RUTH WHISPERS A SECRET
ACKERMAN followed Rowan into the sheriff’s office. Matson looked up from
the desk where he was working.
“All right, Steve. You needn’t wait.”
When he had signed his name to the letter he was writing, Matson turned
to his prisoner.
“We’re going to start on the eleven-thirty, Mac. Your wife is down at
the house with Mrs. Matson. She wants to say good-bye there instead of
at the depot. I’ve got considerable business to clean up before train
time, so I’ll stay on the job. Be back here in an hour.”
“You mean that I’m to go there alone?”
“Why not? I’ll ask you to go through the alleys if you don’t mind. I
don’t want the other boys to feel that I’m playing favourites.”
“I’ll not forget this, Aleck.”
“Sho! You never threw a man down in your life, Mac. I don’t reckon
you’re going to begin now. Hit the dust. I’m busy.”
Rowan crossed the square to a street darkened by shade trees, and
followed it to the alley. Down this he passed between board fences. He
took his hat off and lifted his face to the star-strewn sky. It would be
many years before he walked again a free man beneath the Milky Way.
Society was putting him behind bars because he had broken its laws. He
did not dispute the justice of its decision. His punishment was fair
enough. When he and his friends decided to be a law to themselves, to
right one wrong by doing another, they had laid themselves open to
blame. A man must be held responsible for his actions, even when the
result is different from what he anticipates.
Behind his self-containment McCoy was suffering poignantly. He was on
his way to say good-bye to the girl wife he loved. It was his conviction
that when he emerged from the shadow now closing in upon him Ruth would
have passed out of his life. Already she had wearied of what he had to
offer. There was no likelihood that she would waste her young years
waiting for a man shut up in prison for his misdeeds. Far better for her
to cut loose from him as soon as possible. He intended to advise her to
sell the ranch, realize what she could in cash from it, and then file an
action for divorce. The law would operate to release her almost
automatically from a convict husband.
Mrs. Matson met him at the back door. She led the way to a living room
and stood aside to let him pass in. Then she closed the door behind him,
shutting herself out.
The parlour was lit only by shafts of moonlight pouring through the
windows. Ruth stood beside the mantel. She wore a white dress that had
always been a favourite of Rowan’s.
Neither of them spoke. He noticed that she was trembling. From out of
the darkness where she stood came a strangled little sob.
Rowan took the distance between them in two strides. He gathered her
into his arms, and she hid her face against his woollen shirt. She wept,
clinging to him, one arm tight about his neck.
He caressed her hair softly, murmuring the sweetheart words his thoughts
had given her through all the days of their separation. Not for many
years had he been so near tears himself.
Presently the sob convulsions that shook her slight body grew less
frequent. She dabbed at her eyes with a lace handkerchief.
“I’ve not been a good wife to you, Rowan,” she whispered at last. “You
don’t know how sometimes I’ve—hated you—and distrusted you. I’ve
thought all sorts of bad things about you, and some of them aren’t
true.”
His arms tightened. The wild desire was in him to hold her against the
world.
“I flirted with Larry Silcott,” she confessed. “I did it to—to punish
you. I’ve been horrid. But I loved you all the time. Even while I hated
you I loved you.”
The blood sang through his veins. “Why did you hate me?”
“I—I can’t tell you that. Not yet; some day maybe.”
“Was it something I did?”
“Y-yes. But I don’t want to talk about that now. They’re going to take
you away from me. We’ve only got a few minutes. Oh, Rowan, I don’t see
how I’m going to let you go!”
His heart overflowed with tenderness and pride. Every one of her broken
little endearments filled him with joy. Her dear sweetness was balm to
his wounded soul.
“Let me tell you this, Ruth. I’m happier to-night than I’ve been for a
long time. They can’t separate us if we keep each other in our hearts. I
thought I’d lost you. I’ve been through hell because of it, my dear.”
“You do—love me,” she murmured.
He did not try to tell her in words how much. His reassurance was in the
lovers’ language of eyes and lips and the soft touch of hands.
They came again to the less perfect medium of words, and she told him of
her visits to Yerby and Falkner.
“I knew all the time you couldn’t have done what Mr. Haight said you
did; ’way down deep in my heart I knew it. But I wanted to hold a grudge
against you because you didn’t confide in me. I wanted to think bad
things about you, and yet they made me so dreadfully unhappy, Rowan. And
all the time you were sacrificing yourself for the man who brought you
into the trouble. I might have known it.”
He shook his head. “No, honey. I wasn’t doing any more than I had to do.
We were all partners in the raid. What one did all did. I’ve had plenty
of time to think it out, and I know that I’m just as guilty as Falkner.
We ought never to have ridden on the raid. If I had set myself against
it, the others would have given it up. But I led them. I’m responsible
for what happened. So I couldn’t throw Falkner down just because he was
the instrument. That wouldn’t have been square.”
“I don’t agree with you at all. If he had done as you said there
wouldn’t have been any lives lost. They’ve no right to hold you for it,
and I’m going to begin working right away to get you out. I went to
school with the governor’s wife, you know. They have just been
married—oh, scarcely a year. He’s a lot older than she is and very much
in love with her, Louise says. So she’ll make him give you a pardon.”
Rowan smiled. “I’m afraid it isn’t going to be so easy as that, dear.
The governor couldn’t pardon me on account of public opinion even if he
wanted to do it. I know him. He’s a good fellow. But the Bald Knob raid
has made too big a stir for him to interfere now.”
“He’s got to. I’ll show you. I want you home.” She broke down and sought
again the sanctuary of his shoulder.
While she cried he petted her.
After a time she began to talk in whispered fragments.
“I’m going to need you so much. I can’t stand it, Rowan, to have you
away from me now. I want my man. I want you—oh, I want you so badly! It
isn’t fair. It isn’t right—now.”
Something in her voice startled him. He took her by the shoulders and
held her gently from him while he looked into her eyes.
“You mean——”
She broke from his hands and clung to him. He knew her secret now. His
heart beat fast as he held her in his strong arms. Joy, exultation,
humility, fear, infinite tenderness—he tasted them all. But the emotion
that remained was despair.
He had forfeited his right to protect and cherish her in her hour of
need. She must go through the dark valley of the shadow alone, while he
was shut up away from her. What kind of a husband had he been ever to
let himself be put in such a position? All his strength and capacity
would go for nothing. Because of his folly, her inexperience, her
fragile youth would have to face the world unprotected, and even these
were to be handicapped by the new life on the way. With what generous
faith had she given herself into his keeping, and how poorly had he
requited her! That very night he must take the journey at the end of
which he was to be buried alive, must turn his back on her and leave her
to make the fight alone.
He groaned. Ruth heard him murmur, “My love! My precious lamb!” She read
the burning misery in his eyes. Womanlike, she flew to comfort him.
“I’m glad—oh, you don’t know how glad I am—now that we are _tillicums_
again! I wouldn’t have it any other way, Rowan. If it weren’t for what’s
going to happen—I couldn’t stand it to wait for you. Don’t you see?
I’ll have a pledge of you with me all the time. When I’m loving it, I’ll
be loving you.”
What she said was true. There had been forged a bond irrevocable between
them. He recognized it with a lifted heart. The cross-current of fate
that was snatching him from her must at last yield to the sweep of the
tide that would bring them together.
“I’ve made my plans,” she went on. “I know just what I’m going to do—if
you’ll let me. I want to go back to the ranch and run it.”
“I’m afraid that isn’t possible. This trial has cost me a lot of money.
I’m mortgaged and in debt. Besides, ranching takes expert knowledge.
It’s doubtful whether I could have held the ranch, anyhow. The
government is creating forest reserves up in the hills. That will cut
off the free range. Sheep are pushing in, and they’ll get what is left.
We’d better sell out and save for you what little we can. It won’t be
much, but if the stock brings a good price it will be something.”
“Please, Rowan. I want so much to try it,” she pleaded. “I haven’t ever
been any help to you—thought of nothing but having a good time. You
were too good to me—let me spend far more money than I ought. You see,
I didn’t realize how hard up you were. But now I’m going to be such a
tiptop manager, if you’ll only let me.”
“I would, dear—if it were any use,” he told her gently. “But you would
have all your worry for nothing. The new conditions make the old ways
impossible. I’m sorry.”
Her coaxing smile refused to accept his decision. “My aunt left me her
money, you know. I don’t know how much it is yet. Most of it is property
that must be sold. But I can use it when it comes to save the ranch. I’d
love to. I want to be helping you.”
“Ask Tim Flanders if I’m not right, sweetheart. He has a level head.
He’ll tell you just what I’m telling you.”
“All right. I’ll ask him. We don’t need to decide my future now. There
will be lots of time after you have gone.”
Rowan drew her to a chair, and sat down with her in his arms. For once
his tongue was not tied. The ten minutes that were left he packed full
of all the love that had so long been waiting in his heart for
expression.
When she said good-bye to him it was with a wan, twitchy little smile on
her face. But as soon as he was out of the room she flung herself down,
weeping, beside the lounge.
She was still lying crouched there when McCoy climbed to the vestibule
of the through train. He moved awkwardly because his left wrist was
shackled to the right one of Cole.