Bindloss Harold
The Mistress of Bonaventure

The stranger, who indorsed the statement, looked first at Lane and then at me in sidelong fashion. There was nothing remarkable about him except that he had hardly the appearance of a practical farmer, but the malicious enjoyment his master's eyes expressed, and something in his voice, set my blood on fire. Indeed, I was in a humor to turn on my best friend just then.

"Nothing would induce me to enter a house which belonged to – you," I said, turning to Lane. "So far you have won hands down; but neither you nor your tool has quite consummated your victory. I shall see both of you sorry you ever laid your grasping hands on this property."

"You may be right in one way," answered Lane. "You'll remember what happened to the fool bullfrog, and you're looking tolerably healthy yet."

I had hardly spoken before I regretted it. The words were useless and puerile; but my indignation demanded some outlet. In any case, Lane shrugged his shoulders and the other man grinned, while I had clearly spoken more loudly than I intended, for several bystanders applauded, and when I moved away Sergeant Mackay overtook me. "I'm surprised at ye, Rancher Ormesby," he said. "Ye have not shown your usual discretion."

"I would not change it for yours," I answered. "It is evidently insufficient to warn you that there are times when preaching becomes an impertinence."

Mackay only shook his head. He wheeled his horse, and, with two troopers behind him, rode towards the wagon which Lane was mounting. A deep growl of execration went up, and the farewell might have been warmer but for the troopers' presence. As it was, he turned and ironically saluted the sullenly wrathful crowd as the light wagon lurched away across the prairie. Then I was left homeless, and was glad to feel Haldane's touch on my arm. "Light this cigar and jump in. The team are getting impatient, and Lucille will be wondering what has kept us so long," he said.

CHAPTER XIII
AN UNFORTUNATE PROMISE

Haldane could command any man's attention when he chose to exert himself, and, I fancied, made a special effort on my behalf during his homeward journey. As a result of this I almost forgot that I was a homeless and practically ruined man as I listened to his shrewd predictions concerning the future of that region, or occasionally ventured to point out improbabilities in some of them. The depression, however, returned with double force when we came into sight of Bonaventure soon after dusk, and with it a curious reluctance to face the young mistress of the homestead.

Lucille Haldane was my junior by several years. Indeed, on our first meeting I had considered her little more than a girl, but since then a respect for her opinions, and a desire to retain her approval, had been growing upon me. Perhaps it was because her opinions more or less coincided with my own, but this fact would not account for the undeniable thrill of pleasure which had followed her naïve announcement that she believed in me. Hitherto, with one exception, I had figured before her as a successful man, and I positively shrank from appearing as one badly beaten and brought down by his own overconfident folly. I remembered how she once said: "You must not disappoint us."

This seemed wholly absurd, but the worst bitterness I had yet experienced made itself felt when Haldane pulled up his team, and, pointing to a figure on the threshold of his homestead, said: "Lucille must have been getting impatient. She is watching for us."

I allowed him to precede me by as long a space as possible, while I lingered to assist the hired man with a refractory buckle, and then it was with an effort I braced myself for the interview. Haldane had vanished into the house, but the slight, graceful figure still waited upon the threshold, and I wondered, with a strange anxiety, what his daughter would say to me.

The question was promptly answered, for, as I entered the hall, feeling horribly ashamed and with doubtless a very wooden face, Lucille Haldane held out both hands to me. Her manner was half-shy, wholly compassionate, and I stood quite still a while comforted by the touch of the little soft fingers which I held fast within my own. Then she said very simply: "I am so sorry, but you will have better fortune yet."

A lamp hung close above us, and it was, perhaps, as well that it did, for the relief which followed the quiet words that vibrated with sincerity was more inimical to rational behavior than the previous causeless hesitation. Lucille Haldane looked more girlish than ever and most bewitchingly pretty as, glancing up at me, partly startled by my fervent grasp, she drew her hands away. She seemed the incarnation of innocence, freshness, and gentle sympathy, and, perhaps as a result of the strain lately undergone, there came upon me an insane desire to stoop and kiss her as, or so at least it seemed, a brother might have done.

She may have grown suspicious, for feminine perceptions are keen, and, though the movement was graceful and not precipitate, a distance of several feet divided us next moment, and we stood silent, looking at each other, while my heart beat at what appeared double its usual rate.

"You have given me new hope, and those were the kindest words I have ever heard," I said. "I think you meant them."

Lucille Haldane's manner changed. The change was indefinite, but it existed, and it was with a smile she answered me. "Of course I did. One does not generally trouble to deceive one's friends; and we are friends, are we not, Mr. Ormesby?"

"No one could desire a better, and I hope we shall always remain so," I answered, with an attempt at a bow; and the girl, turning, preceded me into the big central hall.

"What kept you so long, Ormesby? One could almost have fancied you had become possessed of an unusual bashfulness," said Haldane, when we came in; and I glanced apologetically at his daughter before I answered him.

"Something of the kind happened, and my excuse is that I had very little cause for self-confidence. Now, however, I am only ashamed of the hesitation."

"You deserve to be," said Haldane, with a mock severity which veiled a certain pride. "Fortunately, the young mistress of Bonaventure atones for her father's shortcomings, and so long as she rules there will always be a welcome for anybody in adversity here, as well as the best we can give to harassed friends. It is a convenient arrangement, for while, according to my unsuccessful rivals, I grow rich by paralyzing industries and unscrupulous gambling upon the markets, Lucille assists me to run up a counter score by proxy."

The girl's face flushed a little, and it was pleasant to see the quick indignation sparkle in her eyes. "You never did anything unscrupulous; and I do not think we are very rich," she said.

One might have fancied that Haldane was gratified, though he smiled whimsically and turned in my direction as he answered: "The last assertion, at least, is true if it proves anything, for it is tolerably hard to acquire even a competence nowadays by strictly honest means, isn't it, Ormesby? You, however, do not know the inconvenience of having an uncomfortably elevated standard fixed for one to live up to, and I am seriously contemplating a reckless attack on some national industry to prove its impossibility."

The girl's confidence in her father was supreme, for, though this time she laughed, it was evident she did not believe a word of this. "It is well you are known by your actions and not your speeches," she said. "There are commercial combinations which deserve to be attacked. Why" – and her tone grew serious enough – "do you not crush the man or men who are doing so much mischief in our vicinity?"

Haldane looked at his daughter, and then across at me, and, while slightly ironical good-humor was stamped on his face, it was a mask. There was more than one side to his character, and, when it pleased him to be so, there was nobody more inscrutable. "It is a rather extensive order, and men of that stamp are generally hard to crush," he said. "Still, if those mistaken doctors should conspire to forbid me more profitable employment, I might, perhaps, make the attempt some day."

This was vague enough, but I felt that Haldane had intended the hint for me. There was no further reference to anything financial, for henceforward both my host and his daughter laid themselves out to help me to forget my troubles, and were so successful in this that I even wondered at myself. The troubles were certainly not far away, but the financier's anecdotes and his daughter's comments proved so entertaining that they diminished and melted into a somber background.

When Lucille left us Haldane sat chatting with me over his cigar, and at last he said abruptly: "I dare say you wondered at my half-hearted action to-day?"

"I did, sir," I answered; and the financier nodded good-humoredly.

"There is nothing to equal plain speaking, Ormesby. When a man knows just what he wants and asks for it he stands the best chance of obtaining it, though I don't always act in accordance with the maxim myself. Well, I made a few bids somewhat against my better judgment because I had promised to, and then ceased because it seemed best to me that, since you could not hold it, Lane should acquire the property."

"I don't quite see the reason, sir. On the other hand, a stiff advance in prices would have meant a good deal to me," I said.

Haldane answered oracularly: "That gentleman's funds are not inexhaustible, and he already holds what one might call foreclosure options on a good deal of property. I should not be sorry to see him take hold of further land so long as it did not lie west of Gaspard's Trail. It is possible that he has, as we say in the vernacular, bitten off more than he can chew – considering the present scarcity of money. I should take heart if I were you, and hold on to Crane Valley whatever it costs you."

"Can't you speak a little more directly?" I asked.

Haldane shook his head. "I am not in a position to do so yet; but, if surmises turn into certainties, I will some day. Meanwhile, are you open to train some of the Bonaventure colts, and look after my surplus stock on a profit-division basis? I have more than my staff can handle."

"I should be very glad to do so," I answered, seeing that while the offer was prompted by kindness it had also its commercial aspect. "But, if there is anything going on, say, some plan for the exploitation of this district in opposition to Lane, can I not take my part in it?"

"I have heard of no such scheme; and, if I had, you could help it most by driving new straight furrows and raising further cattle," said Haldane, with an enigmatical smile. "There are games which require a lifelong experience from the men who would succeed in them; and, because Rome was not built in a day, perhaps you were wiser to stick to your plowing, Ormesby. One gets used to the excitement of the other life, but the strain remains, and that is one reason why you see me at Bonaventure again."

My host's words encouraged me. It was true he had said very little, but that was always Haldane's way; and, seeing that he now desired to change the subject, I followed his lead. "I hope your health is not failing you again, sir?" I said.

"Save for one weakness, my general health is good enough," was the quiet answer. "Still, the weakness is there, and for the second time this year physicians have ordered an interval of quietness and leisure. One has to pay the penalty for even partial success, you know, and I am not so young or vigorous as I used to be."

"Then, if I may ask the question, why not abandon altogether an occupation which tries you, sir?"

Haldane smiled over his cigar, but a shadow crossed his face. "We are what the Almighty made us, Ormesby, and I suppose the restless gaming instinct was born in me. Even in my enforced leisure down here it is almost too strong for me, and I indulge in it on a minor scale by way of recreation. I can't sit down and quietly rust into useless inactivity. Further, while handling a good deal of money, my private share is smaller than many folks suppose it, and I have my daughters' future to ensure. Both have been brought up to consider a certain amount of luxury as necessary."

I do not think the last words were intended as a hint, for had Haldane considered the latter necessary it is hardly likely I should have been welcomed so often at Bonaventure. In any case it would have been superfluous, for I had already faced the worst, and decided that Beatrice Haldane must remain what she had always been to me – an ideal to be worshiped in the abstract and at a distance. Strangest of all, once the knowledge was forced on me, I found it possible to accept the position with some degree of resignation. All this flashed through my mind as I looked into the wreaths of smoke, and then Haldane spoke:

"Have you come across that photographer fellow lately?"

"Not for some time. Do you wish to see him?" I answered, with a slightly puzzled air.

"I think I should like to" – and Haldane's voice changed from its reflective tone. "Do you know who he is, Ormesby?"

"I should hardly care to say without consulting him, sir," I answered; and Haldane laughed.

"You need not trouble, because I do. If you chance upon him tell him what I said. Getting late, isn't it? Good-night to you!"

He left me equally relieved and mystified, and that I should feel any relief at all formed part of the mystery. Whatever was the cause of it, I was neither utterly cast down nor desperate when I sought my couch, and I managed to sleep soundly.

That was the first of several visits to Bonaventure. The acreage of Crane Valley was ample, but the house a mere elongated sod hovel, of which Miss Steel monopolized the greater portion, although I reflected grimly that in existing circumstances it was quite good enough for me. Our life there was dreary enough, and, at times, I grew tired of Sally's alternate blandishments and railleries; so, when the frost bound fast the sod and but little could be done for land and cattle, it was very pleasant to spend a few days amid the refinement and comfort which ruled at Bonaventure. During one of my journeys there I met Cotton, and rode some distance with him across the prairie. I could see there was something he wished to say, but his usually ample confidence seemed to fail him, and finally he bade me farewell with visible hesitation where our ways parted. I had, however, scarcely resumed my journey before he hailed me, and when I checked my horse he rode back in my direction with resolve and irresolution mingled in his face.

"You are in a great hurry. There was something I wanted to ask," he commenced. "Do you think this frost will hold, Ormesby?"

"You have a barometer in the station, haven't you?" I answered, regarding him ironically. "Cotton, you have something on your mind to-day, and it is not the frost. Out with it, man. I'm in no way dangerous."

"I have," he answered, with a slight darkening of the bronze in his face. "It is not a great thing, but your paternal advice and cheap witticisms pall on me now and then. Curious way to ask a favor, isn't it? But that is just what I'm going to do."

"We'll omit the compliments. Come to the point," I said; and the trooper made the plunge he had so much hesitated over.

"I want you to ride out on Wednesday night and meet Freighter Walker coming in from the rail. As you know, he generally travels all night by the Bitter Lakes trail. Ask him for a packet with my name on the label, then tear that label off and give Mail-carrier Steve the packet addressed to Miss Haldane. Those confounded people at the rail post office chatter so about every trifle, and Steve is too thick in the head to notice anything. My rounds make it quite impossible for me to go myself, and that fool of a freighter would certainly lose or smash the thing before he passed our way on his return journey. It is not asking too much, is it?"

"No," I said readily, seeing the eagerness in the trooper's eyes, though that statement implied a long, cold night's ride. "Miss Haldane is, however, in Ottawa."

"I don't care where she is," said Cotton. "Confound – of course, I mean it's very good of you; but there's no use in assuming stupidity. It is Miss Lucille Haldane I mean, you know."

"I might certainly have guessed it," I said dryly. "It is no business of mine, Cotton, but in return for your compliments I can't help asking, do you think Haldane would appreciate it?"

Cotton straightened himself in his saddle, and I was sorry for him. He looked very young with that light in his eyes and the hot blood showing through his tan; also, I fancied, very chivalrous.

"Don't be under any misapprehension, Ormesby," he said quietly. "That packet merely contains an article I heard Miss Haldane lamenting that she could not obtain. It is of no value, only useful; but Thursday is her birthday, and I think she would be pleased to have it. Being Trooper Cotton, I should never have presumed to send a costly present, and you do not for a moment suppose Miss Lucille would appreciate the trifle for anything beyond its intrinsic utility. This is the second time you have forced me to point out the absurdity of your conclusions."

I was angry with him both for his infatuation and obtuseness, for it struck me that in the circumstances the simple gift was made in a dangerously graceful fashion, and calculated to appeal to a young woman's sympathies. "I can't offer you advice?" I said.

"No," was the answer. "One might surmise that you needed all your abilities in that direction for yourself. Still, to prevent your drawing any unwarranted inference, I may repeat that it would be quite unnecessary."

"I understand," I said somberly, feeling that there were two of us in the same position. "Very glad to oblige you. The times are out of joint for all of us just now, Cotton. Good-night – and, on consideration, I think the frost will hold."

We rode in different directions, and because I had made that unfortunate promise it was late on Wednesday night when I prepared to leave Bonaventure quietly. Haldane had journeyed to the railroad and could not return before midnight at earliest. Lucille informed me that she would be busy with some household affairs, and, as I could be back by morning, it seemed possible that neither would miss me. Having promised the trooper secrecy, I did not wish to answer questions or name excuses.

As ill-luck would have it, the last person I desired to meet chanced upon me, as, well wrapped in furs, I was slipping towards the door, and I must have looked confused when Lucille Haldane said: "Where are you going, Mr. Ormesby?"

"A little ride," I answered. "I have – I have some business to do, and after two idle days begin to long for exercise."

The girl looked hard at me, and I saw she recognized that the excuse was very lame. "There is nobody living within reach of a short ride. Will you return to-night?" she asked.

It was most unfortunate, for I did not wish to anticipate the trooper's gift. "I hardly think so," I answered. "Now, I will make a bargain with you. If you will keep my departure a secret, you will discover what my errand is very shortly."

"Very well," said Lucille Haldane; though she still seemed curious. "A safe journey to you, but I don't envy you the exercise."

I afterwards had cause to abuse Trooper Cotton and his errand, but I swung myself into the saddle, and, when I reached the Bitter Lakes trail, I patrolled it for two long hours under the nipping frost. No lumbering ox-team, however, crawled up out of the white prairie, though as yet the moon was in the sky; and I decided that the freighter had, as he sometimes did, taken another trail. It then, fortunately, occurred to me that I had promised to inspect some horses with a small rancher living four or five leagues away, and so determined to do so in the morning. A deserted sod-house stood at no great distance, which the scattered settlers kept supplied with fuel. It served as a convenient half-way shelter for those who must break their long journey to the railroad settlement, and I set out for it at a canter. As I did so the moon dipped, and darkness settled on the prairie.