Carley could not collect her wits.The instant of his pushing her back into the cabin and following her had shocked her and almost paralyzed her will.
If she saw him now any the less fearful she could not so quickly rally her reason to any advantage.
"Let me out of here," she demanded.
"Nope.I'm a-goin' to make a little love to you," he said, and he reached for her with great hairy hands.
Carley saw in them the strength that had so easily swung the sheep.She saw, too, that they were dirty, greasy hands.And they made her flesh creep.
"Glenn will kill--you," she panted.
"What fer?" he queried, in real or pretended surprise."Aw, I know wimmin.
You'll never tell him."
"Yes, I will."
"Wal, mebbe.I reckon you're lyin', Pretty Eyes," he replied, with a grin.
"Anyhow, I'll take a chance."
"I tell you--he'll kill you," repeated Carley, backing away until her weak knees came against the couch.
"What fer, I ask you?" he demanded.
"For this--this insult."
"Huh! I'd like to know who's insulted you.Can't a man take an invitation to kiss an' hug a girl--without insultin' her?""Invitation!...Are you crazy?" queried Carley, bewildered.
"Nope, I'm not crazy, an' I shore said invitation....I meant thet white shimmy dress you wore the night of Flo's party.Thet's my invitation to get a little fresh with you, Pretty Eyes!"Carley could only stare at him.His words seemed to have some peculiar, unanswerable power.
"Wal, if it wasn't an invitation, what was it?" he asked, with another step that brought him within reach of her.He waited for her answer, which was not forthcoming.
"Wal, you're gettin' kinda pale around the gills," he went on, derisively.
"I reckoned you was a real sport....Come here."He fastened one of his great hands in the front of her coat and gave her a pull.So powerful was it that Carley came hard against him, almost knocking her breathless.There he held her a moment and then put his other arm round her.It seemed to crush both breath and sense out of her.Suddenly limp, she sank strengthless.She seemed reeling in darkness.Then she felt herself thrust away from him with violence.She sank on the couch and her head and shoulders struck the wall.
"Say, if you're a-goin' to keel over like thet I pass," declared Ruff, in disgust."Can't you Eastern wimmin stand nothin?"Carley's eyes opened and beheld this man in an attitude of supremely derisive protest.
"You look like a sick kitten," he added."When I get me a sweetheart or wife I want her to be a wild cat."His scorn and repudiation of her gave Carley intense relief.She sat up and endeavored to collect her shattered nerves.Ruff gazed down at her with great disapproval and even disappointment.
"Say, did you have some fool idee I was a-goin' to kill you?" he queried, gruffly.
"I'm afraid--I did," faltered Carley.Her relief was a release; it was so strange that it was gratefulness.
"Wal, I reckon I wouldn't have hurt you.None of these flop-over Janes for me!...An' I'll give you a hunch, Pretty Eyes.You might have run acrost a fellar thet was no gentleman!"Of all the amazing statements that had ever been made to Carley, this one seemed the most remarkable.
"What 'd you wear thet onnatural white dress fer?" he demanded, as if he had a right to be her judge.
1
"Shore.Thet's what I said.Any woman's dress without top or bottom is onnatural.It's not right.Why, you looked like--like"--here he floundered for adequate expression--"like one of the devil's angels.An' I want to hear why you wore it.""For the same reason I'd wear any dress," she felt forced to reply.
"Pretty Eyes, thet's a lie.An' you know it's a lie.You wore thet white dress to knock the daylights out of men.Only you ain't honest enough to say so....Even me or my kind! Even us, who 're dirt under your little feet.But all the same we're men, an' mebbe better men than you think.If you had to put that dress on, why didn't you stay in your room? Naw, you had to come down an' strut around an' show off your beauty.An' I ask you--if you're a nice girl like Flo Hutter--what 'd you wear it fer?"Carley not only was mute; she felt rise and burn in her a singular shame and surprise.
"I'm only a sheep dipper," went on Ruff, "but I ain't no fool.A fellar doesn't have to live East an' wear swell clothes to have sense.Mebbe you'll learn thet the West is bigger'n you think.A man's a man East or West.But if your Eastern men stand for such dresses as thet white one they'd do well to come out West awhile, like your lover, Glenn Kilbourne.
I've been rustlin' round here ten years, an' I never before seen a dress like yours--an' I never heerd of a girl bein' insulted, either.Mebbe you think I insulted you.Wal, I didn't.Fer I reckon nothin' could insult you in thet dress....An' my last hunch is this, Pretty Eyes.You're not what a hombre like me calls either square or game.Adios."His bulky figure darkened the doorway, passed out, and the light of the sky streamed into the cabin again.Carley sat staring.She heard Ruff's spurs tinkle, then the ring of steel on stirrup, a sodden leathery sound as he mounted, and after that a rapid pound of hoofs, quickly dying away.
