A Prairie Courtship

"I spoke on the spur of the moment – without thinking."

"Without thinking clearly," Thorne corrected. "For all that, it's possible you had a kind of subconscious motive. You can't deny that you are prejudiced against Winthrop."

Alison was sensible of a certain relief, and she smiled at him. The man had shown some insight, but he had not gone quite far enough in his surmises, for it was not Winthrop but Lucy Calvert against whom she was prejudiced.

"What have I done?" she asked. "If it's any harm, I'm sorry."

Her companion's face relaxed. He never cherished his anger long.

"Well," he explained, "I'm afraid you have put Nevis on Winthrop's trail, though the thing's not certain. After all, it's possible that there's another reason for his interest."

"And that is?"

"He's a man with a weakness for pretty faces, which will probably get him into trouble by and by, though he's generally supposed to be a clever – philanderer. It's not quite the thing to abuse any one you don't like when he's absent, but in spite of that I can't help saying that he's absolutely unprincipled and should be avoided by every self-respecting woman."

Again Alison smiled. He had spoken strongly, though he had carefully picked his words, and she had little difficulty in following the workings of his mind, which on the whole were amusing. He had meant the speech as a warning to her.

"I suppose Miss Calvert could be called good-looking?" she suggested.

"That," answered Thorne, with a trace of sharpness, "is not quite the point. She's a girl who has a good deal to contend with and is making a very plucky fight. Whether she's wise in being as fond of Winthrop as she seems to be is another matter; one that doesn't concern us. Anyway, she has difficulties enough without it. It's not easy for two women to make a living out of a farm of the kind they're running when it's burdened with a heavy debt."

Alison could forgive him a good deal for his chivalrous pity, though the fact that it was Lucy Calvert who had excited it still somewhat irritated her. It seemed, however, that he had a little more to say.

"In any case," he added, "I'm glad you told me."

Then he turned back toward the others and she had no opportunity for further speech with him. She noticed, however, that he seemed unusually thoughtful during the rest of the evening.

CHAPTER XIV

WINTHROP'S LETTER

After breakfast the next morning Alison sat sewing in a thoughtful mood. She now genuinely regretted having given Nevis the information about Lucy Calvert, and in addition to this Thorne's reserve on the previous evening somewhat troubled her. He had not thought fit to tell her what he meant to do, but she was convinced that he would do something, and the most obvious course would be to warn Lucy against any attempt which Nevis might make to trace her lover. It was possible that the man might cunningly entrap her into some admission that would be of assistance to him. On the other hand, Alison realized that Thorne's task was not so simple as it appeared on the face of it. Though quick-witted, he was, she suspected, by no means subtle, and she supposed that he would find it difficult to put Lucy on her guard without betraying the part that she had played in the matter. She was quite sure that nothing would induce him to let this become apparent.

It was, however, necessary that Lucy should be warned as soon as possible, and Alison decided that as she was the one who had made the trouble it was she who should set it right. This would be only an act of justice, besides which it would give her an opportunity for forming a clearer opinion of Lucy than she had as yet been able to do. As the result of it all, she obtained Mrs. Farquhar's permission to visit the Calvert homestead, which was not very far away, during the afternoon.

In the meanwhile Nevis had been considering how he could best make use of the information she had supplied him, and his mind was still occupied with the question when he drove across the prairie that afternoon. It was a fiercely hot day, and the wide grassland, which had turned dusty white again, was flooded with dazzling light. The usual invigorating breeze was still, and Nevis's horse had fallen to a walk, pursued by a cloud of flies, when he made out the mail-carrier plodding slowly down the rut-marked trail in front of him. Nevis was quite aware that a prairie mail-carrier is usually more or less acquainted with the affairs of every farmer in the district he visits, and he pulled up when he overtook him.

"What's the matter with your horse?" he asked. "Isn't it stipulated that you should keep one?"

"That's so," assented the man. "The trouble is that you can't get a horse that won't go lame on a round like this. I had to leave him at Stretton's an hour ago."

"Going far?" Nevis asked.

"Round by Mrs. Calvert's to the ravine."

Nevis decided that he was fortunate, but he carefully concealed any sign of satisfaction.

"I can give you a lift as far as the first place, if you like to get in."

The man was glad to do so, and Nevis presently handed him a cigar.

"Do you get letters for all the farms every round?"

"No," replied his companion; "I'm quite glad I don't; guess I'd use up two horses if I did. It saves me a league or two when I can cut out some of my visits."

"Yes," agreed Nevis, who had a purpose in pursuing the topic. "One can understand that. It's the people back from the trail who will give you most trouble. It must be a morning's ride to Boyton's or Walthew's; and Mrs. Calvert's is almost as much off your round. Do you have to go there often?"

The question was asked casually, with no show of interest, and the mail-carrier evidently suspected nothing.

"Most every trip the last few weeks," he replied.

Nevis felt that the scent was getting hot. He made a sign of sympathy.

"That's rough on you; anyway, if you have to pack out any weight," he said. "Some of these people get a good many implement catalogues and circulars from Winnipeg, no doubt?"

"In Mrs. Calvert's case it's one blamed letter takes me most a league off the trail."

Nevis asked no more questions; they did not seem necessary. He had discovered that somebody wrote to Mrs. Calvert or her daughter once a week, and he had no trouble in deciding who it must be. He also remembered that letters bore postmarks, and he had a strong desire to ascertain where Winthrop was then located.

"If you like, I'll hand that letter in," he offered. "I'm calling on Mrs. Calvert anyway, and you can go straight to the next place if you give it to me."

The man hesitated a moment, and then shook his head.

"I'm sorry it can't be done," he said. "It's safer to stick to the regulations, and then if you have any trouble nobody can turn round on you."

Nevis was too wise to urge the point, though he meant, if it could by any means be managed, to get the letter into his hands.

"Well," he assented, "I guess you're right in that."

They drove on to the Calvert homestead, which was rudely built of birch logs sawed in a neighboring bluff, and Nevis sprang down first when an elderly woman with a careworn face appeared in the doorway. The mail-carrier, who followed him more slowly, stood still a moment fumbling in his bag until the woman spoke to him.

"Got something to-day, Steve?"

"I've got it all right," was the answer. "Letter for Lucy. The trouble is to find the thing."

Nevis, standing nearer the house, waited until the man took out an envelope. Then he stretched out his hand, as though willing to save him the trouble of walking up to the door, but the mail-carrier either did not notice the action or was too punctilious in the execution of his duty to deliver the letter to him.

"Here it is, Mrs. Calvert," he said. "Thank you, Mr. Nevis."

He strode away and Nevis turned to the woman with a smile.

"May I come in?" he asked. "I'll leave the horse here; he'll stand quietly."

Mrs. Calvert made no objections, though he noticed that she laid the envelope on a table across the room when he sat down.

"It's two or three years since I was in this house," he began.

"Three," corrected the woman.

"I suppose it is," acknowledged Nevis, who seemed to reflect. "I got on with your husband pleasantly, and I'm sorry in several ways that our connection has been broken off. I don't think the thing was any fault of mine."

Mrs. Calvert did not answer at once. Winthrop was not a great favorite of hers, and although she had made no attempt to turn Lucy against him she had on the other hand not altogether sympathized with the latter's views concerning her present visitor. She remembered that her husband had liked the man, and there was no doubt that the goods he supplied were of excellent quality. Nevis was certainly not scrupulous, and he had treated some of those who dealt with him with harshness, but he at least never descended to any petty trickery over the sale of a machine. For one thing, he was too clever; he recognized that it was not worth his while.

"Well," he added, "I don't like for old friends to leave me, and I decided to look you up again. Will you want a new binder or a back-set plow this fall?"

"We'll want a binder," answered his hostess, who was a woman of somewhat yielding nature. "Still, I guess we'll get it from Grantly."

"His things are good enough, though he stands out for the top price," responded Nevis, who was too wise to disparage openly a rival's goods. "Just now, however, I'm rather loaded up, and the orders aren't coming along, so I'm making a special cut. I'll knock an extra four dollars off the list figure for the binder, and wait for the money until you have hauled in your wheat."

Nobody would have suspected that he did not care in the least whether he secured the order or not, or that he had long ago decided that any business he was likely to do with the woman was not worth his attention. She, however, appeared to consider the offer.

"It's cheap, and that's a fact," she said. "It's most a pity I can't buy the thing from you."

"I suppose that trouble over Winthrop has turned Miss Calvert against me?"

"You have got it," was the answer. "Lucy's mad with you. She runs this place, and she deals with Grantly."

This was the lead Nevis had been waiting for, and he seized upon it.

"If she's about, I'd like a talk with her. I might reason her out of her prejudice against me."

"It wouldn't be easy. She drove over to the bluff, but she should be back at any time now."

Nevis had no particular desire to see Miss Calvert, but he had made up his mind to wait for an opportunity to examine the postmark on the letter, if it could be managed. Taking a catalogue out of his pocket, he proceeded to talk about the machines and implements described in it, until at length there was a rattle of wheels outside and, somewhat to his astonishment, Alison walked in. He rose when she greeted Mrs. Calvert, and noticed that there was something which suggested hostility in her eyes when for a moment she let them rest on him.

"Farquhar's hired man brought me; he's going to Bagshaw's place," she announced. "I came over to see Lucy, but she seems to be out."

Mrs. Calvert asked her to wait a little, and when she was seated Nevis sat down again. Alison, however, noticed that he had now moved to another chair which was nearer the table than the one he had previously occupied, and she wondered whether he could have had any particular motive for changing his place. Then, leaning one elbow on the table, she looked around the room.

There was only one window in it, for even with double casements it is difficult enough to keep a small prairie homestead warm in winter, and the place was somewhat shadowy. The log walls were uncovered, and she could see the chinking of moss and clay which had been driven into the crevices in them; and there was, as usual, nothing on the very roughly boarded floor. One bright ray of sunshine, however, streamed in, and fell dazzlingly across the table, upon which an apparently unopened letter lay. The white envelope which caught the light seized her attention, and she remembered that the mail-carrier visited the district that day. As Lucy Calvert was not in, it was reasonable to suppose that the letter was addressed to her, which would explain why her mother had not opened it, and this supposition carried her a little farther. The most likely person to write to the girl was her lover, and Alison was almost sure that it was a man who had inscribed the address on the envelope. By and by she saw Nevis glance at the square of paper in what did not appear to be an altogether casual fashion, and the half-formed idea in her mind grew into definite shape. There was a reason why he should be interested in the letter, and she decided to sit him out. She opened a conversation with Mrs. Calvert, and some time had slipped away when a distant rattle of wheels rose out of the prairie. Nevis, rising, addressed his hostess.

"I guess that's Miss Calvert, and as there's a point or two about our binder which I believe I forgot to mention, I'd like to explain the thing before she turns up," he said. "I want to get on again as soon as possible after I've had a word with her. No doubt Miss Leigh will excuse us for a minute."

He moved forward toward the table with what appeared to be a photograph of some harvesting machinery in his hand, and as he did so Alison, who remembered that they had been laughing and speaking rather loudly during the last three or four minutes, fancied she heard a footstep outside the open window. She was, however, not quite sure of this, and she watched the man with every sense strung up as he approached her hostess. It struck her that his object was to get near enough to see the writing or the postmark on the envelope, which would probably be impossible after Lucy arrived.

Leaning forward a little, she rested one arm farther on the table, which was covered with a light cloth, and drew the latter toward her with a slight movement of her elbow until a wider strip of it overhung the edge. She could not warn her hostess in the hearing of the man, when she had only suspicion to act on, but she was determined that he should not discover Winthrop's whereabouts if she could help it. Nevis's eyes, as she noticed, were fixed on the envelope, but he was evidently still too far off to read the postmark, and she waited another moment, watching him with mingled disgust and anger at the means he used.

In the meanwhile it was clear that Mrs. Calvert had no suspicion of what was going forward, for there was nothing to show that Alison's heart was beating a good deal faster than it generally did, or that the man was conscious of a vindictive satisfaction. His approach had been ostensibly careless, and there was only a faintly suggestive hardness in his eyes. The girl sat very still, and if her face was a little more intent than usual her hostess did not notice it.

Alison fancied that she heard a sound outside the window again, but she paid no heed to it, and as Nevis was about to lay his hand on the table and lean over it she moved her elbow sharply. The next moment the cloth slid down into a heap on the floor, and the letter disappeared.

Nevis closed one hand viciously, but he opened it again immediately as he turned to Alison. The man was quick, and held himself well in hand, and she felt a certain satisfaction in outwitting him, for it was clear that he had not suspected her of having any motive for jerking the cloth off.

"Am I accountable for the accident?" he asked.

"No," replied Alison; "it was my fault."

The danger, however, was not quite over. Alison quietly felt with one little, lightly shod foot beneath the cloth, part of which had caught and rested on her dress. Her shoe touched something that seemed harder than the soft fabric, and she contrived to draw it toward her.

"You knocked a letter off the table," said Nevis. "It must have fallen somewhere near. Permit me."

He stooped to pick up the cloth, and Alison saw that Mrs. Calvert was at last uneasy. It was obvious that she did not wish Nevis to lay his hands on the envelope. He raised the cloth, and after a glance beneath it moved a pace or two and shook it vigorously, but nothing fell out, and Alison quietly pushed back her chair.

"It's here beneath my skirt."

She picked it up and handed it to Mrs. Calvert, who laid it on a shelf across the room. After that there was a moment's silence, during which the two women looked at each other curiously, while Nevis, whose face was expressionless, looked at them both. Then the awkward stillness was broken by the entrance of Thorne. Ignoring Nevis completely, he turned to Mrs. Calvert with a smile.

"I don't know whether I need an excuse for this visit, but it occurred to me that I could drive Miss Leigh home," he explained. "I was hauling in logs for Gillow when Farquhar's hired man came along and told me he'd brought Miss Leigh over but wasn't sure when he could come back for her. Lucy will be here in a minute."

He leaned on a chair, talking about the wheat crop, until the rattle of wheels, which had been growing louder, stopped, when he moved toward the door, saying that he would help Lucy with the team. It was some time before he reappeared with her, and then the girl turned imperiously to Nevis.

"You here!" she exclaimed. "What do you want?"

"I was trying to sell your mother a binder," Nevis answered blandly.

Lucy, standing very straight, looked at him with a snap in her eyes.

"Then I guess you're wasting time. While there are implements to be had anywhere between here and Winnipeg we'll buy none from you."

Nevis favored her with a single swift glance, and then took up his hat.

"In that case I may as well get on again. I dare say your mother and Miss Leigh will excuse me."

He did not offer to shake hands with either of them, which may have been due to the fact that Mrs. Calvert's face was now hard and suspicious, and Alison carefully looked away from him. There was, also, a gleam of ironical amusement, which probably had some effect, in Thorne's eyes. Soon after he disappeared, Mrs. Calvert asked Thorne to come out and look at a mower which she said the hired man had had some trouble with, and when they left the room Lucy leaned back in her chair with her eyes fixed on Alison in a significant manner. They were of a clear blue, and Alison admitted that, with the somewhat unusual color in her cheeks and the light on her mass of gleaming hair, the girl was aggressively pretty.

"I'm glad they've gone – I guess I have to thank you for what you did," she said. "It was right smart, and I'm not sure my mother caught on to the thing."

"How did you know?" Alison asked in rather disturbed astonishment.

Lucy laughed.

"Mavy saw you through the window. The mail-carrier told him Nevis was here, and it was quite easy to figure what he was after. That's why Mavy hitched his team behind the willows and crept up quiet to see what was going on, so he could spoil his game, but he left it to you when he saw that you were on to it. Said he felt quite sure you could fix the man."

Alison remembered the footstep at the window, but she was curious about another aspect of the matter.

"Why did he tell you?" she asked.

Lucy's manner changed, and there was a hint of hardness in her expression.

"Well," she answered, "perhaps he wanted me to know what you had done, and, anyway, he had to put me on my guard. Still, though Mavy's quick, they're none of them very smart after all, and there was a point that didn't seem to strike him. He wasn't clear as to why Nevis would try to pick up Jake's trail through me."

The last words were flung sharply at the listener, and Alison made a gesture of appeal.

"Of course," she returned, "he wouldn't tell you that."

"No," declared Lucy; "nothing would have got it out of him. That's the kind of man he is." She paused a moment. "What made you send Nevis after me?"

"It was done without thinking. I couldn't foresee that it might make trouble. I was sorry afterward; I am sorry now."

Her companion looked at her with disconcerting steadiness.

"We'll let it go at that. There's just this to say – you haven't any reason to be afraid of me. I don't know a straighter man than Mavy Thorne – but I don't want him! Jake's quite enough for me, and there's trouble in front of him, with Nevis on his trail."

It cost Alison an effort to retain a befitting composure. This plain-speaking girl had obviously taken a good deal for granted, but Alison was uneasily conscious that she had certainly arrived at the truth. It was a relief to her when Mrs. Calvert and Thorne presently entered the room together.

CHAPTER XV

ON THE TRAIL

Nevis was not, as a rule, easily turned aside when he had taken a task in hand, and his failure at the Calvert homestead only made him more determined to run Winthrop down. Besides, he had not failed altogether, for he had at least caught a glimpse of the stamp on the letter, and he had no doubt that it was a Canadian one. There was an appreciable difference in the design and color of the American stamps. This indicated that in all probability Winthrop was still in Canada, in which case there would be no difficulty in arresting him once his whereabouts could be discovered. The tracing of the latter promised to be less easy, but Nevis set about it, and shortly afterward fortune once more favored him.

His business was an extensive one; he had money laid out here and there over a wide stretch of country, and he had already discovered that it required a good deal of watching. As a matter of fact, the latter was advisable, for some of the men to whom he lent it were addicted to disappearing without leaving any address or intimation as to what they had done with the movable portion of their hypothecated possessions. It is true that they generally had repaid Nevis a large part of his loan, as well as an exorbitant interest for a considerable time, but then had abandoned the struggle in despair. From his point of view, however, neither fact had any particular bearing on the matter. He expected a good deal more than the value of a hundred cents when he laid down a dollar.

One night a week or two after he called on Mrs. Calvert, he strolled out on to the platform of a train that had been run on to a lonely side-track beside a galvanized iron shed and a big water-tank. He was leaning on the rails, when the conductor came out of the vestibule behind him.

"We're not scheduled to stop," he commented.

"No, sir," replied the conductor. "Guess the company had once a notion of making a station here, but they cut it out. It's used as a section-depot and side-track, and now and then a freight pulls up for water. There's a soft spring here, and you can't get good water right along the line. Any kind won't do in a locomotive boiler."

The man was unusually loquacious for a western railroad hand, and Nevis, who had been glancing out at the shadowy sweep of prairie, amid which the straight track lost itself, felt inclined to talk.

"But what's holding us up?" he asked.

"Montreal express. She's on the next section, and it's quite a long one. They side-track everything to let her through."

A thought took shape in Nevis's mind. The point that suggested itself appeared at least worth attention, and he asked a question:

"Would a wire to anybody in the district be sent to the station ahead?"

The conductor said that it would, and added that the man in charge of the place where they were then stopping was called up only in case of necessity to hold a train on the side-track. He explained that although the instruments clicked out any message sent right along the circuit the operators, as a rule, listened only when they got their particular signal. This had a certain significance to Nevis.

"Is there often a freight-train waiting here when you come along?" he asked.

"That's so," said his companion. "We take the section if the Atlantic flyer's late, and they have to cut out the pick-up freight if she's in front of us. When she was standing yonder one night a little while back I saw what struck me as quite a curious thing. Just as we struck the tail switches a man dropped off a caboose coupled on behind the freight-cars; it was good clear moonlight, and I watched him. He kept the train between him and the shack behind you, and started out over the prairie as fast as he could. Then we ran in behind the freight-cars, but as soon as we were clear the engineer pulled them out, and as I looked back the man dropped into the grass like a stone. Bill, who runs this place, was standing outside his shack, and that may have had something to do with it."