Читать книгу Jackson Gregory Westerns - Boxed Set - Jackson Gregory - Страница 62

Table of Contents

BEATRICE CORLISS had mentioned to Embry a certain Mrs. Denham because the widow had an undoubted charm for men-folk, because Mrs. Denham had evinced interest in Mr. Embry, "of whom she had heard delightful things," and finally because Beatrice would have been glad to have any woman divert Embry's growing attentions from herself. And now Mrs. Denham, petite, dark and clever, became an active aide to events going forward.

She was not a friend of Beatrice … just a guest. Having decided to be among the score or so of fortunates accepting the Corliss hospitality for a fortnight, she had, in her usual competent manner, accomplished her desire. Knowing the right people, it was simplicity itself to such an one as the petite, dark and clever Mrs. Denham. A letter to Beatrice from an Eastern acquaintance, the competent campaigning of Mrs. Denham and here she was among the brightest and most enthusiastic of the pleasure seekers at Thunder River ranch.

"I am fairly consuming with an abiding inner joy!" she exclaimed to her hostess. "I feel like a child again; I want to see the wheels go round. I am simply mad to meet the fascinating Mr. Embry; and I shall never rest in peace until I have met that horrid Mr. ​Steele, too, and with my own eyes peeped in on the wickedness of his Boom Town."

And here one day she appeared in Boom Town, escorted by a dangling young man whom she had annexed to serve her purpose for the day. She manifested a very pretty interest in everything and anything, from the straggling shacks to the new mining shaft. She went here and there chattering and exclaiming, scattering adjectives in her train like a continuous volley of gay coloured, pigmy fireworks. Having after an hour's wanderings glimpsed Steele she promptly descended upon him, dragging her dangling young man after her.

"Isn't he splended!" she cried enthusiastically, her eyes brightening to such details as his big bulk, rough garb, great boots mud-bespattered. Her young man grunted out of that corner of his mouth not occupied with the cigarette which droopily emulated himself.

"I know you'll think I'm simply disgraceful, Mr. Steele," was her direct way of greeting his mild astonishment. He had removed his hat and accepted her little gloved hand wonderingly, having no alternative. "As no doubt I am. But I just had to tell you how wonderful your work here is; how I have never seen anything that thrilled me so. And out here, in the bigness of the eternal forests, one can for a little forget the odious conventions, can she not? I am Mrs. Denham, one of Beatrice Corliss' friends, you know. She has told me all about you."

And she shook her head at him merrily.

While Steele was still staring down into her bright ​upturned face wondering what the deuce had brought her, she summoned her escort nearer with a nod and introduced him. Ensued a quarter of an hour of lively chatter, young Mr. Foxhall fidgeting, Steele inwardly contrasting the real thing in womankind with this artificial product, Mrs. Denham releasing further fireworks of superlatives. It was "How lovely!" here and "So interesting!" there, with countless grands and magnificents and really-too-wonderfuls like seasonings scattered copiously from the pepper-box of her mind.

But never lacking in discernment was Mrs. Denham. She read in Steele's eyes that he was about to excuse himself, claiming the necessity of his presence elsewhere, and forestalled him by saying in her lively manner:

"Really, Mr. Foxhall, we must be going. If you will bring the horses?"

Mr. Foxhall departed gladly upon his errand and Mrs. Denham, turning the battery of her smile upon Steele, said pleasantly:

"Oh, I've heard all about you, Mr. Steele. You can guess who has been talking to me, can't you? Oh, you've been perfectly horrible to poor dear Beatrice, but … "

Had one only Mrs. Denham's words by which to judge her he well might underestimate her. Not so, had he eyes to see such a look as now was directed upon Steele. Only a very clever woman can in one flash of her eyes say in wordless eloquence, "But doesn't a woman like sometimes for a man to be horrid to her? Haven't you succeeded in interesting her already as no other man ​could do?" And surely some such thing had she managed to convey to Steele.

"Dear me," she ran on, "I have clattered away like I don't know what sort of a creature. So glad to have met you, Mr. Steele. I don't suppose that you'll be coming to the ball tomorrow night, will you? At the Corliss home, you know. Isn't Beatrice a dear to make it a mask affair, and just because I have told her how I adore a Bal Masque! Shall I save you a dance, Mr. Steele? Good-bye, for I am going now. Ted has the horses ready."

A puzzled and at last interested Bill Steele stared after her waving departure, still wondering. Had Beatrice actually told this flighty little creature all about him? It was difficult to think of Beatrice speaking intimately with this sort of a woman, and yet what did he know of her friends? Then why in the name of all that was baffling had Mrs. Denham sought him out to tell him of the ball and suggest that he come? Had she meant to give the impression which she did give, the absolutely absurd impression that Beatrice was cognizant of her errand and was willing that he come? But any explanation defied him; he had to choose between the two unanswerable problems: Had Mrs. Denham, who had never so much as seen him until now, wanted him to attend the masked ball, or had she acted as Beatrice's emissary?

Had he carried the matter to Sylvia Carruthers or to Rose Hurley either of them might have suggested something. But Bill Steele merely shoved considerations aside and determined upon the instant that ​whether Beatrice was willing to see him or not he would go. Otherwise he would not have been Bill Steele.

Tonight Beatrice Corliss' whole being was pervaded by a pleasurable excitement. When had there been in any music the strong pulse which beat in her orchestra's strains tonight, when had life surged through her so eagerly, so expectantly? After the fourth dance she slipped away from the laughing, jesting couples, gathered up her fluffy skirts and ran breathless to her room. Her maid looked at her curiously.

"Quick!" commanded the girl. "Change me, Bella! Hurry, hurry!"

She had jerked off the tiny black mask in which until dancing began she had taken scant interest, her eyes shining, her cheeks warmly flushed. While Bella sought further and more definite instructions, Beatrice kicked off her slippers and began slipping out of her gown.

"Can't you understand?" she asked of the mystified serving-girl. "You see they all knew who I was; now I am going to change to another costume and … "

But what else she planned was not for the maid's ears.

"What gown, Miss Corliss?"

Since no fingers or feet were swift enough for her save her own Beatrice ran to a big closet, threw back the lid of an old trunk, whisked out the tray and in a moment was back before Della, carrying the costume she meant to wear. And when, with Della's aid, she had dressed again here was a new mystery to slip ​back into the crowd of dancers. A pair of very bright eyes just guessed through very tiny slits of her mask, a slender body in ornamental buckskin blouse and short skirt, hands encased in gauntlets, feet and calves in high heeled buckskin boots, a girl of the big out-doors of the mountains.

"Now, they won't know me for a little while," she told the very attractive and alluring reflection in her pier glass. "And before they guess right I'll know!"

Della had caught her enthusiasm.

"If there was just somebody to wear the gown and things you just took off," she suggested.

Beatrice at the door, whirled and came back, laughing softly.

"Hurry, Della!" she commanded, "Just play the part for five minutes and I'll give you the whole outfit!"

And, to the last hastily adjusted flounce of lace, it was the mistress who dressed the maid, much to Della'a unspeakable confusion and to Beatrice's delighted satisfaction.

"A scarf over your head, Della … your hair is just a little too dark … about your face, too, a bit … like that. … You mustn't talk, yon know—that's perfectly … Gloves, Della. You must have gloves … "

At last it was done and despite her protestation and growing embarrassment, Della the maid, went slowly down the long hall way, her colour very high, her heart beating like mad. And Beatrice, watching and then following, as unostentatiously as possible, carried a heart scarcely less fluttering.

​"And now well see what you'll do, Mr. Smarty Bill Steele!" she told herself expectantly when at last Della had entered the ball room and she herself had again mingled with the couples forming for the new dance. "As if you could masquerade any more successfully at a dance like this than a big old elephant at a butterfly party!"

Standing by the open windows, framed against the black of the outer night, was a big man in conventional evening dress with a home made mask completely hiding his face and allowing merely the piercing look of his watchful eyes through small holes. While Beatrice watched him he was watching Della. It was very obvious that he was watching Della, that he had eyes for no one else. A gauntleted hand went swiftly to Beatrice's lips to hide the laughter that curved them.

"Oh, I know you, Mr. Impudent Bill Steele!" she whispered to herself. "I'd know you anywhere. And you had the assurance to come like this into my house!"

Properly she should be angry. But she knew that she wasn't. She was just delighted, delighted that he had come, that she had recognized him at the instant that he arrived, that now she could watch him dance with Della. And presently, when he discovered who Della was, why then Beatrice would still be watching and would no longer hold back her laughter. And then, if he did not go, she would have him thrust out doors …

A knot of half a dozen men had formed swiftly about the embarrassed Della. Beatrice saw how her hands were everywhere at once, trying to hide her hair, her ​cheek, her hands themselves. Men were asking her to dance, were begging her. …

Through the knot of men came Bill Steele suddenly, saying bluntly, "Beg pardon," as he shoved them aside. Then Bill Steele's arm was about Della, he had drawn her toward him, swinging her nearly off of her paralysed feet to the strain of the music, and the two swung out among the whirling couples.

Near Beatrice, drawn back against the wall, was another man whom she thought that she recognized; it was Joe Embry and Embry's eyes had gone swiftly and frowningly she thought after Steele and Della. Beatrice could have clapped her hands. If only Della could play the part!

"Hello, Miriam, my dear," said a whispered voice in her ear. "As if any one wouldn't know you!"

It was the little widow, Mrs. Denham, tricked out girlishly but not to be mistaken. Beatrice let her pass without telling her that she was not Miriam Dodge and would have paid no more attention to her had not Mrs. Denham gone straight to Embry. She had startled him by coming up behind him. Without withdrawing his look from Steele and Della he returned her greeting. Beatrice promptly lost interest in these two of her guests, hoping in passing that they might come to be interested in each other, and then watched Steele.

A partnerless man bore down upon her then and rather than risk discovery through arguing the point with him she accepted his arm and danced. But even ​so she had no difficulty in keeping Steele's tall form in view.

As the music ceased the gay, chatting couples parted or passed into the refreshment room or out into the cool dusk to stroll up and down by the windows. Beatrice, excusing herself hastily, slipped through the crowd and came close behind Steele and Della, intent upon the shamelessness of eavesdropping. She saw that Steele was bearing the confused Della onward toward the door, guessed that he was going to insist upon a word outside, the two alone. They came to the door … and suddenly Steele stopped.

"A thousand thanks for the dance, Unknown Lady," he said quietly.

Then he turned, seeming to have forgotten his recent partner and Della fled. His eyes went this way and that, back and forth eagerly. Then they came to rest upon the buckskin clad mountain girl just a few paces away. With big, quick strides, and before she could stir, he had come to her side.

"You fooled me for a minute, you little rascal," he laughed at her. "And now, to pay for it, come with me for a moment or two out into the court. I want to talk to you."

"Della spoiled it all by talking!" Beatrice was crying within her heart. And to him, coolly spoken: "Are you sure that you know to whom you are talking now?"

"To the Queen," he said gently, and she marked in his voice a tone which never before had she heard there, ​a note which despite her set the old, odd thrill in her pulses. "The Queen of the World, so far as I am concerned! Will you come … please?"

For an instant she wanted to do as Della had done and flee without further ado. In that instant she turned her eyes from him, seeking an open avenue, and saw across the room that Mrs. Denham and Joe Embry were still together, that Mrs. Denham's hand was eager on Embry's arm, that both were looking toward her and Bill Steele.

"I'll be as humble as a dog," pleaded Steele, and she saw now that his eyes, too, seemed unusually grave. "Won't you come? Just for a minute and let me tell you … "

"No," she said icily then. "And let me tell you something which I allude to only because I don't fancy a scene here: If you remain in my house another five minutes I'll be forced to call the servants and have you thrown out. Do you understand, Mr. Steele?"

From the light in his eyes now she could imagine the flush in his cheeks.

"And do you understand, Miss Corliss," and she guessed that under his improvised mask the muscles had hardened at the base of his jaw, "that there'd be quite a little scene if your lackeys started anything before I've had a chance to talk with you? I have been a thousand years trying to see you and now … "

He had slipped his arm suddenly through hers, drawing her toward him. She sought to pull back and could not. The cry forming on her lips she stilled. She ceased to throw her small strength into a futile ​scale against his. A man and woman passing looked at them and laughed and passed on, supposing that this was but a bit of play on the part of two of the merry making throng. In another instant Beatrice and Steele were outside.

For a dozen steps she went quietly at his side; she was thinking, and the thought left her wondering, how she would have shuddered if it had been Joe Embry who had drawn her thus. … Then suddenly she wrenched away and stood erect, her eyes cool and meant to be contemptuous as they met his.

"I hope that you enjoyed your dance with my maid," she said.

"She fooled me a minute," he answered gravely. "Then I guessed what you had done. I knew almost from the first that it wasn't you I held in my arms; I could tell if I were blind. Then I noticed her throat. Nobody in the world has a throat like yours or eyes like yours or your carriage or your … your perfection."

"Is this Mr. Steele?" mocked Beatrice. "Since when has he known how to be less than boorishly impudent? Where did he learn to say things like these you are saying?"

"I have been something of a fool," he returned. "Admittedly. I have teased you a good deal, Miss Corliss, and I don't wonder that you have made up your mind to detest me. But you've got to give me the chance to square myself. I … my God, how I love you! Can't you tell? Don't you know?"

For a little they were very silent standing in the ​gloom among the shrubbery. From here and there in the darkness, from the pavilion set at the edge of the little fall of cliff, came laughter and gay voices. From behind them, through open doors and windows, floated cries in tune with the evening, telling of banter and much mirth over the matter of disguises at which men made guesses. But Beatrice and Bill Steele, their dimly outlined forms vague in the night, were very still. She had noted, and the discovery had set her heart to leaping, that his voice had grown suddenly gruff and that it shook to the words, little, time-worn words, which he had said.

But Beatrice's voice when she answered was as steady as even she could have wished it.

"Is this meant as further insult, Mr. Steele?" she demanded coldly.

"You know better than that," he cried with sudden passion. "Never is there insult in a decent man's offering his love to a woman, no matter who or what she is. I loved you that first day, and wouldn't let myself know. I loved you that day when you came to me in the woods, and would not let you know. Now, I don't care if the whole world knows. I love you, Beatrice Corliss, as I did not know a man could love a woman. Oh, I am clumsy as a fool at telling you, and you may laugh all you please about the manner of it. But of my love itself you must not laugh … for it is the one thing about me that is as good and fine as even you are!"

In a moment he was going to sweep her up into his arms, to crush her tight to him … she knew it, sensed ​it, grew frightened at it. That was what was in his heart, in his eyes, ringing in his voice. And suddenly she knew too … that she would be glad …

She drew back from him slowly, her hands rising before her, tight clasped at her breast.

"Long ago you understood how to make me hate you," she told him quickly. "Now do you wish me to despise you, too?"

"You won't. No true woman despises a man just because he loves her."

"Have things gone so badly lately," said Beatrice, aiming to hurt, to extract payment for all that he had made her experience, "that you seek to marry money, Mr. Steele?"

"Miss Corliss," he cried out, "you shouldn't say that … you can't mean a thing like that. … "

And then suddenly, all without warning here was the same joyous Bill Steele she knew, his laughter booming out most disconcertingly at her. "You're just trying to make me mad, are you, Trixie girl! Look out if you do! Do you know," and he took a quick step toward her, "one of these fine days I think I'll just pick you up and run away with you and make you love me!"

And now, that she did not expect it, his arms were thrown about her, she was drawn close to him, he had lifted her face with a big hand under her chin and had kissed her.

"Brute!" she cried pantingly. "Brute!"

He let her go, his arms relaxing slowly, dropping to his sides.

​"Forgive me," he said gently. "I couldn't help it, Beatrice. I … I'd do it again if you looked like that at me."

Her lips were quivering, her whole body trembled. Speechless she stood looking at him with wide eyes. Then, not trusting her voice, she turned back toward the house.

She was glad when she saw Joe Embry standing in the doorway.

"Mr. Embry," she called quickly. "Will you come here please?"

Steele, standing where he was, his pulses hammering, watched her and Joe Embry pass down the long veranda together.