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Page 47
"Hurry--tell me," begged Carley, feeling the blood come to her face.
"I rode over to Ryan's place for dad, an' when I got there I knew nothing
about what Ruff said to you," began Flo, and she took hold of Carley's
hand. "Neither did dad. You see, Glenn hadn't got there yet. Well, just as
the men had finished dipping a bunch of sheep Glenn came riding down,
lickety cut."
"'Now what the hell's wrong with Glenn?' said dad, getting up from where
we sat.
"Shore I knew Glenn was mad, though I never before saw him that way. He
looked sort of grim an' black. . . . Well, he rode right down on us an'
piled off. Dad yelled at him an' so did I. But Glenn made for the sheep
pen. You know where we watched Haze Ruff an' Lorenzo slinging the sheep
into the dip. Ruff was just about to climb out over the fence when Glenn
leaped up on it."
"'Say, Ruff,' he said, sort of hard, 'Charley an' Ben tell me they heard
you speak disrespectfully to Miss Burch last night.'"
"Dad an' I ran to the fence, but before we could catch hold of Glenn he'd
jumped down into the pen."
"'I'm not carin' much for what them herders say,' replied Ruff.
"'Do you deny it?' demanded Glenn.
"'I ain't denyin' nothin', Kilbourne,' growled Ruff. 'I might argue against
me bein' disrespectful. That's a matter of opinion.'
"'You'll apologize for speaking to Miss Burch or I'll beat you up an' have
Hutter fire you.'
"'Wal, Kilbourne, I never eat my words,' replied Ruff.
"Then Glenn knocked him flat. You ought to have heard that crack. Sounded
like Charley hitting a steer with a club. Dad yelled: 'Look out, Glenn. He
packs a gun!'--Ruff got up mad clear through I reckon. Then they mixed it.
Ruff got in some swings, but he couldn't reach Glenn's face. An' Glenn
batted him right an' left, every time in his ugly mug. Ruff got all bloody
an' he cussed something awful. Glenn beat him against the fence an' then we
all saw Ruff reach for a gun or knife. All the men yelled. An' shore I
screamed. But Glenn saw as much as we saw. He got fiercer. He beat Ruff
down to his knees an' swung on him hard. Deliberately knocked Ruff into the
dip ditch. What a splash! It wet all of us. Ruff went out of sight. Then he
rolled up like a huge hog. We were all scared now. That dip's rank poison,
you know. Reckon Ruff knew that. He floundered along an' crawled up at the
end. Anyone could see that he had mouth an' eyes tight shut. He began to
grope an' feel around, trying to find the way to the pond. One of the men
led him out. It was great to see him wade in the water an' wallow an' souse
his head under. When he came out the men got in front of him any stopped
him. He shore looked bad. . . . An' Glenn called to him, 'Ruff, that
sheep-dip won't go through your tough hide, but a bullet will!"
Not long after this incident Carley started out on her usual afternoon
ride, having arranged with Glenn to meet her on his return from work.
Toward the end of June Carley had advanced in her horsemanship to a point
where Flo lent her one of her own mustangs. This change might not have had
all to do with a wonderful difference in riding, but it seemed so to
Carley. There was as much difference in horses as in people. This mustang
she had ridden of late was of Navajo stock, but he had been born and raised
and broken at Oak Creek. Carley had not yet discovered any objection on his
part to do as she wanted him to. He liked what she liked, and most of all
he liked to go. His color resembled a pattern of calico, and in accordance
with Western ways his name was therefore Calico. Left to choose his own
gait, Calico always dropped into a gentle pace which was so easy and
comfortable and swinging that Carley never tired of it. Moreover, he did
not shy at things lying in the road or rabbits darting from bushes or at
the upwhirring of birds. Carley had grown attached to Calico before she
realized she was drifting into it; and for Carley to care for anything or
anybody was a serious matter, because it did not happen often and it
lasted. She was exceedingly tenacious of affection.
June had almost passed and summer lay upon the lonely land. Such perfect
and wonderful weather had never before been Carley's experience. The dawns
broke cool, fresh, fragrant, sweet, and rosy, with a breeze that seemed of
heaven rather than earth, and the air seemed tremulously full of the murmur
of falling water and the melody of mocking birds. At the solemn noontides
the great white sun glared down hot--so hot that t burned the skin, yet
strangely was a pleasant burn. The waning afternoons were Carley's especial
torment, when it seemed the sounds and winds of the day were tiring, and
all things were seeking repose, and life must soften to an unthinking
happiness. These hours troubled Carley because she wanted them to last, and
because she knew for her this changing and transforming time could not
last. So long as she did not think she was satisfied.
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