Lost Pueblo (1992) (10 page)

Janey rejected the idea. Too much risk! And she adopted another, equally feminine, and very much better. When a turn of the trail hid her from Randolph's sight she selected a soft place in the sand and slid off her horse, careful to make it look as if she had fallen.

Presently she heard the hoofs of Randolph's horse padding closer. Then Janey made herself look as much like a limp sack as she could. From under the brim of her sombrero she saw him come into sight. He gave a violent start. Leaping out of the saddle he ran to her. His action, his look were unaccountably sweet to Janey. It was hard to close her eyes.

Evidently he stopped to gaze down upon her a moment, for there was a silence, then he knelt to lay a hand on her shoulder.

"Now, what's the matter?" he inquired, with more doubt than sympathy.

Janey stirred and sat up.

"I fell off my horse," she said.

"What for?"

"Guess I got dizzy or something. You must have hurt me internally. Or I wrenched my side--anyway I had a terrible pain."

"That's too bad. I'm sorry. I never calculated on any weakness, physical or mental." He was studying her face with deep inscrutable eyes, and despite his words he was not sympathetic.

"Weak! Why I'm bordering on nervous collapse right now," returned Janey.

"Yes, I observed how weak you were--physically," he said. "You could probably throw me in a catch-as-catch-can wrestling match. And when you hit me on my nose--with your fist--well, you came very near being alone for a while."

Janey gave him a searching look. "Will you take me back to the post?"

"Certainly not."

"But if I'm hurt or ill."

"You're going to Beckyshibeta in any event."

"Beckyshibeta? Why, that's a long way, you told me."

"Sure. It's far away, and lonely too, believe me. No one will find us there."

"How long do we--do you mean to keep me prisoner there?"

"I have no idea how long it will take for you to change--or die."

"Oh!... Very well, you can bury me at Beckyshibeta," concluded Janey, getting up wearily.

She refused his proffered assistance, and made a fine effort at mounting, as if some of her bones were broken. And she rode on, thinking that the weak-sister stuff would not work with Phil Randolph. She must slowly recover her strength and become a veritable amazon. Perhaps some accident would occur that might be calculated to frighten even her, though she could not imagine what it could be. Then she would try the clinging vine. Even Phil Randolph would fall for that. But it must be something over which a modern girl could safely lose her nerve. A terrible storm or a flood! Janey prayed for both. Phil Randolph must be reduced to a state of perfect misery.

Janey rode on, gradually recovering her poise in the saddle. The canyon opened wide, with the walls far away. There were flats of green grass and cedar groves to cross. In one place she saw several deserted hogans. Indians had lived there. She had a desire to peep in at the dark door, facing the east.

The trail came to a point where it forked. Janey waited for Randolph to come up.

"Which way, Sir Geraint?" she inquired.

"Left," he said. "And I don't think you're a bit like Enid. She was meek. Besides she was Geraint's wife."

"Well, Geraint drove Enid ahead, so she would encounter all the risks and dangers first. No doubt the similarity of our ride to theirs ends right there."

"The only danger here, Miss Endicott, is the one I'm incurring. And it's too late to avoid that."

Danger! What did he mean? Perhaps the wrath of the cowboys, for it was certain they could not have been let into the secret. How would they take this stunt of Randolph's? Janey began to wonder why she had not thought of that before. True, they had ridden away with a herd of cattle, but they must return sooner or later, and find out. Here was a factor her father had not considered. Even if he did have to tell them she knew the cowboys, especially Ray, would not stand for it. On the other hand, perhaps Randolph had meant the danger to be love of her. And he had said it was too late to avoid it. She was very glad, and if it were actually true she would see to it that he suffered more and more.

They took the left-hand fork of the trail and entered an interesting canyon, which narrowed until the crumbling walls seemed ready to tumble down upon her. Soon the trail became so rough that Janey had to pay heed to it and have a care for her horse. The ascent increased until it was steeper than any Janey had ridden. As she climbed, the trail took to a zigzag course up the slope and often she could look directly down upon Randolph, who was not having the best of luck with the pack animal.

Presently it took Janey's breath to gaze down and she quit it. The trail sometimes led along a ledge so narrow that she wondered how the horse could stick to it. But he never made a misstep or a slip, and appeared unconcerned about the heights. Janey christened him Surefoot.

At last the trail led up to a level again, from which Janey gazed back and down at the red slope, the huge rocks, the slides of weathered stone, the cedars, and the winding dry stream bed at the bottom. Janey had to look awhile to locate Randolph. It was no trail for a pack horse, or rather the horse was not one for such a narrow steep obstructed trail. Randolph was walking, dragging at the animal. When he finally reached the summit he was red-faced and panting.

"I note the way of a transgressor is hard," observed Janey.

"Why--didn't you--run off?" he asked.

"I'd only have got lost. Besides I think it'd be unwise to leave the commissary department. Also I have an absorbing desire to see what is going to happen to you."

"That'll be nothing compared to what's coming to you," he returned, as he mounted again. "Oh, by the way, how is that internal injury I gave you?"

"It's better. But I can bear it for your sake, Phil. I want so much to help you make a success of this cradle-snatching stunt."

"Say, you flatter yourself," he retorted.

"Well, yes, I'm not exactly an infant. But I'll be good practice for you, so that later, when the tourists come, you may be able to manage some of the girls pretty well."

"Would you mind riding on, and not talking so much," he said, with asperity.

"I certainly wouldn't have waited for you, if there'd been any trail. But it's disappeared."

"Ride straight toward those red rocks," he returned, pointing.

Janey did as she was bidden, glad to be able once more to let her horse look out for himself, so that she could attend to the surroundings. The sun was slanting westward, toward a high wall that ran away to the northward. The desert stretched level ahead of her, with a horizon line matched by red rocks. Not far in front, a growth of purple brush began to show sparsely and to thicken in the distance. It was very fragrant and beautiful. Presently Janey recognized the fragrance of sage.

Huge clouds had rolled up, and except in the west they were black and stormy. Dark curtains hung down from them to the floor of the desert. They must be rain. The afternoon was hot and sultry, without a breath of wind. By and by the clouds hid the sun and turned duskily red.

Janey was somewhat surprised to have Randolph catch up and pass her.

"Better trot your horse, if you're not too weak to hang on," he said. "It's going to storm and we must reach the shelter of the rocks."

"How lovely! I hope it rains cats and dogs," she returned amiably.

"Don't worry. You'll be scared stiff when night comes, if it does."

Janey was about to laugh at him scornfully, but happened to remember that she really was afraid of storms.

"Are desert storms bad?" she inquired, anxiously.

"Terrible... You can't see. You get half drowned. Rocks roll down the cliffs and floods roar down the washes."

"How lovely!... I imagine one of your brilliant ideas to keep me interested."

Surefoot had an easy trot, for which Janey was devoutly thankful. She had begun to realize that she was not made of leather. And the faster gait had a businesslike look of getting somewhere.

Meanwhile the sun disappeared wholly behind massing clouds, and thunder rolled in the distance. Drops of rain began to fall, and the warm air perceptibly cooled. Janey put on her coat; and was once more reminded of the annoying brevity of her skirt. What a picture she must make! How her riding friends would have howled to see her mounted in this rig! She wondered what Randolph would do if it rained heavily. Janey had a sneaking suspicion that he would let her get as wet as if she were under Niagara. But after all a warm rain would not be such a hardship. Thunder and lightning, however, made her nervous, even indoors.

The storm quartered slowly across the desert, a wonderful sight to eyes used to close walls and crowded streets. Janey breathed deeply. The sage fragrance seemed to intoxicate her. The misty rain felt sweet on her hot cheeks. The growing breeze brought a breath of wet dust.

Randolph was trotting his horse at as fast a clip as the pack animal could keep up. Janey set Surefoot to a lope. Then she experienced an exhilaration. She was astounded that she was not thinking about the possibility of being wretchedly wet and uncomfortable.

It turned out, however, that they beat the gray pall of rain which moved behind them across their trail. Randolph led her down among the strange scrawled rocks Janey had seen for so long into the shelter of a shelving cliff. Clumps of cedar and patches of sage dotted the slope in front, and, opposite, a high wall of rock shut out the horizon.

"Throw your saddle," ordered Randolph, practically, as he dismounted.

When Janey had accomplished this Randolph was at hand to hobble her horse and turn him loose.

"If there isn't a water hole in this canyon there sure will be one pronto," he said.

"You think it will storm?" she asked, dreamily.

"Storm? You're to see your first real storm. Say, are you any good at camp work?"

"You mean chopping sticks, cooking stuff and washing dishes?"

"Well, not exactly. We don't chop sticks, etc. But you have grasped my meaning."

"I'm perfectly helpless," Janey assured him, which was a lie.

"Fine wife you'll make," he replied.

"Mr. Randolph, I'm used to being waited upon," said Janey, elevating her chin. "And I didn't coax you to fetch me on this--this camping trip."

"Ye Gods!" he expostulated, spreading his hands wide. "I know that... But I didn't figure on what we're up against."

"You should combine study of weather conditions with your archaeological and girl pursuits."

"Dammit!" he returned, doggedly. "I can't get rid of the idea that you'd be a thoroughbred--a real sport in any kind of a situation."

Randolph turned away then, unconscious that he had brought delight to Janey's heart. She hoped she had deserved what he had said. And there appeared to be signs that she would be tested to the utmost. She decided, however, to allow him to labor under doubts for a while longer.

Finding a seat where she could lean against the wall Janey watched her captor with interest. He unpacked with swift hands. Then he strode to the cedars and fetched back an enormous load of firewood, which he threw down with a crash. His next move was to start a fire, and wash his hands. Following this, with a speed and facility that astonished Janey, he mixed biscuit dough in a pan. There were several canteens full of water, and a number of canvas sacks, all bulging. He had two small iron ovens in the fire and a coffeepot. If Janey had been blind she would soon have been pleasantly aware of steaming coffee and frying bacon. Presently Randolph straightened up and glanced in her direction.

"Of course you can swear you'll starve to death. But you won't do it. And you can save your face by not making the bluff... Will you have supper?"

"Yes, Professor Randolph, I'm hungry. And besides, I'm curious to see if you can cook. You have such varied accomplishments."

He brought her supper and laid it on the level rock beside her. Janey had told the truth about being hungry, but she did not tell him how good everything tasted. The hot biscuits, well buttered, were delicious. And when had she tasted such coffee? For dessert she had a cup of sliced canned peaches. And altogether the meal was most satisfying. Janey was ashamed to ask for more, but she could have eaten it.

Meanwhile the afternoon had waned, and twilight shadows were filling the hollows below. A steady rain set in. The campfire lighted up the shelving roof of the cliff. Janey walked to and fro, round the corner of projecting wall, and explored some of the niches. She felt pretty tired and sore. Her knees burned from their exposure to the sun. Her cheeks felt pleasantly warm.

Randolph was packing loads of firewood. He did not appear to mind the rain, for he certainly was wet, and did not take the trouble to put on his coat. It was seeing him in a different light. Janey remembered a good many of her friends and acquaintances, who could dress and talk and dance and grace social occasions in the great city, who she doubted would have been her selection for service and protection in the desert.

She walked to the campfire and held her hands to the blaze. The night air had begun to have a little chill. The hot fire felt pleasant.