Lin McLean by Owen Wister (howl and other poems .TXT) 📕

you?” said I.

“She ain’t said it. But she will when she understands Tommy.”

I fancied that the lady understood. The once I had seen her she appeared to me as what might be termed an expert in men, and one to understand also the reality of Tommy’s ranch and allowance, and how greatly these differed from Box Elder. Probably the one thing she could not understand was why Lin spared the mother and her cubs. A deserted home in Dubuque, a career in a railroad eating-house, a somewhat vague past, and a present lacking context—indeed, I hoped with all my heart that Tommy would win!

“Lin,” said I, “I’m backing him.”

“Back away!” said he. “Tommy can please a woman—him and his blue eyes— but he don’t savvy how to make a woman want him, not any better than he knows about killin’ Injuns.”

“Did you hear about the Crows?” said I.

“About young bucks going on the war-path? Shucks! That’s put up by the papers of this section. They’re aimin’ to get Uncle Sam to order his troops out, and then folks can sell hay and stuff to ‘em. If Tommy believed any Crows—” he stopped, and suddenly slapped his leg.

“What’s the matter now?” I asked.

“Oh, nothing.” He took to singing, and his face grew roguish to its full extent. “What made yu’ say that to me?” he asked, presently.

“Say what?”

“About marrying. Yu’ don’t think I’d better.”

“I don’t.”

“Onced in a while yu’ tell me I’m flighty. Well, I am. Whoop-ya!”

“Colts ought not to marry,” said I.

“Sure!” said he. And it was not until we came in sight of the Virginian’s black horse tied in front of Miss Wood’s cabin next the Taylors’ that Lin changed the lively course of thought that was evidently filling his mind.

“Tell yu’,” said he, touching my arm confidentially and pointing to the black horse, “for all her Vermont refinement she’s a woman just the same. She likes him dangling round her so earnest—him that no body ever saw dangle before. And he has quit spreein’ with the boys. And what does he get by it? I am glad I was not raised good enough to appreciate the Miss Woods of this world,” he added, defiantly—“except at long range.”

At the Taylors’ cabin we found Miss Wood sitting with her admirer, and Tommy from Riverside come to admire Miss Peck. The biscuit-shooter might pass for twenty-seven, certainly. Something had agreed with her—whether the medicine, or the mountain air, or so much masculine company; whatever had done it, she had bloomed into brutal comeliness. Her hair looked curlier, her figure was shapelier, her teeth shone whiter, and her cheeks were a lusty, overbearing red. And there sat Molly Wood talking sweetly to her big, grave Virginian; to look at them, there was no doubt that he had been “raised good enough” to appreciate her, no matter what had been his raising!

Lin greeted every one jauntily. “How are yu’, Miss Peck? How are yu’, Tommy?” said he. “Hear the news, Tommy? Crow Injuns on the war-path.”

“I declare!” said the biscuit-shooter.

The Virginian was about to say something, but his eye met Lin’s, and then he looked at Tommy. Then what he did say was, “I hadn’t been goin’ to mention it to the ladies until it was right sure.”

“You needn’t to be afraid, Miss Peck,” said Tommy. “There’s lots of men here.”

“Who’s afraid?” said the biscuit-shooter.

“Oh,” said Lin, “maybe it’s like most news we get in this country. Two weeks stale and a lie when it was fresh.”

“Of course,” said Tommy.

“Hello, Tommy!” called Taylor from the lane. “Your horse has broke his rein and run down the field.”

Tommy rose in disgust and sped after the animal.

“I must be cooking supper now,” said Katie, shortly.

“I’ll stir for yu’,” said Lin, grinning at her.

“Come along then,” said she; and they departed to the adjacent kitchen.

Miss Wood’s gray eyes brightened with mischief. She looked at her Virginian, and she looked at me.

“Do you know,” she said, “I used to be so afraid that when Bear Creek wasn’t new any more it might become dull!”

“Miss Peck doesn’t find it dull either,” said I.

Molly Wood immediately assumed a look of doubt. “But mightn’t it become just—just a little trying to have two gentlemen so very—determined, you know?”

“Only one is determined,” said the Virginian

Molly looked inquiring.

“Lin is determined Tommy shall not beat him. That’s all it amounts to.”

“Dear me, what a notion!”

“No, ma’am, no notion. Tommy—well, Tommy is considered harmless, ma’am. A cow-puncher of reputation in this country would cert’nly never let Tommy get ahaid of him that way.”

“It’s pleasant to know sometimes how much we count!” exclaimed Molly.

“Why, ma’am,” said the Virginian, surprised at her flash of indignation, “where is any countin’ without some love?”

“Do you mean to say that Mr. McLean does not care for Miss Peck?”

“I reckon he thinks he does. But there is a mighty wide difference between thinkin’ and feelin’, ma’am.”

I saw Molly’s eyes drop from his, and I saw the rose deepen in her cheeks. But just then a loud voice came from the kitchen.

“You, Lin, if you try any of your foolin’ with me, I’ll histe yu’s over the jiste!”

“All cow-punchers—” I attempted to resume.

“Quit now, Lin McLean,” shouted the voice, “or I’ll put yus through that window, and it shut.”

“Well, Miss Peck, I’m gettin’ most a full dose o’ this treatment. Ever since yu’ come I’ve been doing my best. And yu’ just cough in my face. And now I’m going to quit and cough back.”

“Would you enjoy walkin’ out till supper, ma’am?” inquired the Virginian as Molly rose. “You was speaking of gathering some flowers yondeh.”

“Why, yes,” said Molly, blithely. “And you’ll come?” she added to me.

But I was on the Virginian’s side. “I must look after my horse,” said I, and went down to the corral.

Day was slowly going as I took my pony to the water. Corncliff Mesa, Crowheart Butte, these shone in the rays that came through the canyon. The canyon’s sides lifted like tawny castles in the same light. Where I walked the odor of thousands of wild roses hung over the margin where the thickets grew. High in the upper air, magpies were sailing across the silent blue. Somewhere I could hear Tommy explaining loudly how he and General Crook had pumped lead into hundreds of Indians; and when supper-time brought us all back to the door he was finishing the account to Mrs. Taylor. Molly and the Virginian arrived bearing flowers, and he was saying that few cow-punchers had any reason for saving their money.

“But when you get old?” said she.

“We mostly don’t live long enough to get old, ma’am,” said he, simply. “But I have a reason, and I am saving.”

“Give me the flowers,” said Molly. And she left him to arrange them on the table as Lin came hurrying out.

“I’ve told her,” said he to the Southerner and me, “that I’ve asked her twiced, and I’m going to let her have one more chance. And I’ve told her that if it’s a log cabin she’s marryin’, why Tommy is a sure good wooden piece of furniture to put inside it. And I guess she knows there’s not much wooden furniture about me. I want to speak to you.” He took the Virginian round the corner. But though he would not confide in me, I began to discern something quite definite at supper.

“Cattle men will lose stock if the Crows get down as far as this,” he said, casually, and Mrs. Taylor suppressed a titter.

“Ain’t it hawses the’re repawted as running off?” said the Virginian.

“Chap come into the roundup this afternoon,” said Lin. “But he was rattled, and told a heap o’ facts that wouldn’t square.”

“Of course they wouldn’t,” said Tommy, haughtily.

“Oh, there’s nothing in it,” said Lin, dismissing the subject.

“Have yu’ been to the opera since we went to Cheyenne, Mrs. Taylor?”

Mrs. Taylor had not.

“Lin,” said the Virginian, “did yu ever see that opera Cyarmen?”

“You bet. Fellow’s girl quits him for a bullfighter. Gets him up in the mountains, and quits him. He wasn’t much good—not in her class o’ sports, smugglin’ and such.”

“I reckon she was doubtful of him from the start. Took him to the mount’ins to experiment, where they’d not have interruption,” said the Virginian.

“Talking of mountains,” said Tommy, “this range here used to be a great place for Indians till we ran ‘em out with Terry. Pumped lead into the red sons-of-guns.”

“You bet,” said Lin. “Do yu’ figure that girl tired of her bullfighter and quit him, too?”

“I reckon,” replied the Virginian, “that the bullfighter wore better.”

“Fans and taverns and gypsies and sportin’,” said Lin. “My! but I’d like to see them countries with oranges and bullfights! Only I expect Spain, maybe, ain’t keepin’ it up so gay as when ‘Carmen’ happened.”

The table-talk soon left romance and turned upon steers and alfalfa, a grass but lately introduced in the country. No further mention was made of the hostile Crows, and from this I drew the false conclusion that Tommy had not come up to their hopes in the matter of reciting his campaigns. But when the hour came for those visitors who were not spending the night to take their leave, Taylor drew Tommy aside with me, and I noticed the Virginian speaking with Molly Wood, whose face showed diversion.

“Don’t seem to make anything of it,” whispered Taylor to Tommy, “but the ladies have got their minds on this Indian truck.”

“Why, I’ll just explain—” began Tommy.

“Don’t,” whispered Lin, joining us. “Yu’ know how women are. Once they take a notion, why, the more yu’ deny the surer they get. Now, yu’ see, him and me” (he jerked his elbow towards the Virginian) “must go back to camp, for we’re on second relief.”

“And the ladies would sleep better knowing there was another man in the house,” said Taylor.

“In that case,” said Tommy, “I—”

“Yu’ see,” said Lin, “they’ve been told about Ten Sleep being burned two nights ago.”

“It ain’t!” cried Tommy.

“Why, of course it ain’t,” drawled the ingenious Lin. “But that’s what I say. You and I know Ten Sleep’s all right, but we can’t report from our own knowledge seeing it all right, and there it is. They get these nervous notions.”

“Just don’t appear to make anything special of not going back to Riverside,” repeated Taylor, “but—”

“But just kind of stay here,” said Lin.

“I will!” exclaimed Tommy. “Of course, I’m glad to oblige.”

I suppose I was slow-sighted. All this pains seemed to me larger than its results. They had imposed upon Tommy, yes. But what of that? He was to be kept from going back to Riverside until morning. Unless they proposed to visit his empty cabin and play tricks—but that would be too childish, even for Lin McLean, to say nothing of the Virginian, his occasional partner in mischief.

“In spite of the Crows,” I satirically told the ladies, “I shall sleep outside, as I intended. I’ve no use for houses at this season.”

The cinches of the horses were tightened, Lin and the Virginian laid a hand on their saddle-horns, swung up, and soon all sound of the galloping horses had ceased. Molly Wood declined to be nervous and crossed to her little neighbor cabin; we all parted, and (as always in that blessed country) deep sleep quickly came to me.

I don’t know how long after it was that I sprang from my blankets in half-doubting fright. But I had dreamed nothing. A second long, wild yell now gave me (I must own to it) a