Part 23

Whenever Madeline fell into a quandary she had to call upon the old cattleman. No man ever held a position with greater pride than Stillwell, but he had been put to tests that steeped him in humility. Here he scratched his head in great perplexity.

“Dog-gone the luck! What’s this elopin’ bizness to do with cattle-raisin’? I don’t know nothin’ but cattle. Miss Majesty, it’s amazin’ strange what these cowboys hev come to. I never seen no cowboys like these we’ve got hyar now. I don’t know them any more. They dress swell an’ read books, an’ some of them hev actooly stopped cussin’ an’ drinkin’. I ain’t sayin’ all this is against them. Why, now, they’re jest the finest bunch of cow-punchers I ever seen or dreamed of. But managin’ them now is beyond me. When cowboys begin to play thet game gol-lof an’ run off with French maids I reckon Bill Stillwell has got to resign.”

“Stillwell! Oh, you will not leave me? What in the world would I do?” exclaimed Madeline, in great anxiety.

“Wal, I sure won’t leave you, Miss Majesty. No, I never’ll do thet. I’ll run the cattle bizness fer you an’ see after the hosses an’ other stock. But I’ve got to hev a foreman who can handle this amazin’ strange bunch of cowboys.”

“You’ve tried half a dozen foremen. Try more until you find the man who meets your requirements,” said Madeline. “Never mind that now. Tell me how to impress Ambrose—to make him an example, so to speak. I must have another maid. And I do not want a new one carried off in this summary manner.”

“Wal, if you fetch pretty maids out hyar you can’t expect nothin’ else. Why, thet black-eyed little French girl, with her white skin an’ pretty airs an’ smiles an’ shrugs, she had the cowboys crazy. It’ll be wuss with the next one.”

“Oh dear!” sighed Madeline.

“An’ as fer impressin’ Ambrose, I reckon I can tell you how to do thet. Jest give it to him good an’ say you’re goin’ to fire him. That’ll fix Ambrose, an’ mebbe scare the other boys fer a spell.”

“Very well, Stillwell, bring Ambrose in to see me, and tell Christine to wait in my room.”

It was a handsome debonair, bright-eyed cowboy that came tramping into Madeline’s presence. His accustomed shyness and awkwardness had disappeared in an excited manner. He was a happy boy. He looked straight into Madeline’s face as if he expected her to wish him joy. And Madeline actually found that expression trembling to her lips. She held it back until she could be severe. But Madeline feared she would fail of much severity. Something warm and sweet, like a fragrance, had entered the room with Ambrose.

“Ambrose, what have you done?” she asked.

“Miss Hammond, I’ve been and gone and got married,” replied Ambrose, his words tumbling over one another. His eyes snapped, and there was a kind of glow upon his clean-shaven brown cheek. “I’ve stole a march on the other boys. There was Frank Slade pushin’ me close, and I was havin’ some runnin’ to keep Jim Bell back in my dust. Even old man Nels made eyes at Christine! So I wasn’t goin’ to take any chances. I just packed her off to El Cajon and married her.”

“Oh, so I heard,” said Madeline, slowly, as she watched him. “Ambrose, do you—love her?”

He reddened under her clear gaze, dropped his head, and fumbled with his new sombrero, and there was a catch in his breath. Madeline saw his powerful brown hand tremble. It affected her strangely that this stalwart cowboy, who could rope and throw and tie a wild steer in less than one minute, should tremble at a mere question. Suddenly he raised his head, and at the beautiful blase of his eyes Madeline turned her own away.

“Yes, Miss Hammond, I love her,” he said. “I think I love her in the way you’re askin’ about. I know the first time I saw her I thought how wonderful it’d be to have a girl like that for my wife. It’s all been so strange—her comin’ an’ how she made me feel. Sure I never knew many girls, and I haven’t seen any girls at all for years. But when she came! A girl makes a wonderful difference in a man’s feelin’s and thoughts. I guess I never had any before. Leastways, none like I have now. My—it—well, I guess I have a little understandin’ now of Padre Marcos’s blessin’.”

“Ambrose, have you nothing to say to me?” asked Madeline.

“I’m sure sorry I didn’t have time to tell you. But I was in some hurry.”

“What did you intend to do? Where were you going when Stillwell found you?”

“We’d just been married. I hadn’t thought of anything after that. Suppose I’d have rustled back to my job. I’ll sure have to work now and save my money.”

“Oh, well, Ambrose, I am glad you realize your responsibilities. Do you earn enough—is your pay sufficient to keep a wife?”

“Sure it is! Why, Miss Hammond, I never before earned half the salary I’m gettin’ now. It’s some fine to work for you. I’m goin’ to fire the boys out of my bunk-house and fix it up for Christine and me. Say, won’t they be jealous?”

“Ambrose, I—I congratulate you. I wish you joy,” said Madeline. “I—I shall make Christine a little wedding-present. I want to talk to her for a few moments. You may go now.”

It would have been impossible for Madeline to say one severe word to that happy cowboy. She experienced difficulty in hiding her own happiness at the turn of events. Curiosity and interest mingled with her pleasure when she called to Christine.

“Mrs. Ambrose Mills, please come in.”

No sound came from the other room.

“I should like very much to see the bride,” went on Madeline.

Still there was no stir or reply

“Christine!” called Madeline.