting for us to show up." + +I am not going to describe the making of "Jean, of +the Lazy A." It would be interesting, but this is not +primarily a story of the motion-picture business, remember. +It is the story of the Lazy A and the problem that +both Jean and Lite were trying to solve. The Great +Western Film Company became, through sheer chance, +a factor in that problem, and for that reason we have +come into rather close touch with them; but aside from +the fact that Jean's photo-play brought Lite into the +company and later took them both to Los Angeles, this +particular picture has no great bearing upon the matter. + +Robert Grant Burns had intended taking his company +back to Los Angles in August, when the hot winds +began to sweep over the range land. But Jean's story +was going "big." Jean was throwing herself into the +part heart and mind. She lived it. With Lite riding +beside her, helping her with all his skill and energy and +much enthusiasm, she almost forgot her great undertaking +sometimes, she was so engrossed with her work. +With his experience, suggesting frequent changes, she +added new touches of realism to this story that made the +case-hardened audience of the Great Western's private +projection room invent new ways of voicing their +enthusiasm, when the negative films Pete Lowry sent in to +headquarters were printed and given their trial run. + +They were just well started when August came with +its hot winds. They stayed and worked upon the serial +until it was finished, and that meant that they stayed +until the first October blizzard caught them while they +were finishing the last reel. + +Do you know what they did then? Jean changed a +few scenes around at Lite's suggestion, and they went out +into the hills in the teeth of the storm and pictured Jean +lost in the blizzard, and coming by chance upon the +outlaws at their camp, which she and Lite and Lee had +been hunting through all the previous installments of +the story. It was great stuff,--that ride Jean made in +the blizzard,--and that scene where, with numbed +fingers and snow matted in her dangling braid, she held +up the rustlers and marched them out of the hills, and +met Lite coming in search of her. + +You will remember it, if you have been frequenting +the silent drama and were fortunate enough to see the +picture. You may have wondered at the realism of +those blizzard scenes, and you may have been curious to +know how the camera got the effect. It was wonderful +photography, of course; but then, the blizzard was real, +and that pinched, half frozen look on Jean's face in the +close-up where she met Lite was real. Jean was so cold +when she turned the rustlers over to Lite that when she +started to dismount and fell in a heap,--you remember? +--she was not acting at all. Neither was Lite acting +when he plunged through the drift and caught Jean in +his arms and held her close against him just as that scene +ended. In the name of realism they cut the scene, because +Lite showed that he forgot all about the outlaws +and the part he was playing. + +So they finished the picture, and the whole company +packed their trunks thankfully and turned their faces +and all their thoughts westward. + +Jean was not at all sure that she wanted to go. It +seemed almost as though she were setting aside her great +undertaking; as though she were weakly deserting her +dad when she closed the door for the last time upon her +room and turned her back upon Lazy A coulee. But +there were certain things which comforted her; Lite was +going along to look after the horses, he told her just the +day before they started. For Robert Grant Burns, with +an eye to the advertising value of the move, had decided +that Pard must go with them. He would have to hire +an express car, anyway, he said, for the automobile and +the scenery sets they had used for interiors. And there +would be plenty of room for Pard and Lite's horse and +another which Robert Grant Burns had used to carry +him to locations in rough country, where the automobile +could not go. The car would run in passenger service, +Burns said,--he'd fix that,--so Lite would be right +with the company all the way out. + +Jean appreciated all that as a personal favor, which +merely proved how unsophisticated she really was. She +did not know that Robert Grant Burns was thinking +chiefly of furnishing material for the publicity man to +use in news stories. She never once dreamed that the +coming of "Jean, of the Lazy A" and Jean's pet horse +Pard, and of Lite, who had done so many surprising +things in the picture, would be heralded in all the Los +Angeles papers before ever they left Montana. + +Jean was concerned chiefly with attending to certain +matters which seemed to her of vital importance. If she +must go, there was something which she must do first, +--something which for three years she had shrunk from +doing. So she told Robert Grant Burns that she would +meet him and his company in Helena, and without a +word of explanation, she left two days in advance of +them, just after she had had another maddening talk +with her Uncle Carl, wherein she had repeated her +intention of employing a lawyer. + +When she boarded the train at Helena, she did not tell +even Lite just where she had been or what she had been +doing. She did not need to tell Lite. He looked into +her face and saw there the shadow of the high, stone wall +that shut her dad away from the world, and he did not +ask a single question. + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +IN LOS ANGELES + + +When she felt bewildered, Jean had the trick +of appearing merely reserved; and that is what +saved her from the charge of rusticity when Robert +Grant Burns led her through the station gateway and +into a small reception. No less a man than Dewitt, +President of the Great Western Film Company, clasped +her hand and held it, while he said how glad he was to +welcome her. Jean, unawed by his greatness and the +honor he was paying her, looked up at him with that +distracting little beginning of a smile, and replied +with that even-more distracting little drawl in her +voice, and wondered why Mrs. Gay should become so +plainly flustered all at once. + +Dewitt took her by the arm, introduced her to a +curious-eyed group with a warming cordiality of manner, +and led her away through a crowd that stared and whispered, +and up to a great, beautiful, purple machine with +a colored chauffeur in dust-colored uniform. Dewitt +was talking easily of trivial things, and shooting a +question now and then over his shoulder at Robert Grant +Burns, who had shed much of his importance and seemed +indefinably subservient toward Mr. Dewitt. Jean +turned toward him abruptly. + +"Where's Lite? Did you send some one to help him +with Pard?" she asked with real concern in her voice. +"Those three horses aren't used to towns the size of +this, Mr. Burns. Lite is going to have his hands full +with Pard. If you will excuse me, Mr. Dewitt, I think +I'll go and see how he's making out." + +Mr. Dewitt glanced over her head and met the +delighted grin of Jim Gates, the publicity manager. The +grin said that Jean was "running true to form," which +was a pet simile with Jim Gates, and usually accompanied +that particular kind of grin. There would be an +interesting half column in the next day's papers about +Jean's arrival and her deep concern for Lite and her +wonderful horse Pard, but of course she did not know +that. + +"I've got men here to help with the horses," Mr. +Dewitt assured her, while he gently urged her into the +machine. "They'll be brought right out to the studio. +I'm taking you home with me in obedience to my wife's, +orders. She is anxious to meet the young woman who +can out-ride and out-shoot any man on the screen, and +can still be sweet and feminine and lovable. I'm quoting +my wife, you see, though I won't say those are not +my sentiments also." + +"Your poor wife is going to receive a shock," said +Jean in an unimpressed tone. "But it's dear of her +to want to meet me." Back of her speech was an irritated +impatience that she should be gobbled and carried +off like this, when she was sure that she ought to be +helping Lite get that fool Pard unloaded and safely +through the clang and clatter of the down-town district. + +Robert Grant Burns, half facing her on a folding seat, +sent her a queer, puzzled glance from under his +eyebrows. Four months had Jean been working under his +direction; four months had he studied her, and still she +puzzled him. She was not ignorant--the girl had been +out among civilized folks and had learned town ways; +she was not stupid--she could keep him guessing, and +he thought he knew all the quirks of human nature, too. +Then why, in the name of common sense, did she take +Dewitt and his patronage in this matter-of-fact way, as +if it were his everyday business to meet strange +employees and take them home to his wife? He glanced +at Dewitt and caught a twinkle of perfect understanding +in the bright blue eyes of his chief. Burns made a +sound between a grunt and a chuckle, and turned his +eyes away immediately; but Dewitt chose to make +speech upon the subject. + +"You haven't spoiled our new leading woman-- +yet," he observed idly. + +"Oh, but he has," Jean dissented. "He has got me +trained so that when he says smile, my mouth stretches +itself automatically. When he says sob, I sob. He just +snaps his fingers, Mr. Dewitt, and I sit up and go +through my tricks very nicely. You ought to see how +nicely I do them." + +Mr. Dewitt put up a hand and pulled at his close- +cropped, white mustache that could not hide the twitching +of his lips. "I have seen," he said drily, and +leaned forward for a word with the liveried chauffeur. +"Turn up on Broadway and stop at the Victoria," he +said, and the chin of the driver dropped an inch to prove +he heard. + +Dewitt laid his fingers on Jean's arm to catch her +attention. "Do you see that picture on the billboard over +there?" he asked, with a special inflection in his nice, +crisp voice. "Does it look familiar to you?" + +Jean looked, and pinched her brows together. Just +at first she did not comprehend. There was her name +in fancy letters two feet high: "JEAN, OF THE LAZY +A." It blared at the passer-by, but it did not look +familiar at all. Beneath was a high-colored poster of +a girl on a horse. The horse was standing on its hind +feet, pawing the air; its nostrils flared red; its tail +swept like a willow plume behind. The machine slowed +and stopped for the traffic signal at the crossing, and +still Jean studied the poster. It certainly did not look +in the least familiar. + +"Is that supposed to be me, on that plum-colored +horse?" she drawled, when they slid out slowly in the +wake of a great truck. + +"Why, don't you like it?" Dewitt looked at Jim +Gates, who was again grinning delightedly and +surreptitiously scribbling something on the margin +of a folded paper he was carrying. + +Jean turned upon him a mildly resentful glance. +"No, I don't. Pard is not purple; he's brown. And +he's got the dearest white hoofs and a white sock on his +left hind foot; and he doesn't snort fire and brimstone, +either." She glanced anxiously at the jam of wagons +and automobiles and clanging street-cars. "I don't +know, though," she amended ruefully, "I think perhaps +he will, too, when he sees all this. I really ought to +have stayed with him." + +"You don't think Lite quite capable of taking care +of him." + +"Oh, yes, of course he is! But I just feel that +way." + +Dewitt shifted a little, so that he was half facing her, +and could look at her without having to turn his head. +If his eyes told anything of his thoughts, the President +of the Great Western Film Company was curious to +know how she felt about her position and her sudden +fame and the work itself. Before they had worked +their way into the next block, he decided that Jean was +not greatly interested in any of these things, and he +wondered why. + +The machine slowed, swung to the curb, and crept +forward and stopped in front of the Victoria. Dewitt +looked at Burns and Pete Lowry, who was on the front +seat. + +"I thought you'd like to take a glance at the lobby +display the Victoria is making," he said casually. +"They are running the Lazy A series, you know,--to +capacity houses, too, they tell me. Shall we get +out?" + +The chauffeur reached back with that gesture of +toleration and infinite boredom common to his kind and +swung open the door. + +Robert Grant Burns started up. "Come on, Jean," +he said eagerly. "I don't suppose that eternal calm of +yours will ever show a wrinkle on the surface, but let's +have a look, anyway." + +Pete Lowry was already out and half way across the +pavement. Pete had lain awake in his bed, many's the +night, planning the posing of "stills" that would show +Jean at her best; he had visioned them on display in +theater lobbies, and now he collided with a hurrying +shopper in his haste to see the actual fulfillment of those +plans. + +Jean herself was not so eager. She went with the +others, and she saw herself pictured on Pard; on her +two feet; and sitting upon a rock with her old Stetson +tilted over one eye and her hair tousled with the wind. +She was loading her six-shooter, and talking to Lite, +who was sitting on his heels with a cigarette in his +fingers, looking at her with that bottled-up look in his +eyes. She did not remember when the picture was +taken, but she liked that best of all. She saw herself +leaning out of the window of her room at the Lazy A. +She remembered that time. She was talking to Gil +outside, and Pete had come up and planted his tripod +directly in front of her, and had commanded her to +hold her pose. She did not count them, but she +had curious impressions of dozens of pictures of +herself scattered here and there along the walls of +the long, cool-looking lobby. Every single one of +them was marked: "Jean, of the Lazy A." Just +that. + +On a bulletin board in the middle of the entrance, just +before the marble box-office, it was lettered again in +dignified black type: "JEAN OF THE LAZY A." Below +was one word: "To-day." + +"It looks awfully queer," said Jean to Mr. Dewitt, +who wanted to know what she thought of it all; "they +don't explain what it's all about, or anything." + +"No, they don't." Dewitt pulled his mustache and +piloted her back to the machine. "They don't have +to." + +"No," echoed Robert Grant Burns, with the fat +chuckle of utter content in the knowledge of having +achieved something. "From the looks of things, they +don't have to." He looked at Jean so intently that she +stared back at him, wondering what was the matter; +and when he saw that she was wondering, he gave a +snort. + +"Good Lord!" he said to himself, just above a +whisper, and looked away, despairing of ever reading the +riddle of Jean's unshakable composure. Was it pose +Was the girl phlegmatic,--with that face which was so +alive with the thoughts that shuttled back and forth +behind those steady, talking eyes of hers? She was not +stupid; Robert Grant Burns knew to his own discomfiture +that she was not stupid. Nor was she one to +pose; the absolute sincerity of her terrific frankness was +what had worried Robert Grant Burns most. She must +know that she had jumped into the front rank of popular +actresses, and stood out before them all,--for the time +being, at least. And,--he stole a measuring sidelong +glance at her, just as he had done thousands of times in +the past four months,--here she was in the private +machine of the President of the Great Western Film +Company, with that great man himself talking to her +as to his honored guest. She had seen herself featured +alone at one of the biggest motion-picture theaters in +Los Angeles; so well known that "Jean, of the Lazy +A" was deemed all-sufficient as information and +advertisement. She had reached what seemed to Robert +Grant Burns the final heights. And the girl sat there, +calm, abstracted, actually not listening to Dewitt when +he talked! She was not even thinking about him! +Robert Grant Burns gave her another quick, resentful +glance, and wondered what under heaven the girl WAS +thinking about. + +As a matter of fact, having accepted the fact that she +seemed to have made a success of her pictures, her +thoughts had drifted to what seemed to her more vital. +Had she done wrong to come away out here, away from +her problem? The distance worried her. She had not +even found out who was the mysterious night-prowler, +or what he wanted. He had never come again, after +that night when Hepsy had scared him away. From +long thinking about it, she had come to a vague, general +belief that his visits were somehow connected with the +murder; but in what manner, she could not even form a +theory. That worried her. She wished now that she +had told Lite about it. She was foolish not to have +done something, instead of sticking her head under the +bedclothes and just shivering till he left. Lite would +have found out who the man was, and what he wanted. +Lite would never have let him come and go like that. +But the visits had seemed so absolutely without reason. +There was nothing to steal, and nothing to find. Still, +she wished she had told Lite, and let him find out who +it was. + +Then her talk with the great lawyer had been +disquieting. He had not wanted to name his fee for +defending her dad; but when he had named it, it did not +seem so enormous as she had imagined it to be. He +had asked a great many questions, and most of them +puzzled Jean. He had said that he would take up the +matter,--by which she believed he meant an investigation +of her uncle's title to the Lazy A. He said that he +would see her father, and he told her that he had +already been retained to investigate the whole thing, so +that she need not worry about having to pay him a fee. +That, he said, had already been arranged, though he did +not feel at liberty to name his client. But he wanted +to assure her that everything was being done that could +be done. + +She herself had seen her father. She shrank within +herself and tried not to think of that horrible meeting. +Her soul writhed under the tormenting memory of how +she had seen him. She had not been able to talk to him +at all, scarcely. The words would not come. She had +said that she and Lite were on their way to Los Angeles, +and would be there all winter. He had patted her +shoulder with a tragic apathy in his manner, and had +said that the change would do her good. And that was +all she could remember that they had talked about. +And then the guard came, and-- + +That is what she was thinking about while the big, +purple machine slid smoothly through the tunnel, negotiated +a rough stretch where the street-pavers were at +work, and sped purring out upon the boulevard that +stretched away to Hollywood and the hills. That was +what she kept hidden behind the "eternal calm" that +so irritated Robert Grant Burns and so delighted Dewitt +and so interested Jim Gates, who studied her for +what "copy" there was in her personality. + +It was the same when, the next day, Dewitt himself +took her over to the big plant which he spoke of as the +studio. It was immense, and yet Jean seemed +unimpressed. She was gladder to see Pard and Lite again +than she was to meet the six-hundred-a-week star whose +popularity she seemed in a fair way to outrival. Men +and women who were "in stock," and therefore within +the social pale, were introduced to her and said nice, +hackneyed things about how they admired her work and +were glad to welcome her. She felt the warm air of +good-fellowship that followed her everywhere. All of +these people seemed to accept her at once as one of +themselves. When she noticed it, she was amused at the +way the "extras" stood back and looked at her and +whispered together. More than once she overheard +what seemed almost to have become a catch-phrase out +here; "Jean of the lazy A" was the phrase. + +Jean was not made of wood, understand. In a manner +she recognized all these little tributes, and to a certain +degree she appreciated them. She was glad that +she had made such a success of it, but she was glad +because it would help her to take her dad away from that +horrible, ghastly place and that horrible, ghastly death- +in-life under which he lived. In three years he had +grown old and stooped--her dad! + +And Burns twitted her ironically because she could +not simper and lose her head over the attentions these +people were loading upon her! Save for the fact that +in this way she could earn a good deal of money, and +could pay that lawyer Rossman, and trace Art Osgood, +she would not have stayed; she could not have endured +the staying. For the easier they made life for her, the +greater contrast did they make between her and her +dad. + +Gil brought her a great bunch of roses, unbelievably +beautiful and fragrant, and laughed and told her they +didn't look much like those snowdrifts she waded +through the last day they worked on the Lazy A serial. +For just a minute he thought Jean was going to throw +them at him, and he worried himself into sleeplessness, +poor boy, wondering how he had offended her, and how +he could make amends. Could he have looked into +Jean's soul, he would have seen that it was seared with +the fresh memory of iron bars and high walls and her +dad who never saw any roses; and that the contrast +between their beauty and the terrible barrenness that +surrounded him was like a blow in her face. + +Dewitt himself sensed that something was wrong with +her. She was not her natural self, and he knew it, +though his acquaintance with her was a matter of hours +only. Part of his business it was to study people, to +read them; he read Jean now, in a general way. Not +being a clairvoyant, he of course had no inkling of the +very real troubles that filled her mind, though the +effect of those troubles he saw quite plainly. He +watched her quietly for a day, and then he applied the +best remedy he knew. + +"You've just finished a long, hard piece of work," +he said in his crisp, matter-of-fact way, on the second +morning after her arrival. "There is going to be a +delay here while we shape things up for the winter, and +it is my custom to keep my people in the very best condition +to work right up to the standard. So you are all +going to have a two-weeks vacation, Jean-of-the-Lazy- +A. At full salary, of course; and to put you yourself +into the true holiday spirit, I'm going to raise your +salary to a hundred and seventy-five a week. I consider +you worth it," he added, with a quieting gesture +of uplifted hand, "or you may be sure I wouldn't pay +it. + +"Get some nice old lady to chaperone you, and go and +play. The ocean is good; get somewhere on the beach. +Or go to Catalina and play there. Or stay here, and go +to the movies. Go and see `Jean, of the Lazy A,' and +watch how the audience lives with her on the screen. +Go up and talk to the wife. She told me to bring you +up for dinner. You go climb into my machine, and +tell Bob to take you to the house now. Run along, Jean +of the Lazy A! This is an order from your chief." + +Jean wanted to cry. She held the roses, that she +almost hated for their very beauty and fragrance, close +pressed in her arms, while she went away toward the +machine. Dewitt looked after her, thought she meant to +obey him, and turned to greet a great man of the town +who had been waiting for five minutes to speak to him. + +Jean did not climb into the purple car and tell Bob +to drive her to "the house." She walked past it +without even noticing that it stood there, an aristocrat +among the other machines parked behind the great +studio that looked like a long, low warehouse. She +knew the straightest, shortest trail to the corrals, you +may be sure of that. She took that trail. + +Pard was standing in a far corner under a shed, +switching his tail methodically at the October crop of +flies. His head lay over the neck of a scrawny little +buckskin, for which he had formed a sudden and violent +attachment, and his eyes were half closed while he +drowsed in lazy content. Pard was not worrying about +anything. He looked so luxuriously happy that Jean +had not the heart to disturb him, even with her comfort- +seeking caresses. She leaned her elbows on the +corral gate and watched him awhile. She asked a bashful, +gum-chewing youth if he could tell her where to +find Lite Avery. But the youth seemed never to have +heard of Lite Avery, and Jean was too miserable to +explain and describe Lite, and insist upon seeing him. +She walked over to the nearest car-line and caught the +next street car for the city. Part of her chief's orders +at least she would obey. She would go down to the +Victoria and see "Jean, of the Lazy A," but she was +not going because of any impulse of vanity, or to soothe +her soul with the applause of strangers. She wanted +to see the ranch again. She wanted to see the dear, +familiar line of the old bluff that framed the coulee, and +ride again with Lite through those wild places they had +chosen for the pictures. She wanted to lose herself for +a little while among the hills that were home. + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +CHANCE TAKES A HAND + + +A huge pipe organ was filling the theater with a +vast undertone that was like the whispering surge +of a great wind. Jean went into the soft twilight and +sat down, feeling that she had shut herself away from +the harsh, horrible world that held so much of suffering. +She sighed and leaned her head back against the curtained +enclosure of the loges, and closed her eyes and +listened to the big, sweeping harmonies that were yet so +subdued. + +Down next the river, in a sheltered little coulee, there +was a group of great bull pines. Sometimes she had +gone there and leaned against a tree trunk, and had shut +her eyes and listened to the vast symphony which the +wind and the water played together. She forgot that +she had come to see a picture which she had helped to +create. She held her eyes shut and listened; and that +horror of high walls and iron bars that had haunted her +for days, and the aged, broken man who was her father, +dimmed and faded and was temporarily erased; the +lightness of her lips eased a little; the tenseness relaxed +from her face, as it does from one who sleeps. + +But the music changed, and her mood changed with +it. She did not know that this was because the story +pictured upon the screen had changed, but she sat up +straight and opened her eyes, and felt almost as though +she had just awakened from a vivid dream. + +A Mexican series of educational pictures were +being shown. Jean looked, and leaned forward with a +little gasp. But even as she fixed her eyes and startled +attention upon it, that scene was gone, and she was +reading mechanically of refugees fleeing to the border +line. + +She must have been asleep, she told herself, and had +gotten things mixed up in her dreams. She shook herself +mentally and remembered that she ought to take +off her hat; and she tried to fix her mind upon the +pictures. Perhaps she had been mistaken; perhaps she +had not seen what she believed she had seen. But-- +what if it were true? What if she had really seen and +not imagined it? It couldn't be true, she kept telling +herself; of course, it couldn't be true! Still, her mind +clung to that instant when she had first opened her eyes, +and very little of what she saw afterwards reached her +brain at all. + +Then she had, for the first time in her life, the strange +experience of seeing herself as others saw her. The +screen announcement and expectant stir that greeted it +caught her attention, and pulled her back from the whirl +of conjecture into which she had been plunged. She +watched, and she saw herself ride up to the foreground +on Pard. She saw herself look straight out at the +audience with that peculiar little easing of the lips and +the lightening of the eyes which was just the infectious +beginning of a smile. Involuntarily she smiled back +at her pictured self, just as every one else was smiling +back. For that, you must know, was what had first +endeared her so to the public; the human quality that +compelled instinctive response from those who looked at +her. So Jean in the loge smiled at Jean on the screen. +Then Lite--dear, silent, long-legged Lite!--came +loping up, and pushed back his hat with the gesture that +she knew so well, and spoke to her and smiled; and a +lump filled the throat of Jean in the loge, though she +could not have told why. Then Jean on the screen +turned and went riding with Lite back down the trail, +with her hat tilted over one eye because of the sun, and +with one foot swinging free of the stirrup in that +absolute unconsciousness of pose that had first caught the +attention of Robert Grant Burns and his camera man. +Jean in the loge heard the ripple of applause among the +audience and responded to it with a perfectly human +thrill. + +Presently she was back at the Lazy A, living again the +scenes which she herself had created. This was the +fourth or fifth picture,--she did not at the moment +remember just which. At any rate, it had in it that +incident when she had first met the picture-people in the +hills and mistaken Gil Huntley and the other boys for +real rustlers stealing her uncle's cattle. You will +remember that Robert Grant Burns had told Pete to +take all of that encounter, and he had later told Jean to +write her scenario so as to include that incident. + +Jean blushed when she saw herself ride up to those +three and "throw down on them" with her gun. She +had been terribly chagrined over that performance! +But now it looked awfully real, she told herself with a +little glow of pride. Poor old Gil! They hadn't +caught her roping him, anyway, and she was glad of +that. He would have looked absurd, and those people +would have laughed at him. She watched how she had +driven the cattle back up the coulee, with little rushes +up the bank to head off an unruly cow that had ideas of +her own about the direction in which she would travel. +She loved Pard, for the way he tossed his head and +whirled the cricket in his bit with his tongue, and +obeyed the slightest touch on the rein. The audience +applauded that cattle drive; and Jean was almost +betrayed into applauding it herself. + +Later there was a scene where she had helped Lite +Avery and Lee Milligan round up a bunch of cattle and +cut out three or four, which were to be sold to a butcher +for money to take her mother to the doctor. Lite rode +close to the camera and looked straight at her, and Jean +bit her lips sharply as tears stung her lashes for some +inexplicable reason. Dear old Lite! Every line in his +face she knew, every varying, vagrant expression, every +little twitch of his lips and eyelids that meant so much +to those who knew him well enough to read his face. +Jean's eyes softened, cleared, and while she looked, her +lips parted a little, and she did not know that she was +smiling. + +She was thinking of the day, not long ago, when she +had seen a bird fly into the loft over the store-house, +and she had climbed in a spirit of idle curiosity to see +what the bird wanted there. She had found Lite's bed +neatly smoothed for the day, the pillow placed so that, +lying there, he could look out through the opening and +see the house and the path that led to it. There was +the faint aroma of tobacco about the place. Jean had +known at once just why that bed was there, and almost +she knew how long it had been there. She had never +once hinted that she knew; and Lite would never tell +her, by look or word, that he was watching her welfare. + +Here came Gil, dashing up to the brow of the hill, +dismounting and creeping behind a rock, that he might +watch them working with the cattle in the valley below. +Jean met his pictured approach with a little smile of +welcome. That was the scene where she told him he got +off the horse like a sack of oats, and had shown him how +to swing down lightly and with a perfect balance, +instead of coming to the earth with a thud of his feet. +Gil had taken it all in good faith; the camera proved now +how well he had followed her instructions. And +afterwards, while the assistant camera-man (with whom Jean +never had felt acquainted) shouldered the camera and +tripod, and they all tramped down the hill to another +location, there had been a little scene in the shade +of that rock, between Jean and the star villain. She +blushed a little and wondered if Gil remembered that +tentative love-making scene which Burns had unconsciously +cut short with a bellowing order to rehearse the +next scene. + +It was wonderful, it was fascinating to sit there and +see those days of hard, absorbing work relived in the +story she had created. Jean lost herself in watching +how Jean of the Lazy A came and went and lived her +life bravely in the midst of so much that was hard. +Jean in the loge remembered how Burns had yelled, +"Smile when you come up; look light-hearted! And +then let your face change gradually, while you listen to +your mother crying in there. There'll be a cut-back to +show her down on her knees crying before Bob's chair. +Let that tired, worried look come into your face,--the +load's dropping on to your shoulders again,--that kind +of dope. Get me?" Jean in the loge remembered +how she had been told to do this deliberately, just out of +her imagination. And then she saw how Jean on the +screen came whistling up to the house, swinging her +quirt by its loop and with a spring in her walk, and +making you feel that it was a beautiful day and that +all the meadow larks were singing, and that she had +just had a gallop on Pard that made her forget that +she ever looked trouble in the face. + +Then Jean in the loge looked and saw screen--Jean's +mother kneeling before Bob's chair and sobbing so +that her shoulders shook. She looked and saw screen +Jean stop whistling and swinging her quirt; saw her +stand still in the path and listen; saw the smile fade out +of her eyes. Jean in the loge thought suddenly of that +moment when she had looked at dad coming in where +she waited, and swallowed a lump in her throat. A +woman near her gave a little stifled sob of sympathy +when screen-Jean turned and went softly around the +corner of the house with all the light gone from her face +and all the spring gone out of her walk. + +Jean in the loge gave a sigh of relaxed tension and +looked around her. The seats were nearly all full, and +every one was gazing fixedly forward, lost in the pictured +story of Jean on the screen. So that was what all +those made-to-order smiles and frowns meant! Jean +had done them at Burns' command, because she had seen +that the others simulated different emotions whenever +he told them to. She knew, furthermore, that she had +done them remarkably well; so well that people +responded to every emotion she presented to them. She +was surprised at the vividness of every one of those cut- +and-dried scenes. They imposed upon her, even, after +all the work and fussing she had gone through to get +them to Burns' liking. And there, in the cool gloom of +the Victoria, Jean for the first time realized to the full +the true ability of Robert Grant Burns. For the first +time she really appreciated him and respected him, and +was grateful to him for what he had taught her to do. + +Her mood changed abruptly when the Jean picture +ended. The music changed to the strain that had filled +the great place when she entered, nearly an hour +before. Jean sat up straight again and waited, alert, +impatient, anxious to miss no smallest part of that picture +which had startled her so when she had first looked at +the screen. If the thing was true which she half +believed--if it were true! So she stared with narrowed +lids, intent, watchful, her whole mind concentrated upon +what she should presently see. + +"Warring Mexico!" That was the name of it; a +Lubin special release, of the kind technically called +"educational." Jean held her breath, waiting for the +scene that might mean so much to her. There: this +must be it, she thought with a flush of inner excitement. +This surely must be the one: + +"NOGALES, MEXICO. FEDERAL TROOPS OF GENERAL +KOSTERLISKY, WITH AMERICAN SOLDIERS OF FORTUNE +SERVING ON STAFF OF NOTED GENERAL." + +Jean had it stamped indelibly upon her brain. She +waited, with a quick intake of breath when the picture +stood out with a sudden clarity before her eyes. + +A "close-up" group of officers and men,--and some +of the men Americans in face, dress, and manner. But +it was one man, and one only, at whom she looked. Tall +he was, and square-shouldered and lean; with his hat +set far back on his head and a half smile curling his lips, +and his eyes looking straight into the camera. Standing +there with his weight all on one foot, in that attitude +which cowboys call "hipshot." Art Osgood! She was +sure of it! Her hands clenched in her lap. Art +Osgood, at Nogales, Mexico. Serving on the staff of +General Kosterlisky. Was the man mad, to stand there +publicly before the merciless, revealing eye of a +motion-picture camera? Or did his vanity blind him to +the risk he was taking? + +The man at whom she sat glaring glanced sidewise at +some person unseen; and Jean knew that glance, that +turn of the head. He smiled anew and lifted his +American-made Stetson a few inches above his head and +held it so in salute. Just so had he lifted and held his +hat high one day, when she had turned and ridden away +from him down the trail. Jean caught herself just as +her lips opened to call out to him in recognition and +sharp reproach. He turned and walked away to where +the troopers were massed in the background. It was +thus that she had first glimpsed him for one instant +before the scene ended; it was just as he turned his face +away that she had opened her eyes, and thought it was +Art Osgood who was walking away from the camera. + +She waited a minute, staring abstractedly at the +refugees who were presented next. She wished that she +knew when the picture had been taken,--how long ago. +Her experience with motion-picture making, her listening +to the shop-talk of the company, had taught her +much; she knew that sometimes weeks elapse between +the camera's work and the actual projection of a picture +upon the theater screens. Still, this was, in a sense, a +news release, and therefore in all probability hurried +to the public. Art Osgood might still be at Nogales, +Mexico, wherever that was. He might; and Jean made +up her mind and laid her plans while she sat there pinning +on her hat. + +She got up quietly and slipped out. She was going +to Nogales, Mexico, wherever that was. She was going +to get Art Osgood, and she didn't care whether she had +to fight her way clear through "Warring Mexico." +She would find him and get him and bring him back. + +In the lobby, while she paused with a truly feminine +instinct to tip her hat this way and that before the +mirror, and give her hair a tentative pat or two at the +back, the grinning face of Lite Avery in his gray Stetson +appeared like an apparition before her eyes. She +turned quickly. + +"Why, Lite!" she said, a little startled. + +"Why, Jean!" he mimicked, in the bantering voice +that was like home to her. "Don't rush off; haven't +seen you to-day. Wait till I get you a ticket, and then +you come back and help me admire ourselves. I came +down on a long lope when somebody said you caught a +street car headed this way. Thought maybe I'd run +across you here. Knew you couldn't stay away much +longer from seeing how you look. Ain't too proud to +sit alongside a rough-neck puncher, are you?" + +Jean looked at him understandingly. Lite's exuberance +was unusual; but she knew, as well as though he +had told her, that he had been lonesome in this strange +city, and that he was overjoyed at the sight of her, who +was his friend. She unpinned her hat which she had +been at some pains to adjust at the exact angle decreed +by fashion. + +"Yes, I'll go back with you," she drawled. "I want +to see how you like the sight of yourself just as you are. +It--it's good for one, after the first shock wears off." +She would not say a word about that Mexican picture, +she thought; but she wanted to see if Lite also would +recognize Art Osgood, and feel as sure of his identity as +she had felt. That would make her doubly sure of her +self. She could do what she meant to do without any +misgivings whatsoever. She could afford to wait a little +while and have the pleasure of Lite's presence beside +her. Lite was homesick and lonesome;--she felt it in +every tone and in every look;--almost as homesick +and lonesome as she was herself. She would not hurt +him by going off and leaving him alone, even if she had +not wanted to be with him and to watch the effect that +Mexican picture would have upon him. Lite believed +Art Osgood was in the Klondyke. She would wait and +see what he believed after he had seen that Nogales picture + +She waited. She had missed Lite in the last day or +so; she had seemed almost as far away from him as +from the Lazy A. But all the while she talked to him +in whispers when he had wanted to discuss the Jean +picture, she was waiting, just waiting, for that Nogales +picture. + +When it came at last, Jean turned her head and +watched Lite. And Lite gave a real start and said +something under his breath, and plucked at her sleeve +afterwards to attract her attention. + +"Look--quick! That fellow standing there with +his arms folded. Skin me alive if it isn't Art Osgood!" + +"Are you sure?" Jean studied him. + +"Sure? Where're your eyes? Look at him! It +sure ain't anybody else, Jean. Now, what do you +reckon he's doing down in Mexico?" + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +JEAN BELIEVES THAT SHE TAKES MATTERS INTO + +HER OWN HANDS + +After all, Jean did not have to fight her way clear +through "Warring Mexico" and back again, in +order to reach Nogales. She let Lite take her to the +snug little apartment which she was to share with Muriel +and her mother, and she fancied that she had been very +crafty and very natural in her manner all the while he +was with her, and that Lite did not dream of what she +had in her mind to do. At any rate, she watched him +stalk away on his high-heeled riding-boots, and she +thought that his mind was perfectly at ease. (Jean, I +fear, never will understand Lite half as well as Lite +has always understood Jean.) + +She caught the next down-town car and went straight +to the information bureau of the Southern Pacific, +established for the convenience of the public and the sanity of +employees who have something to do besides answer foolish +questions. + +She found a young man there who was not averse to +talking at length with a young woman who was dressed +trimly in a street suit of the latest fashion, and who had +almost entrancing, soft drawl to her voice and a most +fascinating way of looking at one. This young man +appeared to know a great deal, and to be almost eager +to pass along his wisdom. He knew all about Nogales, +Mexico, for instance, and just what train would next +depart in that general direction, and how much it would +cost, and how long she would have to wait in Tucson for +the once-a-day train to Nogales, and when she might +logically expect to arrive in that squatty little town that +might be said to be really and truly divided against +itself. Here the nice young man became facetious. + +"Bible tells us a city divided against itself cannot +stand," he informed Jean quite gratuitously. "Well, +maybe that's straight goods, too. But Nogales is cut +right through at the waist line with the international +boundary line. United States customhouse on one +corner of the street, Mexican customhouse in talking +distance on the other corner. Great place for holdups, +that!" This was a joke, and Jean smiled obligingly. +"First the United States holds you up, and then the +Mexicans. You get it coming and going. Well, +Nogales don't have to stand. It squats. It's adobe +mostly." + +Jean was interested, and she did not discourage the +nice young man. She let him say all he could think of +on the subject of Nogales and the Federal troops +stationed there, and on warring Mexico generally. When +she left him, she felt as if she knew a great deal about +the end of her journey. So she smiled and thanked the +nice young man in that soft drawl that lingered pleasantly +in his memory, and went over to another window +and bought a ticket to Nogales. She moved farther +along to another window and secured a Pullman ticket +which gave her lower five in car four for her comfort. + +With an impulse of wanting to let her Uncle Carl +know that she was not forgetting her mission, she sent +him this laconic telegram: + + +Have located Art. Will bring him back with me. + JEAN. + + +After that, she went home and packed a suit-case and +her six-shooter and belt. She did not, after all, know +just what might happen in Nogales, Mexico, but she +meant to bring back Art Osgood if he were to be found +alive; hence the six-shooter. + +That evening she told Muriel that she was going to +run away and have her vacation--her "vacation" +hunting down and capturing a murderer who had taken +refuge in the Mexican army!--and that she would +write when she knew just where she would stop. Then +she went away alone in a taxi to the depot, and started +on her journey with a six-shooter jostling a box of +chocolates in her suit-case, and with her heart almost +light again, now that she was at last following a clue that +promised something at the other end. + +It was all just as the nice young man had told her. +Jean arrived in Tucson, and she left on time, on the +once-a-day train to Nogales. + +Lite also arrived in Tucson on time, though Jean did +not see him, since he descended from the chair car with +some caution just as she went into the depot. He did +not depart on time as it happened; he was thirsty, and +he went off to find something wetter than water to drink, +and while he was gone the once-a-day train also went +off through the desert. Lite saw the last pair of wheels +it owned go clipping over the switch, and he stood in the +middle of the track and swore. Then he went to the +telegraph office and found out that a freight left for +Nogales in ten minutes. He hunted up the conductor +and did things to his bank roll, and afterwards climbed +into the caboose on the sidetrack. Lite has been so +careful to keep in the background, through all these +chapters, that it seems a shame to tell on him now. But +I am going to say that, little as Jean suspected it, he +had been quite as interested in finding Art Osgood as +had she herself. When he saw her pass through the +gate to the train, in Los Angeles, that was his first +intimation that she was going to Nogales; so he had stayed +in the chair car out of sight. But it just shows how +great minds run in the same channel; and how, without +suspecting one another, these two started at the same +time upon the same quest. + +Jean stared out over the barrenness that was not like +the barrenness of Montana, and tried not to think that +perhaps Art Osgood had by this time drifted on into +obscurity. Still, if he had drifted on, surely she could +trace him, since he had been serving on the staff of a +general and should therefore be pretty well known. +What she really hated most to think of was the possibility +that he might have been killed. They did get killed, +sometimes, down there where there was so much fighting +going on all the time. + +When the shadows of the giant cactus stretched +mutilated hands across the desert sand, and she believed +that Nogales was near, Jean carried her suit-case to the +cramped dressing-room and took out her six-shooter and +buckled it around her. Then she pulled her coat down +over it with a good deal of twisting and turning before +the dirty mirror to see that it looked all right, and +not in the least as though a perfect lady was packing a +gun. + +She went back and dipped fastidious fingers into the +box of chocolates, and settled herself to nibble candy and +wait for what might come. She felt very calm and self- +possessed and sure of herself. Her only fear was that +Art Osgood might have been killed, and his lips closed +for all time. So they rattled away through the barrenness +and drew near to Nogales. + +Casa del Sonora, whither she went, was an old, two- +story structure of the truly Spanish type, and it was +kept by a huge, blubbery creature with piggish eyes and +a bloated, purple countenance and the palsy. As much +of him as appeared to be human appeared to be Irish; +and Jean, after the first qualm of repulsion, when she +faced him over the hotel register, detected a certain +kindly solicitude in his manner, and was reassured. + +So far, everything had run smoothly, like a well- +staged play. Absurdly simple, utterly devoid of any +element of danger, any vexatious obstacle to the +immediate achievement of her purpose! But Jean was not +thrown off her guard because of the smoothness of the +trail. + +The trip from Tucson had been terribly tiresome; she +was weary in every fibre, it seemed to her. But for all +that she intended, sometime that evening, to meet Art +Osgood if he were in town. She intended to take him +with her on the train that left the next morning. She +thought it would be a good idea to rest now, and to +proceed deliberately, lest she frustrate all her plans by +over-eagerness. + +Perhaps she slept a little while she lay upon the bed +and schooled herself to calmness. A band, somewhere, +playing a pulsing Spanish air, brought her to her feet. +She went to the window and looked out, and saw that +the street lay cool and sunless with the coming of dusk. + +From the American customhouse just on the opposite +corner came Lite Avery, stalking leisurely along in his +high-heeled riding-boots. Jean drew back with a little +flutter of the pulse and watched him, wondering how he +came to be in Nogales. She had last seen him boarding +a car that would take him out to the Great Western +Studio; and now, here he was, sauntering across the +street as if he lived here. It was like finding his bed +up in the loft and knowing all at once that he had been +keeping watch all the while, thinking of her welfare and +never giving her the least hint of it. That at least was +understandable. But to her there was something +uncanny about his being here in Nogales. When he was +gone, she stepped out through the open window to the +veranda that ran the whole length of the hotel, and +looked across the street into Mexico. + +She was, she decided critically, about fifteen feet +from the boundary line. Just across the street fluttered +the Mexican flag from the Mexican customhouse. A +Mexican guard lounged against the wall, his swarthy +face mask-like in its calm. While she leaned over the +railing and stared curiously at that part of the street +which was another country, from the hills away to the +west, where were camped soldiers,--the American +soldiers,--who prevented the war from slopping over the +line now and then into Arizona, came the clear +notes of a bugle held close-pressed against the lips of a +United States soldier in snug-fitting khaki. The boom +of the sundown salute followed immediately after. In +the street below her, Mexicans and Americans mingled +amiably and sauntered here and there, killing time during +that bored interval between eating and the evening's +amusement. + +Just beyond the Mexican boundary, the door of a +long, adobe cantina was flung open, and a group of men +came out and paused as if they were wondering what +they should do next, and where they should go. Jean +looked them over curiously. Mexicans they were not, +though they had some of the dress which belonged on +that side of the boundary. + +Americans they were; one knew by the set of their +shoulders, by the little traits of race which have nothing +to do with complexion or speech. + +Jean caught her breath and leaned forward. There +was Art Osgood, standing with his back toward her and +with one palm spread upon his hip in the attitude she +knew so well. If only he would turn! Should she run +down the stairs and go over there and march him across +the line at the muzzle of her revolver? The idea +repelled her, now that she had actually come to the point +of action. + +Jean, now that the crisis had arrived, used her +woman's wile, rather than the harsher but perhaps less +effective weapons of a man. + +"Oh, Art!" she called, just exactly as she would have +called to him on the range, in Montana "Hello, +Art!" + +Art Osgood wheeled and sent a startled, seeking +glance up at the veranda; saw her and knew who it was +that had called him, and lifted his hat in the gesture +that she knew so well. Jean's fingers were close to her +gun, though she was not conscious of it, or of the +strained, tense muscles that waited the next move. + +Art, contrary to her expectations, did the most natural +thing in the world. He grinned and came hurrying toward +her with the long, eager steps of one who goes to +greet a friend after an absence that makes of that meeting +an event. Jean watched him cross the street. She +waited, dazed by the instant success of her ruse, while +he disappeared under the veranda. She heard his feet +upon the stairs. She heard him come striding down the +hall to the glass-paneled door. She saw him coming +toward her, still grinning in his joy at the meeting. + +"Jean Douglas! By all that's lucky!" he was +exclaiming. "Where in the world did you light down +from?" He came to a stop directly in front of her, +and held out his hand in unsuspecting friendship. + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +JEAN MEETS ONE CRISIS AND CONFRONTS ANOTHER + + +"Well, say! This is like seeing you walk out +of that picture that's running at the Teatro +Palacia. You sure are making a hit with those moving- +pictures; made me feel like I'd met somebody from +home to stroll in there and see you and Lite come +riding up, large as life. How is Lite, anyway?" + +If Art Osgood felt any embarrassment over meeting +her, he certainly gave no sign of it. He sat down on +the railing, pushed back his hat, and looked as though +he was preparing for a real soul-feast of reminiscent +gossip. "Just get in?" he asked, by way of opening +wider the channel of talk. He lighted a cigarette and +flipped the match down into the street. "I've been here +three or four months. I'm part of the Mexican revolution, +though I don't reckon I look it. We been keeping +things pretty well stirred up, down this way. You +looking for picture dope? Lubin folks are copping all +kinds of good stuff here. You ain't with them, are +you?" + +Jean braced herself against slipping into easy conver- +sation with this man who seemed so friendly and +unsuspicious and so conscience-free. Killing a man, she +thought, evidently did not seem to him a matter of any +moment; perhaps because he had since then become a +professional killer of men. After planning exactly how +she should meet any contingency that might arise, she +found herself baffled. She had not expected to meet +this attitude. She was not prepared to meet it. She +had taken it for granted that Art Osgood would shun +a meeting; that she would have to force him to face her. +And here he was, sitting on the porch rail and swinging +one spurred and booted foot, smiling at her and talking, +in high spirits over the meeting--or a genius at +acting. She eyed him uncertainly, trying to adjust +herself to this emergency. + +Art came to a pause and looked at her inquiringly. +"What's the matter?" he demanded. "You called me +up here--and I sure was tickled to death to come, all +right!--and now you stand there looking like I was a +kid that had been caught whispering, and must be kept +after school. I know the symptoms, believe me! +You're sore about something I've said. What, don't +you like to have anybody talk about you being a movie- +queen? You sure are all of that. You've got a license +to be proud of yourself. Or maybe you didn't know +you was speaking to a Mexican soldier, or something like +that." He made a move to rise. "Ex-cuse ME, if I've +said something I hadn't ought. I'll beat it, while the +beating's good." + +"No, you won't. You'll stay right where you are." +His frank acceptance of her hostile attitude steadied +Jean. "Do you think I came all the way down here +just to say hello?" + +"Search me." Art studied her curiously. "I +never could keep track of what you thought and what +you meant, and I guess you haven't grown any easier to +read since I saw you last. I'll be darned if I know +what you came for; but it's a cinch you didn't come +just to be riding on the cars." + +"No," drawled Jean, watching him. "I didn't. I +came after you." + +Art Osgood stared, while his cheeks darkened with +the flush of confusion. He laughed a little. "I sure +wish that was the truth," he said. "Jean, you never +would have to go very far after any man with two eyes +in his head. Don't rub it in." + +"I did," said Jean calmly. "I came after you. I'd +have found you if I had to hunt all through Mexico and +fight both armies for you." + +"Jean!" There was a queer, pleading note in Art's +voice. "I wish I could believe that, but I can't. I +ain't a fool." + +"Yes, you are." Jean contradicted him pitilessly. +"You were a fool when you thought you could go away +and no one think you knew anything at all about-- +Johnny Croft." + +Art's fingers had been picking at a loose splinter on +the wooden rail whereon he sat. He looked down at it, +jerked it loose with a sharp twist, and began snapping +off little bits with his thumb and forefinger. In a minute +he looked up at Jean, and his eyes were different. +They were not hostile; they were merely cold and watchful +and questioning + +"Well?" + +"Well, somebody did think so. I've thought so for +three years, and so I'm here." Jean found that her +breath was coming fast, and that as she leaned back +against a post and gripped the rail on either side, her +arms were quivering like the legs of a frightened horse. +Still, her voice had sounded calm enough. + +Art Osgood sat with his shoulders drooped forward a +little, and painstakingly snipped off tiny bits of the +splinter. After a short silence, he turned his head +and looked at her again. + +"I shouldn't think you'd want to stir up that trouble +after all this while," he said. "But women are queer. +I can't see, myself, why you'd want to bother hunting +me up on account of--that." + +Jean weighed his words, his look, his manner, and +got no clue at all to what was going on back of his eyes. +On the surface, he was just a tanned, fairly good-looking +young man who has been reluctantly drawn into an +unpleasant subject. + +"Well, I did consider it worth while bothering to +hunt you up," she told him flatly. "If you don't think +it's important, you at least won't object to going back +with me?" + +Again his glance went to her face, plainly startled. +"Go back with you?" he repeated. "What for?" + +"Well--" Jean still had some trouble with her +breath and to keep her quiet, smooth drawl, "let's make +it a woman's reason. Because." + +Art's face settled to a certain hardness that still was +not hostile. "Becauses don't go," he said. "Not with +a girl like you; they might with some. What do you +want me to go back for?" + +"Well, I want you to go because I want to clear +things up, about Johnny Croft. It's time--it was +cleared up." + +Art regarded her fixedly. "Well, I don't see yet +what's back of that first BECAUSE," he sparred. +"There's nothing I can do to clear up anything." + +"Art, don't lie to me about it. I know--" + +"What do you know?" Art's eyes never left her +face, now. They seemed to be boring into her brain. +Jean began to feel a certain confusion. To be sure, +she had never had any experience whatever with fugitive +murderers; but no one would ever expect one to act +like this. A little more, she thought resentfully, and +he would be making her feel as if she were the guilty +person. She straightened herself and stared back at +him. + +"I know you left because you--you didn't want to +stay and face-things. I--I have felt as if I could +kill you, almost, for what you have done. I--I don't +see how you can SIT there and--and look at me that +way." She stopped and braced herself. "I don't want +to argue about it. I came here to make you go back +and face things. It's--horrible--" She was thinking +of her father then, and she could not go on. + +"Jean, you're all wrong. I don't know what idea +you've got, but you may as well get one or two things +straight. Maybe you do feel like killing me; but I +don't know what for. I haven't the slightest notion of +going back; there's nothing I could clear up, if I did +go." + +Jean looked at him dumbly. She supposed she +should have to force him to go, after all. Of course, +you couldn't expect that a man who had committed a +crime will admit it to the first questioner; you couldn't +expect him to go back willingly and face the penalty. +She would have to use her gun; perhaps even call on +Lite, since Lite had followed her. She might have felt +easier in her mind had she seen how Lite was standing +just within the glass-paneled door behind the dimity +curtain, listening to every word, and watching every +expression on Art Osgood's face. Lite's hand, also, was +close to his gun, to be perfectly sure of Jean's safety. +But he had no intention of spoiling her feeling of +independence if he could help it. He had lots of faith in +Jean. + +"What has cropped up, anyway?" Art asked her +curiously, as if he had been puzzling over her reasons for +being there. "I thought that affair was settled long +ago, when it happened. I thought it was all straight +sailing--" + +"To send an innocent man to prison for it? Do +you call that straight sailing?" Jean's eyes had in +them now a flash of anger that steadied her. + +"What innocent man?" Art threw away the stub +of the splinter and sat up straight. "I never knew any +innocent man--" + +"Oh! You didn't know?" + +"All I know," said Art, with a certain swiftness of +speech that was a new element in his manner, "I'm +dead willing to tell you. I knew Johnny had been +around knocking the outfit, and making some threats, +and saying things he had no business to say. I never +did have any use for him, just because he was so +mouthy. I wasn't surprised to hear--how it ended +up." + +"To hear! You weren't there, when it +happened?" Jean was watching him for some betraying +emotion, some sign that she had struck home. She got +a quick, sharp glance from him, as if he were trying to +guess just how much she knew. + +"Why should I have been there? The last time I +was ever at the Lazy A," he stated distinctly, "was the +day before I left. I didn't go any farther than the gate +then. I had a letter for your father, and I met him at +the gate and gave it to him." + +"A letter for dad?" It was not much, but it was +better than nothing. Jean thought she might lead him +on to something more. + +"Yes! A note, or a letter. Carl sent me over with +it." + +"Carl? What was it about? I never heard--" + +"I never read it. Ask your dad what it was about, +why don't you? I don't reckon it was anything particular." + +"Maybe it was, though." Jean was turning crafty. +She would pretend to be interested in the letter, and trip +Art somehow when he was off his guard. "Are you +sure that it was the day before--you left?" + +"Yes." Some high talk in the street caught his +attention, and Art turned and looked down. Jean caught +at the chance to study his averted face, but she could not +read innocence or guilt there. Art, she decided, was +not as transparent as she had always believed him to be. +He turned back and met her look. "I know it was the +day before. Why?" + +"Oh, I wondered. Dad didn't say-- What did he +do with it--the letter?" + +"He opened it and read it." A smile of amused +understanding of her finesse curled Art's lips. "And +he stuck it in the pocket of his chaps and went on to +wherever he was going." His eyes challenged her impishly. + +"And it was from Uncle Carl, you say?" + +Art hesitated, and the smile left his lips. "It--it +was from Carl, yes. Why?" + +"Oh, I just wondered." Jean was wondering why +he had stopped smiling, all at once, and why he hesitated. +Was he afraid he was going to contradict himself +about the day or the errand? Or was he afraid she +would ask her Uncle Carl, and find that there was no +letter? + +"Why don't you ask your dad, if you are so +anxious to know all about it?" Art demanded abruptly. +"Anyway, that's the last time I was ever over +there." + +"Ask dad!" Jean's anger flamed out suddenly. +"Art Osgood, when I think of dad, I wonder why I +don't shoot you! I wonder how you dare sit there and +look me in the face. Ask dad! Dad, who is paying +with his life and all that's worth while in life, for that +murder that you deny--" + +"What's that? Paying how?" Art leaned toward +her; and now his face was hard and hostile, and so +were his eyes. + +"Paying! You know how he is paying! Paying +in Deer Lodge penitentiary--" + +"Who? YOUR FATHER?" Had Art been ready to +spring at her and catch her by the throat, he would not +have looked much different. + +"My father!" Jean's voice broke upon the word. +"And you--" She did not attempt to finish the +charge. + +Art sat looking at her with a queer intensity. "Your +father!" he repeated. "Aleck! I never knew that, +Jean. Take my word, I never knew that!" He +seemed to be thinking pretty fast. "Where's Carl at?" +he asked irrelevantly. + +"Uncle Carl? He's home, running both ranches. I +--I never could make Uncle Carl see that you must +have been the one." + +"Been the one that shot Crofty, you mean?" Art +gave a short laugh. He got up and stood in front of +her. "Thanks, awfully. Good reason why he +couldn't see it! He knows well enough I didn't do it. +He knows--who did." He bit his lips then, as if he +feared that he had said too much. + +"Uncle Carl knows? Then why doesn't he tell? It +wasn't dad!" Jean took a defiant step toward him. +"Art Osgood, if you dare say it was dad, I--I'll kill +you!" + +Art smiled at her with a brief lightening of his eyes. +"I believe you would, at that," he said soberly. "But +it wasn't your dad, Jean." + +"Who was it?" + +"I--don't--know." + +"You do! You do know, Art Osgood! And you +ran off; and they gave dad eight years--" + +Art spoke one word under his breath, and that word +was profane. "I don't see how that could be," he said +after a minute. + +Jean did not answer. She was biting her lips to keep +back the tears. She felt that somehow she had failed; +that Art Osgood was slipping through her fingers, in +spite of the fact that he did not seem to fear her or to +oppose her except in the final accusation. It was the +lack of opposition, that lack of fear, that baffled her so. +Art, she felt dimly, must be very sure of his own position; +was it because he was so close to the Mexican line? +Jean glanced desperately that way. It was very close. +She could see the features of the Mexican soldiers +lounging before the cantina over there; through the +lighted window of the customhouse she could see a dark- +faced officer bending over a littered desk. The guard +over there spoke to a friend, and she could hear the +words he said. + +Jean thought swiftly. She must not let Art Osgood +go back across that street. She could cover him with +her gun--Art knew how well she could use it!--and +she would call for an American officer and have him +arrested. Or, Lite was somewhere below; she would +call for Lite, and he could go and get an officer and a +warrant. + +"How soon you going back?" Art asked abruptly, +as though he had been pondering a problem and had +reached the solution. "I'll have to get a leave of +absence, or go down on the books as a deserter; and I +wouldn't want that. I can get it, all right. I'll go +back with you and straighten this thing out, if it's the +way you say it is. I sure didn't know they'd pulled +your dad for it, Jean." + +This, coming so close upon the heels of her own +decision, set Jean all at sea again. She looked at him +doubtfully. + +"I thought you said you didn't know, and you +wouldn't go back." + +Art grinned sardonically. "I'll lie any time to help +a friend," he admitted frankly. "What I do draw the +line at is lying to help some cowardly cuss double-cross +a man. Your father got the double-cross; I don't stand +for anything like that. Not a-tall!" He heaved a sigh +of nervous relaxation, for the last half hour had been +keyed rather high for them both, and pulled his hat +down on his head. + +"Say, Jean! Want to go across with me and meet +the general? You can make my talk a whole lot +stronger by telling what you came for. I'll get leave, +all right, then. And you'll know for sure that I'm +playing straight. You see that two-story 'dobe about +half-way down the block,--the one with the Mexican +flag over it?" He pointed. "There's where he is. +Want to go over?" + +"Any objections to taking me along with you?" +This was Lite, coming nonchalantly toward them from +the doorway. Lite was still perfectly willing to let +Jean manage this affair in her own way, but that did +not mean that he would not continue to watch over her. +Lite was much like a man who lets a small boy believe +he is driving a skittish team all alone. Jean believed +that she was acting alone in this, as in everything else. +She had yet to learn that Lite had for three years been +always at hand, ready to take the lines if the team +proved too fractious for her. + +Art turned and put out his hand. "Why, hello, +Lite! Sure, you can come along; glad to have you." +He eyed Lite questioningly. "I'll gamble you've heard +all we've been talking about," he said. "That would +be you, all right! So you don't need any wising up. +Come on; I want to catch the chief before he goes off +somewhere." + +To see the three of them go down the stairs and out +upon the street and across it into Mexico,--which to +Jean seemed very queer,--you would never dream of +the quest that had brought them together down here on +the border. Even Jean was smiling, in a tired, anxious +way. She walked close to Lite and never once asked +him how he came to be there, or why. She was glad +that he was there. She was glad to shift the whole +matter to his broad shoulders now, and let him take the +lead. + +They had a real Mexican dinner in a queer little +adobe place where Art advised them quite seriously +never to come alone. They had thick soup with a +strange flavor, and Art talked with the waiter in Mexican +dialect that made Jean glad indeed to feel Lite's +elbow touching hers, and to know that although Lite's +hand rested idly on his knee, it was only one second +from his weapon. She had no definite suspicion of Art +Osgood, but all the same she was thankful that she was +not there alone with him among all these dark, sharp- +eyed Mexicans with their atmosphere of latent treachery. + +Lite ate mostly with his left hand. Jean noticed +that. It was the only sign of watchfulness that he +betrayed, unless one added the fact that he had chosen +a seat which brought his back against an adobe wall +and his face toward Art and the room, with Jean +beside him. That might have been pure chance, +and it might not. But Art was evidently playing +fair. + +A little later they came back to the Casa del Sonora, +and Jean went up to her room feeling that a great burden +had been lifted from her shoulders. Lite and Art +Osgood were out on the veranda, gossiping of the +range, and in Art's pocket was a month's leave of +absence from his duties. Once she heard Lite laugh, and +she stood with one hand full of hairpins and the other +holding the brush and listened, and smiled a little. It +all sounded very companionable, very care-free,--not +in the least as though they were about to clear up an old +wrong. + +She got into bed and thumped the hard pillow into +a little nest for her tired head, and listened languidly +to the familiar voices that came to her mingled with +confused noises of the street. Lite was on guard; he +would not lose his caution just because Art seemed +friendly and helpfully inclined, and had meant no +treachery over in that queer restaurant. Lite would not +be easily tricked. So she presently fell asleep. + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +A LITTLE ENLIGHTENMENT + + +Sometime in the night Jean awoke to hear footsteps +in the corridor outside her room. She sat up +with a start, and her right hand went groping for her +gun. Just for the moment she thought that she was +in her room at the Lazy A, and that the night-prowler +had come and was beginning his stealthy search of the +house. + +Then she heard some one down in the street call out +a swift sentence in Spanish, and get a laugh for an +answer. She remembered that she was in Nogales, +within talking distance of Mexico, and that she had +found Art Osgood, and that he did not behave like a +fugitive murderer, but like a friend who was anxious +to help free her father. + +The footsteps went on down the hall,--the footsteps +of Lite, who had come and stood for a minute outside +her door to make sure that all was quiet and that she +slept. But Jean, now that she knew where she was, +lay wide awake and thinking. Suddenly she sat up +again, staring straight before her. + +That letter,--the letter Art had taken to her father, +the letter he had read and put in the pocket of his +chaps! Was that what the man had been hunting for, +those nights when he had come searching in that secret, +stealthy way? She did not remember ever having +looked into the pocket of her father's chaps, though they +had hung in her room all those three years since the +tragedy. Pockets in chaps were not, as a general thing, +much used. Men carried matches in them sometimes, +or money. The flap over her dad's chap-pocket was +buttoned down, and the leather was stiff; perhaps the letter +was there yet. + +She got up and turned on the light, and looked at her +watch. She wanted to start then, that instant, for Los +Angeles. She wanted to take her dad's chaps out of +her trunk where she had packed them just for the comfort +of having them with her, and she wanted to look +and see if the letter was there still. There was no particular +reason for believing that this was of any particular +importance, or had any bearing whatever upon the +crime. But the idea was there, and it nagged at her. + +Her watch said that it was twenty-five minutes after +two o'clock. The train, Lite had told her, would leave +for Tucson at seven-forty-five in the morning. She told +herself that, since it was too far to walk, and since she +could not start any sooner by staying up and freezing, +she might just as well get back into bed and try to +sleep. + +But she could not sleep. She kept thinking of the +letter, and trying to imagine what clue it could possibly +give if she found it still in the pocket. Carl had sent +it, Art said. A thought came to Jean which she tried +to ignore; and because she tried to ignore it, it returned +with a dogged insistence, and took clearer shape in her +mind, and formed itself into questions which she was +compelled at last to face and try to answer. + +Was it her Uncle Carl who had come and searched +the house at night, trying to find that letter? If it were +her uncle, why was he so anxious to find it, after three +years had passed? What was in the letter? If it had +any bearing whatever upon the death of Johnny Croft, +why hadn't her dad mentioned it? Why hadn't her +Uncle Carl said something about it? Was the letter +just a note about some ranch business? Then why else +should any one come at night and prowl all through the +house, and never take anything? Why had he come +that first night? + +Jean drew in her breath sharply. All at once, like +a flashlight turned upon a dark corner of her mind, she +remembered something about that night. She remembered +how she had told her Uncle Carl that she meant +to prove that her dad was innocent; that she meant to +investigate the devious process by which the Lazy A +ranch and all the stock had ceased to belong to her or +her father; that she meant to adopt sly, sleuth-like +methods; she remembered the very words which she +had used. She remembered how bitter her uncle had +become. Had she frightened him, somehow, with her +bold declaration that she would not "let sleeping dogs +lie" any longer? Had he remembered the letter, and +been uneasy because of what was in it? But what +COULD be in it, if it were written at least a day before +the terrible thing had happened? + +She remembered her uncle's uncontrolled fury that +evening when she had ridden over to see Lite. What +had she said to cause it? She tried to recall her words, +and finally she did remember saying something about +proving that her own money had been paying for her +"keep" for three years. Then he had gone into that +rage, and she had not at the time seen any connection +between her words and his raving anger. But perhaps +there was a connection. Perhaps-- + +"Oh, my goodness!" she exclaimed aloud. She was +remembering the telegram which she had sent him just +before she left Los Angeles for Nogales. "He'll just +simply go WILD when he gets that wire!" She recalled +now how he had insisted all along that Art Osgood +knew absolutely nothing about the murder; she recalled +also, with an uncanny sort of vividness, Art's manner +when he had admitted for the second time that the letter +had been from Carl. She remembered how he had +changed when he found that her father was being punished +for the crime. + +She did not know, just yet, how all these tangled +facts were going to work out. She had not yet come to +the final question that she would presently be asking +herself. She felt sure that her uncle knew more,-- +a great deal more,--about Johnny Croft's death than +he had appeared to know; but she had not yet reached +the point to which her reasonings inevitably would +bring her; perhaps her mind was subconsciously delaying +the ultimate conclusion. + +She got up and dressed; unfastening her window, +she stepped out on the veranda. The street was quiet +at that time in the morning. A sentry stood on guard +at the corner, and here and there a light flared in some +window where others were wakeful. But for the most +part the town lay asleep. Over in what was really the +Mexican quarter, three or four roosters were crowing +as if they would never leave off. The sound of them +depressed Jean, and made her feel how heavy was the +weight of her great undertaking,--heavier now, when +the end was almost in sight, than it had seemed on that +moonlight night when she had ridden over to the Lazy +A and had not the faintest idea of how she was going +to accomplish any part of her task which she had set +herself. She shivered, and turned back to get the gay +serape which she had bought from an old Mexican +woman when they were coming out of that queer +restaurant last evening. + +When she came out again, Lite was standing there, +smoking a cigarette and leaning against a post. + +"You'd better get some sleep, Jean," he reproved her +when she came and stood beside him. "You had a +pretty hard day yesterday; and to-day won't be any +easier. Better go back and lie down." + +Jean merely pulled the serape snugger about her +shoulders and sat down sidewise upon the railing. "I +couldn't sleep," she said. "If I could, I wouldn't be +out here; I'd be asleep, wouldn't I? Why don't you +go to bed yourself?" + +"Ah-h, Art's learned to talk Spanish," he said drily. +"I got myself all worked up trying to make out what +he was trying to say in his sleep, and then I found out +it wasn't my kinda talk, anyway. So I quit. What's +the matter that you can't sleep?" + +Jean stared down at the shadowy street. A dog ran +out from somewhere, sniffed at a doorstep, and trotted +over into Mexico and up to the sentry. The sentry +patted it on the head and muttered a friendly word or +two. Jean watched him absently. It was all so peaceful! +Not at all what one would expect, after seeing +pictures of all those refugees and all those soldiers +fighting, and the dead lying in the street in some little +town whose name she could not pronounce correctly. + +"Did you hear Art tell about taking a letter to dad +the day before?" she asked abruptly. "He wasn't +telling the truth, not all the time. But somehow I believe +that was the truth. He said dad stuck it in the +pocket of his chaps. I believe it's there yet, Lite. I +don't remember ever looking into that pocket. And I +believe--Lite, I never said anything about it, but somebody +kept coming to the house in the night and hunting +around through all the rooms. He never came into my +room, so I--I didn't bother him; but I've wondered +what he was after. It just occurred to me that +maybe--" + +"I never could figure out what he was after, either," +Lite observed quietly. + +"You?" Jean turned her head, so that her eyes +shone in the light of a street lamp while she looked up +at him. "How in the world did you know about him?" + +Lite laughed drily. "I don't think there's much +concerns you that I don't know," he confessed. "I saw +him, I guess, every time he came around. He couldn't +have made a crooked move,--and got away with it. +But I never could figure him out exactly." + +Jean looked at him, touched by the care of her that +he had betrayed in those few words. Always she had +accepted him as the one friend who never failed her, +but lately,--since the advent of the motion-picture people, +to be exact,--a new note had crept into his friendship; +a new meaning into his watching over her. She +had sensed it, but she had never faced it openly. She +pulled her thoughts away from it now. + +"Did you know who he was?" + +It was like Jean to come straight to the point. Lite +smiled faintly; he knew that question would come, and +he knew that he would have to answer it. + +"Sure. I made it my business to know who he was." + +"Who was it, Lite?" + +Lite did not say. He knew that question was coming +also, but he did not know whether he ought to answer it. + +"It was Uncle Carl, wasn't it?" + +Lite glanced down at her quickly. "You're a good +little guesser." + +"Then it was that letter he was after." She was +silent for a minute, and then she looked at her watch. +"And I can't get at those chaps before to-morrow!" +She sighed and leaned back against the post. + +"Lite, if it was worth all that hunting for, it must +mean something to us. I wonder what it can be; don't +you know?" + +"No," said Lite slowly, "I don't. And it's something +a man don't want to do any guessing about." + +This, Jean felt, was a gentle reproof for her own +speculations upon the subject. She said no more about +the letter. + +"I sent him a telegram," she informed Lite irrelevantly, +"saying I'd located Art and was going to take +him back there. I wonder what he thought when he +got that!" + +Lite turned half around and stared down at her. He +opened his lips to speak, hesitated, and closed them +without making a sound. He turned away and stared +down into the street that was so empty. After a little +he glanced at his own watch, with the same impulse Jean +had felt. The hours and minutes were beginning to +drag their feet as they passed. + +"You go in," he ordered gently, "and lie down. +You'll be all worn out when the time comes for you to +get busy. We don't know what's ahead of us on this +trail, Jean. Right now, it's peaceful as Sunday morning +down in Maine; so you go in and get some sleep, +while you have a chance, and stop thinking about things. +Go on, Jean. I'll call you plenty early; you needn't +be afraid of missing the train." + +Jean smiled a little at the tender, protective note of +authority in his voice and manner. Whether she permitted +it or not, Lite would go right on watching over +her and taking care of her. With a sudden desire to +please him, she rose obediently. When she passed him, +she reached out and gave his arm a little squeeze. + +"You cantankerous old tyrant," she drawled in a +whisper, "you do love to haze me around, don't you? +Just to spite you, I'll do it!" She went in and left +him standing there, smoking and leaning against the +post, calm as the stars above. But under that surface +calm, the heart of Lite Avery was thumping violently. +His arm quivered still under the thrill of Jean's fingers. +Your bottled-up souls are quick to sense the meaning +in a tone or a touch; Jean, whether she herself knew it +or not, had betrayed an emotion that set Lite's thoughts +racing out into a golden future. He stood there a long +while, staring out upon the darkness, his eyes shining. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +THE LETTER IN THE CHAPS + + +Though hours may drag themselves into the past +so sluggishly that one is fairly maddened by the +snail's pace of them, into the past they must go +eventually. Jean had sat and listened to the wheels of the +Golden State Limited clank over the cryptic phrase that +meant so much. "Letter-in-the-chaps! Letter-in-the +chaps!" was what they had said while the train +pounded across the desert and slid through arroyas and +deep cuts which leveled hills for its passing. "Letter- +in-the-chaps! Letter-in-the-chaps!" And then a silence +while they stood by some desolate station where +the people were swarthy of skin and black of hair and +eyes, and moved languidly if they moved at all. Then +they would go on; and when the wheels had clicked over +the switches of the various side tracks, they would take +up again the refrain: "Letter-in-the-chaps! Letter- +in-the-chaps!" until Jean thought she would go crazy +if they kept it up much longer. + +Little by little they drew near to Los Angeles. And +then they were there, sliding slowly through the yards +in a drab drizzle of one of California's fall rains. Then +they were in a taxicab, making for the Third Street +tunnel. Then Jean stared heavy-eyed at the dripping +palms along the boulevard which led away from the +smoke of the city and into Hollywood, snuggled against +the misty hills. "Letter-in-the-chaps!" her tired brain +repeated it still. + +Then she was in the apartment shared with Muriel +Gay and her mother. These two were over at the +studio, the landlady told her when she let them in, and +Jean was glad that they were gone. + +She knelt, still in her hat and coat and with her +gloves on, and fitted her trunk key into the lock. And +there she stopped. What if the letter were not in +the chaps, after all? What if it were but a trivial note, +concerning a matter long since forgotten; a trivial note +that had not the remotest bearing upon the murder? +"Letter-in-the-chaps!" The phrase returned with a +mocking note and beat insistently through her brain. +She sat back on the floor and shivered with the chill of a +fireless room in California, when a fall rain is at its +drizzling worst. + +In the next room one of the men coughed; afterwards +she heard Lite's voice, saying something in an +undertone to Art Osgood. She heard Art's voice mutter +a reply. She raised herself again to her knees, +turned the key in the lock, and lifted the trunk-lid with +an air of determination. + +Down next the bottom of her big trunk they lay, just +as she had packed them away, with her dad's six-shooter +and belt carefully disposed between the leathern folds. +She groped with her hands under a couple of riding- +skirts and her high, laced boots, got a firm grip on the +fringed leather, and dragged them out. She had forgotten +all about the gun and belt until they fell with a +thump on the floor. She pulled out the belt, left the +gun lying there by the trunk, and hurried out with the +chaps dangling over her arm. + +She was pale when she stood before the two who sat +there waiting with their hats in their hands and their +faces full of repressed eagerness. Her fingers trembled +while she pulled at the stiff, leather flap of the pocket, +to free it from the button. + +"Maybe it ain't there yet," Art hazarded nervously, +while they watched her. "But that's where he put it, +all right. I saw him." + +Jean's fingers went groping into the pocket, stayed +there for a second or two, and came out holding a folded +envelope. + +"That's it!" Art leaned toward her eagerly. +"That's the one, all right." + +Jean sat down suddenly because her knees seemed +to bend under her weight. Three years--and that letter +within her reach all the time! + +"Let's see, Jean." Lite reached out and took it from +her nerveless fingers. "Maybe it won't amount to anything +at all." + +Jean tried to hold herself calm. "Read it--out +loud," she said. "Then we'll know." She tried to +smile, and made so great a failure of it that she came +very near crying. The faint crackle of the cheap paper +when Lite unfolded the letter made her start nervously. +"Read it--no matter--what it is," she repeated, +when she saw Lite's eyes go rapidly over the lines. + +Lite glanced at her sharply, then leaned and took +her hand and held it close. His firm clasp steadied her +more than any words could have done. Without further +delay or attempt to palliate its grim significance, +he read the note: + +Aleck: + +If Johnny Croft comes to you with anything about me, +kick him off the ranch. He claims he knows a whole lot +about me branding too many calves. Don't believe anything +he tells you. He's just trying to make trouble because he +claims I underpaid him. He was telling Art a lot of stuff +that he claimed he could prove on me, but it's all a lie. +Send him to me if he comes looking for trouble. I'll give +him all he wants. + +Art found a heifer down in the breaks that looks like +she might have blackleg. I'm going down there to see about +it. Maybe you better ride over and see what you think +about it; we don't want to let anything like that get a start +on us. + +Don't pay any attention to Johnny. I'll fix him if he +don't keep his face shut. + CARL. + + +"Carl!" Jean repeated the name mechanically. "Carl." + +"I kinda thought it was something like that," Art +Osgood interrupted her to say. "Now you know that +much, and I'll tell you just what I know about it. It +was Carl shot Crofty, all right. I rode over with him to +the Lazy A; I was on my way to town and we went that +far together. I rode that way to tell you good-by." He +looked at Jean with a certain diffidence. "I kinda +wanted to see you before I went clear outa the country, +but you weren't at home. + +"Johnny Croft's horse was standing outside the +house when we rode up. I guess he must have just +got there ahead of us. Carl got off and went in ahead +of me. Johnny was eating a snack when I went in. +He said something to Carl, and Carl flared up. I saw +there wasn't anybody at home, and I didn't want to get +mixed up in the argument, so I turned and went on out. +And I hadn't more than got to my horse when I heard +a shot, and Carl came running out with his gun in his +hand. + +"Well, Johnny was dead, and there wasn't anything +I could do about it. Carl told me to beat it outa the +country, just like I'd been planning; he said it would +be a whole lot better for him, seeing I wasn't an eye- +witness. He said Johnny started to draw his gun, and +he shot in self-defense; and he said I better go while +the going was good, or I might get pulled into it some +way. + +"Well, I thought it over for a minute, and I didn't +see where it would get me anything to stay. I couldn't +help Carl any by staying, because I wasn't in the house +when it happened. So I hit the trail for town, and +never said anything to anybody." He looked at the two +contritely. "I never knew, till you folks came to Nogales +looking for me, that things panned out the way +they did. I thought Carl was going to give himself up, +and would be cleared. I never once dreamed he was +the kinda mark that would let his own brother take the +blame that way." + +"I guess nobody did." Lite folded the letter and +pushed it back into the envelope. "I can look back +now, though, and see how it come about. He hung +back till Aleck found the body and was arrested; and +after that he just simply didn't have the nerve to step +out and say that he was the one that did it. He tried +hard to save Aleck, but he wouldn't--" + +"The coward! The low, mean coward!" Jean +stood up and looked from one to the other, and spoke +through her clinched teeth. "To let dad suffer all this +while! Lite, when did you say that train left for Salt +Lake? We can take the taxi back down town, and save +time." She was at the door when she turned toward +the two again. "Hurry up! Don't you know we've +got to hurry? Dad's in prison all this while! And +Uncle Carl,--there's no telling where Uncle Carl is! +That wire I sent him was the worst thing I could have +done!" + +"Or the best," suggested Lite laconically, as he led +the way down the hall and out to the rain-drenched, +waiting taxicab. + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +LITE COMES OUT OF THE BACKGROUND + + +For hours Jean had sat staring out at the drear +stretches of desert dripping under the dismal rain +that streaked the car windows. The clouds hung leaden +and gray close over the earth; the smoke from the engine +trailed a funereal plume across the grease-wood covered +plain. Away in the distance a low line of hills +stretched vaguely, as though they were placed there to +hold up the sky that was so heavy and dank. Alongside +the track every ditch ran full of clay-colored water +that wrapped little, ragged wreaths of dirty foam around +every obstruction, like the tawdry finery of the slums. + +From the smoking-room where he had been for the +past two hours with Art Osgood, Lite came unsteadily +down the aisle, heralded as it were by the muffled +scream of the whistle at a country crossing. Jean +turned toward him a face as depressed as the desert out +there under the rain. Lite, looking at her keenly, saw +on her cheeks the traces of tears. He let himself down +wearily into the seat beside her, reached over calmly, +and took her hand from off her lap and held it snugly +in his own. + +"This is likely a snowstorm, up home," he said in +his quiet, matter-of-fact way. "I guess we'll have to +make our headquarters in town till I get things hauled +out to the ranch. That's it, when you can't look ahead +and see what's coming. I could have had everything +ready to go right on out, only I thought there wouldn't +be any use, before spring, anyway. But if this storm +ain't a blizzard up there, a couple of days will straighten +things out." + +Jean turned her head and regarded him attentively. +"Out where?" she asked him bluntly. "What are you +talking about? Have you and Art been celebrating?" +She knew better than that. Lite never indulged in +liquid celebrations, and Jean knew it. + +Lite reached into his pocket with the hand that was +free, and drew forth a telegram envelope. He released +her hand while he drew out the message, but he did not +hand it to her immediately. "I wired Rossman from +Los Angeles," he informed her, "and told him what +was up, and asked him to put me up to date on that end +of the line. So he did. I got this back there at that +last town." He laid his hand over hers again, and +looked down at her sidelong. + +"Ever since the trouble," he began abruptly, but +still in that quiet, matter-of-fact way, "I've been playing +a lone hand and kinda holding back and waiting for +something to drop. I had that idea all along that +you've had this summer: getting hold of the Lazy A and +fixing it up so your dad would have a place to come +back to. I never said anything, because talking don't +come natural to me like it does to some, and I'd rather +do a thing first and then talk about it afterwards if I +have to. + +"So I hung on to what money I had saved up along; +I was going to get me a bunch of cattle and fix up that +homestead of mine some day, and maybe have a little +home." His eyes went surreptitiously to her face, and +lingered there wistfully. "So after the trouble I +buckled down to work and saved a little faster, if +anything. It looked to me like there wasn't much hope of +doing anything for your dad till his sentence ran out, +so I never said anything about it. Long as Carl didn't +try to sell it to anybody else, I just waited and got +together all the money I could. I didn't see as there was +anything else to do." + +Jean was chewing a corner of her lip, and was staring +out of the window. "I didn't know I was stealing +your thunder, Lite," she said dispiritedly. "Why +didn't you tell me?" + +`Wasn't anything to tell--till there was something +to tell. Now, this telegram here,--this is what I +started out to talk about. It'll be just as well if you +know it before we get to Helena. I showed it to Art, +and he thought the same as I did. You know,--or +I reckon you don't, because I never said anything,-- +away last summer, along about the time you went to +work for Burns, I got to thinking things over, and I +wondered if Carl didn't have something on his mind +about that killing. So I wrote to Rossman. I didn't +much like the way he handled your dad's case, but he +knew all the ins and outs, so I could talk to him without +going away back at the beginning. He knew Carl, +too, so that made it easier. + +"I wrote and told him how Carl was prowling +around through the house nights, and the like of that, +and to look up the title to the Lazy A--" + +"Why wouldn't you wait and let me buy it myself?" +Jean asked him with just a shade of sharpness in her +voice. "You knew I wanted to." + +"So I got Rossman started, quite a while back. He +thought as I did, that Carl was acting mighty funny. +I was with Carl more than you was, and I could tell +he had something laying heavy on his mind. But then, +the rest of us had things laying pretty heavy on our +minds, too, that wasn't guilt; so there wasn't any way +to tell what was bothering Carl." Lite made no attempt +to answer the question she had asked. + +"Now, here's this wire Rossman sent me. You don't +want to get the wrong idea, Jean, and feel too bad about +this. You don't want to think you had anything to do +with it. Carl was gradually building up to something +of this kind,--has been for a long time. His coming +over to the ranch nights, looking for that letter that +he had hunted all over for at first, shows he wasn't right +in his mind on the subject. But--" + +"Well, heavens and earth, Lite!" Jean's tone was +exasperated more than it was worried. "Why don't +you say what you want to say? What's it all about? +Let me read that telegram and be done with it. I--I +should think you'd know I can stand things, by this +time. I haven't shown any weak knees, have I?" + +"Well, I hate to pile on any more," Lite muttered +defensively. "But you've got to know this. I wish +you didn't, but--" + +Jean did not say any more. She reached over and +with her free hand took the telegram from him. She +did not pull away the hand Lite was holding, however, +and the heart of him gave an exultant bound because +she let it lie there quiet under his own. She pinched +her brows together over the message, and let it drop +into her lap. Her head went back against the towel +covered head-rest, and for a minute her eyes closed as +if she could not look any longer upon trouble. + +Lite waited a second, pulled her head over against +his shoulder, and picked up the telegram and read it +through slowly, though he could have repeated it word +for word with his eyes shut. + +L Avery, + En Route Train 23, S. L. & D. R. R. + +Carl Douglas suicided yesterday, leaving letter confessing +murder of Croft. Had just completed transfer of land and +cattle to your name. Am taking steps placing matter +before governor immediately expect him to act at once upon +pardon. Bring your man my office at once deposition may +be required. + J. W. ROSSMAN. + + +"Now, I told you not to worry about this," Lite +reminded the girl firmly. "Looks to me like it takes a +load off our hands,--Carl's doing what he done. Saves +us dragging it all through court again; and, Jean, it'll +let your dad out a whole lot quicker. Sounds kinda +cold-blooded, maybe, but if you could look at it as good +news,--that's the way it strikes me." + +Jean did not say a word, just then. She did what +you might not expect Jean to do, after all her strong- +mindedness and her independence: She made an +uncertain movement toward sitting up and facing things +calmly, man-fashion; then she leaned and dropped her +very independent brown head back upon Lite's shoulder, +and behind her handkerchief she cried quietly +while Lite held her close. + +"Now, that's long enough to cry," he whispered to +her, after a season of mental intoxication such as he had +never before experienced. "I started out three years +ago to be the boss. I ain't been working at it regular, +as you might say, all the time. But I'm going to wind +up that way. I hate to turn you over to your dad without +some little show of making good at the job." + +Jean gave a little gurgle that may have been related +to laughter, and Lite's lips quirked with humorous +embarrassment as he went on. + +"I don't guess," he said slowly, "that I'm going to +turn you over at all, Jean. Not altogether. I guess +I've just about got to keep you. It--takes two to +make a home, and--I've got my heart set on us making +a home outa the Lazy A again; you and me, making a +home for us and your dad. How--how does that +sound to you, Jean?" + +Jean was wiping her eyes as unobtrusively as she +might. She did not answer. + +"How does it sound, you and me making a home +together?" Lite was growing pale, and his hands +trembled. "Tell me." + +"It sounds--good," said Jean unsteadily. + +For several minutes Lite did not say a word. They +sat there holding hands quite foolishly, and stared out +at the drenched desert. + +"Soon as your dad comes," he said at last, very +simply, "we'll be married." He was silent another minute, +and added under his breath like a prayer, "And +we'll all go--home." + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +HOW HAPPINESS RETURNED TO THE LAZY A + + +When Lite rapped with his knuckles on the door +of the room where she was waiting, Jean stood +with her hands pressed tightly over her face, every +muscle rigid with the restraint she was putting upon +herself. For Lite this three-day interval had been too +full of going here and there, attending to the manifold +details of untangling the various threads of their broken +life-pattern, for him to feel the suspense which Jean +had suffered. She had not done much. She had +waited. And now, with Lite and her dad standing +outside the door, she almost dreaded the meeting. But +she took a deep breath and walked to the door and +opened it. + +"Hello, dad," she cried with a nervous gaiety. +"Give your dear daughter a kiss!" She had not +meant to say that at all. + +Tall and gaunt and gray and old; lines etched deep +ground his bitter mouth; pale with the tragic prison +pallor; looking out at the world with the somber eyes +of one who has suffered most cruelly,--Aleck Douglas +put out his thin, shaking arms and held her close. He +did not say anything at all; and the kiss she asked for +he laid softly upon her hair. + +Lite stood in the doorway and looked at the two of +them for a moment. "I'm going down to see about-- +things. I'll be back in a little while. And, Jean, will +you be ready?" + +Jean looked up at him understandingly, and with +a certain shyness in her eyes. "If it's all right with +dad," she told him, "I'll be ready." + +"Lite's a man!" Aleck stated unsmilingly, with a +trace of that apathy which had hurt Jean so in the +warden's office. "I'm glad you'll have him to take care +of you, Jean." + +So Lite closed the door softly and went away and +left those two alone. + + +In a very few words I can tell you the rest. There +were a few things to adjust, and a few arrangements to +make. The greatest adjustment, perhaps, was when +Jean begged off from that contract with the Great +Western Company. Dewitt did not want to let her go, +but he had read a marked article in a Montana paper +that Lite mailed to him in advance of their return, and +he realized that some things are greater even than the +needs of a motion-picture company. He was very nice, +therefore, to Jean. He told her by all means to consider +herself free to give her time wholly to her father +--and her husband. He also congratulated Lite in +terms that made Jean blush and beat a hurried retreat +from his office, and that made Lite grin all the way to +the hotel. So the public lost Jean of the Lazy A +almost as soon as it had learned to welcome her. + +Then there was Pard, that had to leave the little +buckskin and take that nerve-racking trip back to the +Lazy A. Lite attended to that with perfect calm and +a good deal of inner elation. So that detail was soon +adjusted. + +At the Lazy A there was a great deal to do before the +traces of its tragedy were wiped out. We'll have to +leave them doing that work, which was only a matter +of time, after all, and not nearly so hard to accomplish +as their attempts to wipe out from Aleck's soul the black +scar of those three years. I think, on the whole, we +shall leave them doing that work, too. As much as +human love and happiness could do toward wiping out +the bitterness they would accomplish, you may be sure, +--give them time enough. + + + + + +End if Project Gutenberg's Etext of Jean of the Lazy A, By B. M. 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