What had evil, drink, blood, to do with the real inherent nobility of this splendid specimen of Western hardihood?
Wherever he had been, whatever he had done during that long absence, he had returned long separated from that wild and savage character she could now forget. Perhaps there would never again be call for it.
"How's my girl?" he asked, just as naturally as if he had been gone a few days on some errand of his employer's.
"Bo? Oh, she's well -- fine. I -- I rather think she'll be glad to see you," replied Helen, warmly.
"An' how's thet big Indian, Dale?" he drawled.
"Well, too -- I'm sure."
"Reckon I got back heah in time to see you-all married?""I -- I assure you I -- no one around here has been married yet," replied Helen, with a blush.
"Thet shore is fine. Was some worried," he said, lazily.
"I've been chasin' wild hosses over in New Mexico, an' I got after this heah blue roan. He kept me chasin' him fer a spell. I've fetched him back for Bo."Helen looked at the mustang Roy was holding, to be instantly delighted. He was a roan almost blue in color, neither large nor heavy, but powerfully built, clean-limbed, and racy, with a long mane and tail, black as coal, and a beautiful head that made Helen love him at once.
"Well, I'm jealous," declared Helen, archly. "I never did see such a pony.""I reckoned you'd never ride any hoss but Ranger," said Las Vegas.
"No, I never will. But I can be jealous, anyhow, can't I?""Shore. An I reckon if you say you're goin' to have him --wal, Bo 'd be funny," he drawled.
"I reckon she would be funny," retorted Helen. She was so happy that she imitated his speech. She wanted to hug him.
It was too good to be true -- the return of this cowboy. He understood her. He had come back with nothing that could alienate her. He had apparently forgotten the terrible role he had accepted and the doom he had meted out to her enemies. That moment was wonderful for Helen in its revelation of the strange significance of the West as embodied in this cowboy. He was great. But he did not know that.
Then the door of the living-room opened, and a sweet, high voice pealed out:
"Roy! Oh, what a mustang! Whose is he?"
"Wal, Bo, if all I hear is so he belongs to you," replied Roy with a huge grin.
Bo appeared in the door. She stepped out upon the porch. She saw the cowboy. The excited flash of her pretty face vanished as she paled.
"Bo, I shore am glad to see you," drawled Las Vegas, as he stepped forward, sombrero in hand. Helen could not see any sign of confusion in him. But, indeed, she saw gladness.
Then she expected to behold Bo run right into the cowboys's arms. It appeared, however, that she was doomed to disappointment.
"Tom, I'm glad to see you," she replied.
They shook hands as old friends.
"You're lookin' right fine," he said.
"Oh, I'm well. . . . And how have you been these six months?" she queried.
"Reckon I though it was longer," he drawled. "Wal, I'm pretty tip-top now, but I was laid up with heart trouble for a spell.""Heart trouble?" she echoed, dubiously.
"Shore. . . . I ate too much over heah in New Mexico.""It's no news to me -- where your heart's located," laughed Bo. Then she ran off the porch to see the blue mustang. She walked round and round him, clasping her hands in sheer delight.
"Bo, he's a plumb dandy," said Roy. "Never seen a prettier hoss. He'll run like a streak. An' he's got good eyes. He'll be a pet some day. But I reckon he'll always be spunky.""Bo ventured to step closer, and at last got a hand on the mustang, and then another. She smoothed his quivering neck and called softly to him, until he submitted to her hold.
"What's his name?" she asked.
"Blue somethin' or other," replied Roy.
"Tom, has my new mustang a name?" asked Bo, turning to the cowboy.
"Shore."
"What then?"
"Wal, I named him Blue-Bo," answered Las Vegas, with a smile.
"Blue-Boy?"
"Nope. He's named after you. An' I chased him, roped him, broke him all myself.""Very well. Blue-Bo he is, then. . . . And he's a wonderful darling horse. Oh, Nell, just look at him. . . . Tom, Ican't thank you enough."
"Reckon I don't want any thanks," drawled the cowboy. "But see heah, Bo, you shore got to live up to conditions before you ride him.""What!" exclaimed Bo, who was startled by his slow, cool, meaning tone, of voice.
Helen delighted in looking at Las Vegas then. He had never appeared to better advantage. So cool, careless, and assured! He seemed master of a situation in which his terms must be accepted. Yet he might have been actuated by a cowboy motive beyond the power of Helen to divine.
"Bo Rayner," drawled Las Vegas, "thet blue mustang will be yours, an' you can ride him -- when you're MRS. TOMCARMICHAEL!"
Never had he spoken a softer, more drawling speech, nor gazed at Bo more mildly. Roy seemed thunderstruck. Helen endeavored heroically to restrain her delicious, bursting glee. Bo's wide eyes stared at her lover -- darkened --dilated. Suddenly she left the mustang to confront the cowboy where he lounged on the porch steps.
"Do you mean that?" she cried.
"Shore do."
"Bah! It's only a magnificent bluff," she retorted. "You're only in fun. It's your -- your darned nerve!""Why, Bo," began Las Vegas, reproachfully. "You shore know I'm not the four-flusher kind. Never got away with a bluff in my life! An' I'm jest in daid earnest aboot this heah."All the same, signs were not wanting in his mobile face that he was almost unable to restrain his mirth.
Helen realized then that Bo saw through the cowboy -- that the ultimatum was only one of his tricks.
"It IS a bluff and I CALL you!" declared Bo, ringingly.
Las Vegas suddenly awoke to consequences. He essayed to speak, but she was so wonderful then, so white and blazing-eyed, that he was stricken mute.
"I'll ride Blue-Bo this afternoon," deliberately stated the girl.
Las Vegas had wit enough to grasp her meaning, and he seemed about to collapse.