"Well," he said, keenly enjoying the situation and determined to torment her further, "set down. I reckon we'll grub."

"Thank you," she mocked, with quick sarcasm; "I was wondering whether you would ask us. Grandpa," she added, turning to Malcolm, "won't you join us? Mr. Marston has been so polite and thoughtful that we certainly ought not to refuse his invitation."

She drew out a chair for Malcolm and stood beside it while he shuffled forward and hesitatingly slipped into it, watching Calumet furtively.

Then she moved quietly and gracefully to another chair, directly opposite Calumet.

Her sarcasm had no perceptible effect on Calumet. Inwardly he was intensely satisfied. His action in seating himself at the table without invitation angered Betty, as he had intended it should.

"Some shocked, eh?" he said, helping himself to some bacon and fried potatoes, and pa.s.sing them to her when he had finished with them.

"Shocked?" she returned calmly, unconcernedly supplying herself with food from the dishes she had taken from him, "Oh, my, no. You see, from what your father told me about you, I rather expected you to be a brute."

"Aw, Betty," came Malcolm's voice, raised in mild remonstrance; "you hadn't ought to--"

"If you please, grandpa," Betty interrupted him, and he subsided and glanced anxiously at Calumet, into whose face had come a dash of dark color. He swallowed a mouthful of bacon before he answered Betty.

"Then you ain't disappointed," he sneered.

She rested her hands on the table beside her plate, the knife and fork poised, and regarded him with a frank gaze.

"No, I am not disappointed. You quite meet my expectations. In fact,"

she went on, "I thought you would be much worse than you are. So far, if we except your attack on grandfather, you haven't exhibited any vicious traits. You are vain, though, and conceited, and like to bully people. But those are faults that can be corrected."

Calumet had to look twice at her before he could be certain that she was not mocking him.

"I reckon you're goin' to correct them?" he said, then.

She took a sip of coffee and placed the cup delicately down before she answered.

"Of course--if you are to stay here."

"How?" His lips were in an incredulous sneer.

"By showing you that you can't be conceited around me, and that you can't bully me. I suppose," she went on, leaning her elbows on the table and supporting her chin with her hands while she looked straight at him, "that when you came in here and took a seat without being invited, you imagined you were impressing some one with your importance. But you were not; you were merely acting the part of a vulgar boor. Or perhaps you had a vague idea that you were going to do as you please."

He placed his knife and fork down and looked at her. Her manner was irritating; her quiet, direct glances disconcerted him. He could not fail to see that he had signally failed in his effort to disturb her.

In fact, it became very plain to him as he watched her that she was serenely conscious of her power over him, as a teacher is conscious of her authority over an unruly pupil, and that, like a teacher, she was quietly determined to be the victor.

The thought angered Calumet. There was in his mind a desire to humble her, to crush her, to break her spirit, to drag her down to his own level where he could fight her with his own weapons. He wanted to humiliate her, wanted to gloat over her, wanted above all to have her acknowledge his superiority, his authority, over her. Had he been able to do this at their first meeting he would have been satisfied; if he were able to do it now he would be pleased.

"It's none of your business what I thought," he said, leaning over the table and leering at her. "I'm goin' to run things to suit myself, an'

if you an' your grandpap an' your brother don't like my style you can pull your freight, p.r.o.nto. I'm goin' to boss this ranch. Do you get me?"

She seemed amused. "The Lazy Y," she said slowly, her eyes gleaming, "has need of something besides a boss. You have observed, I suppose, that it is slightly run down. Your father purposely neglected it.

Considerable money and work will be required to place it in condition where it can be bossed at all. I haven't any doubt," she added, surveying him critically, "that you will be able to supply the necessary labor. But what about the money? Are you well supplied with that?"

"Meaning to hint about the money the old man left, I reckon?"

"Of course. Understand that I have control of that, and you won't get a cent unless in my opinion you deserve it."

He glared savagely at her.

"Of course," she went on calmly, though there was triumph in her voice, "you can force us to leave the ranch. But I suspect that you won't try to do that, because if you did you would never get the money. I should go directly over to Las Vegas and pet.i.tion to have your claim annulled.

Then at the end of the year the money would be mine."

He stiffened with impotent rage as he took up his knife and fork again and resumed eating. He was disagreeably conscious that she held the advantage, for a.s.suredly he had no intention of driving her from the ranch or of leaving it himself until he got his hands on the money.

Besides, he thought he saw back of her unconcern over his probable course of action a secret desire for him to leave or to drive her away, and in the perversity of his heart he decided that both must stay.

Something might occur to reveal the whereabouts of the money, or he could watch her, reasonably certain that one day her woman's curiosity would lead her to its hiding place. Plainly, in any event, he must bide his time. Though his decision to defer action was taken, his resentment did not abate; he could not conquer the deep rage in his heart against her because of her interference in his affairs, and when he suddenly looked up to see her watching him with a calm smile he made a grimace of hatred at her.

"I'll make you show your hand, you sufferin' fool!" he said. "If you was a man I'd make you tell me right now where that corn is, or I'd guzzle you till your tongue stuck out a yard. As it is, I reckon I've got to wait until you get d.a.m.n good an' ready; got to wait until a measly, sneakin' woman--"

Her laugh interrupted him--low, disdainful, mocking.

"I think I know what you are going to say. You are going to tell me how I wormed my way into the good graces of your father and coaxed him to make me his beneficiary. It is your intention to be mean, to insult me, to try to bully me." Her eyes flashed as she leaned a little toward him. "Understand," she said; "your bl.u.s.ter won't have the slightest effect on me. I am not afraid of you. So swear and curse to your heart's content. As for bossing the ranch," she went on, her voice suddenly one of cold mockery, "what is there to boss? Some dilapidated buildings! Of course you may boss those, because they can't object. But you can't boss me, nor grandfather, nor Bob--because we won't let you!"

She walked away from the table and went to a door that led to another room, standing in the opening and looking back at Calumet, who still sat at the table, speechless with surprise.

"Go out and begin your bossing!" she jeered. "Very likely the buildings will begin to dance around at your bidding. With your admirable persuasive powers you ought to be able to do wonders with them in the matter of repairs. Try it, at least. But if they refuse to be repaired at your mere word, and you think something more substantial is needed, then come to me--perhaps I may help you."

She bowed mockingly and vanished into the other room, closing the door behind her, leaving Calumet glaring into his plate.

For a moment there was a painful silence, which Malcolm broke by clearing his throat, his gaze on the tablecloth.

"Sometimes I think Betty's a little fresh," he said, apologetically.

"She's sorta sudden-like. She hadn't ought to--"

He looked up to see a malevolent scowl on Calumet's face, and he ducked by the narrowest of margins the heavy plate that flew from Calumet's hand. The plate struck the wall and was shattered to atoms. Malcolm crouched, in deadly fear of other missiles, but Calumet did not deign to notice him further, stalking out of the room and slamming the door behind him.

CHAPTER VI

"BOB"

Five minutes after leaving the kitchen of the ranchhouse Calumet stood beside the rotted rails of the corral fence near the stable, frowning, fully conscious that he had been worsted in the verbal battle just ended. He was filled with a disagreeable sense of impotence; he felt small, mean, cheap, and uncomfortable, and was oppressed with indecision. In short, he felt that he was not the same man who had ridden up to the Lazy Y ranchhouse at twilight the night before--in twelve hours a change had come over him. And Betty had wrought it. He knew that.

Had he only to do with Malcolm--or any man, for that matter--there would have been no doubt of his course. He would have hustled out Malcolm or any other man long before this, and there would have been an end to it. But Betty had made it quite plain to him that she did not purpose to leave, and, since he had had little experience with women, he was decidedly at a loss to discover a way to deal with her. That he could not rout her by force was certain, for he could not lay hands on a woman in violence, and he was by no means certain that he wanted her to leave, because if she did it was highly probable that he would never get his hands on the money his father had left. Of course he could search for the money, but there came to his mind now tales of treasure that had never been recovered, and he was reluctant to take any chances. On the other hand, he was facing the maddening prospect of living for a year under the eyes of a determined young woman who was to be the sole judge of his conduct. He was to become a probationer and Betty was to watch his every move.

He wondered, making a wry face at the thought, whether she intended to record his actions in a book, giving him marks of merit or demerit according as the whim struck her? In that case she had probably already placed a black mark against him, perhaps several.

He stood long beside the fence, considering the situation. It was odd to the point of unreality, but, no matter how odd, it was a situation that he must face, because he had already decided to stay and make an attempt to get the money. He certainly would not go away and leave it to Betty; he would not give her that satisfaction. Nor did he intend to be pliable clay in her hands, to become in the end a creature of her shaping. He would stay, but he would be himself, and he would make the Claytons rue the day they had interfered in his affairs.

Leaning on the top rail of the fence, his gaze roved over the sweep of valley, dull and cheerless in the early dawn, with a misty film rising up out of it to meet and mingle and evaporate in the far-flung colors of the slow-rising sun. Once his gaze concentrated on a spot in the distance. He detected movement, and watched, motionless, until he was certain. Half a mile it was to the spot--a low hill, crested with yucca, sagebrush, and octilla--and he saw the desert weeds move, observed a dark form slink out from them and stand for an instant on the skyline. Wolf or coyote, it was too far for him to be certain, but he watched it with a sneer until it slunk down into the tangle of sage, out of his sight.

He presently forgot the slinking figure; his thoughts returned to Betty. He did not like her, she irritated him. For a woman she was too a.s.sertive, too belligerent by half. Though considering her now, he was reluctantly compelled to admit that she was a forceful figure, and, reviewing the conversation he had had with her a few minutes before, the picture she had made standing in the doorway defying him, mocking him, rebuking him, he could not repress a thrill of grudging admiration.

For half an hour he stood at the corral fence. He rolled and smoked three cigarettes, his thoughts wrapped in memories of the past and revolving the problem of his future. Once Betty stood in the kitchen door for fully a minute, watching him speculatively, and twice old Malcolm pa.s.sed him on the way to do some ch.o.r.e, eyeing him curiously.

Calumet did not see either of them.