Bat Wing Bowles

Bowles leaped up promptly at the word and came back with his new hat full of water. He held it for her to drink, and as she finished and looked up she saw that his eyes were troubled.

"Oh, dear!" she cried impulsively, "have I made you any trouble? You've been so good to me here – what have I gone and done now?"

"Oh, it's not you at all," he assured her, and then his voice broke and he faltered. "But have you really heard from New York?"

"Why, no, Mr. Bowles," soothed Dixie, laying her hand on his arm. "Not a word – I don't know anything about you – I was only making it up."

"Oh!" said Bowles, and drew his arm away. He looked out at the horses for a moment, poured the water out of his hat, and turned back, his old smiling self.

"How is your knee now?" he inquired kindly. "Do you think you can ride? I suppose we ought to be going pretty soon."

Dixie glanced over at him and her heart sank – she had observed these sudden changes in Bowles before, and even his boyish smile could not lighten the veiled rebuke. When Bowles had thoughts that were anti-social he was always unusually kind, and his way of expressing disapproval was to tactfully change the subject. And now he was talking of going! Dixie scowled and felt of her knee, and rose stiffly to her feet.

"Well, if you're in such a hurry," she sulked; but Bowles was at her side in an instant.

"Oh, my dear Miss Lee!" he cried, catching her as she poised for a limp. "Please don't do that! Let me carry you, when the time comes, but we will rest as long as you please."

He passed a compelling arm about her and lowered her gently to her place; then he sat down beside her, and breathed hard as he set her free.

"Really," he murmured, "we don't seem to understand each other very well, Miss Lee!"

"That's because neither one of us is telling the truth!" observed Dixie with a certain bitterness.

They sat for a moment in silence, and then she turned about and looked him squarely in the eye.

"Mr. Bowles," she said, in measured tones, "who are you, anyway?"

"Who – me?" parried Bowles, lapsing into the vernacular. "Why, you know me! I'm Bowles, the gentleman you met at Mrs. Melvine's."

"There! You see?" commented Dixie. "You're afraid to tell your own name, and I'm – "

"Yes?" questioned Bowles.

"Well, I don't know what I'm afraid of," she went on bluntly, "but I've got something on my mind."

"Why, surely," began Bowles, apprehensively, "I – I hope I haven't given offense in any way. You were hurt, you know – and I was a little excited – and – "

"Oh, that's all right," said Dixie heartily. "You're a perfect gentleman – I always knew that. But you haven't had much to do with women, have you, Mr. Bowles?"

Her voice trailed off a little at the close, and Bowles looked up at her mystified. He thought quickly, wondering where she was leading him, and decided to tell the truth.

"Why, no, Miss Lee," he stammered, "I suppose not. I hope I haven't – "

"Oh, no, no!" cried Dixie. "I don't mean that. I was just thinking – well, I mustn't take advantage of you, then."

She favored him with one of her sudden, tantalizing smiles, and his brain whirled as he looked away.

"No," he muttered, taking a deep breath; "it wouldn't be fair, you know."

"Well, go and cinch up my horse, then," she said, "and I'll make an exception of you."

He looked up at her suddenly, startled by the way she spoke, and went to do her will.

"Now," he announced, when the horse was ready, "shall I help you while you mount?"

"Why, yes," she said, "if you think it's safe!"

And then he gathered her into his arms.

"I'll be careful," he said. But the devil tempted him – and Dixie forgot and smiled.

"Never mind," she whispered, as he lifted her to the saddle; "that was to pay you for being nurse."

CHAPTER XIX

A COMMON BRAWL

There is a madness which comes to certain people at certain times and makes them forget the whole world. In such a moment Bowles had stolen a kiss – for the first time in his life – and Dixie Lee had forgiven him. He had stolen it quickly, and she had forgiven him quickly, and then they had ridden on together without daring so much as a glance. That kiss had meant a great deal to both of them, and they needed time to think. So they rode down to the hold-up herd in silence and parted without a word.

Dixie went on to camp, to rest and care for her hurts; and Bowles, with a sad and preoccupied smile, stayed by to help with the herd. But the jealous eyes of hate are quick to read such smiles, and as Bowles rode along on the swing he was suddenly startled out of his dreams. Hardy Atkins went out of his way to ride past him, and as he spurred his horse in against his stirrup he hissed:

"You leave my girl alone, you blankety-blank!" and went muttering on his way.

This roused Bowles from his reverie, and he began to think. If Hardy Atkins had noticed a change, there were others who would do the same. How Atkins had guessed, or what the clue had been, he could not tell; but, having been carefully brought up, Bowles knew exactly what he ought to do. Before the first rumor had run its course it was his duty as a gentleman to go to Henry Lee and make a report of the facts; then, if any exaggerated statements came to his ears later, Mr. Lee would know that his conduct had been honorable and that green-eyed envy was raising its hateful head. So, without more ado, he rode up to the point of the herd and saluted the austere boss.

"Mr. Lee," he said, as that gentleman turned upon him sharply, "I am sorry, but Miss Lee had a very bad fall this morning and she has gone ahead to camp."

"Yes, I saw her," returned the boss. "What about it?"

"Well – I was afraid she might not mention it to you, or might minimize her hurts, but as a matter of fact she fell on a steep hill, and if it hadn't been for a juniper tree she might have been seriously injured. As it is, her knee gave her quite a lot of trouble and I had to help her to mount."

"Oh!" commented Henry Lee, and glanced at him again. "Well, what is it?" he inquired, as Bowles still rode at his side.

"Excuse me," stammered Bowles, holding resolutely to his task, "I thought perhaps you might want to ride ahead and help her off her horse."

For a moment the boss looked him over, then he grunted and bowed quite formally.

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Bowles," he said. "Will you call Hardy to take my place?"

He waited until Hardy Atkins had started, and then put spurs to his horse, and when the cowboys reached camp he was busy about the tent. The next day Dixie did not ride out on the round-up, and when they came back she was gone. "Back to the home ranch," the cook reported, and he added that she was not very lame; but the cow-punchers glared at Bowles as if he had crippled her for life. And not only that, but as if he had done it on purpose.

"These blankety-blank tenderfeet!" commented Hardy Atkins by the fire. "They can make an outfit more trouble than a bunch of Apache Indians. I cain't stand 'em – it's onlucky to have 'em around."

"I'd rather be short-handed, any time," observed Buck Buchanan sagely.

"Now, there's Dix," continued Hardy, with a vindictive glance at Bowles; "worth any two men in the outfit – ride anywhere – goes out with this tenderfoot and comes within an ace of gittin' killed. She raced with me, rode with Jack and Slim, and left the Straw a mile – the Hinglishman comes in behind her, crowds her outer the trail, and if it hadn't been fer that juniper she'd a-landed in them rocks."

Bowles looked up scornfully from his place and said nothing, but Brigham appeared for the defense.