Katherine sat on the porch of her home, watching the road that led to
town. It was long after six o'clock and Glendon had promised faithfully
he would return early in the afternoon. The Circle Cross herd which had
not been large enough to pay its owner's debts under the most favourable
circumstances, had dwindled through the drouth until Glendon refused to
try to save what was left. Juan rode out alone each day, doing the best
he was able, while Glendon puttered about the house and corral, or
stretched in a half-drunken stupor on the couch in the tiny living-room.
Katherine was spared the knowledge that Alpaugh held a note worth more
than the remnant of their cattle and that the money had been used by
Glendon to pay several gambling debts, as well as to keep Panchita in a
good humour.
Her meditations were interrupted as Tatters came to the porch steps and
thrust his moist nose into her hand.
"What do you think is wrong this time, Tatters?" she asked, looking down
at the dog's intelligent eyes. Since Donnie had left, the woman and dog
had been drawn together by their mutual longing for the boy, and
Katherine had fallen unconsciously into the habit of talking to the
collie.
She slipped an arm about the shaggy neck, and silently watched the
twilight deepen into darkness. Juan hovered anxiously in the doorway,
and tried to persuade her to eat supper; but she put him off, saying she
would come soon. A foreboding clutched her; she had no desire for food.
Shaking his head dolefully, the Mexican retreated to the kitchen.
Suddenly the dog stiffened, sniffed the air and gave a low growl. Then
he sprang from the steps and ran to the gate, where he squatted down,
and stared sharply at the road.
Katherine heard the faint sounds of hoof beats, and confident that it
was her husband returning, she hastened to see if the belated supper was
beyond hope.
There was a knock at the door. Surprised, she turned to open it, when
she heard a man's voice speaking.
"Don't be frightened, Mrs. Glendon. It's only Limber, I brung a message
for you from Glendon."
He entered the room, and blinked in the lamplight, but Katherine, seeing
the expression on his face, was not deceived.
"What's the matter?" she asked quickly.
Limber hesitated, cleared his throat and wondered how it would be best
to tell his message. All the way he had been puzzling what to say. If it
had been a man, or any other woman, it would have been easier; but the
cowpuncher shrank from adding to the troubles of the woman. It was like
striking her.
"Why--it's--just--don't be frightened, Mrs. Glendon," floundered Limber,
and cursed himself for making matters worse. "It's not so serious--"
She clutched the back of a chair; her face was white, but her voice
steady. "Tell me, just as you would another man, Limber. I won't break
down. Is he dead?"
"Not a bit of it," replied Limber in relieved tones. "He's all
right--well as I am. But thar's been trouble in town and Glen shot Paddy
Lafferty. Dick Alpaugh seen it and says it was self-defence. So Glen
will be acquitted all right; but he's under arrest till the inquest. He
wanted me to come and tell you."
Limber repeated the meager details, avoiding her eyes as much as
possible, and watching Tatters, whose head he was stroking as he talked.
The silence became oppressive after he ceased speaking, and Limber
lifted his eyes.
Katherine, apparently forgetful of his presence, sat staring at the
wall, her hands twitching nervously at her kitchen apron. Her face was
deathly white. Limber wished she would cry, though he dreaded a woman's
tears.
"Don't take it so hard, Mrs. Glendon. It's just a matter of form, him
bein' held. Glendon will be home tomorrow night."
"Did you see him kill Paddy?" her eyes searched Limber's, forcing the
reluctant truth from his lips and telling him plainly that she doubted
the story as he had told it.
"No, Mrs. Glendon. I got thar afterwards. I heard Alpaugh say what
happened. He was there. Then Glendon ast me to come and tell you. That's
all I know."
She rose. "Thank you, Limber. I understand. It was good of you to come
the thirty-five miles. After you have supper I will be ready to go back
with you, if your pony can stand the trip. Fox is the only horse I have
here, Jim took the team to town."
"Peanut is good for the trip," asserted Limber, "but it is a mean ride
at night till we strike the flats. Mebbe you'd better wait till mornin'
if you think you'd oughter go."
"I must go tonight;" she replied and Limber made no further protest. He
knew the tension under which she laboured.
Juan insisted that she make an effort to eat, while Limber swallowed a
cup of coffee, then necessary articles in a small bundle were tied to
her saddle as Fox and Peanut rubbed friendly noses.
The old Mexican's heart was heavy as he watched them ride away, and the
dog's ears drooped dejectedly. Out on the long night ride the ponies
swung into a steady lope. The soft breeze fanned the cheeks of the
riders like a cool spray. A young moon slipped coyly over the horizon.
The air was heavy with the perfume of Yucca that even the drouth could
not kill, while faint and sweet came the lilt of a mocking-bird.
Katherine could not make herself believe that out of the beauty and
peace of the night she would find the man she had sworn to 'love, honour
and obey' with human blood on his hands--the murderer of an old,
defenceless man who had done many an act of kindness for her and her
boy.