By the Light of the Aurora
The northern horizon was alight with a splendid aurora. It was still
evening, with a prevailing sense of great peace. The two men and
two women on the verandah were absorbed in the magnificence of the
heavenly display. It was nothing unusual. There was nothing new in the
magic of its movement. But its interest and beauty were a source of
never-failing attraction, even to Molly, who had known its splendour
from the days of her earliest childhood.
The yellow lamplight, shining through the window, lit the intimate
little scene. It was the hour before supper, an hour of complete rest
after the day’s work. Jim and Larry were lounging luxuriously in rocker
chairs. They were smoking, and meditating over the long, cool drinks
with which Blanche had provided them.
Molly was seated close beside the older girl. She had laid her sewing
upon the table before her, and, with elbows resting upon it, she
remained with her chin supported in the palms of her hands, staring
thoughtfully out at the ceaseless movement of the heavenly mystery.
Blanche was talking. It was her way when her men-folk were present. She
made no secret of her weakness, she even laughed at it openly.
“Isn’t it good to be right here sitting around on such a night?” she
asked generally, turning almost reluctantly from the radiant night sky.
She laughed a little self-consciously. “I can surely guess the thing
Larry’s thinking in his queer red head. Maybe he’s wondering when I’ll
get something new to scare him with. But then he hasn’t a soul for the
beauties around him,” she added, with pretended regret. “There, Molly,
look right down there at the barns and bunk-houses. Look at the lights
winking out at us. Don’t they stand out like--like jewels? Then look
down the valley into the darkness and shadows. See the mists gathering
along the creek. And listen to the croaking chorus of the frogs, that
never seem to get tired of their queer chatter. And the air, and the
stars standing out overhead. It’s--it’s all glorious,” she breathed
contendedly. “It’s so quiet and peaceful, and--and it makes you feel
that God never meant us folk to build drab cities and things. It makes
you think we were all meant to live in the open----”
“Till winter gets round. Then you guess again, and yearn for the Dago
janitor who can fix the steam heat right.”
Larry chuckled amiably as he buried his nose in the glass of whisky
that had been prepared for Jim, and caught Blanche’s smiling,
censorious glance. Jim laughed outright in the depths of his chair.
“That’s the way they always go on, Molly,” he said, to the girl at the
table. “If Blanche reckoned it was Tuesday, Larry here would assure
her it was Broadway, New York, or something equally foolish. But Sis
is right,” he went on. “She certainly is. There’s a peace around this
valley that makes me feel good.” He laughed. “And it’s a peace that’s
not a thing to do with stars, or northern lights, and not even frogs.”
His smile died out. “I made a trip down to your farm to-day.”
Molly was startled out of her contemplation of the valley. She sat up,
and her eyes were shining as she gazed at the white-haired creature who
had brought her to this haven of rest and human kindliness.
Blanche’s efforts had succeeded far beyond her best hopes. The girl was
daily growing stronger. She was no longer sick and ailing. But, best of
all, her recovery, both mental and physical, was complete. The men had
watched the progress, and applauded the nurse. But Blanche understood
the reality of the thing that had happened. She knew that the last
of Molly’s childhood had passed. The days of her child-dreaming were
over. She was a woman now, with all the rest lost in the passionate
storms that had swept over her. A real understanding of the hard things
of life had come to her, for, in her agony, her eyes had been widely
opened. The hate to which her love for Andy McFardell had turned was an
act of Providence which had brought about the rest.
“Then you’ve seen Lightning?” she asked. “He’ll be harvesting.”
There was eagerness in Molly’s tone. It told of a mind that was again
full of the affairs of life that had always been hers.
A quick glance passed between brother and sister. The man was
questioning, and Blanche inclined her head. Jim leant back in his
chair. He knocked out his pipe in a fashion intended to rob any words
of his of unusual significance.
“No,” he said, “he wasn’t there.”
A moment passed before Molly spoke again. Blanche was observing her
closely, and wondering. The red-headed Larry turned his freckled face
in the girl’s direction.
“He--he wasn’t there?”
The question came with a curious little gulp.
Jim shook his head, which the lamplight transformed to something like
burnished silver.
“I didn’t see him,” he said smilingly. “No, he wasn’t there,” he went
on definitely. “It didn’t seem he’d been there since he came up here
with Blanche, chasing after you. The harvest was standing in fine ear.
Your team and cows were out at grass. There wasn’t a sign at the house,
or his bunk-house, that he’d been around.”
Larry hastily devoured the remains of his drink. Jim was lighting his
pipe. Blanche had forgotten the beauties of the night, and laid one
hand gently on Molly’s shoulder.
“He borrowed my Pedro,” she said. “He left his horse here, down at the
barn.”
Molly turned in a flash.
“You hadn’t told me,” she said sharply.
“No,” Blanche said. “You were sick.”
Molly drew a deep breath.
“Why did he borrow your Pedro?” she asked.
“He said he was scared to face the trail of Three-Way Creek with a
horse that didn’t know it right.”
Molly’s eyes widened.
“He said that? Lightning?” she asked incredulously.
“Yes. He said that.”
“And you--you believed it?”
“I did--at the moment.”
Molly turned to Jim with disconcerting abruptness.
“Did you believe it, too?” she demanded. Then she looked over at the
freckled face of Larry Manford. “And you?”
It was Larry who replied. He shook his fiery head. And his words came
with a short laugh.
“I certainly didn’t,” he declared.
Molly looked into his keen eyes for a moment. Then she turned to Jim.
“And you?” she persisted.
“No.”
Jim turned himself about, and sat facing the girl whose whole manner
had undergone so complete a change. Her eyes were alight. There was
excitement and apprehension in them. There was something else. The men
failed to recognise it, but Blanche had no illusion. The girl, like Jim
and Larry, had read through Lightning’s subterfuge.
Molly shook her head. She was exercising a rather desperate control.
She was striving for a calmness she found almost impossible.
“No,” she said, in a low voice. “How could you believe it? Lightning
would ride his horse anywhere.” Her tone became less quiet. “Oh,
I could laff if I wasn’t scared,” she cried. “You folk don’t know
Lightning. I guess I know him through an’ through. Lightning didn’t
loan your Pedro to make home on. He was looking for a beast that could
make a big trail. He’s gone after Andy.”
Her manner was headlong. Her breathing had quickened. Her agitation was
growing. Suddenly her hands clasped together. Then they fell apart in a
movement of wringing. She turned on Blanche.
“Why--why did you lend him your horse, Blanche?” she cried. “Why--why
did you let him go? Oh, it’s awful! If--if you’d told me I could have
stopped him easy. He’d have done as I said. Don’t you see? I do. Oh,”
she went on, turning again to Jim, “I know what you mean, talking of
the peace of this valley. You reckon Lightning has headed Andy from
getting the Police around. Ther’s only one way for Lightning when it
comes to fixing things. If he’s after Andy McFardell he means to kill
him. He will kill him. And it won’t be to head off the Police from this
valley either. Oh, it’s all crazy. It’s terrible. It’ll be murder,
and--and Lightning’s done it. He’s a reckless, crazy-headed savage.
He’s the whitest, loyalest friend. And they’ll take him, and hang him,
for--murder. I know,” she went on, in a surge of emotion. “None of you
know, or can ever get the things lying back of Lightning’s head. He
cares nothing for himself. Nothing for anybody but--me. He’s gone to
kill Andy McFardell, and he’ll never quit till he’s done it.”
Molly stared out hopelessly at the winking lights which had seemed so
beautiful, so peaceful, such a brief while before. Now everything was
changed. Tears gathered unheeded as she yielded to the dread thoughts
which her vision had conjured.
Jim stirred helplessly in his chair. He was yearning to take her
in his arms and undo the mischief his words had brought about. But
somehow he felt he had done right. And it was with Blanche’s knowledge
and approval he had acted. He looked over at Blanche. She was calmly
watchful. All that had happened she had foreseen. And, as certainly as
it had happened, she knew the effect would swiftly pass.
It was left to Larry to break up the silence. It was left to him to
distract Molly’s mind from the shock of her own feelings. And he did
it in no uncertain fashion. He sprang from his chair and passed to the
verandah post, and stood leaning his big body against it.
“Is it murder to shoot a wolf?” he cried hotly. “Is it murder to kill
a foul, stenching skunk? Not on your life. If Lightning’s killed that
swine, I’m out to see he makes a right getaway.” Suddenly he broke
into a queer, short laugh. “Say, folk,” he cried, with a humour that
was irresistible, “I was never so glad of this valley, and this crazy
layout of Jim’s, as I am right now. Don’t worry a thing, Molly. Don’t
you drop one of those dandy tears. We’re men on this ranch, not saints.
And there isn’t a soul among us but says Lightning’s right--dead right.
My only worry is that Lightning shall kill that feller good an’ plenty.”
Without pausing for the result of his utterly immoral approval of
murder, he stepped off the verandah. But he turned at once at Blanche’s
smiling challenge.
“Where now, Larry?” she asked gently.
The man made a little gesture of impatience.
“Why, to fix my horse right. I pull right out after supper. There’s
going to be no darn hanging for Lightning.”
Blanche shook her head.
“No, boy,” she said, with decision. “You men are all mostly foolish
when your heads get hot. You’re going to stop around here to see no
hurt comes to the woman who doesn’t know better than to marry a man
whose head Nature intended to get hot. Lightning doesn’t need your
help. He borrowed my Pedro. And--he’ll bring him right back here. I
know that. And I guess Molly knows it, too. She and Jim here can ride
down to the farm to-morrow. She’ll ride her own pinto that Lightning
insisted on bringing up for her. Maybe Molly’s quick eyes’ll see things
Jim isn’t likely to.”
Then she turned to the girl beside her. She took possession of one of
her hands, and caressed it between her own soft palms.
“Then you’ll come right along back here, dear,” she said. “You can’t
quit us till you’re well and strong, and feel good for the work you
belong to.”
“But you never told me Lightning brought my pinto along up,” Molly
exclaimed.
Blanche smiled.
“Didn’t I?” she said. “Guess I must have forgotten.”
The two women looked into each other’s eyes, and the girl squeezed one
of the hands caressing hers.
“I guess you’re right, Blanche,” she said, with a little sigh. Then her
smile began to dawn again. “I--I think you’re most always right. Sure
I’ll go to-morrow. The harvest must be fixed, and--I guess Lightning
won’t fail me.”
Blanche sighed contentedly.
“No,” she said, “Lightning won’t fail you.”
* * * * *
Supper was over. At the girl’s request Jim had gone with her down to
the barn where her pinto was stabled. She wanted to see her little
mare again, that creature that was almost part of her life. Larry and
Blanche were alone on the verandah. They were standing together where
the others had left them. One of the man’s arms was about the woman’s
shapely shoulders, and she was drawn close up to him.
“You’re all wrong, Blanche, sending that little kid down there to look
at the show where all her trouble happened,” Larry said, with a wise
shake of the head. “Jim ought to’ve bucked right away. What sort of
good are you looking for? Look at the way she broke up over Lightning.
You’re taking a hell of a chance. And if I’d been Jim----”
Blanche laughed softly.
“Oh, you boys,” she said. “You’re all so--so wise, and strong, and
brave, and big. But you’re just big foolish kids when it comes
to--women. The only chance I’ve taken is that Jim’s no fool. And I
don’t guess he’s that way.”
The red head turned quickly and looked down into the fact that was
laughing up at him.
“But you know Lightning’s not there,” Larry said. “You know as well as
we do he’s gone after that miserable skunk. You know as well as that
kid does he’ll kill him sure. Why not let me get out to pass him a
hand, and you keep Jim and Molly right here? Say, there isn’t sense in
the thing you’ve fixed. There surely isn’t.”
“Isn’t there?” Blanche sighed happily. She raised a hand to her
shoulder and clasped it about the muscular fist she found there. “Of
course I know all those things, Larry,” she went on. “All those things
are so. It’s man’s way, so it’s Lightning’s. Molly’s right. He’ll never
leave McFardell alive. He’ll follow him and kill him.” The man felt her
shudder, for all the calmness with which she spoke. “Maybe I’m all
wrong. Maybe I’m callous and wicked. But I’m not interested in anything
but Jim’s happiness--Jim’s and Molly’s. Molly’s fallen for Jim. I know.
You see, another woman can see these things. Well, to-morrow’s Jim’s
opportunity. On the way down, before she sees for herself that---- Oh,
psha! anything might happen. She’s impulsive. Lightning! If she thought
he needed her help, good-bye everything else. Jim must fix things on
the way down. And I’m wicked enough, vicious enough, to hope that Andy
McFardell comes by his deserts.”
Blanche felt the squeeze of the man’s hand.
“There’s nothing wicked to you, Blanche,” he said. “I’m with you that
McFardell gets his med’cine good an’ plenty. But say, kid,” he cried
eagerly, “you’ll let me pass a hand to Lightning? I want him to kill
that skunk. I do so. It’s queer. I got this place in my bones.” He
laughed boyishly. “I just hate it I’m the only feller around this
outfit that doesn’t need to worry in the daylight.”
Blanche’s laugh came low and full of humour. She glanced up at him
slily.
“Oh, Larry,” she cried, “you are--you certainly are a crazy---- And
what about me? Do you reckon I’m going to marry you to be toted along
on the run from justice?”
The man remained quite undisturbed by the threat. His arm tightened
about the girl’s slim body and his eyes lit mischievously.
“Why not?” he asked, with a grin. “I haven’t heard that Jim had to ask
you twice, with him on the run.”
“Yes, but Jim needed me.”
“Well?”
Blanche’s eyes shone in the darkness. She reached up and tenderly
kissed the freckled face she loved.
“Neither will you, Larry, boy,” she said, all her love shining in her
eyes. “If Jim fixes things with Molly so he no longer needs us here,
why, I’ll beat the longest trail with you you can figure out, just how
and when you want me. Yes, and you can do all you fancy for Lightning.”