“Nope,” said Creede, “it ain’t that. I tried to talk sheep and he wouldn’t listen to me. This here looks kinder bad,” he observed, shaking his head ominously. “I don’t like it––layin’ in bed all day and thinkin’ that way. W’y, that’d make me sick!”
He edged awkwardly over to where she was standing and lowered his voice confidentially.
“I’ll tell you, Miss Lucy,” he said, “I’ve known Rufe a long time now, and he’s awful close-mouthed. He’s always thinkin’ about something away off yonder, too––but this is different. Now of course I don’t know nothin’ about it, but I think all that boy needs is a little babyin’, to make him fergit his troubles. Yes’m, that boy’s lonely. Bein’ sick this way has 468 took the heart out of ’im and made ’im sorry for himself, like a kid that wants his mother. And so––well,” he said, turning abruptly away, “that’s all, jest thought I’d tell you.” He pulled down his hat, swung dexterously up on Bat Wings and galloped away down the valley, waving his hand at the barred window as he passed.
Long after the clatter of hoofs had ceased Lucy stood in the shade of the ramada, gazing pensively at the fire-blasted buttes and the tender blue mountains beyond. How could such rugged hillsides produce men who were always gentle, men whose first thought was always of those who loved them and never of fighting and blood? It was a land of hardships and strife and it left its mark on them all. The Rufus that she had known before had seemed different from all other men, and she had loved him for it, even when all his thought was for Kitty; but now in two short years he had become stern and headstrong in his ways; his eyes that had smiled up at her so wistfully when he had first come back from the river were set and steady again like a soldier’s, and he lay brooding upon some hidden thing that his lips would never speak. Her mutinous heart went out to him at every breath, now that he lay there so still; at a word she could kneel at his side and own that she had always loved him; but his mind was far away and he took 469 no thought of her weakness. He was silent––and she must be a woman to the end, a voiceless suppliant, a slave that waits, unbidden, a chip on the tide that carries it to some safe haven or hurries it out to sea.
With downcast eyes she turned back into the house, going about her work with the quiet of a lover who listens for some call, and as she passed to and fro she felt his gaze upon her. At last she looked up and when she met his glance she went in and stood beside his bed.
“What is it you want, Rufus?” she asked, and his face lit up suddenly as he answered with his eloquent eyes, but he could not speak the word.
“Who am I?” he murmured, musingly, “to ask for all the world?” But he held close to the little hands and as he felt their yielding his breath came hard and he gazed up at her with infinite tenderness.
“Dear Lucy,” he said, “you do not know me. I am a coward––it was born in me––I cannot help it. Not with men!” he cried, his eyes lighting up. “Ah, no; my father was a soldier, and I can fight––but––”
He paused and his vehemence died away suddenly. “Lucy,” he began again, still clinging to her hands for courage, “you have never laughed at me––you have always been gentle and patient––I will tell you something. You know how I ran away 470 from Kitty, and how when she came down here I avoided her. I was afraid, Lucy, and yet––well, it is all over now.” He sighed and turned restlessly on his pillow. “One day I met her up the river and she––she called me a coward. Not by the word––but I knew. That was the day before the sheep came in through Hell’s Hip Pocket, and even Jeff doesn’t know of the fights I had that night. I went out yesterday and fought Jasper Swope with my bare hands to wipe the shame away––but it’s no use, I’m a coward yet.” He groaned and turned his face to the wall but Lucy only sighed and brushed back his hair. For a minute he lay there, tense and still; then as her hand soothed him he turned and his voice became suddenly soft and caressing, as she had always liked it best.
“Don’t laugh at me for it, Lucy,” he said, “I love you––but I’m afraid.” He caught her hands again, gazing up wistfully into her eyes, and when she smiled through her tears he drew her nearer.