“Exactly what I think,” said Richard.
“And from what I have seen, I rather fancy that the girl is not indifferent to him,” continued the father.
“I know that she likes him,” responded Richard, savagely, “I see it plain enough. Don’t she ride by his side nearly every day at the head of the train? Hasn’t he been bringing her flowers from the prairie, and don’t she always stick tight in the wagon whenever he’s out on a scout or a hunt, and the moment he returns, don’t she always get tired of being in the wagon and want to ride? Why, it’s as plain as the nose on my face. I tell you, father, what little sense Dave Reed has got is all tangled up in Leona’s red hair. Curse him! for I’ve taken a fancy to the girl, and she don’t seem to care any thing more about me than she does of the dirt under her feet.”
“I am sorry to say, my son, that I think you have spoken the truth. I’m very sorry for it, for I wanted the girl to fall in love with you,” said the father, a crafty smile upon his thin features.
“Well, I know that,” responded the son, moodily. “It was you that put it into my head to make love to her. I shouldn’t have thought of her as a wife but for you. What did you want me to make love to her for?”
“Ah!” and the father shook his head, “that requires an explanation.”
“Well, suppose you explain; I’m tired of working in the dark. I’d like to know what you are driving at.”
“Very well,” and then the father looked carefully around him to see if any one was within hearing, but no one was near. “You know that I left the East a year ago to try my fortunes in Montana. In going across the plains, I made the acquaintance of a man named Daniel Vender—”
“Vender! Why that is Leona’s name,” interrupted the son.
“Exactly; Daniel Vender was her father. On the march we shared the same wagon, and became very intimate. He told me all about himself and his plans. He came from the town of Greenfield in Massachusetts; he had left a daughter behind him there—he had been seized with the Western fever, as they call it; had converted all his valuables into cash, and was going to Montana to embark in mining. If he succeeded and liked the country, it was his intention to send for his daughter and make Montana his home. He took quite a liking to me—we were both about the same age—and proposed to me to join with him in a claim. Well, you of course know, Dick, that I had very little money; so I was glad to join with him. We arrived in Montana safe, and as we couldn’t find a claim to suit us at first, we bought out a trader’s stock and started a store at Spur City. We did first rate, and in a few months had doubled the money we put into it. Then there came a chance to buy a claim in a new mine, just struck, about twenty mile west of us, in a place called Rattlesnake Gulch. The way we worked the store was that Vender put in nine parts of the money and I one. We bought the claim in the same way; so you see that I only had one-tenth interest in it. Well, about two months ago Vender was suddenly taken sick. His sickness did not last long, for in four days from the time he was taken down he died. This would have been a very bad thing for me, for the store and the mine were both making money, but Vender left a will, deeding to me all his property.”