"Jeff, shake hands with my nieces," said Al. "This 's Helen, an' your boss from now on. An' this 's Bo, fer short. Her name was Nancy, but when she lay a baby in her cradle Icalled her Bo-Peep, an' the name's stuck. . . . Girls, this here's my foreman, Jeff Mulvey, who's been with me twenty years."The introduction caused embarrassment to all three principals, particularly to Jeff.
"Jeff, throw the packs an' saddles fer a rest," was Al's order to his foreman.
"Nell, reckon you'll have fun bossin' thet outfit," chuckled Al. "None of 'em's got a wife. Lot of scalawags they are; no women would have them!""Uncle, I hope I'll never have to be their boss," replied Helen.
"Wal, you're goin' to be, right off," declared Al. "They ain't a bad lot, after all. An' I got a likely new man."With that he turned to Bo, and, after studying her pretty face, he asked, in apparently severe tone, "Did you send a cowboy named Carmichael to ask me for a job?"Bo looked quite startled.
"Carmichael! Why, Uncle, I never heard that name before,"replied Bo, bewilderedly.
"A-huh! Reckoned the young rascal was lyin'," said Auchincloss. "But I liked the fellar's looks an' so let him stay."Then the rancher turned to the group of lounging riders.
"Las Vegas, come here," he ordered, in a loud voice.
Helen thrilled at sight of a tall, superbly built cowboy reluctantly detaching himself from the group. He had a red-bronze face, young like a boy's. Helen recognized it, and the flowing red scarf, and the swinging gun, and the slow, spur-clinking gait. No other than Bo's Las Vegas cowboy admirer!
Then Helen flashed a look at Bo, which look gave her a delicious, almost irresistible desire to laugh. That young lady also recognized the reluctant individual approaching with flushed and downcast face. Helen recorded her first experience of Bo's utter discomfiture. Bo turned white then red as a rose.
"Say, my niece said she never heard of the name Carmichael,"declared Al, severely, as the cowboy halted before him.
Helen knew her uncle had the repute of dealing hard with his men, but here she was reassured and pleased at the twinkle in his eye.
"Shore, boss, I can't help thet," drawled the cowboy. "It's good old Texas stock."He did not appear shamefaced now, but just as cool, easy, clear-eyed, and lazy as the day Helen had liked his warm young face and intent gaze.
"Texas! You fellars from the Pan Handle are always hollerin' Texas. I never seen thet Texans had any one else beat -- say from Missouri," returned Al, testily.
Carmichael maintained a discreet silence, and carefully avoided looking at the girls.
"Wal, reckon we'll all call you Las Vegas, anyway,"continued the rancher. "Didn't you say my niece sent you to me for a job?"Whereupon Carmichael's easy manner vanished.
"Now, boss, shore my memory's pore," he said. "I only says --""Don't tell me thet. My memory's not p-o-r-e," replied Al, mimicking the drawl. "What you said was thet my niece would speak a good word for you."Here Carmichael stole a timid glance at Bo, the result of which was to render him utterly crestfallen. Not improbably he had taken Bo's expression to mean something it did not, for Helen read it as a mingling of consternation and fright.
Her eyes were big and blazing; a red spot was growing in each cheek as she gathered strength from his confusion.
"Well, didn't you?" demanded Al.
From the glance the old rancher shot from the cowboy to the others of his employ it seemed to Helen that they were having fun at Carmichael's expense.
"Yes, sir, I did," suddenly replied the cowboy.
"A-huh! All right, here's my niece. Now see thet she speaks the good word."Carmichael looked at Bo and Bo looked at him. Their glances were strange, wondering, and they grew shy. Bo dropped hers.
The cowboy apparently forgot what had been demanded of him.
Helen put a hand on the old rancher's arm.
"Uncle, what happened was my fault," she said. "The train stopped at Las Vegas. This young man saw us at the open window. He must have guessed we were lonely, homesick girls, getting lost in the West. For he spoke to us -- nice and friendly. He knew of you. And he asked, in what I took for fun, if we thought you would give him a job. And I replied, just to tease Bo, that she would surely speak a good word for him.""Haw! Haw! So thet's it," replied Al, and he turned to Bo with merry eyes. "Wal, I kept this here Las Vegas Carmichael on his say-so. Come on with your good word, unless you want to see him lose his job."Bo did not grasp her uncle's bantering, because she was seriously gazing at the cowboy. But she had grasped something.
"He -- he was the first person -- out West -- to speak kindly to us," she said, facing her uncle.
"Wal, thet's a pretty good word, but it ain't enough,"responded Al.
Subdued laughter came from the listening group. Carmichael shifted from side to side.
"He -- he looks as if he might ride a horse well," ventured Bo.
"Best hossman I ever seen," agreed Al, heartily.
"And -- and shoot?" added Bo, hopefully.
"Bo, he packs thet gun low, like Jim Wilson an' all them Texas gun-fighters. Reckon thet ain't no good word.""Then -- I'll vouch for him," said Bo, with finality.
"Thet settles it." Auchincloss turned to the cowboy. "Las Vegas, you're a stranger to us. But you're welcome to a place in the outfit an' I hope you won't never disappoint us."Auchincloss's tone, passing from jest to earnest, betrayed to Helen the old rancher's need of new and true men, and hinted of trying days to come.
Carmichael stood before Bo, sombrero in hand, rolling it round and round, manifestly bursting with words he could not speak. And the girl looked very young and sweet with her flushed face and shining eyes. Helen saw in the moment more than that little by-play of confusion.
"Miss -- Miss Rayner -- I shore -- am obliged," he stammered, presently.
"You're very welcome," she replied, softly. "I -- I got on the next train," he added.
When he said that Bo was looking straight at him, but she seemed not to have heard.
"What's your name?" suddenly she asked.
"Carmichael."
