Parish Thornton sat on the doorstep of the house gazing abstractedly
upward where through soft meshes of greenery the sunlight filtered.
Here, he told himself, he ought to be happy beyond any whisper of
discontent--save for the fret of his lingering weakness. Through the
open door of the house came the voice of Dorothy raised in song, and the
man's face softened and the white teeth flashed into a smile as he
listened. Then it clouded again.
Parish Thornton did not know all the insidious forces that were working
in the silences of the hills, but he divined enough to feel the brewing
of a storm, which, in its bursting, might strike closer and with more
shattering force than the bolt that had scarred the giant tree trunk.
Two passions claimed his deep acknowledgment of allegiance and now they
stood in conflict. One was as clear and flawlessly gracious as the arch
of blue sky above him--and that was his love; the other was as wild and
impetuous as the tempests which sprang to ungoverned life among these
crags--and that was his hate.
When he had sworn to Bas Rowlett that the moon should not "full again"
before he avenged his betrayal with death, he had taken that oath
solemnly and, he sincerely believed, in the sight of God. It was,
therefore, an oath that could be neither abandoned nor modified.
The man who must die knew, as did he himself and the heavenly witness to
the compact, that his physical incapacity had been responsible for his
deferred action--but now with returning strength he must make amends of
promptness.
He would set out to-day on that enterprise of cleansing his conscience
with performance. In killing Bas Rowlett he would be performing a
virtuous act. As to that he had no misgiving, but an inner voice spoke
in disturbing whispers. He could not forget Hump Doane's appeal--and
prophecy of tribulation. By killing Bas now he might even loose that
avalanche!
"An' yit ef I tarries a few days more," he argued stubbornly within
himself, "hit's ergoin' ter be even wusser. I'm my own man now--an'
licensed ter ack fer myself." He rose and stiffened resolutely, against
the tide of doubt, and his fine face darkened with the blood malignity
of his heritage.
He went silently into the house and began making his preparations. His
pistol holster should have fitted under his left arm-pit but it was
useless there now with no right hand to draw or use it. So Parish
Thornton thrust it into his coat pocket on the left-hand side, and then
at the door he halted in a fresh perplexity.
He could not embark on a mission that might permit of no returning
without bidding Dorothy good-bye--and as he thought of that farewell his
face twitched and the agate hardness wavered.
So he stood for awhile in debate with himself, the relentlessness of the
executioner warring obdurately with the tenderness of the lover--and
while he did so a group of three horsemen came into view on the highway,
moving slowly toward his house.
When the trio of visitors had dismounted, an elderly man, whose face
held a deadly sort of gravity, approached, introducing himself as Aaron
Capper and his companions as Sim Squires and Lincoln Thornton.
"Albeit we hain't well beknowest ter one another," Aaron reminded him,
"we're all kinfolks more or less--an' we've done rid over ter hev
speech with ye cons'arnin' right sober matters."
"Won't ye come inside an' sot ye cheers?" invited Parish, but the elder
man shook his head as he wiped his perspiring and dust-caked face on the
sleeve of his shirt.
"Ther breeze is stirrin' tol'able fresh out hyar," suggested Aaron, "an
thet old walnuck tree casts down a right grateful shade. I'd jest es
lieve talk out hyar--ef hit suits ye."
So under the tree, where a light breeze stirred with welcome tempering
across the river, the four men squatted on their heels and lighted their
pipes.
"Thar hain't no profit in mincin' matters none," began old Aaron,
curtly. "I lost me three boys when they fit ther battle of Claytown
twenty y'ars back--an' now hit looks powerful like ther war's fixin' ter
bust out afresh. Ef hit does I aims ter take me full toll fer tha'r
killin'."
Parish Thornton--who had ten minutes before been planning a death
infliction of his own--raised his brows at this unsoftened bluntness of
announcement, but he inquired of Aaron Capper as he had done of Hump
Doane: "Why does ye come ter me?"
"We comes ter ye," Aaron gave him unambiguous answer, "because ef ther
Harpers hev got ter fight, that hain't no health in divided leaderships
ner dilatary delays.... Some men seems ter hold thet because ye wed with
Old Caleb's gal, ye're licensed ter stand in Old Caleb's shoes ...
whilst others seems plum resolved not ter tolerate ye atall an' spits ye
outen thar mouths."
"Which of them lots does _you_ men stand with?"
The question came soberly, yet something like a riffle of cynical
amusement glinted in the eyes of Parish Thornton as he put it.
"I hain't made up my mind yit. All I knows is thet some fellers called
on me ter head ther Harpers ... an' afore I give 'em any answer, I
'lowed thet hit become us ter hev speech with ye fust. We owed ye thet
much because ther Doanes'll pint-blank deem thet ther trouble started
when ye wed Bas Rowlett's gal--an' whatever _we_ does, _they'll_ hold ye
accountable."
The heir to Caleb Harper's perplexities stood leaning against the tree.
There were still moments when his strength seemed to ebb capriciously
and leave him giddy. After a moment, though, he smiled quietly and
glanced about the little group.
"When I come over hyar," he said, "I didn't ask nothin' but ter be left
alone. I married Dorothy, an' old Caleb confidenced me. I've got my own
affairs ter tend an' I'm satisfied ter tend 'em. So fur es frayin' an'
fightin' goes"--his voice mounted suddenly and the half-whimsical humour
died instantly in his eyes--"I've got some of my own ter study
erbout--an' I don't have ter meddle with other folkses' quarrels."
"Then ye aims ter stand aside an' let things take thar own course?"
"Thet's what I 'lowed ter do, but ye've jest done told me thet the
Doanes don't aim ter _let_ me stand aside. S'pose ye tells me some
more."
"All right," said Aaron, brusquely. "Ef thet's what ye wants I'll tell
ye a lavish."
Dorothy had come to the front door and looked out, and seeing the men
still mopping hot faces, she had brought out a pitcher of cool
buttermilk and a pewter mug.
The backs of the three visitors were turned toward the house, and her
feet on the grass had made no sound so that only Parish himself had
known of her coming and he had, with a lifting of the brows, signalled
her to wait until old Aaron finished speaking.
"I've done sought by prayer an' solemn ponderin' ter take counsel with
Almighty God," declared the spokesman. "Ther blood of them three boys of
mine hes been cryin' out ter me fer twenty y'ars but yet I knows thet ef
ther war does come on again hit's goin' ter bring a monstrous sum of
ruination an' mischief. So I comes ter ye--es Caleb Harper's heir--ter
heer what ye've got ter say."
Dorothy Thornton's eyes widened as, standing with the pitcher and the
ancient mug in her hands, she listened to that speech. Then as the full
import of its feudal menace broke upon her understanding the blossom
colour flowed out of her smooth cheeks and neck, leaving them ivory
white.
She saw herself as the agency which had drawn her husband into this
vortex, and bitterly reflected that this had been her dowry and the gift
of her love!
Parish's glance held by that stunned fixety in her expression attracted
the attention of the others and old Aaron Capper, turning his head, saw
her and let a low oath of exasperation escape him.
"Send her away!" he snapped, angrily. "This hyar hain't no woman's
business. How much did she hyar?"
Parish Thornton went forward and took the pitcher and pewter mug from
his wife's hand, then he shook his head, and his voice altered to a new
ring, quiet, yet electrically charged with dominance.
"No," he ripped out, shortly. "I hain't ergoin' ter send her away. Ye
says hit hain't no woman's business, and yit she's Caleb Harper's
gran'daughter--an' because of her weddin' with me--Harpers an' Doanes
alike--ye won't suffer me ter foller out my own affairs in my own
fashion, onmolested!"
Aaron came to his feet, bristling indignantly and with new protests
rising to his lips, but an imperious gesture of command from Parish
silenced him into a bewildered obedience. It had become suddenly
impossible to brow-beat this man.
"Dorothy," said her husband, "I reckon ye heered enough ter know what
brought these men hyar. They norates thet ther Doanes holds me
accountable fer whatever ther Harpers does--good or evil--because I
stands as heir ter yore gran'pap. They tells me likewise thet ther
Harpers hain't got no settled leader, an' only two things hinders me
from claimin' thet job myself: Fust place, I don't crave ter mingle in
thar ructions, and second place they won't hev none of me. Seems like
I'm ther gryste betwixt two mill-stones ... an' bein' es ye're my wife,
thet's a state of things thet consarns _you_ es well es me."
A Valkyrie fire glowed in the dark eyes of the young woman and her hands
clenched themselves tautly. The colour that had gone out of her cheeks
came back with a rush of vividness which seemed to transform her as a
lighted wick transforms a candle.
"When my gran'pap war a-strivin' aginst all manner of odds fer peace,"
she said, disdainfully, "thar was them thet kept hamperin' him by
whoopin' on ther troublemakers--an' I've done heered him say thet one
turrible hard man ter reason with bore ther name of Aaron Capper."
The elderly spokesman of the delegation flushed brick-red and his heavy
lashes gathered close in a menacing scowl.
"No man didn't love Caleb Harper no better'n me," he protested,
indignantly, "but ef we've got ter fight hit profits us ter hit
fust--an' hit hard."
"Now, I've got somethin' ter tell ye," went on Parish, and though they
did not know just when or how the change had been wrought, each of the
three visitors began to realize that a subtle shifting of places had
come over their relations to their host.
At first they had spoken categorically and he had listened passively.
Now when he spoke they felt the compulsion of hearkening to him as to
one whose words carried authority. Personalities had been measured as
are foils in the hands of fencers, and Parish Thornton was being
recognized to hold the longest and keenest blade.
"I've done sought ter show ye, outen yore own mouths," he said, soberly,
"thet at one an' ther same time ye was demandin' ter know what I aimed
ter do an' tellin' me I couldn't do nothin'. Now I tells ye thar's one
thing I jedgmatically _hain't_ a-goin' ter do, an' thet is ter stand by
an' suffer them two mill-stones ter grind me ter no powder."
He paused, and the girl had moved forward until she stood at his side
with her outstretched hand resting against the bark of the old tree in a
reverent touch of caress. She ignored the others and spoke to her
husband.
"Back thar in ther beginnin's, Cal," she said, clinging to the name by
which she had first known him, "our foreparents planted this tree--an'
founded this country--an' held hit erginst ther Injuns. They was leaders
then--afore any man hed ever heered of Cappers an' Squireses an' ther
like. I reckon ef men needs a leader now, hit runs in yore blood ter be
one ... but a leader fer betterment--an' one thet gives orders 'stid of
takin' 'em."
She turned then, and with her chin regally high, she left them, and a
brief silence held after her going.
"I reckon I couldn't hardly hev said hit thet well, myself," announced
Parish Thornton, quietly, "but yit hit erbout sums up my answer ter ye."
"Whatever ye says from now on, erbout takin' me er leavin' me, ther
_enemy's_ done picked me out es ther head man of ther Harpers--an' what
they'd love best would be ter see ye all cavillin' amongst yoreselves.
Caleb Harper picked me out, too. Now I aims ter stand by his
choosin'--an' I aims ter be heeded when I talks."
Aaron and Parish stood eye to eye, searching and measuring each other
with gazes that sought to penetrate the surface of words and reach the
core of character. The older man, angry, and insulted though he felt
himself, began to realize about his heart the glow of that unwilling
admiration which comes of compulsion in the presence of human mastery
and pays tribute to inherent power. The quiet assurance of this
self-announced chieftain carried conviction that made argument idle--and
above all else the Thorntons needed an unchallengeable leader.
"Afore God," he murmured, "I believes ye're a _man_!" Then after a pause
he added: "But nobody don't know ye well enough--an' afore a man kin be
trusted ter give orders he's got ter prove hisself."
Parish Thornton laughed.
"Prove yoreself, then, Aaron," he challenged, "ye talks erbout yore
hunger ter avenge yore dead boys--albeit they fell in a pitch-battle an'
ye don't know who deadened 'em--an' ther fire of thet wrath's been
coolin' fer a full score of ya'rs. Why did ye let hit simmer so long?"
"Because I was pledged ter peace an' I wasn't no truce-buster. I sought
ter remain steadfast and bide my time."
"All right. Then ef fresh war-farin' kin be carcumvented, ye still
stands beholden by thet pledge, don't ye?"
"Ef hit kin be, yes--but how kin hit be?"
"Thet's what I aims ter show ye. Ye talks erbout yore grievance. Now
listen ter mine. Ther bullit wound hyar in my shoulder hain't healed
yit--an' thar hain't no hotter fire in hell then my own hate fer
whoever caused hit. So when ye talks ter me about grievances, ye talks
a language I kin onderstand without no lingster ter construe hit."
He paused a moment, unconscious that his term for an interpreter was one
that Englishmen had used in Chaucer's day, and, save here, not since a
long-gone time. Then he swept on, and Sim Squires listening to this man
whom for hire he had waylaid felt an unmanning creep of terror along his
spine; a fear such as he had not felt for any human being before. The
sweat on his face grew clammy, but with a mighty effort he held his
features mask-like.
"But atter you an' me hed evened our scores--what then? Air ye willin'
ter burn down a dwellin' house over ther heads of them inside hit, jest
ter scorch out a feisty dog that's done molested ye? Is thet leadin' men
forwards--or jest backwards like a crawfish?"
"Ye talks," said Aaron Capper, sharply, "like es if I'd stirred up an'
provoked tribulation. Them fellers air a-plottin' tergither right now
over at old Hump Doane's house--an' hell's broth air a-brewin' thar."
The younger man's head came back with a snap.
"Ye says they're holdin' a council over thar at Hump Doane's?" he
demanded.
"Yes--an' hit's a war conf'rence. I've hed men find thet out--they're
right sim'lar ter a swarm of hornets."
Parish Thornton took a step forward.
"Will ther Harpers stand to what ther two of us agrees on tergither in
full accord--an' leave cavillin' an' wranglin' amongst ourselves fer a
more seemly time?"
Aaron nodded his head. "So long as us two stands agreed we kin handle
'em, I reckon."
The young man nodded his head in a gesture of swift decision.
"All right then! I'm goin' over thar ter Hump Doane's house--an' reason
with them hotheads. I'm goin' ter advocate peace as strong es any man
kin--but I'm goin' ter tell 'em, too, thet ther Harpers kin give 'em
unshirted hell ef they disdains peace. I'm goin' ter pledge ourselves
ter holp diskiver an' penitenshery ther man thet shot at old Jim
Rowlett. Does thet suit ye?"
Aaron stood looking at Parish Thornton with eyes blankly dumfounded, and
the other two faces mirrored his bewilderment, then the spokesman broke
into bitterly derisive laughter, and his followers parroted his
mirthless ridicule.
"Hit _mout_ suit me," he finally replied, "save only hit denotes thet
ye're either p'intedly wishful ter throw yore life away--or else plum
bereft of reason."
"Thet's a _secret_ meetin' over thar," interposed Lincoln Thornton,
grimly, "with rifles in ther la'rel ter take keer of trespassers. They'd
stretch ye dead afore ye got nigh enough ter shout out--much less reason
with 'em. Some things is practical an' others is jest damn foolery."
"I took thought of them chances," replied Parish, quietly, "afore I made
my proffer."
This time there was no laughter but Aaron shook his head decisively.
"No," he declared, "hit won't do. Hit's a right bold idee but hit would
be sartain death. Ye're ther man they're cussin' an' damnin' over an'
above all others, over thar--right now."
"All right then," asserted Thornton, crisply, "ef I kin stop 'em from
cussin' an' damnin' me, mebby they mout quiet down again an listen ter
reason. Anyhow, ef ye agrees ter let me bind ye by my words, I'm a-goin'
over thar."
After that the talk was such a discussion of ways and means as takes
place between allies in complete harmony of agreement.
"Afore God in Heaven," exclaimed the old clansman at its end, "ye _air_
a man thet's cut out ter lead! Hev ye got yore pistol handy?"
"Hit's handy enough," answered Parish, "but I don't aim ter go over thar
armed--ef they kills me like ye foretells they will, they've got ter
murder me coldblooded--so all men kin see wh'ar ther fault lays at."