USA > California > Sonoma County > Casa Grande : a California pastoral > Part 10
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"Why don't you look in it?"
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He laid it back on the covers and kept his eyes on her face. "I'd rather look at you."
"Let's be friends," she soberly replied, and ex- tended her hand.
He clasped her fingers and, in spite of her strug- gles, pressed them to his lips.
"You mustn't," she declared, with evident annoy- ance.
He lightly replied that he would rather not be friends on those conditions.
Hoofbeats echoed from the courtyard, and the sheriff went out to greet the doctor, who had ridden in. He found his patient physically improved, but low-spirited. She was attractive in her first toilet, yet he missed the curve of lip, the gleam of teeth, that belong with holiday attire.
"Where's John?" he asked.
They told him that the master still slept.
"Good, good," he declared, rubbing his hands. "He needs it."
"He's been sleeping a long time," protested the patient. "Some one should call him before he sleeps himself into a fever."
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The doctor sat down beside her and took her hand in a fatherly way, his lips twitching. "How long has John been sleeping?" was the quizzical demand.
"He left me before four," she answered, with the suspicion of a pout.
The surgeon looked at his watch and grunted, then softly laughed. "Four! It's nearly twelve. You don't grudge the poor man eight hours' sleep, miss ?"
She laughed an abashed little laugh, and reached her other hand to clasp his, her face hidden by her extended arm. "It seems eight days," she softly re- plied.
."Eight days?" he as softly repeated, and patted the hand lying in his. A curious fancy awoke. How would this hand look in a glove, with jewelled rings? It was white, now, and the fingers tapered. He raised his eyes to her face-it still was hidden-and again he musingly remarked, "Eight days?"
Something in his tone caused her to look shyly up. His eyes were kind, and he said, so that no one could hear, "I'll call him for dinner, honey."
"No, no," she whispered; "he must have rest."
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And then her mother stepped in, with the remark that she had seen Miller.
The widow had gone out when the doctor asked for John, and, as Manuel was not in sight, she quietly opened the sleeping man's door. He lay relaxed, his head thrown back in utter weariness, and by the dim light his face showed hollow and worn, but his breathing was deep and measured.
Her eyes fell on the dog, which crouched near the bed, and which eyed her with a savage gleam, as if ready to spring, the hair upright on her back. In days of strength the whole world was Gyp's friend; in days of weakness she knew only her master.
Mrs. Clark hastily withdrew and reported what she had seen. The company listened indifferently, even the dog's fidelity but lightly impressing them. They wanted to see their host, not hear of him, and when dinner was announced it was a relief. The doctor waked Miller, and the three men dined to- gether, then went to Belle.
Miller stopped at the foot of the bed to regard the patient. She turned away her face, but there were
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light in her eyes, colour in her cheeks, curves in her lips. She had caught the pleasure in his look, and held out her hand.
He took the doctor's seat, observed her with great content, and asked of the physician, "What do you think?"
The doctor's face lighted. He at last discovered where Belle's spirits had been, and, much pleased at his penetration, answered, "I think I've found a remedy."
"A secret ?" obtusely asked Miller.
"Yes. The next time she needs a prescription I'll give one that you can fill." The speaker chuckled.
Mrs. Clark had gone to the vaqueros; Bailey had walked to the window and was gazing moodily at the hills ; the others made a familiar group by them- selves.
Miller studied the smiling face of the doctor, and shook his head. "I'm dense to-day," he said, in re- ply to the last remark. "Must have slept too long." He laughed in sympathy with the doctor and stroked the girl's hand, still in his. "Looks as if we have good red blood in us yet !"
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"Yes; we're very cheerful." The doctor took his hat from the bed. "There doesn't seem any need for me now. There may be, however, if you stay away again eight
Belle quickly withdrew her hand and turned away her head; the doctor laughed teasingly as he left the room.
Miller's face grew grave as he followed the sur- geon into the courtyard. The ranchero suspected that some by-play between the professional man and his patient had caused the doctor to conclude that the master of Casa Grande's attentions to the girl were growing personal. The younger man wondered if he had given her cause to deem his regard any- thing more than paternal interest, and he resolved to be more careful in future.
Bailey went to town with the physician, and the master of the range, to get outdoors, walked down to the feeding-sheds, Gyp close at his heels, an act quite unusual for her.
Manuel watched them from the open door, and went into Belle's room to remark: "Gyp, he glad see Meestah Jone. She no lose heem to-day !"
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"Manuel," called Belle, as he turned away, "do you think Gyp the only one glad?"
The old Mexican went soberly back and studied her face till the shadow of a flush came in her cheeks. He was growing to like her, and his instinct for romance was still keen. He knew very well who else was glad, yet he egotistically answered :
"Oh, no, señorita ; me dam' glad see heem. By 'n by, you know heem long time like me know heem, you be dam' glad, too." He hastened away, softly laughing.
She moved uneasily, her colour deepening, and glanced at her mother, who sat placidly rocking. The girl wondered what Manuel had found in her question to amuse him; wondered if a girl must be laughed at because of friendship for a man, and wonder changed to irritation.
When Miller returned he bore a mass of freshly cut tollones, the ripening berries turning red. Belle was alone for the moment, and quick as she beheld his burden she gave a little cry of joy and held out her arms.
He gave them to her, and she folded them as she
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had folded the azaleas and, without a word, buried her face in the blaze of colour. As she handed them back her eyes were shining, her cheeks and lips aglow.
"What have you done!" he called, in bantering dismay, and offered the glass to her, but she steadily turned away her eyes.
"Look at your cheeks and lips! I didn't know that the red comes off the berries !"
She gently pushed back his hand holding the mir- ror, painfully conscious of the differing emotions roused by the two men's compliments. When she again looked at him her colour had deepened, and he beheld the same glance he had caught the day she took his azaleas.
This time his lids did not droop.
CHAPTER XVII
STAY YE ME
T HE storm broke in the middle of the week, and the vaqueros battled gallantly with the ele- ments. The Aguas Frias foamed down to the Cala- bezas, the water overflowing its banks.
Miller was needed among his men, and the day- time rarely found him in the house. No matter what preparation may have been made, the first rains of winter never find the rancheros quite ready.
Belle had not improved. The doctor attended regularly, but there were distressing conditions he could not relieve. The girl complained of numbness in hands and feet, and showed growing inability to help herself.
Sunday was kept, however, a holiday, and a thankful party assembled in Casa Grande. Bailey came from Santa Rosa Saturday night, and Belle,
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to the delight of all, managed to sit at the table for Thanksgiving dinner. The old house may have echoed to noisier rejoicing, but never with more sincere gratitude.
The meal finished, Belle was moved close to the dining-room fire, Bailey ever near. A premonition of impending evil that would cause her more suffer- ing kept him subdued. He hung over her in help- less solicitude, and refrained from doing or saying anything that would sadden her.
The rain poured again when the sun went down, and all night long the tile roof hummed with music from the clouds. Peace was in the rhythm, and when a sleeper waked it was to stretch himself indo- lently, with a sense of protection, a feeling of secur- ity, because the primitive dwelling had been sturdily planned against both man and the elements.
The day's happenings had exhausted the patient, and she could not sleep. After Bailey had gone to bed she strove vainly against growing nervousness until her mother called Miller, and then she lay re- garding him with wide-open eyes. He brought com- fort, but not slumber.
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Her dependence on the man had been growing with the passing days. She restlessly awaited his coming, when away, and could not be quieted unless he tended her. The struggle between longing for his presence and solicitude not to break him down distressed her.
It was a happy anxiety for Miller. To be the source of another's comfort was a new experience. To be dominated by the helplessness of this suffering woman he had greatly wronged, to find himself her strength and reliance-these made a gentle penance, and he gave himself cheerfully to her demands.
As a child depends on parental wisdom, so did Belle depend on Miller. Her weakness was too urgent for tenderness, except the tenderness of sup- port. She was nearing the valley of deep shadows, and she held to him trustingly. Not alone her life but her spirit was in his keeping.
To-night as he sat beside her she clung to him. They did not speak, but her long-drawn sighs, her clasping fingers, were eloquent of need. He thought of holy men who bore the cross into the wilderness ; of lonely souls that went out to their Maker in the
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consolation of that symbol. Was it the symbol or the comradeship that comforted? Was it hope of future life, or a hand to steady the drifting spirit into the silent bark guided by an oarsman none has seen ?
It grew late, and still those shining eyes turned trustingly to him. He rose at last and stirred the fire, then went to the table and took up the soothing mixture. "You must sleep, Belle," he kindly said.
She smiled at him.
In an hour the dose had worked its effect, but she moved uneasily, with strange mutterings in her slumber. The rain beat ceaselessly on the tiles, and their subdued melody drenched the silence with drowsiness. He nodded and swayed in his chair under that alluring lullaby. Then, noiselessly, to throw off the spell, he paced in the shadow.
Gyp alone watched with him. The instinct of the brute warned her of her master's distress, and when- ever he moved she eyed him, alert to any change; whenever he stepped to the bedside she followed him and gently rose against the cover, to get sight of the sleeping woman, whom she curiously scented.
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Mrs. Clark came long before daylight to relieve him. Belle had fallen into quieter slumber, and he went out, stirred the dining-room fire, and dozed in a chair till Manuel appeared to prepare breakfast. Then the master rode down under the grey dawn to the cattle-sheds.
A bear had come in the night and broken one of the corral gates. He evidently had met his match, for they could track him by crimson stains, and Cin- nabar's short, stout horns also were stained. But the bull's shoulder was torn by claw or tooth, and the wound required attention. As soon as the men arrived they first trailed the midnight robber, and some miles away, in a clump of brush, they found him, dead. Then the young bull's wound was roughly dressed, and, to keep him quiet a day or two, he was driven to his dead sire's stall, beside Peggy's.
The sun had risen high as Miller and the men guided the unwilling Cinnabar through the court- yard gate. Near the dining-room door two dripping saddle-horses panted, and at sight of them Miller's heart stood still, as he realised how long he had been absent bear-hunting. He went swiftly into the house,
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and found Bailey and the doctor, summoned while he was away, with Belle, who lay twisted and sunken, only her eyes and the unrhythmic motion of her chest telling of life. And yet she knew when he entered ; she moved neither head nor body, but in the look she gave him there was an appeal that terrified him, held him for an instant in his tracks. Then he went to her and inquired the trouble.
The physician sat beside the bed, still clasping her pulse as he looked out the window. He turned at the ranchero's question and answered :
"Paralysis."
"Belle!" whispered Miller, dropping on his knees at the bedside. He drew her head to his shoulder and gently stroked back the tangled hair. In the presence of death his firmly reined emotions had slipped their bits and impulse alone controlled. It was not the tenderness of his action that impressed the others, but the hopelessness.
Belle closed her eyes languidly, yet in utter con- tent, as if the world were bounded by his circling arm and the hereafter were without terror.
He quickly realised his position and, with some
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embarrassment, laid her back on the pillows. Her mother, twisting her apron, leaned against the wall. When he looked at her, she, as if divining the ques- tion he would put, forlornly remarked :
"I don't know when it happened. About daylight, I think."
"Are you in pain, Belle?" he asked.
"She can't speak," explained the doctor.
Miller turned a questioning face to him, as if to ask relief for the patient, but the older man shook his head. "You might raise her up while we smooth the bed," he suggested.
Miller lifted her in his arms, and her mother straightened bed and pillows. The girl hung limp, her head dropping back. When he laid her down her limbs were composed and her position made rest- ful, but her eyes alone expressed gratitude.
Bailey had stood silently leaning on the foot of the bed, and he curiously observed Miller make the girl comfortable. It was a womanly action, and for the first time it occurred to the sheriff that tender- ness was not wholly a feminine quality.
The next thought that came in his mind was that
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Miller's prompting was love for the girl, rather than an innate gentleness. But almost coincident was the reflection that he, too, loved her, yet he did not know how to make her comfortable.
The doctor rose stiffly from his seat, put his hand on her forehead, looked deep in her eyes, and, turn- ing to Miller, said :
"She'll have to be frequently shifted, until she can help herself." His manner had lost its air of confi- dence, and he absently drew out pencil and paper. "Here's a prescription," he added, after he had fin- ished writing. "You'd better have it filled at once."
The three men went to the courtyard, where the horses waited. The animals breathed easier, and their flanks were nearly dry. Miller offered fresh mounts to his friends, but they preferred their own, and the doctor put his medicine case in the saddle- bags and shifted the blanket on the horse's back.
"What will be the outcome, doctor?" Miller asked the question quietly, but with dry lips.
The physician leaned on his saddle and kindly re- garded his friend. "It's the beginning of the end, I fear. The bullet injured the base of the brain or the
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spine." He drew the cinch tight and gathered the reins. "I don't know what more to do, except keep her free from pain."
Miller would not yield to the doctor's mood, and he quickly replied, "She's strong yet."
"Her vitality is splendid. If only her limbs and speech alone were affected! But her heart-you heard how she breathes. It's the inside of her that troubles me. If her stomach is involved, she'll starve."
The suggestion made by Bailey not many days ago had been taking form in Miller's mind the past week, and he was now willing to consider other pro- fessional advice.
"You'll have no feeling, doctor," he asked, "if I propose a consultation ?"
"You owe it to yourself, John, and to the girl."
"Then I shall send for Dr. Payne, the army sur- geon at the San Francisco presidio."
"If he will only come!" replied the doctor, with new enthusiasm. "He has no equal on the Coast."
"We crossed the plains together," Miller replied, "and we are distantly connected."
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"Just the man. Get him here as soon as you can." The doctor mounted and turned toward the gate. "Send for the prescription and give as directed," he called back.
Bailey had been a silent listener. The determined spirit of the man who was planning for Belle's re- covery would yet save her life. Revived ardour stirred the sheriff, and he cheerily remarked, as he followed the doctor :
"I'll be ready, John-anything-day or night. It will be a godsend to help!"
The riders looked back as they passed the gate. The master of Casa Grande, still resolute, was lean- ing in great perplexity against the basin of the plash- ing fountain.
CHAPTER XVIII
TURN AWAY THINE EYES
T HE next two days were grey with foreboding. The doctor came regularly from Santa Rosa, but he could do nothing to check Belle's steady de- cline. She grew more deathlike with the hours, only her pleading eyes alive; and, behind the pleading, life-signals were slowly burning out.
The evening of the second day brought Dr. Payne, smiling and sympathetic, from San Francisco. It must have been a tedious trip, nearly all day coming less than fifty miles. If it were, he gave no sign of weariness, for the way had been full of charm, and as he approached Casa Grande, in the falling shad- ows, it seemed like riding to the land of knights- errant, the fashion of the dwelling suggesting at- tack and defence.
The world of men lay behind him, and he was
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now in a world of fancy. The oaks and the ma- droños; the murmur of the Aguas Frias, still bur- dened with the storm of Sunday; the last calling of quail and the first yelping of coyotes, brought back his youth, with its idle, impossible longings. A spear and a sword, a coat-of-mail and a prancing steed-and smouldering fancies could easily be glow- ing realities.
And the maiden in distress- His imagination gave way to sombre reflection at that picture, and as he drew near the shadowy castle fancy thronged with romantic reasons why he had been sent for. But the summons came from an old comrade, and the appeal had been too urgent to question.
The surgeon's first thought on entering the house was to look at the girl whose life awaited his skill. A conflict, invisible to human eyes, was raging in her crippled body slowly yielding under the assaults. Her heart was signalling distress, but the code, frag- mentary and uncompiled, was his familiar study. Her pulse, in his firm clasp, bounded, wavered, struggled; he read the message confidently, hope- fully.
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He bent his ear to the rush of air through her lungs; nothing there interested him. He slowly worked his fingers over her skull-there he hesi- tated. He gazed long in her heavy eyes, as if search- ing the soul of her. When at last he turned away the repose of his face thrilled the man who had been watching at the opposite side of the bed.
Dr. Payne and Miller supped alone, for it was late when they sat down. The ranchero's spirits threw off the weight of oppression that had borne heavily since Belle's relapse. His companion, finely moulded and gentle, was poised with the confidence of self-reliance and success. It was good to be with him; to warm to his enthusiasm; to glow with his delight in living. Even though the newcomer avoided mentioning Belle, his subdued geniality car- ried the conviction that he had come on a mission of healing.
The next day was brilliant with December charm, and it brought the old doctor from Santa Rosa early and amiable, Bailey with him. The professional men spent a few minutes alone in consultation and then prepared for an operation.
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"A blood-clot on the brain," said Dr. Payne, in explanation, to Miller, as they were making ready. "We'll have to trephine her skull."
Mrs. Clark wandered desolately from room to room. Belle's illness had been a long trial, and she had not borne it well. Now that her daughter must undergo another operation, the case seemed hopeless, and the men could not but pity her. Miller and Bailey took her out to the courtyard and sought to divert her attention as well as their own.
But Dr. Payne soon called his host, and when Miller, also dreading this new ordeal, appealingly answered, "Not this time, Ned," the surgeon smil- ingly but relentlessly replied :
"A woman's life is at stake."
The master of Casa Grande left his companions in the sunshine, and in the room with the surgeons he found Manuel, clad in immaculate white from the grizzly hair of his well-shaped head to the ash- coloured moccasins on his feet, his face expressing modesty and concern.
As Dr. Payne scanned his fourth assistant there was approval in his smile as well as a twinkle in his
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eyes, and when everything was prepared he deferen- tially asked, "Are we ready, Manuel?"
"Meestah Jone and me ready, señor," was the simple answer.
The bedroom was flooded with light and air, and Miller was left to administer the anæsthetic, a task that more than once had been required of him by Dr. Payne.
Belle was laid on a table near the window, and Miller stood opposite, clasping her pulse, a satu- rated handkerchief over her mouth. She was facing him, and not once, while conscious, did her eyes move from his. She understood what they were about, but it little mattered so long as he was beside her. Her breathing thickened, her lids wavered, then closed. She was gone. Only her heart-throb was left; beating for him, beating, fluttering, almost stopping.
His attention soon was fixed on Dr. Payne. There was something fascinating in the skill of the oper- ator. His hands were soft and flexible-Belle's were like them-his touch gentle, yet it never wavered.
Once the doctor glanced up; Miller stood grimly
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to the task, but the tint was gone from his cheeks and his lips were drawn. The surgeon went silently on.
As soon as Miller's assistance was no longer needed, he sat down in the deep window and leaned against the casing, where the breath of morning blew on him.
Dr. Payne, while binding the wound, stopped to make an observation. "Your Western women are magnificent ! They respond like men." He glanced at Miller, but got no reply. His friend's eyes were closed and his face the colour of the patient's.
The result of the operation justified the prognosis. As soon as Belle recovered from the immediate ef- fect of knife and anæsthetic her paralysis grad- ually modified, and when supper was over she was sleeping naturally, warmth and colour almost re- stored.
The last thing that night the two friends went in to the patient. They entered quietly, but she wakened, and when she beheld Miller a faint smile chased shadows from her lips and colour mounted her cheeks. The surgeon raised her and offered her a
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cup of water. She drank for the first time that day, then settled to sleep again.
Dr. Payne remained two days longer. Hunting and fishing were especially good, and he yielded with a youthful abandon to the delights of primitive ex- istence.
The doctor from Santa Rosa resumed care of the patient, under direction of Dr. Payne. She steadily rallied, and when the surgeon said good-bye, she was able to murmur a few words of gratitude. He brushed back the tangle of her hair and kindly studied her face. Her latent strength of character moved him with unusual tenderness, and he bent down, touched his lips to her brow, and whispered, "Somebody's wild rose." He was thinking, how- ever, of Miller.
In the early morning ride to the steamer the ran- chero quietly said to Dr. Payne: "Your coming has been a godsend. I shot her. If she should die-"
"You shot her! You!" The doctor stared; then his face lighted knowingly. "Aha !" he exclaimed, and was silent again.
"There is something intensely womanly about
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her," remarked the doctor, when he spoke again. "I don't believe that even I could be shut up in the same house with her for weeks and withstand the spell."
"See here, Ned; are you taking advantage of pro- fessional opportunities ?"
"Sh-sh!" whispered the doctor. "I haven't said a word. Your own conscience is betraying you." He laughed happily at his friend's discomfiture.
"But, Ned," seriously insisted Miller, "she doesn't know."
Dr. Payne laughed derisively. "Never mind, John. There's heartache ahead for both of you. It's inevitable in such cases, and howsoever the affair ends, it will end well." He laid a hand on Miller's arm and earnestly continued : "Stand by your con- victions. It's soul that counts-and she has soul, gracious and enduring, I'm sure."
John did not answer. He was wondering if his regard for Belle had been so apparent that a stran- ger could detect it in a two days' stay under the same roof with them. He had been too anxious of late to think of anything but Belle, yet he was uncon-
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