THE LAST APPEAL.
The coach out of Pocket City carried as passengers Carrol Dean and
Bonnie Belle, on their way East to the home of the miner.
Bonnie Belle did not say to her friends in Yellow Dust Valley that
she would not return, for she feared that the result might be
disastrous to her interests there. She told them she was going East
on an important mission, and her interests in Pocket City were left
to the management of the one who held the position of clerk in the
Frying Pan Hotel.
Deadshot Dean had written to his wife to expect him home soon, and
that he would bring with him one whom she would also be glad to
welcome.
The stage-trail from Pocket City led within forty miles of Pioneer
Post, and into the one from the fort at a point where there was a
station with a corral of horses for the coaches and couriers.
It was while the coach was nearing this station that the driver
heard the clatter of hoofs behind him, and, turning his head, saw a
horseman coming along at rapid speed after the coach.
His first thought was that he was a road-agent in chase, and his next
that the man might be a courier bearing despatches from the fort. But
the horseman soon overtook the coach, and called out:
“Ho, driver, have you Bonnie Belle a passenger with you?”
“I has,” was the reply of Sandy Gill, the driver, and he eyed the
horseman curiously.
“Then I have a letter for her.”
“A letter for me?” and Bonnie Belle looked out of the coach-window
with surprise at the man, who was dressed as an army courier, and was
well mounted.
“Are you Bonnie Belle, miss?”
“Yes, I am so called.”
“Of Yellow Dust Valley?”
“Yes, of Pocket City.”
“I have a letter, then, for you, miss.”
“Who has sent me a letter?”
“Its reading will tell you, miss.”
“You are not from the Yellow Dust country?”
“No, miss, I am from the fort at Pioneer Post.”
Bonnie Belle started at this, and glanced at the miner.
“What does it mean?” she asked Dean, seeming anxious not to touch the
letter for some reason.
The miner asked:
“Do you come from the fort, my man?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you were sent with a letter for Bonnie Belle?”
“I was, sir, and upon reaching Pocket City, and learning that she had
gone East by coach, I came on after her.”
“Who is this letter from?”
“I do not know, sir; but it was given to me by an officer at the
fort, with orders to place it in the hands of Miss Bonnie Belle with
the greatest despatch.”
“Give me the letter,” and Bonnie Belle held out her hand, which
trembled as she read the address and seemed to recognize the writing.
“It is from----” and she said no more.
But Deadshot Dean recognized by her look of significance that she
could only mean her brother, then a condemned prisoner at the fort.
She nerved herself to break the seal, and asked:
“Is there an answer?”
“I was told that there was, miss.”
At this the miner stepped out of the coach, and left her to read the
letter alone, for he saw that she was deeply affected.
While the miner, the courier, and the stage-coach driver were talking
together, she read the letter. It was written in cipher, and she said:
“It is the alphabet which my poor brother taught me to write when I
was a very little girl. He felt that I would remember it, and has
written something he dared not let any other eye see, I suppose. Oh,
if it should be an appeal to me to save him!”
She dashed the tears from her eyes, and nerved herself to read the
letter which she seemed to dread so much. It was as follows:
“MY DARLING SISTER: Do you remember away back when you were a
little girl of ten, and I was dismissed from the navy, that you
said, when father and mother were cold toward me, that you would
never desert me?
“Do you recall again, when I came home from Germany, dismissed from
the university on account of the fatal duel I fought, you again
were my little comforter?
“So it has been through all, even when, maddened with jealousy, I
sought the life of Carrol Dean, and, to escape, took my father’s
money, you were the one to aid me secretly with funds and to cheer
me with your loving letters.
“Every pledge I have made you I have ruthlessly broken, and I feel
that you have utterly lost confidence in me.
“I have a friend in the fort who gets a messenger to carry this
letter to you, and it is my last appeal, for through Carrol Dean
you have heard that I am under sentence to die upon the gallows.
“Now I see my crimes in all their enormity, and I am not fit to
die. I have repented, yet I would live to atone by good deeds for
all the wicked ones I have been guilty of, and hence this my last
sad appeal to you, my loving, faithful sister.
“Whatever you attempt to do, you can, I know, and I ask you to
set me free, that henceforth, far from these scenes, I may live a
better life and atone for the past.
“Do I appeal in vain, my sister? If not, send word by the
messenger, simply:
“‘I will.’
“If in vain, send simply:
“I will not.’
“Feeling that I do not appeal in vain, believe me your unhappy
brother,
“THE DOOMED OUTLAW.”
Over and over again did Ruth Leigh read this letter from her doomed
brother. He had struck the right chord in appealing to her as he did,
for he admitted his guilt, and, repenting, wished to live only for
atonement for the past.
Bonnie Belle was deeply impressed by the letter. Her brother had been
her idol from her earliest girlhood, and she had condoned his sins,
and hoped for his reformation in the end.
Had the reformation come at last?
It seemed so to her, and hence she decided to yield to this last
appeal, to give him one more chance. Then she called to the courier,
and said:
“Let me give you this for your trouble, so report that your services
are paid for, please.”
With this she placed in his hand a bill, which the miner saw had an L
upon it.
“Thank you kindly, miss. But the answer?”
“Is for you to report that I simply said:
“‘I will.’”
“Yes, miss, I will not forgit it.”
With this the courier turned away, mounted his horse, and started
back upon the trail, while Bonnie Belle said to the driver:
“You are very kind to delay so long for me, and I thank you, Sandy.”
“Never mind the delay, Bonnie Belle, for I can make it up. Are you
ready to go on now?”
“Yes.”
“Then jump aboard, Deadshot Dean, and I’ll send the critters ahead
lively.”
The miner obeyed, and the coach rolled rapidly on its way.
For some time neither the driver nor the girl spoke. He would not ask
her the nature of the letter she had received, unless she chose to
reveal it; yet he could guess that it came from her outlaw brother.
On her part, she was wondering how she could confide her secret to
Carrol Dean. After a while she decided that she could not tell him
all, for it would be his duty to thwart her in her humane intention.
So she said:
“Carrol Dean, you have been as a dear, good brother to me, and I hope
that I may ever so regard you; but I fear that you will not approve
of what I have decided to do.”
“What is it, Bonnie Belle?”
“I have a letter from my brother.”
“I guessed as much.”
“It is written in cipher, and was sent to me through some one in the
fort who is friendly toward him.”
“I hardly believe that possible, so bitter was the feeling toward
him. He must be an ally of his in some way.”
“That may be. But the appeal from him is a strong one, and I have
decided to see him.”
“Do you mean it, Ruth?” asked the surprised miner.
“Yes.”
“You are wrong in doing so, very.”
“It may be that I am, but in this case I feel that I must see him. He
is an outlaw, it is true. He has committed many crimes as Silk Lasso
Sam, the road-agent chief, and yet now he is down, ironed hands and
feet, a prisoner at the mercy of his foes. He is under sentence of
death, and will soon be led upon the gallows, to die at the end of a
rope.
“He will have not one near to cheer his last moments, to breathe one
kind word, to utter one word of forgiveness, and he will be thrown
into a nameless grave. With all his sins weighing him down, he is yet
my brother, and I will not be a coward and desert him in his last
moments. No, I sent him word that I would come to him, and I will.”
The earnest argument of the girl touched the miner deeply. He
realized just how she felt and suffered, and said:
“I appreciate fully, Ruth, your position and your sorrow, and your
kind heart does you credit; but in going to see your brother, to be
with him in his last hours, to place him in the grave of a dishonored
man, will not your sufferings be increased?”
“They may be, and yet what will be my sufferings to his despair? No,
no, I shall go.”
“I will not say a word against it. Shall we catch the next coach
back?”
“No, for you are not to go.”
“Do you expect me to leave you?”
“Yes, you must go to your family, and I will go back alone. I will
go to Chicago, and then turn back from there and return to the fort.
When I have done all in my power, Mr. Dean, for that stricken man, I
will go to your home in the East. Need I say more?”
“No, I will trust you; but I would gladly return with you and wait
until all is over.”
“That I cannot, will not allow. I must go alone,” was the determined
reply of Bonnie Belle, and the miner urged no more.
Several days later a carriage drove up to the army headquarters in
Chicago, and a lady wearing a heavy veil got out.
As she reached the reception-room she suddenly came face to face with
the general’s orderly, and, throwing back her veil, she extended her
hand, and said pleasantly and in a tone of surprise:
“Why, Bainbridge, you here?”
“As I live and move, it’s Bonnie Belle!” cried the orderly, grasping
the extended hand in both his own.
“Yes, Bainbridge, and I am glad to see you once more, though I did
not know that you were a soldier.”
“Yes; I came home, as you know, with a snug little fortune in gold,
but I speculated and lost it, and some months ago, when in hard luck
here in Chicago, I stopped the horses of the general’s carriage when
they were running away, the driver having been thrown from the box,
and the general and his wife were inside.
“He asked me what he could do for me, and I said that, as I had a
record as an old soldier, I would enter the army again, and he made
me his orderly, and here I am, Bonnie Belle, and as glad a man as
ever was to see your beautiful face again, for it takes me back to
the mines, and the time you saved my life that night in Devil’s
Den. I’ll never forget you for it, Bonnie Belle, for if you had not
vouched for me, the boys would have hanged me sure.”
“They certainly would have done so, Bainbridge, and have been sorry
for it the next day, when they found out who the real criminal was.
But is the general in?”
“No, Bonnie Belle, he has gone out to lunch, but he will soon return,
so walk into his private office and await his coming.”
“Is no one there?”
“Not a soul at this hour, miss.”
“I will go, then.”
She was led by the orderly into the private quarters of the general
commanding, and as she halted near the desk, she asked:
“Bainbridge, will you kindly get me a glass of water?”
The orderly promptly disappeared upon the errand, and quickly Bonnie
Belle stepped to the desk, glanced at something that caught her eye,
and thrust it in her pocket.
“Who is the assistant adjutant-general, Bainbridge, on the general’s
staff?” she asked casually, after drinking the water and thanking him
for it.
The orderly told her, and then the two had quite a long talk together
before the officer referred to entered.
“A lady to see the general, sir, upon important business,” said the
orderly.
“Be seated, madam, for the general will return very soon.”
A moment after the general entered and bowed as he saw a lady in
waiting. When she threw back her veil, revealing her beautiful face,
he seemed impressed, and said, with marked courtesy:
“How can I serve you, miss?”
“Permit me to ask you, general, if I can confide a secret to you and
yet keep my name from you?”
“Certainly, if you wish.”
“My mission, then, sir, is one of sorrow to me, for I come to ask a
favor of you.”
“Of what tenor, miss?”
“There has been captured at Pioneer Post a noted criminal, for he is
an outlaw and road-agent, known as Silk Lasso Sam.”
“Yes, I have word from Colonel Dunwoody, of the fort, and that he has
been sentenced to death for his crimes.”
“Is this legal, general?”
“It is justice and military law, for that prevails in that wild land
of lawlessness.”
“Suppose that he were already amenable to the civil laws for crimes
committed, could he not be taken from the military prison for trial
East?”
“That may be, but I apprehend no such demand.”
“Nor do I, sir, only I wished to know if I should appeal to the
civil or the military for permission to see this condemned man, and
be with him in his last moments.”
“Ah! that is the situation, is it, miss?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What is this man to you?”
“All that I have in the world of near kindred, sir--_my brother_.”
“Indeed? You have my sympathy indeed, my dear lady.”
“And is your sympathy deep enough, may I ask, to allow of your
permitting me to go to this doomed brother of mine, be with him in
his last hours, and, when your military law has been satisfied by
his death, to permit me to claim the body for burial? Remember, I do
not attempt to deny his crimes, or to palliate them in the slightest
degree, for he deserves death for breaking the laws of his land as he
has; but I do beg for this mercy for him, and for me, that you permit
me to be with him in his last moments.”
The general bit his lips, and the adjutant turned his gaze earnestly
upon the fair pleader, for he, too, was impressed.
“My dear young lady, I will not deny you. I will grant your request,”
said the general. “Colonel, write out an official order to Colonel
Dunwoody, to permit this lady to see her brother at will, and to turn
over the body of the man to her after his execution.”
“I thank you, sir, most sincerely,” and the tears came into the
beautiful eyes of the girl.
The order was written, signed, and sealed, and both officers arose as
Bonnie Belle took her leave, the general himself opening the door for
her, while the orderly, in the corridor, escorted her to the carriage.
“Here is my address, Bainbridge, so call on me this evening, and do
not say to any one that you know me.”
“You can rely on me fully, Bonnie Belle,” answered the orderly, as he
closed the door.