A FAIR ADVOCATE
Thanks to the fashion in which the hotel keeper managed the affair, the
gambler left the settlement without personal injury, but very little
richer than when he entered it. The rest of those who were present at
his meeting with Winston were also not desirous that their friends
should know that they had been victimized, and because Dane was
discreet news of what had happened might never have reached Silverdale
had not one of the younger men ridden in to the railroad a few days
later. Odd scraps of conversation overheard led him to suspect that
something unusual had taken place, but as nobody seemed to be willing
to supply details, he returned to Silverdale with his curiosity
unsatisfied. As it happened, he was shortly afterwards present at a
gathering of his neighbors at Macdonald's farm and came across Ferris
there.
"I heard fragments of a curious story at the settlement," he said.
"There was trouble of some kind in which a professional gambler figured
last Saturday night, and though nobody seemed to want to talk about it,
I surmised that somebody from Silverdale was concerned in it."
He had perhaps spoken a trifle more loudly than he had intended, and
there were a good many of the Silverdale farmers with a few of their
wives and daughters whose attention was not wholly confined to the
efforts of Mrs. Macdonald at the piano in the long room just then. In
any case a voice broke through the silence that followed the final
chords.
"Ferris could tell us if he liked. He was there that night."
Ferris, who had cause for doing so, looked uncomfortable, and
endeavored to sign to the first speaker that it was not desirable to
pursue the topic.
"I have been in tolerably often of late. Had things to attend to," he
said.
The other man was, however, possessed by a mischievous spirit or did
not understand him. "You may just as well tell us now as later,
because you never kept a secret in your life," he said.
In the meantime, several of the others had gathered about them, and
Mrs. Macdonald, who had joined the group, smiled as she said, "There is
evidently something interesting going on. Mayn't I know, Gordon?"
"Of course," said the man who had visited the settlement. "You shall
know as much as I do, though that is little, and if it excites your
curiosity, you can ask Ferris for the rest. He is only anxious to
enhance the value of his story by being mysterious. Well, there was a
more or less dramatic happening, of the kind our friends in the old
country unwarrantably fancy is typical of the West, in the saloon of
the settlement not long ago. Cards, pistols, a professional gambler,
and the unmasking of foul play, don't you know. Somebody from
Silverdale played the leading role."
"How interesting!" said a young English girl. "Now, I used to fancy
something of that kind happened here every day before I came out to the
prairie. Please tell us, Mr. Ferris! One would like to find there is
just a trace of reality in our picturesque fancies of debonair
desperadoes and big-hatted cavaliers."
There was a curious expression in Ferris's face, but as he glanced
around at the rest, who were regarding him expectantly, he did not
observe that Maud Barrington and her aunt had just come in and stood
close behind him.
"Can't you see there's no getting out of it, Ferris?" said somebody.
"Well," said the lad in desperation, "I can only admit that Gordon is
right. There was foul play and a pistol drawn, but I'm sorry that I
can't add anything further. In fact, it wouldn't be quite fair of me."
"But the man from Silverdale?" asked Mrs. Macdonald.
"I'm afraid," said Ferris, with the air of one shielding a friend, "I
can't tell you anything about him."
"I know Mr. Courthorne drove in that night," said the young English
girl, who was not endued with very much discretion.
"Courthorne," said one of the bystanders, and there was a momentary
silence that was very expressive. "Was he concerned in what took
place, Ferris?"
"Yes," said the lad with apparent reluctance. "Mrs. Macdonald, you
will remember that they dragged it out of me, but I will tell you
nothing more whatever."
"It seems to me you have told us quite sufficient and perhaps a trifle
too much," said somebody.
There was a curious silence. All of those present were more or less
acquainted with Courthorne's past history, and the suggestion of foul
play coupled with the mention of a professional gambler had been
significant. Ferris, while committing himself in no way, had certainly
said sufficient. Then there was a sudden turning of heads as a young
woman moved quietly into the midst of the group. She was ominously
calm, but she stood very straight, and there was a little hard glitter
in her eyes, which reminded one or two of the men who noticed it of
those of Colonel Barrington. The fingers of one hand were also closed
at her side.
"I overheard you telling a story, Ferris, but you have a bad memory and
left rather too much out," she said.
"They compelled me to tell them what I did, Miss Barrington," said the
lad, who winced beneath her gaze. "Now there is really nothing to be
gained by going any further into the affair. Shall I play something
for you, Mrs. Macdonald?"
He turned as he spoke and would have edged away, but that one of the
men at a glance from the girl laid a hand on his shoulder.
"Don't be in a hurry, Ferris. I fancy Miss Barrington has something
more to tell you," he said dryly.
The girl thanked him with a gesture. "I want you to supply the most
important part," she said, and the lad, saying nothing, changed color
under the glance she cast upon him. "You do not seem willing. Then
perhaps I had better do it for you. There were two men from Silverdale
directly concerned in the affair, and one of them at no slight risk to
himself did a very generous thing. That one was Mr. Courthorne. Did
you see him lay a single stake upon a card, or do anything that led you
to suppose he was there for the purpose of gambling that evening?"
"No," said the lad, seeing she knew the truth, and his hoarse voice was
scarcely audible.
"Then," said Maud Barrington, "I want you to tell us what you did see
him do."
Ferris said nothing, and though the girl laughed a little as she
glanced at the wondering group, her voice was icily disdainful.
"Well," she said, "I will tell you. You saw him question a
professional gambler's play to save a man who had no claim on him from
ruin, and, with only one comrade to back him, drive the swindler, who
had a pistol, from the field. He had, you admit, no interest of any
kind in the game."
Ferris had grown crimson again, and the veins on his forehead showed
swollen high. "No," he said almost abjectly.
Maud Barrington turned from him to her hostess as she answered, "That
will suffice, in the meanwhile, until I can decide whether it is
desirable to make known the rest of the tale. I brought the new song
Evelyn wanted, Mrs. Macdonald, and I will play it for her, if she would
care to try it."
She moved away with the elder lady, and left the rest astonished to
wonder what had become of Ferris, who was seen no more that evening,
while presently Winston came in.
His face was a trifle weary, for he had toiled since the sun rose above
the rim of the prairie and when the arduous day was over and those who
worked for him were glad to rest their aching limbs, had driven two
leagues to Macdonald's. Why he had done so, he was not willing to
admit, but he glanced around the long room anxiously as he came in, and
his eyes brightened as they rested on Maud Barrington. They were,
however, observant eyes, and he noticed that there was a trifle more
color than usual in the girl's pale-tinted face, and signs of
suppressed curiosity about some of the rest. When he had greeted his
hostess he turned to one of the men.
"It seems to me you are either trying not to see something, Gordon, or
to forget it as soon as you can," he said.
Gordon laughed at little. "You are not often mistaken, Courthorne.
That is precisely what we are doing. I presume you haven't heard what
occurred here an hour ago?"
"No!" said Winston. "I'm not very curious if it does not concern me."
Gordon looked at him steadily. "I fancy it does. You see that young
fool Ferris was suggesting that you had been mixed up in something not
very creditable at the settlement lately. As it happened, Maud
Barrington overheard him and made him retract before the company. She
did it effectively, and if it had been any one else, the scene would
have been almost theatrical. Still, you know nothing seems out of
place when it comes from the Colonel's niece. Nor if you had heard her
would you have wanted a better advocate."
For a moment the bronze deepened in Winston's forehead, and there was a
gleam in his eyes, but though it passed as rapidly as it came, Gordon
had seen it and smiled when the farmer moved away.
"That's a probability I never counted on," he thought, "Still, I fancy
if it came about, it would suit everybody but the Colonel."
Then he turned as Mrs. Macdonald came up to him. "What are you doing
here alone when I see there is nobody talking to the girl from
Winnipeg?"
The man laughed a little. "I was wondering whether it is a good sign
or otherwise when a young woman is, so far as she can decently be,
uncivil to a man who desires her good-will."
Mrs. Macdonald glanced at him sharply, and then shook her head. "The
question is too deep for you--and it is not your affair. Besides,
haven't you seen that indiscreet freedom of speech is not encouraged at
Silverdale?"
In the meanwhile Winston, crossing the room, took a vacant place at
Maud Barrington's side. She turned her head a moment and looked at him.
Winston nodded. "Yes, I heard," he said. "Why did you do it?"
Maud Barrington made a little gesture of impatience. "That is quite
unnecessary. You know I sent you."
"Yes," said Winston, a trifle dryly, "I see. You would have felt mean
if you hadn't defended me?"
"No," said the girl, with a curious smile. "That was not exactly the
reason, but we cannot talk too long here. Dane is anxious to take us
home in his new buggy, but it would apparently be a very tight fit for
three. Will you drive me over?"
Winston only nodded, for Mrs. Macdonald approached in pursuit of him,
but he spent the rest of the evening in a state of expectancy, and Maud
Barrington fancied that his hard hands were suspiciously unresponsive
as she took them when he helped her into the Silverdale wagon--a
vehicle a strong man could have lifted, and in no way resembling its
English prototype. The team was mettlesome, the lights of Macdonald's
homestead soon faded behind them, and they were racing with many a
lurch and jolt straight as the crow flies across the prairie.
There was no moon, but the stars shone far up in the soft indigo, and
the grasses whirled back in endless ripples to the humming wheels,
dimmed to the dusky blue that suffused the whole intermerging sweep of
earth and sky. The sweetness of wild peppermint rose through the
coolness of the dew, and the voices of the wilderness were part of the
silence that was but the perfect balance of the nocturnal harmonies.
The two who knew and loved the prairie could pick out each one of them.
Nor did it seem that there was any need of speech on such a night, but
at last Winston turned with a little smile to his companion, as he
checked the horses on the slope of a billowy rise.
"One feels diffident about intruding on this great quietness," he said.
"Still, I fancy you had a purpose in asking me to drive you home."
"Yes," said the girl, with a curious gentleness. "In the first place,
though I know it isn't necessary with you, I want to thank you. I made
Dane tell me, and you have done all I wished--splendidly."
Winston laughed. "Well, you see, it naturally came easy to me."
Maud Barrington noticed the trace of grimness in his voice. "Please
try to overlook our unkindness," she said. "Is it really needful to
keep reminding me? And how was I to know what you were, when I had
only heard that wicked story?"
Winston felt a little thrill run through him, for which reason he
looked straight in front of him and shifted his grasp on the reins.
Disdainful and imperious as she was at times, he knew there was a
wealth of softer qualities in his companion now. Her daintiness in
thought and person, and honesty of purpose, appealed to him, while that
night her mere physical presence had an effect that was almost
bewildering. For a moment he wondered vaguely how far a man might dare
to go, with what fate had thrust upon him, and then with a little
shiver saw once more the barrier of deceit and imposture.
"You believe it was not a true one?" he asked.
"Of course," said Maud Barrington. "How could it be? And you have
been very patient under our suspicions. Now, if you still value the
good-will you once asked for, it is yours absolutely."
"But you may still hear unpleasant stories about me," said Winston,
with a note the girl had not heard before in his voice.
"I should not believe them," she said.
"Still," persisted Winston, "if the tales were true?"
Maud Barrington did nothing by halves. "Then I should remember that
there is always so much we do not know which would put a different
color on any story, and I believe they could never be true again."
Winston checked a little gasp of wonder and delight, and Maud
Barrington looked away across the prairie. She was not usually
impulsive and seldom lightly bestowed gifts that were worth the having,
and the man knew that the faith in him she had confessed to was the
result of a conviction that would last until he himself shattered it.
Then, in the midst of his elation, he shivered again and drew the lash
across the near horse's back. The wonder and delight he felt had
suddenly gone.
"Few would venture to predict as much. Now and then I feel that our
deeds are scarcely contrived by our own will, and one could fancy our
parts had been thrust upon us in a grim joke," he said. "For instance,
isn't it strange that I should have a share in the rousing of
Silverdale to a sense of its responsibilities? Lord, what I could make
of it, if fate had but given me a fair opportunity!"
He spoke almost fiercely, but the words did not displease the girl.
The forceful ring in his voice set something thrilling within her, and
she knew by this time that his assertions seldom went beyond the fact.
"But you will have the opportunity, and we need you here," she said.
"No," said Winston slowly. "I am afraid not. Still, I will finish the
work I see in front of me. That at least--one cannot hope for the
unattainable."
Maud Barrington was sensible of a sudden chill. "Still, if one has
strength and patience, is anything quite unattainable?"
Winston looked out across the prairie, and for a moment the demons of
pride and ambition rioted within him. He knew there were in him the
qualities that compel success, and the temptation to stretch out a
daring hand and take all he longed for grew almost overmastering.
Still, he also knew how strong the innate prejudices of caste and
tradition are in most women of his companion's station, and she had
never hidden one aspect or her character from him. It was with a
smothered groan he realized that if he flung the last shred of honor
aside and grasped the forbidden fruit it would turn to bitterness in
his mouth.
"Yes," he said very slowly. "There is a limit which only fools would
pass."
Then there was silence for a while, until, as they swept across the
rise, Maud Barrington laughed as she pointed to the lights that blinked
in the hollow, and Winston realized that the barrier between them stood
firm again.
"Our views seldom coincide for very long, but there is something else
to mention before we reach the Grange," she said. "You must have paid
out a good many dollars for the plowing of your land and mine, and
nobody's exchequer is inexhaustible at Silverdale. Now I want you to
take a check from me."
"It is necessary that I should?"
"Of course," said the girl, with a trace of displeasure.
Winston laughed. "Then I shall be prepared to hand you my account
whenever you demand it."
He did not look at his companion again, but with a tighter grip than
there was any need for on the reins, sent the light wagon jolting down
the slope to Silverdale Grange.