American fiction -- 20th century; Short stories, American
“Not so very,” she returned. “That is, I’m not tired of ridin’.” She
spoke the second part of this reply in lower tone.
Tappan looked up from his task. The woman had washed her face, brushed
her hair, and had put on a skirt--a singularly attractive change.
Tappan thought her younger. She was the handsomest woman he had ever
seen. The look of her made him clumsy. What eyes she had! They looked
through him. Tappan returned to his task, wondering if he was right in
his surmise that she wanted to be friendly.
“Jake an’ I drove a bunch of cattle to Maricopa,” she volunteered. “We
sold ’em, an’ Jake gambled away most of the money. I couldn’t get what
I wanted.”
“Too bad! So you’re ranchers. Once thought I’d like that. Fact is, down
here at Globe a few weeks ago I came near buyin’ some rancher out an’
tryin’ the game.”
“You did?” Her query had a low, quick eagerness that somehow thrilled
Tappan. But he did not look up.
“I’m a wanderer. I’d never do on a ranch.”
“But if you had a woman?” Her laugh was subtle and gay.
“A woman! For me? Oh, Lord, no!” ejaculated Tappan, in confusion.
“Why not? Are you a woman hater?”
“I can’t say that,” replied Tappan, soberly. “It’s just--I guess--no
woman would have me.”
“Faint heart never won fair lady.”
Tappan had no reply for that. He surely was making a mess of the
second pan of biscuit dough. Manifestly the woman saw this, for with a
laugh she plumped down on her knees in front of Tappan, and rolled her
sleeves up over shapely brown arms.
“Poor man! Shore you need a woman. Let me show you,” she said, and
put her hands right down upon Tappan’s. The touch gave him a strange
thrill. He had to pull his hands away, and as he wiped them with his
scarf he looked at her. He seemed compelled to look. She was close
to him now, smiling in good nature, a little scornful of man’s
encroachment upon the housewifely duties of a woman. A subtle something
emanated from her--a more than kindness or gayety. Tappan grasped that
it was just the woman of her. And it was going to his head.
“Very well, let’s see you show me,” he replied, as he rose to his feet.
Just then the brother Jake strolled over, and he had a rather amused
and derisive eye for his sister.
“Wal, Tappan, she’s not overfond of work, but I reckon she can cook,”
he said.
Tappan felt greatly relieved at the approach of this brother. And he
fell into conversation with him, telling something of his prospecting
since leaving Globe, and listening to the man’s cattle talk. By and by
the woman called, “Come an’ get it!” Then they sat down to eat, and, as
usual with hungry wayfarers, they did not talk much until appetite was
satisfied. Afterward, before the camp fire, they began to talk again,
Jake being the most discursive. Tappan conceived the idea that the
rancher was rather curious about him, and perhaps wanted to sell his
ranch. The woman seemed more thoughtful, with her wide black eyes on
the fire.
“Tappan, what way you travelin’?” finally inquired Beam.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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