motionless and stolid, as if trains or nothing else mattered. Next Helen saw a white man and that was a relief. He stood out in front of the others. Tall and broad, somehow striking, he drew a second glance that showed him to be a hunter, clad in gray fringed buckskin, and carrying a rifle.
Chapter Five
Here there was no kindly brakeman to help the sisters with their luggage. Helen bade Bo take her share, and, thus burdened, they made an awkward and laborsome shift to get off the train.
Upon the platform of the car a strong hand seized Helen’s heavy bag, with which she was straining, and a loud voice called out: “Girls, we’re here…we’re out in the wild an’ woolly West!”
The speaker was Riggs and he had possessed himself of part of her baggage with action and speech meant more to impress the curious crowd than to be really kind. In the excitement of arriving Helen had forgotten him. The manner of sudden reminder—the insincerity of it made her temper flash. She almost fell, encumbered as she was, in her hurry to descend the steps. She saw the tall hunter in gray step forward close to her as she reached for the bag Riggs held.
“Mister Riggs, I’ll carry my bag,” she said.
“Let me lug this. You help Bo with hers,” he replied familiarly.
“But I want it,” she rejoined quietly, with sharp determination. No little force was needed to pull the bag away from Riggs.
“See here, Helen, you ain’t goin’ any further with that joke, are you?” he queried deprecatingly, and he still spoke quite loudly.
“It’s no joke to me,” replied Helen. “I told you I didn’t want your attention.”
“Sure. But that was temper. I’m your friend…from your home town. I ain’t goin’ to let a quarrel keep me from lookin’ after you till you’re safe at your uncle’s.”
Helen turned her back upon him. The tall hunter had just helped Bo off the car. Then Helen looked up into a smooth bronzed face and piercing gray eyes.
“Are you Helen Rayner?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“My name’s Dorn. I’ve come to meet you.”
“ Ah! My uncle sent you?” added Helen in quick relief.
“No. I can’t say Al sent me,” began the man, “but I reckon….”
He was interrupted by Riggs, who, grasping Helen by the arm, pulled her back a step.
“Say, mister, did Auchincloss send you to meet my young friends here?” he demanded arrogantly.
Dorn’s glance turned from Helen to Riggs. She could not read his quiet gray gaze, but it thrilled her.
“No. I come on my own hook,” he answered.
“You’ll understand then…they’re in my charge,” added Riggs.
This time the steady light-gray eyes met Helen’s and, if there were not a smile in them or behind them, she was still further baffled.
“Helen, I reckon you said you didn’t want this fellow’s attention?”
“I certainly said that,” replied Helen quickly. Just then Bo stepped close to her and gave her arm a little squeeze. Probably Bo’s thought was like hers—here was a real Western man. That was her first impression and following swiftly upon it was a sensation of eased nerves.
Riggs swaggered closer to Dorn.
“Say, Buckskin, I hail from Texas….”
“You’re wastin’ our time an’ we’ve need to hurry,” interrupted Dorn. His tone seemed friendly. “An’…if you ever lived long in Texas, you wouldn’t pester a lady an’ you sure wouldn’t talk like you do.”
“What!” shouted Riggs hotly. He dropped his right hand significantly to his hip.
“Don’t throw your gun. It might go off,” said Dorn.
What ever Riggs’s intention had been—and it was probably just what Dorn evidently had read it—he now flushed an angry red and jerked at his gun.
Dorn’s hand flashed too swiftly for Helen’s eye to follow it. But she heard the thud as it struck. The gun went flying to the platform and scattered a group of Indians and Mexicans.
“You’ll hurt yourself someday,” said Dorn.
Helen had never heard a slow cool
Chapter Five
Here there was no kindly brakeman to help the sisters with their luggage. Helen bade Bo take her share, and, thus burdened, they made an awkward and laborsome shift to get off the train.
Upon the platform of the car a strong hand seized Helen’s heavy bag, with which she was straining, and a loud voice called out: “Girls, we’re here…we’re out in the wild an’ woolly West!”
The speaker was Riggs and he had possessed himself of part of her baggage with action and speech meant more to impress the curious crowd than to be really kind. In the excitement of arriving Helen had forgotten him. The manner of sudden reminder—the insincerity of it made her temper flash. She almost fell, encumbered as she was, in her hurry to descend the steps. She saw the tall hunter in gray step forward close to her as she reached for the bag Riggs held.
“Mister Riggs, I’ll carry my bag,” she said.
“Let me lug this. You help Bo with hers,” he replied familiarly.
“But I want it,” she rejoined quietly, with sharp determination. No little force was needed to pull the bag away from Riggs.
“See here, Helen, you ain’t goin’ any further with that joke, are you?” he queried deprecatingly, and he still spoke quite loudly.
“It’s no joke to me,” replied Helen. “I told you I didn’t want your attention.”
“Sure. But that was temper. I’m your friend…from your home town. I ain’t goin’ to let a quarrel keep me from lookin’ after you till you’re safe at your uncle’s.”
Helen turned her back upon him. The tall hunter had just helped Bo off the car. Then Helen looked up into a smooth bronzed face and piercing gray eyes.
“Are you Helen Rayner?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“My name’s Dorn. I’ve come to meet you.”
“ Ah! My uncle sent you?” added Helen in quick relief.
“No. I can’t say Al sent me,” began the man, “but I reckon….”
He was interrupted by Riggs, who, grasping Helen by the arm, pulled her back a step.
“Say, mister, did Auchincloss send you to meet my young friends here?” he demanded arrogantly.
Dorn’s glance turned from Helen to Riggs. She could not read his quiet gray gaze, but it thrilled her.
“No. I come on my own hook,” he answered.
“You’ll understand then…they’re in my charge,” added Riggs.
This time the steady light-gray eyes met Helen’s and, if there were not a smile in them or behind them, she was still further baffled.
“Helen, I reckon you said you didn’t want this fellow’s attention?”
“I certainly said that,” replied Helen quickly. Just then Bo stepped close to her and gave her arm a little squeeze. Probably Bo’s thought was like hers—here was a real Western man. That was her first impression and following swiftly upon it was a sensation of eased nerves.
Riggs swaggered closer to Dorn.
“Say, Buckskin, I hail from Texas….”
“You’re wastin’ our time an’ we’ve need to hurry,” interrupted Dorn. His tone seemed friendly. “An’…if you ever lived long in Texas, you wouldn’t pester a lady an’ you sure wouldn’t talk like you do.”
“What!” shouted Riggs hotly. He dropped his right hand significantly to his hip.
“Don’t throw your gun. It might go off,” said Dorn.
What ever Riggs’s intention had been—and it was probably just what Dorn evidently had read it—he now flushed an angry red and jerked at his gun.
Dorn’s hand flashed too swiftly for Helen’s eye to follow it. But she heard the thud as it struck. The gun went flying to the platform and scattered a group of Indians and Mexicans.
“You’ll hurt yourself someday,” said Dorn.
Helen had never heard a slow cool
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