IN THE LOCK-UP.
The marshal unlocked the door of Nate's narrow cell and held his lantern
aloft with a cheery, "Hello! Tierney. Brought you company, you see," and
the prisoner rose slowly from his bunk, blinking and staring in the
light, with an expectant air. It died out quickly, and murmuring in a
broken voice,
"Oh, I thought it might be--evening, Mr. Dalton; evening, Miss," he
looked helplessly around for a chair to offer Joyce.
The sheriff had brought one, which he placed for her, and Dalton braced
himself against the wall, his hands in his pockets, while the officer
sat down sociably beside his prisoner, on the bunk.
"Nate," said George, without preamble, "we don't want to pry into your
affairs, nor trouble you in any way, but if we can help you we will be
glad to--Miss Lavillotte and I. We believe you are man enough to wish to
know the worst, without mincing, whatever it may be, and have come to
tell you all. Your old chum, William Hapgood, is dead. The blow you gave
him in your anger was harder than you meant. It crushed in his temple.
He never knew what killed him." Nate looked up quickly.
"I didn't give him no blow, sir--not intentional, that is--I just swung
the fire-stick in spite of me, and his head run agin it. I had been mad,
but I'd got it under me. I'd dropped the stick to my side, and was goin'
to lead him away, when Lucy's screech made me 'most crazy for a minute,
and I didn't know rightly what I was doing. But 'twan't murder was in my
heart. I'll swear to that! All I thought was to keep him off and see
what ailded Lucy. It seemed so dumb queer to have her go fur me 'cause I
was a-goin' to shet up her pa where he could cool off a bit! Women's
queer cattle, though," he ruminated slowly, moving his head up and down.
Dalton shrugged his shoulders, then looked at Joyce and said gently,
"You mean we don't always understand them."
"Well, that's it, I s'pose. 'Twas going too fur, I presume, for me to
say I'd take him to the lock-up. You see, that was a disgrace, and no
mistake. It hurted her feelings an' then she turned agin me."
"But she let me bring a message," interposed Joyce quickly, though her
manner was not assured. "I am certain she is sorry for you, and that she
means to try and forgive you." Nate turned and looked at her several
seconds, as if collecting his wits.
"It's sorter hard to understand," he said at last, in a hopeless tone.
"I did it all for her--all but the part that I didn't do at all, for
that was an accident and nothin' else--and she says she'll try to
forgive me! I've heered of 'em pardoning men out o' state's prison after
fifteen or twenty years, maybe, 'cause they found they'd never done the
thing they was put in fur. _Pardoning_ 'em out, mind you! I never could
understand that. Seems as if it ought to be t'other way, but they go on
doin' it just the same, so I s'pose I'm off on that, too. The fact is,
things is pretty complexited sometimes. I can't get the right end,
nohow."
"Nate," said Dalton, "do you claim you didn't mean to hit Hapgood--not
at all?"
"Of course I didn't mean to. Hadn't I had him down, with the stick in my
hand, right over him, and didn't I drop it, and take him by the collar,
as easy as an old shoe, and tell him to come along?"
"But how, then"----began Dalton.
"Wait, sir, and I'll tell you straight."
Nate had risen and stood opposite the manager, his eyes glowing out from
the yellow glare of the lantern, which was set on the floor in their
midst. Joyce watched him from her chair, and the officer, also risen,
leaned against the bunk, his gaze never leaving the speaker.
"'Twas this way. When Lucy called out so sharp, and come running out, I
said 'twas to the lock-up I was going to take him. At that everybody
screeched, and Bill turned on me like a mad bear. He's a gritty
fighter"--He paused and looked around in his slow way----"I s'pose I
oughter say was, now. Bill _was_ a gritty fighter allays and he nearly
knocked the breath outen me with his first blow. I felt the stick
slidin' away from me, and knew 'twas my only holt. If Bill got the best
o' me I was done fur. He was a mighty good fighter, and quicker'n a cat.
I gripped at the stick and lost my balance, so't I nearly fell over
backward. My arms flew out, spite of me, and the big stick struck wild.
It killed poor Bill. But can't you see I didn't do it, Mr. Dalton?
Before God, I ain't guilty of the murder of Lucy's father! I was mad,
but not like that."
Dalton stepped forward and put out his hand.
"I believe you, Nate. I'm glad you told me!"
They shook hands warmly, and Joyce thrilled in sympathy.
The two talked a while longer, then all said good-night, but not before
Nate had been promised the best counsel money could procure. As Joyce
shook hands with him, Nate held her soft fingers an instant, and looked
searchingly into her face, upon which the smoking lantern shed a fitful
light.
"It's good of you to take so much trouble for me," he said. "Did you
come, 'cause Lucy asked you to?"
"Not exactly. I meant to come, anyhow, but was glad to bring you word
from her."
She felt she could not bluntly tell him that Lucy had avoided speaking
of him, especially when she was not at all certain as to the girl's real
feeling in the matter. But, alive to all the suppressed wistfulness in
the man's look and tone, she yearned to comfort him, so said
impulsively,
"Mr. Tierney, you must remember Lucy is terribly upset, now. Her father
lies there, dead by a cruel blow, and she does not know that it was
purely accidental. He may not have been kind, but with all his faults he
was her father. You wouldn't think so much of Lucy if she forgot that.
You'd want her to think first of him, and the poor little orphaned
children."
"It's right you are, Miss!" grasping her hand heartily once more. "She's
a good girl, is Lucy, and does her duty, allays. I'm glad she don't
forget it now. But it 'most drives me mad to be shut up here where I
can't help her out any. She'll be needing everything these days."
"She shall want for nothing, Nate. Mr. Dalton will tell you the Works
are to pay Mr. Hapgood's funeral expenses, and continue his wages for
the present. And we women, who are neighbors, will look after the dear
girl in other ways. Don't worry about Lucy a minute! Just keep your mind
clear to tell your story exactly as it is, and your acquittal is
certain."
He looked down into her fair, upturned face and thought that even in the
smudgy lantern's glow it looked like the face of some ministering angel.
His own rugged visage worked with emotion. He could have kneeled to her,
kissed her hand, touched the hem of her gown. But he only gave back her
hand in a gentle manner, and said,
"Thank you, ma'am! I'll trust 'em all with you."