The Man on the Bed

Beulah Rutherford found it impossible to resume a relation of friendliness toward her guest.  By nature she was elemental and direct.  A few months earlier she had become the teacher of the Big Creek school, but until that time life had never disciplined her to repress the impulses of her heart.  As a child she had been a fierce, wild little creature full of savage affections and generosities.  She still retained more feminine ferocity than social usage permits her sex.  It was not in her to welcome an enemy with smiles while she hated him in her soul.  The best she could do was to hold herself to a brusque civility whenever she met Beaudry.

As for that young man, he was in a most unhappy frame of mind.  He writhed at the false position in which he found himself.  It was bad enough to forfeit the good opinion of this primitive young hill beauty, but it was worse to know that in a measure he deserved it.  He saw, too, that serious consequences were likely to follow her discovery, and he waited with nerves on the jump for the explosion.

None came.  When he dragged himself to dinner, Beulah was stiff as a ramrod, but he could note no difference in the manner of the rest.  Was it possible she had not told her father?  He did not think this likely, and his heart was in panic all through the meal.

Though he went to his room early, he spent a sleepless night full of apprehension.  What were the Rutherfords waiting for?  He was convinced that something sinister lay behind their silence.

After breakfast the ranchman rode away.  Jeff and Slim Sanders jogged off on their cowponies to mend a broken bit of fence.  Hal sat on the porch replacing with rivets the torn strap of a stirrup.

Beaudry could stand it no longer.  He found his hostess digging around the roots of some rosebushes in her small garden.  Curtly she declined his offer to take the spade.  For a minute he watched her uneasily before he blurted out his intention of going.

“I’ll move up to the other end of the park and talk windmill to the ranchers there, Miss Rutherford.  You’ve been awfully good to me, but I won’t impose myself on your hospitality any longer,” he said.

He had dreaded to make the announcement for fear of precipitating a crisis, but the young woman made no protest.  Without a word of comment she walked beside him to the house.

“Hal, will you get Mr. Street’s horse?” she asked her brother.  “He is leaving this morning.”

Young Rutherford’s eyes narrowed.  It was plain that he had been caught by surprise and did not know what to do.

“Where you going?” he asked.

“What do you care where he is going?  Get the horse—­or I will,” she ordered imperiously.

“I’m going to board at one of the ranches farther up the park,” explained Roy.

“Better wait till dad comes home,” suggested Hal.