the Drift Fence (1992) (15 page)

Molly let her hand lie passively in his a moment, which encouraged Andy to squeeze it. She wondered about this. She had absolutely no interest whatever in the action, except as something further to study about herself. Coming to the shade of a pi+-on tree, Andy gave her a little pull, accompanying the move by one of his speeches. Molly freed herself.

"Andy, don't do that again," she said, quietly, with a glance, and walked on.

Presently he caught up with her, and falling into step with her went on beside her for a goodly distance, without speaking. It was some time after this incident that Molly realized he had never attempted another liberty with her.

The other boys, however, were hopeless in this regard, and the only way Molly could circumvent them was to entertain them on the porch. Two of these Sunday afternoons were rendered exciting by the fact of cowboys from the Diamond riding up and down the trail. Hack Jocelyn was one of them on both occasions. The other cowboys Molly did not know, though she had certainly seen the youngest one, frank-faced, and as rosy as a girl.

"Molly," said Andy, on the second of these visits, "you know thet cowboy Jocelyn belongs to the Diamond?"

"Shore I know," replied Molly. "Is that a crime?"

"Wal, reckon 'tis, leastways since thet outfit's been buildin' the drift fence... Jocelyn has an eye fer you, gurl."

"He's very handsome an' attractive. 'Most all the Diamond boys are."

"Ahuh. Why doesn't Jocelyn brace in hyar, then?"

"He aims to catch me alone, Andy. An' it's just as well you're heah."

"Much obliged. Glad I'm good fer suthin'," replied Andy, with sour humour. "But jokin' out of it, this fellar Jocelyn is up to tricks. Last night I seen him in Mace's saloon. He had money an' was spendin' it. Sort of stumped me to see Seth Haverly drinkin' with him."

"No, Andy!" exclaimed Molly, aroused.

"Wal, I jest did. Honest Injun. An' you ain't the only one surprised."

"Was Arch there?"

"Reckon not. Arch hasn't been around lately. Now what's he a-goin' to say to thet?"

"Say! He won't say anythin'. But he's liable to do somethin'. Seth an'

Arch are like brothers."

"Molly, around hyar Arch is considered a dangerous fellar, but one you can trust. Seth ain't so dangerous, they say, but he cain't be trusted.

Now we know thet Arch an' Seth, the other Haverlys, an' Hart Merriwell, an' Boyd Flick, an' some others make up the Cibeque outfit. One or more of them, on an' off, rode fer the Coffee Pot, the Hash Knife, the Bar 0 an' other outfits in the valley. But so far as I know not one of them is ridin' fer any outfit now--except their own."

Molly echoed his last words and she caught the significance of his lowered voice and roving look around.

"It jest strikes me funny thet Jocelyn of the Diamond seems to me makin' up to Seth Haverly of the Cibeque. How does it strike you, Molly?"

"Not funny, you can bet," replied Molly, with a short laugh. "Andy, there's somethin' in the wind. I'm thankin' you for givin' me a hunch.

Arch is strange an' sore lately. He's that touchy aboot the Diamond boys an' their work I cain't get a word out of him."

"Ahuh. Wal, Molly, you can shore get them out of me," rejoined Andy, solidly, as one who had hit upon a happy medium. "I heard folks talk aboot Jocelyn. An' I'll tell you what. If he keeps on ridin' down to West Fork it's gonna be plumb bad fer him."

"Oh--Andy!" faltered Molly.

"Slinger will kill him," whispered Andy. "My own idee is thet Slinger might stand fer Jocelyn gettin' thick with Seth an' his outfit, fer after all this brother of yours is a lone timber wolf. But he'll never stand fer Jocelyn runnin' after you."

"Andy, I know he won't," whispered Molly. "But I've told Arch about it."

"Molly, air you shore you aint interested in Jocelyn atall?"

"Yes, I'm shore. I was at first. Like a ground squirrel with a snake! But now--Jimmy, I'll run like a scared rabbit."

"Thet's good if it's true. Will Slinger believe you? Molly, excuse me, but thar's folks who say you're meetin' Jocelyn on the sly, along the trail somewheres."

Again Molly suffered a hint of her status in West Fork. She passed by Andy's covert suspicion. What could he know of a girl's honesty? But she told him rather forcibly that at least her brother trusted and believed her.

"Ahuh. Wal, I'm glad. You know what a place West Fork is fer talk. Wuss'n a beehive. An' the drift fence has shore stirred up hell. Molly, do you know thet son-of-a-gun tenderfoot Traft is 'most clear to the brakes with his damned fence?"

"I--I hadn't heahed," replied Molly, thrilling.

"Wal, he is. 'Most clear on the Diamond!' Ole Enoch Summers says, 'Tenderfoot hell! Thet boy is Jim Traft over again, an' you two-bit calf-chasers hey gotta look out.'"

"Did Mr. Summers--say that?" gasped Molly.

"He shore did, an' to a whole storeful of fellars."

From that hour Molly was kinder to Andy. She relied upon him to fetch her news--the facts as well as gossip. And Andy, evidently sensing some change in her, accepted the part gratefully. Molly went to one of the Saturday night dances with him. It was an ordeal. She was made much of, though some of the boys were rude, and some of the girls catty with their remarks. Where was the grand white dress with which Molly Dunn had killed off the Diamond outfit, including young Mr. James Traft? Molly did not stay long, especially after she had espied Hack Jocelyn enter the hall.

She was quick enough, and Andy helped her, to get out before Jocelyn saw her.

"Take me home, Andy," she said, nervously holding his arm.

"Wal, it's a huggin'-bee inside an' a fightin'-bee outside." replied Andy, sardonically. "West Fork as she is an' always will be, I reckon."

Saturday night at West Fork always had been exciting, and Molly could count on her fingers the times she had seen it. But no longer was it diverting. There were groups of men and boys outside, noisy and rough.

Sounds of hilarity came from the saloons. Indians passed her with soft tread. She heard the jingle of spurs on all sides. Shadows passed in front of the dimly lighted windows. The air was cool and sweet after the smoky hall. The dark bulk of the Diamond promontory stood up against the star-studded skyline. Molly was glad to turn off the street into the lane, and she held Andy's arm tighter.

"Molly, I ain't had a chanct like this in a coon's age," said Andy, as if stolidly realizing the opportunity.

"Andy, I'm afraid of Hack Jocelyn," replied Molly, simply. "I cain't be your sweetheart. I cain't let you handle me... Do you want me to be afraid of you, too? Afraid to have you take me home in the dark?"

He did not reply at once. Evidently the facts were hard to assimilate by his slow mind.

"Wal, now you tax me aboot it, I reckon I don't."

Molly regarded that as more than an answer to her question. Andy, too, like Arch, had unplumbed depths in the darkness of which there must be good.

Chapter
ELEVEN

Dry, hot midsummer lay upon the Cibeque. In the shade of the glen Molly spent hours idle on a rock, watching the big trout lying still in the clear water. The bees hummed by. The sumac on the stony slope had taken on touches of red and brown. Squirrels and jays were taking their high-noon siesta. The lizards, however, were active. They loved the heat and the dry brush and the hot stones. Molly never wearied of watching them, and she could sit so quietly that the tiny ones would crawl over her hand. Seen near, they were beautiful with their many colours and jewel eyes.

Things that concerned the life of West Fork revolved uppermost in her mind. The drift fence, so dominant a factor now, was well out on the Diamond. In the eyes of the Cibeque folk young Jim Traft was a perfect hurricane for work. Conflicting stories about how he worked and his fights with his cowboys were rife about the village. More cattle had drifted down into the brakes this summer than ever before. Vague hints that they all did not drift there of their own accord filtered to Molly's ears. Her father was perceptibly failing now, and her mother talked of going back to Illinois. Molly wondered what was to become of her, and she did not care much.

Arch had been home steadily for a month, more morose than she had ever seen him. But he had driven Molly out of the bean-field and had harvested the beans himself. She tried not to see that he and the Haverly gang had cattle deals frequently. They drove cattle in from the brakes and down the Cibeque, small bunches and short drives that had a sinister significance to Molly. Resolutely she refused to think the matter out clearly.

She went back home through the woods, watchful along the trail, sure that she was going to hear any rider or see anyone before he discovered her. A ten-acre pasture appeared to have more young cattle than it could very well graze. But they had not been there the day before.

Along the eastern side of the cabin a line of sunflowers blazed gold in the sun. Molly's mother had planted sunflowers every spring as long as Molly could remember. It had always seemed funny to Molly, but she guessed nothing was that any more. Her father drooped in his chair on the porch; her mother puttered around in the kitchen; some ragged saddled horses stood bridles down at the edge of the timber. Molly knew that Arch would be out there. The still, hot summer air seemed charged with a suspense.

Molly's mother sent her on an errand to the village. She was always glad when a trip of this kind could be made in the daytime. Her mother had a habit of forgetting until just before the evening meal. Molly did not start out toward the horses. She hurried out back of the barn and slipped into the woods to cut across to the trail, sure that none of the riders with Arch had observed her.

The dusty village street was asleep. So was old Enoch Summers in his store. Molly made the necessary purchase, and not tarrying to listen to his gossip, though his query about Arch made her curious, she made haste homeward.

When she reached the shady trail she went slower to regain her breath. At a thickly overgrown point, where the trail turned, a brown hand shot out from the green and grasped her arm. Molly was not the screaming kind. But she struggled with all her fierce young strength. It availed nothing, however, and she was dragged through the brush a step or two into a little clearing beside a huge fallen pine. Molly was frightened but not surprised to look up into the dark face of Hack Jocelyn.

"Howdy, sweetheart!" he drawled. "I bin layn' fer you."

"Let go," said Molly, and she jerked so hard that she freed her arm.

"What you want?... Did you have to drag me in heah?"

"Wal, there's some folks I'd rather not see me," replied Jocelyn.

"My brother Arch, for one, I reckon."

"No. I'm standin' tolerable with Slinger. I was thinkin' of thet sneak, Andy Stoneham. He's got eyes an' he thinks too much."

"Well, what you want? Mother sent me on an errand. She'll be waitin'."

"Let her wait. Reckon I've waited often an' long enough. I had to see you."

"If you had to, why didn't you come to my home, like any decent fellow would?"

"I've had reasons, Molly. But I'm glad to tell you one of them ain't pressin' no more. I've quit the Diamond."

This had decided interest and surprise for Molly, though she did not voice it. She peered, however, up under the big sombrero, at the cowboy's handsome, wicked face. It bore recent signs of battle.

"I couldn't stand Jim Traft no longer," went on Jocelyn. "I bin layin' fer a chance to quit a month an' more. We had some words. An' it ended in a fist fight."

"Did he lick you?" asked Molly, unable to resist her swift curiosity.

"I reckon he did," returned Jocelyn, ruefully. "He's a slugger with his fists, an' thet kind of fightin' ain't mine. I couldn't make him draw a gun while I was ridin' with the Diamond, so I jest quit."

"Ahuh. Quit so you could make him?"

"Shore. An' I reckon thet sounds good to you?"

"It means nothin' to me," replied Molly, lying with tight lips. "What was this heah talk aboot Bud Chalfack seein' Traft insult you at the fair dance in Flag?"

"It's news to me. Was there such talk?" rejoined Molly, flippant to hide her start.

"There shore was, an' it's goin' the round like brush fire. Any reason fer it?"

"I cain't stop waggin' tongues."

"You danced with Jim Traft an' went out with him?"

"Mr. Jocelyn, if I did, that's my business an' none of yours."

"Molly Dunn, I'm makin' it mine," he said. "I reckon you'd lie even if there was anythin'. But you ought to have sense enough to know Jim Traft couldn't be serious aboot you." Molly looked away into the forest, conscious of deep-seated pain.

"Good day, Mr. Jocelyn. I'll be goin'," she said, and moved away.

Like a panther he leaped at her, cursing under his breath. She was a leaf in his grasp and she realized it. He lifted her high, held her close, and it was only by contortions of her supple body that she escaped hot, fierce kisses on her lips. These burned face and neck.

"You're stayin' heah--till I get through--with you," he panted.

"Let me--down. I--I'll stay," choked Molly.