Part 43

“I declare now, I want to ride and camp out, also,” protested Castleton.

“As for myself,” went on Helen, “I want—Oh, if I only knew what it is that I want! Well, I know I want to be outdoors, to get into the open, to feel sun and wind, to burn some color into my white face. I want some flesh and blood and life. I am tired out. Beyond all that I don’t know very well. I’ll try to keep Dot from attaching all the cowboys to her train.”

“What a diversity of wants!” said Madeline.

“Above all, Majesty, we want something to happen,” concluded Helen, with passionate finality.

“My dear sister, maybe you will have your wish fulfilled,” replied Madeline, soberly. “Edith, Helen has made me curious about your especial yearning.”

“Majesty, it is only that I wanted to be with you for a while,” replied this old friend.

There was in the wistful reply, accompanied by a dark and eloquent glance of eyes, what told Madeline of Edith’s understanding, of her sympathy, and perhaps a betrayal of her own unquiet soul. It saddened Madeline. How many women might there not be who had the longing to break down the bars of their cage, but had not the spirit!

XIII. Cowboy Golf

In the whirl of the succeeding days it was a mooted question whether Madeline’s guests or her cowboys or herself got the keenest enjoyment out of the flying time. Considering the sameness of the cowboys’ ordinary life, she was inclined to think they made the most of the present. Stillwell and Stewart, however, had found the situation trying. The work of the ranch had to go on, and some of it got sadly neglected. Stillwell could not resist the ladies any more than he could resist the fun in the extraordinary goings-on of the cowboys. Stewart alone kept the business of cattle-raising from a serious setback. Early and late he was in the saddle, driving the lazy Mexicans whom he had hired to relieve the cowboys.

One morning in June Madeline was sitting on the porch with her merry friends when Stillwell appeared on the corral path. He had not come to consult Madeline for several days—an omission so unusual as to be remarked.

“Here comes Bill—in trouble,” laughed Florence.

Indeed, he bore some faint resemblance to a thundercloud as he approached the porch; but the greetings he got from Madeline’s party, especially from Helen and Dorothy, chased away the blackness from his face and brought the wonderful wrinkling smile.

“Miss Majesty, sure I’m a sad demoralized old cattleman,” he said, presently. “An’ I’m in need of a heap of help.”

“What’s wrong now?” asked Madeline, with her encouraging smile.

“Wal, it’s so amazin’ strange what cowboys will do. I jest am about to give up. Why, you might say my cowboys were all on strike for vacations. What do you think of that? We’ve changed the shifts, shortened hours, let one an’ another off duty, hired Greasers, an’, in fact, done everythin’ that could be thought of. But this vacation idee growed worse. When Stewart set his foot down, then the boys begin to get sick. Never in my born days as a cattleman have I heerd of so many diseases. An’ you ought to see how lame an’ crippled an’ weak many of the boys have got all of a sudden. The idee of a cowboy comin’ to me with a sore finger an’ askin’ to be let off for a day! There’s Booly. Now I’ve knowed a hoss to fall all over him, an’ onct he rolled down a canyon. Never bothered him at all. He’s got a blister on his heel, a ridin’ blister, an’ he says it’s goin’ to blood-poisonin’ if he doesn’t rest. There’s Jim Bell. He’s developed what he says is spinal mengalootis, or some such like. There’s Frankie Slade. He swore he had scarlet fever because his face burnt so red, I guess, an’ when I hollered that scarlet fever was contagious an’ he must be put away somewhere, he up an’ says he guessed it wasn’t that. But he was sure awful sick an’ needed to loaf around an’ be amused. Why, even Nels doesn’t want to work these days. If it wasn’t for Stewart, who’s had Greasers with the cattle, I don’t know what I’d do.”

“Why all this sudden illness and idleness?” asked Madeline.

“Wal, you see, the truth is every blamed cowboy on the range except Stewart thinks it’s his bounden duty to entertain the ladies.”

“I think that is just fine!” exclaimed Dorothy Coombs; and she joined in the general laugh.

“Stewart, then, doesn’t care to help entertain us?” inquired Helen, in curious interest. “Wal, Miss Helen, Stewart is sure different from the other cowboys,” replied Stillwell. “Yet he used to be like them. There never was a cowboy fuller of the devil than Gene. But he’s changed. He’s foreman here, an’ that must be it. All the responsibility rests on him. He sure has no time for amusin’ the ladies.”

“I imagine that is our loss,” said Edith Wayne, in her earnest way. “I admire him.”

“Stillwell, you need not be so distressed with what is only gallantry in the boys, even if it does make a temporary confusion in the work,” said Madeline.

“Miss Majesty, all I said is not the half, nor the quarter, nor nuthin’ of what’s troublin’ me,” answered he, sadly.

“Very well; unburden yourself.”

“Wal, the cowboys, exceptin’ Gene, have gone plumb batty, jest plain crazy over this heah game of gol-lof.”

A merry peal of mirth greeted Stillwell’s solemn assertion.

“Oh, Stillwell, you are in fun,” replied Madeline.

“I hope to die if I’m not in daid earnest,” declared the cattleman. “It’s an amazin’ strange fact. Ask Flo. She’ll tell you. She knows cowboys, an’ how if they ever start on somethin’ they ride it as they ride a hoss.”

Florence being appealed to, and evidently feeling all eyes upon her, modestly replied that Stillwell had scarcely misstated the situation.