Part 53

"But if he had really cared, he could have ridden by to say just a word; but he didn't, he went away without a sign, after promising to come." She buried her face in the coverlet of her mother's bed, and wept in childish grief and despair.

Lize was forced to acknowledge that the ranger's action was inexplicable, but she did her best to make light of it. "He may have hurried to town on some errand, and hadn't a moment to spare. These are exciting days for him, remember. He'll be in to-morrow sure."

With a faint hope of this, the girl rose and went about her daily tasks; but the day passed, and another, without word or sign of the recreant lover, and each day brought a deeper sense of loss, but her pride would not permit her to show her grief.

Young Gregg, without knowing in the least the cause of her troubled face, took this occasion to offer comfort. His manner toward her had changed since she no longer had a part in the management of the eating-house, and for that reason she did not repulse him as sharply as she had been wont to do. He really bore Cavanagh no ill-will, and was, indeed, shrewd enough to understand that Lee admired the ranger, and that his own courtship was rather hopeless; nevertheless, he persisted, his respect for her growing as he found her steadfast in her refusal to permit any familiarity.

"See here, Miss Virginia," he cried, as she was passing him in the hall, "I can see you're worried about Lize (I mean your mother), and if I can be of any use I hope you'll call on me." As she thanked him without enthusiasm, he added: "How is she to-night?"

"I think she's better."

"Can I see her?"

His tone was so earnest that the girl was moved to say: "I'll ask her."

"I wish you would; I want to say something to her."

Lize's voice reached where they stood. "Come in, Joe, the door's open."

He accepted her invitation rather awkwardly, but his face was impassive as he looked down upon her.

"Well, how about it?" she asked. "What's doing in the town?"

"Not much of anything--except talk. The whole country is buzzing over this dismissal of the Chief Forester."

"They'd better be doing something about that murder."

"They are; they're going up there in streams to see where the work was done. The coroner's inquest was held yesterday." He grinned. "'Parties came to their death by persons unknown.'"

Lize scowled. "It's a wonder they don't charge it up to Ross Cavanagh or some other ranger."

"That would be a little too raw, even for this country. They're all feeling gay over this change in the forestry head; but see here, don't you want to get out for a ride? I've got my new machine out here; it rides like silk."

"I reckon a hearse is about my kind," she replied, darkly. "If you could take me up to Cavanagh's cabin, I'd go," she added. "I want to see him."

"I can take you part way," he instantly declared. "But you'd have to ride a horse the last ten miles."

"Couldn't do it, Joe," she sighed. "These last few days I've been about as boneless as an eel. Funny the way a fellow keeps going when he's got something to do that has to be done. I'll tell you what, if you want to take me and Lee up to Sulphur, I'll go ye."

"Sure thing. What day?"

"Not for a day or two. I'm not quite up to it just now; but by Saturday I'll be saddle-wise again."

Joe turned joyously to Lee. "That will be great! Won't you come out for a spin this minute?"

For a moment Lee was tempted. Anything to get away from this horrible little den and the people who infested it was her feeling, but she distrusted Gregg, and she knew that every eye in the town would be upon her if she went, and, besides, Ross might return while she was away. "No, not to-day," she replied, finally; but her voice was gentler than it had ever been to him.

The young fellow was moved to explain his position to Lize. "You don't think much of me, and I don't blame you. I haven't been much use so far, but I'm going to reform. If I had a girl like Lee Virginia to live up to, I'd make a great citizen. I don't lay my arrest up against Cavanagh. I'm ready to pass that by. And as for this other business--this free-range war in which the old man is mixed up--I want you to know that I'm against it. Dad knows his day is short; that's what makes him so hot. But he's a bluff--just a fussy old bluff. He knows he has no more right to the Government grass than anybody else, but he's going to get ahead of the cattle-men if he can."

"Does he know who burned them sheep-herders?"

"Of course he knows, but ain't going to say so. You see, that old Basque who was killed was a monopolist, too. He went after that grass without asking anybody's leave; moreover, he belonged to that Mexican-Dago outfit that everybody hates. The old man isn't crying over that job; it's money in his pocket. All the same it's too good a chance to put the hooks into the cattle-men, hence his offering a reward, and it looks as if something would really be done this time. They say Neill Ballard was mixed up in it, and that old guy that showed me the sheep, but I don't take much stock in that. Whoever did it was paid by the cattle-men, sure thing." The young fellow's tone and bearing made a favorable impression upon Lize. She had never seen this side of him, for the reason that he had hitherto treated her as a bartender. She was acute enough to understand that her social status had changed along with her release from the cash-register, and she was slightly more reconciled, although she could not see her way to providing a living for herself and Lee. For all these reasons she was unwontedly civil to Joe, and sent him away highly elated with the success of his interview.

"I'm going to let him take us up to Sulphur," she said to Lee. "I want to go to town."