CHAPTER II
THE FAR WEST
Three days is a short time in which to post a man on the Far West, butif you don't care what you say, and say it quick, you can give him apretty good fill. Dixie Lee was almost sorry when the Limited rolledinto Albuquerque, and Mr. Bowles was fairly tearful in his adieus.
"Really, Miss Lee," he said, holding her hand with just a shade morethan the proper pressure, "really, I shall never forget your kindness.The days have passed like a dream and I feel myself quite a Westerneralready. Yes, I am sure I shall love the West--it is so big, andfree--but what I like about it most is its splendid spirit of equality,its camaraderie. I can feel it everywhere--it is in the air--thesegreat, rough-looking men, greeting perfect strangers in the smokers andon the platforms and saying: 'Say, pardner, gimme a match'--or a smoke,even! Oh, it is glorious! I--but, really, I must be going! So sorry ourways should part here. Well, good-by, Miss Lee--so glad we should happento meet. I hope you have a pleasant journey. Thank you! Oh, don'tmention it--good-by!"
He raised his Dutch comedian hat once more, a trace of romanticmistiness came into his violet eyes, and then he hurried back to hisluxurious quarters on the Limited while Dixie May sat and waited for thesouthbound to take her to Deming. It was not a cheerful journey tocontemplate, for New Mexico and Arizona way trains are slow and dusty,and given to making poor connections and unseemly arrivals; but by teno'clock that evening Dixie Lee hoped to get as far as Deming and then,if the Overland happened to be late too, she could catch a westboundpassenger and get to Chula Vista before the hotel closed. The WesternLimited pulled out as her train still stood on its track and she glancedat the rear-end of the observation car for a fluttering handkerchief;but Mr. Bowles' emotions seemed to have overcome him, for he was lackingin this last attention. She watched for him with a broad grin; then,when she was sure he was really gone, Dixie May threw herself back inher seat and laughed until she was silly.
She was in good humor all the way to Deming, where the westbound wasreported two hours late; but as she was pacing up and down the platformat midnight her face came suddenly straight. The westbound was standingon the track waiting for orders and she was walking along up toward thefront when suddenly, through the smoking-car window, she beheld SirKnight Bowles in eager converse with a grizzled old-timer! If it wasn'the, it was his twin brother--for there was the hard-boiled hat as largeas life. The window was a little murky and the air was thick inside, butDixie May was sure she had seen him--or was she having dreams?
It seemed, somehow, as if she couldn't get that droll creature out ofher mind. All the way down from Albuquerque she had been hearing histalk in her ears and laughing at the way he broadened his "a's" andpurred and purled over his "r's." At times she had burst intoinextinguishable laughter, insomuch that several of the male passengershad regarded her with curious glances and the train boy had tried to getgay with her; but Dixie Lee knew how to settle that kind of folks. Apeanut butcher was a peanut butcher to her, and nothing more; and if heneglected to hawk his wares in order to drape himself over the back ofher seat she could put him in his place. It was Mr. Bowles that she wasthinking of--_Mr._ Bowles--and when she remembered the innocent look onhis face as she filled him up with Indian atrocities and cattle-warstories she just simply had to laugh. But now to find him followingher--to discover him on the same train when he was ticketed west out ofAlbuquerque--well, that was a different thing entirely!
Dixie Lee retired to the sleeper to snatch a few hours of repose andwhen the dead-eyed porter set her down at Chula Vista she had entirelyforgotten her knight. It was five o'clock on a cold March morning andthe wind came in from across the prairie with a sweep that chilled theblood. It was so cold that the ticket-agent had ducked back into hisinner sanctum before she could so much as hail him--and it was a quarterof a mile up to the hotel! Dixie May took a long look about her; shetried the waiting-room door; then, with a deep-drawn shudder, she turnedto go it alone, when lo, a tall and masculine figure stepped out frombehind the warehouse and she recognized Mr. Bowles!
"Pardon me, madam," he said, doffing his comedian hat and addressing heras if she were a stranger; "I see you are all alone--can I be of anyservice to you?"
It was dark, all right, but the idea of Mr. Bowles expecting to concealhis identity by mere starlight! She knew him, of course, the minute shesaw his hat, but--well, what was the use of getting haughty about it?Why not do a little play-acting, too, until they got up to the hotel?
"Why--why, yes," she faltered, simulating an appealing weakness. "It'svery kind of you, I'm sure. I--I expected my father to meet me here,but----"
"Ah, yes--very unfortunate," put in Bowles promptly. "Is there any hotelnear? Just lead the way then, and I'll follow with your luggage. Youmight put on my overcoat if you're suffering from the cold. Rather not?Very well, then; let's hurry along to the hotel."
They hurried, Bowles struggling with the baggage, of which he had threepieces, and Dixie Lee preparing her valedictory. Yes, much as sheregretted it, she would have to bid him farewell--otherwise he mightcome tagging after her out to the ranch and set the whole country totalking. It was all very well back in New York, or on the train, but inthe Tortugas--never! She would have to make her final effort cutting,but she hoped he would not take it too hard--and meanwhile, as a penancefor his presumption, he could break his back packing her suitcases upfrom the station.
"Ah, just a moment!" entreated Mr. Bowles, setting down the suitcasesand working his tortured hands. "Oh, no, not heavy at all--perhaps I canfasten them together with this strap."
He unbuckled the shoulder-strap from his alligator-skin bag and loopedit through the handles of the suitcases.
"Hah! Just the thing!" he exclaimed, slinging the two suitcases over hisshoulder; and then, with a long, free stride, he swung along beside her,as tireless as an Indian--and as silent.
A sudden sense of respect, almost of awe, came over Dixie Lee as shecontemplated his masterful repose, but the hotel door was near and shenerved herself for the assault.
"You think you're smart, don't you?" she snapped. "Following along afterme this way! Just because I happened to be a little friendly----"
"Now, really, Miss Lee," broke in Bowles with admirable calm, "I hopeyou will not be too hard on me. I assure you, if it had not been foryour distressing situation--which no gentleman could overlook--you wouldnever have been aware of my presence. But you have known me long enough,I am sure, to know that I would never presume to force my society uponany lady, more particularly upon one for whom----"
"Well, what are you tagging along for then?" demanded Dixie Leewrathfully. "When I said good-by to you up at Albuquerque you had athrough ticket to California. Now here you are down at Chula Vista. Whatare you up to--that's what I want to know!"
"To be sure!" agreed Mr. Bowles. "Under the circumstances, you have aperfect right to an explanation. I may as well confess then, Miss Lee,that your stories told on the train have fired me with a desire to seethe real West, not the pseudo or imitation article, but the real thingwith the hair on, as you so aptly phrased it. But here was mydifficulty--I had no one to direct me. The hotel-keepers, theticket-agents, even my Eastern friends in the West, might send me astrayand I be none the wiser. I admit it was hardly a gentlemanly thing todo, but rather than lose my last chance to see the great West of whichyou spoke I followed after you; but without the slightest intention, Iassure you, of making myself obnoxious. Is this the hotel ahead?"
"Yes," said Dixie Lee, "it is. And while I wish to congratulate you uponyour explanation I want to inform you, Mr. Bowles, that right here iswhere we part. You're looking for the Wild West, and here she is withher hair down. If you are hunting experiences these Chula Vista boyswill certainly accommodate you; but from this time on, Mr. Bowles, weare strangers. We don't know each other, do you understand? If what yousay is true, you followed me simply to find the Far West. This is it.We're quits, then; and I shall have to ask you, as a gentleman, not toannoy me further. Y
ou may be all right--back in New York--but out hereit's different and I don't want to have the folks joshing me about you.So I'll bid you farewell, Mr. Bowles, and thank you kindly for carryingup my baggage--but don't you dare come around the Bat Wing Ranch, orI'll tell the boys to kill you!"
She grabbed up her baggage as she spoke and hurried ahead, and when Mr.Bowles stepped into the hotel some minutes later she was as distant asan ivory goddess. Or a bronze goddess, to be exact, for the sun and windhad caressed the fair cheeks of Dixie May until they were as brown andruddy as a berry, and even the steam heat of a New York apartment couldonly reduce their coloring. She seemed a goddess indeed to Bowles as shelingered beside the stove, her smooth, capable hands bared to the glowof the flames, and her body buoyant with the grace of youth; but thelaughing brown eyes which had become the mirrors of his life were turnedaway now and all the world was changed.
The bottle-nosed proprietor came shuffling in from the bar and silentlyhanded him a pen; then, without looking at the name that was signed, hewrote a number after it and handed his guest a key.
"Baggage?" he inquired as Mr. Bowles stood helplessly to one side.
"Oh, yes!" said Bowles, recovering himself with an effort. "Here are thechecks. My trunks will be in on a later train. Have them sent up, won'tyou?"
"Sample room?" queried the hotel-keeper brusquely.
"Beg pardon?"
"D'ye want 'em put in the sample room?" snarled the proprietor, outragedat having to bandy words with the despised Easterner.
"The sample room?" repeated Mr. Bowles, now thoroughly mystified. "Why,no--why should I?"
At this final evidence of imbecility a mighty spasm of rage came overthe proprietor, and as he struggled to regain his calm Dixie Leesuddenly clapped a handkerchief to her mouth and made a dash for thedining-room. The paroxysm passed and with an air of wearied indulgencethe proprietor explained and disappeared.
"All right!" he grumbled. "Guess you know your own business. Thought youwas a travelin' man."
He stepped back through the door marked "Bar" and Mr. Bowles was left togasp alone. A traveling man! They took him for a traveling man! It wasquite a shock, and Bowles was still brooding over it by the stove whenthe door from the bar was thrust open and a tall cowboy, booted andspurred and shapped and pistoled, came stalking into the room. His broadsombrero was shoved far back on his head, showing a tremendous stand oftumbled hair, and his keen hazel eyes roved about with the steadyintentness of a hunting animal's; but only for the fraction of a seconddid he condescend to notice Bowles. He swayed a little as he walked andthe aroma of whisky came with him, but otherwise he seemed perfectlysober.
"Say!" he called, turning and kicking the bar door open again, "did Dixcome in on that train? She did? Well, here's where I git hell--I wassupposed to go down and meet 'er!"
He came over and stood by the stove, apparently oblivious of the manbefore him, and while he waited he cursed himself in a cynical,impersonal sort of way that made a great impression on Bowles.
"Well, where is she?" he demanded, as the proprietor hurried in behindhim. "I ain't had a wink of sleep, but we'll have to hit the roadanyway."
"Dixie's in getting a cup of coffee," answered the proprietor. "Betterhave a seltzer first," he wheedled, taking him by the arm and drawinghim toward the barroom.
"You're dead right there too, old sport!" responded the cowboy heartily."My head is as big as a balloon, and them grays will shore drag me overthe dashboard if I don't kill some of this whisky."
He tottered out as he spoke and Mr. Bowles half rose from his chair.Dixie Lee was in danger; she was in imminent peril of death! He mustwarn her--he must help her--he must try to save her life! He was in afever of excitement when the dining-room door finally swept open andDixie May entered the room; but she was calm, very calm, and somethingabout her bade him hold his hand. Then the barroom door swung in againand the cowboy appeared, walking head up with a masterful stride--and alook in his eyes that Bowles knew all too well.
"Why, hello, Dix!" he cried, hurrying over and striking hands with her."Well, well, how're you comin'? What, don't I draw nothin'?"
"No, you don't!" responded Dixie Lee, stepping back as he impudentlyoffered to kiss her. "Not unless it's a good slap for not meeting medown at the train! How's Maw and Paw and all the boys? Have you gentledthat colt for me yet?"
And so, with many laughing sallies, they passed out into the cold dawn,leaving Bowles to sit by the fire and stare. But in her last glance hehad read a challenge, and he did not let it pass.