The Shadow
There was something awaiting Alan Howard at his ranch house that for a
little at least made him forget Sanchia and Courtot and hard climbs
ahead in the road he must travel. Tired as he was and dispirited when
he got home late that night he went to bed glowing with content. At
dawn he was in the saddle. The Longstreets, early risers as they had
grown to be, had only finished breakfast when he came racing into Bear
Valley, waving his hat to them and calling cheerily. A first frown
came when he saw that Sanchia Murray was breakfasting with them, but
the frown did not linger.
'Good morning, everybody,' he greeted them. Helen, sitting in the sun
on the doorstep, got to her feet; her father came smiling out to shake
hands; even Sanchia, pushing her plate back, rose. She looked at him
searchingly, appearing to note and wonder at his gay mood.
'No, I won't light down and have coffee with you,' he laughed at the
invitation. 'And I won't stop to eat, having devoured a day's rations
before I hit the saddle. No, there's nothing you can do for me, Mr.
Longstreet; there's nothing in the world I want.' Helen had given him
her hand; he held it a little before he would let it free and looked
straight down into her eyes and kept on laughing gaily as he declared
with certain unmistakable boldness: 'Right now I've got every blessed
thing in the wide world I want.'
Sanchia said sharply: 'You must have been unusually successful in your
latest deal?'
'It's the next deal I'm thinking of,' he told her lightly, letting her
have the words to ponder on if she liked. But he had scant time for
Sanchia and his eyes came back to Helen. 'I've got to ride into the
new camp to see Roberts,' he told her. 'He's seen my mules and is
buying. How would an early ride suit you? And I'll show you how easy
it is to collect six hundred dollars before most folks have had
breakfast!'
'My, what a lot of money,' laughed Helen. 'Of course I'll come. You
know where I keep Danny. If you'll saddle for me I'll get ready and be
out in two minutes.'
When they rode away down the trail together, Longstreet was smiling,
and Sanchia frowning after them.
'She even eats with you?' queried Howard.
'I just thank Heaven she hasn't brought her bed in yet,' answered
Helen. 'She is as transparent as a piece of glass, and yet dear old
pops lets her pile the wool over his eyes as thick as she pleases. I'm
just giving her plenty of rope,' she added philosophically. 'Do that,
and people always get tangled up first and then hang themselves next,
don't they?'
'Give me plenty of rope!' he said eagerly. 'I'll just tie myself up,
hand and foot, and give you the end of the rope to hold.'
She laughed at him, touched Danny with her new spurs and shot ahead.
'You're nearly dying to tell me some good news,' she said when he had
come up with her again. 'Aren't you?'
'I want to show you a letter I got when I came in last night. But I'd
just as soon think of handing it over to a whirlwind as to you at the
rate you are going.'
They drew their horses down to a walk. From his pocket Howard took an
envelope; from the envelope brought forth a long blue slip of paper,
torn in two, and with a few words penned across the fragments in a big
running scrawl. He held the two pieces together for her to read; by
now the horses had stopped and, being old friends, were rubbing noses.
Helen read:
'Dear old Al: It took me a few days to see straight. Instead of
blocking your game, let me help whenever I can. Don't need this now;
won't have it. Take your time, Al. Good luck and so long.
JOHN.'
'Turn it over!' cried Howard.
Helen obeyed, only then fully understanding. It was a cheque for
twelve thousand five hundred dollars, signed by Alan Howard and payable
to the order of John Carr. Again she looked at the brief note; it was
dated, and the date was eight days old. Her face flushed suddenly; the
colour deepened.
'He wrote that the day after I sent my telegram to him!' she cried
breathlessly.
'Telegram?'
'Yes.' She hesitated, then ran on swiftly: 'When Mr. Carr left I let
him think that maybe father and I would follow soon. I don't know that
I had been exactly what you men call square with Mr. Carr. I wanted to
be square with everyone. So I sent him a telegram, saying that we
appreciated his generosity but that we would stay here.'
Howard studied the date on the fluttering paper and his mind ran back.
'You sent that wire the day after I came back last time!'
'And if I did?' She met his look serenely.
'You did so because you cared----'
But Helen laughed at him, and again Danny, touched with a sudden spur,
shot ahead down the trail.
They clattered like runaway children into the crooked rocky street of
Sanchia's Town. Had their thoughts been less busied with themselves
and with a hint of a rosy future and with the bigness of the thing
which John Carr had done for them, they would have marked long ago that
here something was amiss. But it was only when they were fairly in the
heart of the settlement that they stopped abruptly to stare at each
other. Now there was no misunderstanding what had happened! Sanchia's
Town, that had been a busy, humming human hive no longer ago than
yesterday was this morning still, deserted, empty and dead. Those who
had rushed hitherward seeking gold were gone; be the explanation where
it might, shacks stood with doors flung wide; tents had been torn down,
outworn articles discarded, dumped helter-skelter into the road. The
atmosphere was like that of a circus grounds when the circus was moving
on, only a few things left for the last crew to come for.
'It feels like a graveyard,' whispered Helen. 'What has happened?'
'The old story, I suppose.' He turned sideways in the saddle, looking
about him for a sign of remaining life. 'It grew in the night; somehow
it has pinched out; the bottom has dropped out of it. Nate Kemble of
Quigley bought up two or three claims; I've a notion the rest were
worthless. Anyway, like many another of its kind, Sanchia's Town was
born, has lived and died like old Solomon Gundy.'
Helen's face was that of one in deep study.
'Papa was saying only day before yesterday,' she said thoughtfully,
'that this was going to happen. He said that was why he hadn't taken
the trouble to make a fight for his rights here. He said that Kemble
had bought up all of the land that was worth anything; and that he,
himself, had given Kemble the right tip. It begins to look as though
papa knew, doesn't it?'
Howard nodded vigorously.
'He knows gold mines and he knows gold signs,' he said positively.
'I've felt that all along. But----'
'But,' she took the words out of his mouth, speaking hastily, 'he
doesn't know the first thing about people; about a woman like Sanchia
Murray. And now that he says he is going to locate his real mine and
we are leaving him with her----'
'We mustn't be away too long,' he agreed.
'Look. There's some one down there at the lunch counter; at least
there's a little smoke from the stovepipe. Shall we see who it is?'
It was love among the ruins. Or, in other words, Yellow Barbee leaning
halfway across the lunch counter, toward the roguish-eyed, plump maid
who leaned slowly toward him.
'Hello, Barbee,' called Alan. And when Barbee greeted him without
enthusiasm, he asked: 'What's happened to the town?'
'Hit the slide,' said Barbee carelessly. 'Bottom fell through, I
guess, and at the same time somebody started a scare about gold being
found down toward Big Run. The fools,' he scoffed, 'piled out like
crazy sheep. You can find the way they went by a trail of old tin cups
and socks and such stuff dropped on the run.'
'Roberts, the teamster, has gone, I suppose?'
'He'll be back. Pet's old man is still packing his stuff and Roberts
is going to haul it this afternoon. I'm sticking along, helping pack,'
he grinned. Pet eyed him in high mock scorn.
'A lot of help you are,' she told him. Barbee laughed.
Howard and Helen were reining their horses about to leave when Barbee
came out into the road and put a detaining hand upon Howard's horse's
mane.
'Saw Jim Courtot last night, Al,' he said quietly.
'Here?' asked Howard quickly. So long had Courtot seemed the
embodiment of all that was elusive that it came with something of a
shock of surprise that any man had seen him.
'Yes,' Barbee nodded. 'He's trailing his luck with that Murray woman
again. They're a bad outfit, Al; better keep your eye peeled.'
Howard did not smile at Barbee's reference to Sanchia. He hardly
remarked it.
'Tell me about Courtot,' he commanded.
'Something's come over him,' said Barbee vaguely. 'He's different
somehow, Al; and I can't just get him. If he ain't half crazy he ain't
much more than half right. He's got a funny look in his eyes; he's as
nervous as a cat; he jumps sideways if you move quick. Last night I
thought he was going to break and run for cover at a little sound no
man would pay any attention to,'
'What kind of a sound?'
'Just a fool dog barking! Well, so long, Al. I got to help Pet do her
packing.' And winking his merry eye, Barbee turned back toward the
lunch counter.
Howard and Helen rode again toward the hills. Across the girl's face a
shadow had fallen. Howard wondered if it were there because the odd
sadness of a forsaken town had tinged her spirit with its own weird
melancholy; or if she had been disturbed by word of Jim Courtot.
Barbee had spoken quietly, but Helen might have heard. They rode in
silence until Sanchia's Town was lost behind a ridge. Then Helen asked
steadily:
'Is there no way out for you and Jim Courtot but the way of violence?'
He sought to evade, saying lightly that it began to look as though he
and Courtot could no more meet than could spring and autumn. But when
she asked directly, 'What would happen if you did meet?' he answered
bluntly. His mood was not quarrelsome this morning; he wanted no
needless fight with any man. But if Jim Courtot stepped out into his
trail and began shooting . . . Well, he left it to her, what would
happen. Then he began to speak of Barbee and his new girl, of anything
that offered itself to his mind as a lighter topic. But Helen was in
no responsive mood. It seemed to her that a shadow had crept across
the sky; that the warmth had gone out of the sunlight. A fear crept
into her heart, and like many a baseless emotion grew into certainty,
that if Alan Howard and Jim Courtot came face to face it would be Alan
who fell. When she saw how straight and virile Howard sat in the
saddle; when she marked how full of life and the sheer joy of life he
was; when she read in his eyes something of his own dreams for the
future; when then she saw the gun always bumping at his hips, she
shivered as though cold. Her own senses grew sharpened; her fancies
raced feverishly. From every boulder, from every bend in the trail,
she feared to see the sinister face of Jim Courtot.