Chapter 6

always wanted to take with Cap, and they won't let me because I'm a girl."

"Cheer up! When you are boss of the range you can outfit any little _pasear_ you want to take, but you and I won't be in the same class then, Lark-child."

"Are you really going it blind, trailing with Cap into the Painted Hills after that fascinating gold legend?" she demanded. "Or have you some inside trail blazed for yourself? Daddy Pike is the best ever, but he always goes broke, and if he isn't broke, he has a jug at his saddle horn, so----"

"Oh it's only a little jug this time, and he's had a fare-you-well drink out of it with everyone in sight, so there's only one hilarious evening left in the jug now. Just enough for a gladsome memory of civilization."

"Are you in deep on this prospect plan?" she persisted.

"Well, not that you could notice. That is, I've got a three months' job offered me down at Whitely's; that will serve the captain as headquarters to range from until we add to our stake. Whitely is rounding up stock for the Allies down Mesa Blanca way, and Pike will feel at home there. Don't you worry, I'll keep an eye on Pike. He is hilariously happy to get into that region with a partner."

"I don't like it," she grumbled at him with sulky gray eyes. "Pedro Vijil just came back from the south, and brought his sister's family from San Rafael. They're refugees from the Federals because their men joined Ramon Rotil, the rebel leader, and Merced is crying herself crazy over the tales of war they tell. One of their girls was stolen, and the mother and Tia Luz are both crying over that. So Papa Phil says he's going to send me away where I won't hear such horrors. I wish I was a man, and I'd join the army and get a chance to go over and fight."

"Huh!" grunted Rhodes skeptically, "some more of us had hopes! Our army officers are both praying and cursing to get a chance to do the same thing, but they are not getting it! So you and I, little girl, will wait till some one pitches a bomb into that dovery on the Potomac. Then we'll join the volunteers and swarm over after our people."

"Oh, yes, _you_ can! Men can do anything they like. I told you I was jealous."

"Never mind, Lark-child," he returned soothingly. "If I get over with a gun, you can come along and toot a horn. There now, that's a bargain, and you can practice tooting the lark's call until the time comes."

"I reckon I'll have plenty of time to toot myself black in the face before you show up again at Granados," she prophesied ruefully, and he laughed.

"Whistle an' I'll come to you, Lassie," he said with sudden recklessness, "and that's for _adios_, Billie."

He held out his hand.

"That's enough, Rhodes," said a voice back of them, and Singleton walked forward. "When you got your time, you were supposed to leave Granados. Is this what you've been hanging around for during the past week?"

Rhodes flamed red to his hair as he stared down at the elder man.

"I reckon I'll not answer that now, Mr. Singleton," he said quietly. "You may live to see you made a mistake. I hope you do, but you're traveling with a rotten bunch, and they are likely to use a knife or a rope on you any time you've played the goat long enough for them to get their innings. I'm going without any grudge, but if I was an insurance agent, trying to save money for my company, I'd sure pass you by as an unsafe bet! Keep on this side of the line, Singleton, while the revolution is whirling, and whatever you forget, don't forget I said it! _Adios_, señorita, and--good luck!"

"Good luck, Kit," she half whispered, "and _adios_!"

She watched him as he rode away, watched him as he halted at the turn of the trail and waved his hand, and Singleton was quietly observing her the while. She frowned as she turned and caught him at it.

"You thought he waited here, or planned to--to meet me," she flared. "He was too square to tell you the truth, but it was I rode out here to say good-bye, rode out and held him up! But I did not reckon anyone would try to insult him for it!"

Her stepfather regarded her grimly. She was angry, and very near to tears.

"Time you had your breakfast," he observed, "and all signs indicate I should have sent you East last year, and kept you out of the promiscuous mixups along the border. It's the dumping ground for all sorts of stray adventurers, and no place for a girl to ride alone."

"He seemed to think I am as able to look after myself as you," she retorted. "You aren't fair to him because you take the word of Conrad, but Conrad lies, and I'm glad he got thrashed good and plenty! Now I've got that off my mind, I'll go eat a cheerful breakfast."

Singleton walked silent beside her back to where his horse was grazing by the roadside.

"Huh!" grunted the girl with frank scorn. "So you got out of the saddle to spy? Haven't you some black-and-tan around the ranch to do your dirty work?"

"It's just as well to be civil till you know what you are talking about," he reminded her with a sort of trained patience. "I came out without my breakfast just to keep the ranchmen from thinking what Tia Luz thinks. She told me I'd find that fellow waiting for you. I didn't believe it, but I see she is not so far wrong."

He spoke without heat or feeling, and his tone was that of quiet discussion with a man or boy, not at all that of a guardian to a girl. His charge was evidently akin to the horse ranch of Granados as described by the old ranger: Singleton had acquired them, but never understood them.

"Look here," said his protégée with boyish roughness, "that Dutchman sees everything crooked, especially if there's an American in range, and he prejudices you. Why don't you wake up long enough to notice that he's framing some excuse to run off every decent chap who comes on the place? I knew Rhodes was too white to be let stay. I saw that as soon as he landed, and I told him so! What I can't understand is that you won't see it."

"A manager has to have a free hand, Billie, or else be let go," explained Singleton. "Conrad knows horses, he knows the market, and is at home with the Mexicans. Also he costs less than we used to pay, and that is an item in a bad year."

"I'll bet we lose enough cattle to his friends to make up the difference," she persisted. "Rhodes was right when he called them a rotten bunch."

"Let us hope that when you return from school you will have lost the major portion of your unsavory vocabulary," he suggested. "That will be worth a herd of cattle."

"It would be worth another herd to see you wake up and show you had one good fight in you!" she retorted. "Conrad has all of the ranch outfit locoed but me; that's why he passes on this school notion to you. He wants me out of sight."

"I should have been more decided, and insisted that you go last year. Heaven knows you need it badly enough," sighed Singleton, ignoring her disparaging comment on his own shortcomings. And then as they rode under the swaying fronds of the palm drive leading to the ranch house he added, "Those words of your bronco busting friend concerning the life insurance risk sounded like a threat. I wonder what he meant by it?"

The telephone bell on the Granados Junction line was ringing when they entered the patio. Singleton glanced at the clock.

"A night letter probably," he remarked. "Go get your coffee, child, it's a late hour for breakfast."

Billie obeyed, sulkily seating herself opposite Tia Luz--who was bolt upright behind the coffee urn, with a mien expressing dignified disapproval. She inhaled a deep breath for forceful speech, but Billie was ahead of her.

"So it was you! You were the spy, and sent him after me!"

"_Madre de Dios!_ and why not?" demanded the competent Luz. "You stealing your own horse at the dawn to go with the old Captain Pike. I ask of you what kind of a girl is that? Also Mercedes was here last night tearing her hair because of the girls, her sister's daughters, stolen away over there in Sonora. Well! is that not enough? That Señor Kit is also too handsome. I was a fool to send the medicine with you to Pedro's house. He looked a fine caballero but even a fine caballero will take a girl when she follows after. _I_ know! And once in Sonora all trails of a girl are lost. I know that too!"

"You are all crazy, and I never saw him at Pedro's house, never!" said the girl reaching for her coffee, and then suddenly she began to laugh. "Did you think, did you make Papa Philip think, that I was eloping like this?" and she glanced down at her denim riding dress.

"And why not? Did I myself not steal out in a shift and petticoat the first time I tried to run away with my Andreas? And beyond that not a thing under God had I on but my coral beads, and the red satin slippers of my sister Dorotea! She pulled my hair wickedly for those slippers, and I got a _reata_ on my back from my grandmother for that running away. I was thirteen years old then! But when I was nearly sixteen we did get away, Andreas and I, and after that it was as well for the grandmother to pay a priest for us, and let us alone. Ai-ji! señorita, I am not forgetting what I know! And while I am here in Granados there must be nothing less than a grand marriage, and may the saints send the right man, for a wrong one makes hell in any house!"

Billie forgot her sulkiness in her joy at the elopements of Tia Luz. No wonder she distrusted an American girl who was allowed to ride alone!

But in the midst of her laughter she was reminded that Singleton was still detained at the telephone in the adjoining room, and that his rather high-pitched tones betrayed irritation.

"Well, why can't you give the telegram to me? Addressed to Conrad? Of course if it's a personal message I don't want it, but you say it is a ranch matter--and important. Horses? What about them?"

Billie, listening, sped from the table to his side, and putting her hand over the telephone, whispered:

"If Brehman, the secretary, was here, they'd give it to him. They always do."

Singleton nodded to her, and grew decided.

"See here, Webster, one of our men was hurt, and Brehman took his place and went East with that horse shipment. Mr. Conrad had to go down in Sonora on business, and I am the only one here to take his place. Just give me the message as you would give it to the secretary. But you'd better type a copy and send by mail that I can put it on file. All right? Yes, go ahead."

Billie had quickly secured paper and pencil, but instead of taking them, Singleton motioned for her to write the message.

Adolf Conrad, Granados Ranch, Granados Junction, Arizona. Regret to report September shipment horses developed ailment aboard vessel, fifty per cent dead, balance probably of no military use,

OGDEN, BURNS & CO.

Word by word Singleton took the message and word by word Billie wrote it down, while they stared at each other.

"Developed ailment aboard vessel!" repeated Singleton. "Then there was something wrong on shipboard, for there certainly is not here. We have no sick horses on the ranch, never do have!"

"But these people?" and Billie pointed to the signature.

"Oh, they are the men who buy stock for the Allies, agents for the French. They paid for the horses on delivery. They are safe, substantial people. I can't understand----"

But Billie caught his arm with a gasp of horror and enlightenment.

"Papa Phil! Think--_think_ what Kit Rhodes said! _'Ground glass in the feed at the other end of the road! Conrad's game--Herrara knows!'_ Papa Phil,--Miguel Herrara was killed--killed! And Conrad tried to kill Kit! Oh he did, he did! None of the Mexicans thought he would get well, but Tia Luz cured him. And Cap Pike never went out of sight of that adobe until Conrad had left the ranch, and I know Kit was right. I know it, I know it! Oh, my horses, my beautiful horses!"

"There, there! Why, child you're hysterical over this, which is--is too preposterous for belief!"

"Nothing is too preposterous for belief. You know that. Everybody knows it in these days! Is Belgium too preposterous? Is that record of poison and powdered glass in hospital supplies too preposterous? In _hospital_ supplies! If they do that to wounded men, why not to cavalry horses? Why Papa Phil----"

"Hush--hush--hush!" he said pacing the floor, clasping his head in both hands. "It is too terrible! What can we do? What? Who dare we trust to even help investigate?"

"Well, you might wire those agents for particulars, this is rather skimpy," suggested Billie. "Come and get some breakfast and think it over."

"I might wire the office of the Peace Society in New York to----"

"Don't you do it!" protested Billie. "They may have furnished the poison for all _you_ know! Cap Pike says they are a lot of traitors, and Cap is wise in lots of things. You telegraph, and you tell them that if the sickness is proven to have started in Granados, that we will pay for every dead horse, tell them we have no sick horses here, and ask them to answer, _pronto!_"

"That seems rather reckless, child, to pay for all----"

"I _am_ reckless! I am crazy mad over those horses, and over Conrad, and over Kit whom he tried to kill!"

"Tut--tut! The language and behavior of Rhodes was too wicked for anyone to believe him innocent. He was a beastly looking object, and I still believe him entirely in the wrong. This loss of the horses is deplorable, but you will find that no one at Granados is to blame."

"Maybe so, but you just send that telegram and see what we see!"