Wyoming (Musaicum Western Mysteries). William MacLeod RaineЧитать онлайн книгу.
curiosity, she was aware of an interest in this spare, broad-shouldered youth who was such an incarnation of bronzed vigor.
“Glad to meet y'u, Miss Messiter,” he responded, and offered his firm brown hand in Western fashion.
But she observed resentfully that he did not mention his own name. It was impossible to suppose that he knew no better, and she was driven to conclude that he was silent of set purpose. Very well! If he did not want to introduce himself she was not going to urge it upon him. In a businesslike manner she gave her attention to eating up the dusty miles.
“Yes, ma'am. I reckon I never was more glad to death to meet a lady than I was to meet up with y'u,” he continued, cheerily. “Y'u sure looked good to me as y'u come a-foggin' down the road. I fair had been yearnin' for company but was some discouraged for fear the invitation had miscarried.” He broke off his sardonic raillery and let his level gaze possess her for a long moment. “Miss Messiter, I'm certainly under an obligation to y'u I can't repay. Y'u saved my life,” he finished gravely.
“Nonsense.”
“Fact.”
“It isn't a personal matter at all,” she assured him, with a touch of impatient hauteur.
“It 's a heap personal to me.”
In spite of her healthy young resentment she laughed at the way in which he drawled this out, and with a swift sweep her boyish eyes took in again his compelling devil-may-care charm. She was a tenderfoot, but intuition as well as experience taught her that he was unusual enough to be one of ten thousand. No young Greek god's head could have risen more superbly above the brick-tanned column of the neck than this close-cropped curly one. Gray eyes, deep and unwavering and masterful, looked out of a face as brown as Wyoming. He was got up with no thought of effect, but the tigerish litheness, the picturesque competency of him, spake louder than costuming.
“Aren't you really hurt worse than you pretend? I'm sure your ankle ought to be attended to as soon as possible.”
“Don't tell me you're a lady doctor, ma'am,” he burlesqued his alarm.
“Can you tell me where the nearest ranch house is?” she asked, ignoring his diversion.
“The Lazy D is the nearest, I reckon.”
“Which direction?”
“North by east, ma'am.”
“Then I'll take the most direct road to it.
“In that case I'll thank y'u for my ride and get out here.”
“But—why?”
He waved a jaunty hand toward the recent battlefield. “The Lazy D lies right back of that hill. I expect, mebbe, those wolves might howl again if we went back.”
“Where, then, shall I take you?”
“I hate to trouble y'u to go out of your way.
“I dare say, but I'm going just the same,” she told him, dryly.
“If you're right determined—” He interrupted himself to point to the south. “Do y'u see that camel-back peak over there?”
“The one with the sunshine on its lower edge?”
“That's it, Miss Messiter. They call those two humps the Antelope Peaks. If y'u can drop me somewhere near there I think I'll manage all right.”
“I'm not going to leave you till we reach a house,” she informed him promptly. “You're not fit to walk fifty yards.”
“That's right kind of y'u, but I could not think of asking so much. My friends will find me if y'u leave me where I can work a heliograph.”
“Or your enemies,” she cut in.
“I hope not. I'd not likely have the luck to get another invitation right then to go riding with a friendly young lady.”
She gave him direct, cool, black-blue eyes that met and searched his. “I'm not at all sure she is friendly. I shall want to find out the cause of the trouble you have just had before I make up my mind as to that.”
“I judge people by their actions. Y'u didn't wait to find out before bringing the ambulance into action,” he laughed.
“I see you do not mean to tell me.”
“You're quite a lawyer, ma'am,” he evaded.
“I find you a very slippery witness, then.”
“Ask anything y'u like and I'll tell you.”
“Very well. Who were those men, and why were they trying to kill you?”
“They turned their wolf loose on me because I shot up one of them yesterday.”
“Dear me! Is it your business to go around shooting people? That's three I happen to know that you have shot. How many more?”
“No more, ma'am—not recently.”
“Well, three is quite enough—recently,” she mimicked. “You seem to me a good deal of a desperado.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Don't say 'Yes, ma'am,' like that, as if it didn't matter in the least whether you are or not,” she ordered.
“No, ma'am.”
“Oh!” She broke off with a gesture of impatience at his burlesque of obedience. “You know what I mean—that you ought to deny it; ought to be furious at me for suggesting it.”
“Ought I?”
“Of course you ought.”
“There's a heap of ways I ain't up to specifications,” he admitted, cheerfully.
“And who are they—the men that were attacking you?”
There was a gleam of irrepressible humor in the bold eyes. “Your cow-punchers, ma'am.”
“My cow-punchers?”
“They ce'tainly belong to the Lazy D outfit.”
“And you say that you shot one of my men yesterday?” He could see her getting ready for a declaration of war.
“Down by Willow Creek—Yes, ma'am,” he answered, comfortably.
“And why, may I ask?” she flamed
“That's a long story, Miss Messiter. It wouldn't be square for me to get my version in before your boys. Y'u ask them.” He permitted himself a genial smile, somewhat ironic. “I shouldn't wonder but what they'll give me a giltedged testimonial as an unhanged horse thief.”
“Isn't there such a thing as law in Wyoming?” the girl demanded.
“Lots of it. Y'u can buy just as good law right here as in Kalamazoo.”
“I wish I knew where to find it.”
“Like to put me in the calaboose?”
“In the penitentiary. Yes, sir!” A moment later the question that was in her thoughts leaped hotly from her lips. “Who are you, sir, that dare to commit murder and boast of it?”
She had flicked him on the raw at last. Something that was near to pain rested for a second in his eyes. “Murder is a hard name, ma'am. And I didn't say he was daid, or any of the three,” came his gentle answer.
“You MEANT to kill them, anyhow.”
“Did I?” There was the ghost of a sad smile about his eyes.
“The way you act, a person might think you one of Ned Bannister's men,” she told him, scornfully.
“I expect you're right.”
She repented her a little at a charge so unjust. “If you are not ashamed of your name why are you so loath to part with it?”
“Y'u