An Interrupted Siesta No man ever had a more eloquent and beautiful pleader for his cause than had Dick Gale in Mercedes Castaneda. He peeped through the green, shining twigs of the palo verde that shaded his door. The hour was high noon, and the patio was sultry. The only sounds were the hum of bees in the flowers and the low murmur of the Spanish girl's melodious voice. Nell lay in the hammock, her hands behind her head, with rosy cheeks and arch eyes. Indeed, she looked rebellious. Certain it was, Dick reflected, that the young lady had fully recovered the wilful personality which had lain dormant for a while. Equally certain it seemed that Mercedes's earnestness was not apparently having the effect it should have had.
Dick was inclined to be rebellious himself. Belding had kept the rangers in off the line, and therefore Dick had been idle most of the time, and, though he tried hard, he had been unable to stay far from Nell's vicinity. He believed she cared for him; but he could not catch her alone long enough to verify his tormenting hope. When alone she was as illusive as a shadow, as quick as a flash, as mysterious as a Yaqui. When he tried to catch her in the garden or fields, or corner her in the patio, she eluded him, and left behind a memory of dark-blue, haunting eyes. It was that look in her eyes which lent him hope. At other times, when it might have been possible for Dick to speak, Nell clung closely to Mercedes. He had long before enlisted the loyal Mercedes in his cause; but in spite of this Nell had been more than a match for them both.
Gale pondered over an idea he had long revolved in mind, and which now suddenly gave place to a decision that made his heart swell and his cheek burn. He peeped again through the green branches to see Nell laughing at the fiery Mercedes.
"Qui'en sabe," he called, mockingly, and was delighted with Nell's quick, amazed start.
Then he went in search of Mrs. Belding, and found her busy in the kitchen.
The relation between Gale and Mrs. Belding had subtly and incomprehensively changed. He understood her less than when at first he divined an antagonism in her. If such a thing were possible she had retained the antagonism while seeming to yield to some influence that must have been fondness for him. Gale was in no wise sure of her affection, and he had long imagined she was afraid of him, or of something that he represented. He had gone on, openly and fairly, though discreetly, with his rather one-sided love affair; and as time passed he had grown less conscious of what had seemed her unspoken opposition. Gale had come to care greatly for Nell's mother. Not only was she the comfort and strength of her home, but also of the inhabitants of Forlorn River. Indian, Mexican, American were all the same to her in trouble or illness; and then she was nurse, doctor, peacemaker, helper. She was good and noble, and there was not a child or grownup in Forlorn River who did not love and bless her. But Mrs.
Belding did not seem happy. She was brooding, intense, deep, strong, eager for the happiness and welfare of others; and she was dominated by a worship of her daughter that was as strange as it was pathetic. Mrs. Belding seldom smiled, and never laughed.
There was always a soft, sad, hurt look in her eyes. Gale often wondered if there had been other tragedy in her life than the supposed loss of her father in the desert. Perhaps it was the very unsolved nature of that loss which made it haunting.
Mrs. Belding heard Dick's step as he entered the kitchen, and, looking up, greeted him.
"Mother," began Dick, earnestly. Belding called her that, and so did Ladd and Lash, but it was the first time for Dick. "Mother --I want to speak to you."
The only indication Mrs. Belding gave of being started was in her eyes, which darkened, shadowed with multiplying thought.
"I love Nell," went on Dick, simply, "and I want you to let me ask her to be my wife."
Mrs. Belding's face blanched to a deathly white. Gale, thinking with surprise and concern that she was going to faint, moved quickly toward her, took her arm.
"Forgive me. I was blunt....But I thought you knew."
"I've known for a long time," replied Mrs. Belding. Her voice was steady, and there was no evidence of agitation except in her pallor. "Then you--you haven't spoken to Nell?"
Dick laughed. "I've been trying to get a chance to tell her. I haven't had it yet. But she knows. There are other ways besides speech. And Mercedes has told her. I hope, I almost believe Nell cares a little for me."
"I've known that, too, for a long time," said Mrs. Belding, low almost as a whisper.
"You know!" cried Dick, with a glow and rush of feeling.
"Dick, you must be very blind not to see what has been plain to all of us....I guess--it couldn't have been helped. You're a splendid fellow. No wonder she loves you."
"Mother! You'll give her to me?"
She drew him to the light and looked with strange, piercing intentness into his face. Gale had never dreamed a woman's eyes could hold such a world of thought and feeling. It seemed all the sweetness of life was there, and all the pain.
"Do you love her?" she asked.
"With all my heart."
"You want to marry her?"
"Ah, I want to! As much as I want to live and work for her."
"When would you marry her?"
"Why!...Just as soon as she will do it. To-morrow!" Dick gave a wild, exultant little laugh.
"Dick Gale, you want my Nell? You love her just as she is--her sweetness--her goodness? Just herself, body and soul?...There's nothing could change you--nothing?"
"Dear Mrs. Belding, I love Nell for herself. If she loves me I'll be the happiest of men. There's absolutely nothing that could make any difference in me."
"But your people? Oh, Dick, you come of a proud family. I can tell. I--I once knew a young man like you. A few months can't change pride--blood. Years can't change them. You've become a ranger. You love the adventure--the wild life. That won't last.
Perhaps you'll settle down to ranching. I know you love the West.
But, Dick, there's your family--"
