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.
"Unnatural?" echoed Carley.
"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."