The Call of the Canyon - Page 67/157

Some interpretation of his meaning and how it related to this hour held

aloof from Carley. If she would ever be big enough to understand it and

broad enough to accept it the time was far distant. Just now she was

sore and sick physically, and therefore certainly not in a receptive

state of mind. Yet how could she have keener impressions than these she

was receiving? It was all a problem. She grew tired of thinking. But

even then her mind pondered on, a stream of consciousness over which she

had no control. This dreary woods was deserted. No birds, no squirrels,

no creatures such as fancy anticipated! In another direction, across the

canyon, she saw cattle, gaunt, ragged, lumbering, and stolid. And on the

moment the scent of sheep came on the breeze. Time seemed to stand still

here, and what Carley wanted most was for the hours and days to fly, so

that she would be home again.

At last Flo returned with the men. One quick glance at Glenn convinced

Carley that Flo had not yet told him about the sheep dipper, Haze Ruff.

"Carley, you're a real sport," declared Glenn, with the rare smile she

loved. "It's a dreadful mess. And to think you stood it!... Why, old

Fifth Avenue, if you needed to make another hit with me you've done it!"

His warmth amazed and pleased Carley. She could not quite understand

why it would have made any difference to him whether she had stood the

ordeal or not. But then every day she seemed to drift a little farther

from a real understanding of her lover. His praise gladdened her, and

fortified her to face the rest of this ride back to Oak Creek.

Four hours later, in a twilight so shadowy that no one saw her distress,

Carley half slipped and half fell from her horse and managed somehow to

mount the steps and enter the bright living room. A cheerful red fire

blazed on the hearth; Glenn's hound, Moze, trembled eagerly at sight of

her and looked up with humble dark eyes; the white-clothed dinner table

steamed with savory dishes. Flo stood before the blaze, warming her

hands. Lee Stanton leaned against the mantel, with eyes on her, and

every line of his lean, hard face expressed his devotion to her.

Hutter was taking his seat at the head of the table. "Come an' get

it--you-all," he called, heartily. Mrs. Hutter's face beamed with the

spirit of that home. And lastly, Carley saw Glenn waiting for her,

watching her come, true in this very moment to his stern hope for her

and pride in her, as she dragged her weary, spent body toward him and

the bright fire.