There were five days of terrific storm. Truedale and Nella-Rose had
fought to save White's live stock--even his cabin itself; for the deluge
had attacked that while leaving safe the smaller cabin near by. All one
morning they had worked gathering debris and placing it so that it
turned the course of a rapid stream that threatened the larger house. It
had been almost a lost hope, but as the day wore on the torrent
lessened, the rough barrier held--they were successful! The gate and
snake-fence were carried away, but the rest was saved!
In the strenuous labour, in the dangerous isolation, the ordinary things
of life lost their importance. With death facing them their love and
companionship were all that were left to them and neither counted the
cost. But on the sixth day the sun shone, the flood was past, and with
safety and the sure coming of Jim White at hand, they sat confronting
each other in a silence new and potent.
"Sweetheart, you must go--for a few hours!"
Truedale bent across the table that separated them and took her clasped
hands in his. He had burned all his social bridges, but poor
Nella-Rose's progress through life had not been made over anything so
substantial as bridges. She had proceeded by scrambling down and up
primitive obstacles; she felt that at last she had come to her Land of
Promise.
"You are going to send me--away? Where?"
"Only until White returns, little girl. See here, dear, you and I are
quite gloriously mad, but others are stupidly sane and we've got to
think of them."
Truedale was talking over her head, but already Nella-Rose accepted this
as a phase of their new relations. A mountain man might still love his
woman even if he beat her and, while Nella-Rose would have scorned the
suggestion that she was a mountain woman, she did seriously believe that
men were different from women and that was the end of the matter!
"You run along, small girl of mine--the skies are clear, the sun
warm--but I want you to meet me at three o'clock at the spot where the
trail joins the road. I will be there and I will wait for you."
"But why?--why?" The blue-gray eyes were troubled.
"Sweetheart, we're going to find that minister of yours if we have to
travel from one end of the hills to the other!"
"But we-all are married!" This with a little gasp. "Back on the hill,
when you told God and said He understood; then we-all were married."
"And so we were, my sweet, no minister could make you more mine than
you already are, but the others--your people. Should they try to
separate us they might cause trouble and the minister can make it
impossible for any one to take you away from my love and care."
And at that moment Truedale actually believed what he said. In his heart
he had always been a rebel--defiant and impotent. He had, in this
instance, proved his theories; but he did not intend to leave loose ends
that might endanger the safety of others--of this young girl, most of
all. He was only going to carry out his original plans for her
safety--not his own. After the days just past--days of anxiety, relief,
and the proving of his love and hers--no doubt remained in Truedale's
heart; he was of the hills, now and forever!
"No one can--_now_!" This came passionately from Nella-Rose as she
watched him.
"They might make trouble until they found that out. They're too free
with their guns. There's a lot to explain, little doney-gal." Conning
smiled down her doubts.
"Until three o'clock!" Nella-Rose pouted, "that's a right long time. But
I'll--just run along. Always and always I'm going to do what you say!"
Already his power over her was absolute. She put her arms out with a
happy, wilful gesture and Truedale held her closer.
"Only until three, sweetheart."
Nella-Rose drew herself away and turned to pick up her little shawl and
hat from the couch by the fire; she was just reaching for her basket,
when a shadow fell across the floor. Truedale and the girl turned and
confronted--Jim White! What he had seen and heard--who could tell from
his expressionless face and steady voice? The door had been on the latch
and he had come in!
"Mail, and truck, and rabbits!" he explained, tossing his load upon the
table. Then he turned toward Truedale as if noticing him for the first
time.
"How-de?" he said. Finally his gaze shifted to Nella-Rose and seemed to
burn into her soul.
"Goin', p'r'aps, or--comin'?" he questioned.
"I--I am--going!" Fright and dismay marked the girl's voice. Truedale
went toward her. The covert brutality in White's words shocked and
angered him. He gave no thought to the cause, but he resented the
insult.
"Wait!" he commanded, for Nella-Rose was gone through the open door.
"Wait!"
Seeing that she had for the moment escaped him, Truedale turned to White
and confronted him with clear, angry eyes.
"What have you got to say for yourself?" he demanded fiercely.
The shock had been tremendous for Jim. Three weeks previously he had
left his charge safe and alone; he had come back and found--But shock
always stiffened Jim White; that was one reason for his success in life.
He was never so inflexible and deadly self-possessed as he was when he
could not see the next step ahead.
"Gawd, but I'm tired!" he said, when he had stared at Truedale as long
as he cared to, "I'm going over to my place to turn in. Seems like I'll
sleep for a month once I get started."
"You don't go, White, until you explain what you meant by--"
But Truedale mistook his man. Jim, having drawn his own conclusion,
laughed and strode toward the door.
"I go when I'm damned pleased ter go!" he flung out derisively, "and I
come the same way, young feller. There's mail for yo' in the sack and--a
telegram." White paused by the door a moment while Truedale picked the
yellow envelope from the bag and tore it open.
"Your uncle died suddenly on the 16th. Come at once. Vitally
important. McPHERSON."
For a moment both men forgot the thing that had driven them wide apart.
"Bad news?" asked the sheriff.
Something was happening to Truedale--he felt as if the effect of some
narcotic were losing its power; the fevered unreality was giving place
to sensation but the brain was recording it dully.
"What date is this?" he asked, dazed.
"Twenty-fifth," Jim replied as he moved out of the door.
"When can I get a train from the station?"
"There's one as leaves anywhere 'twixt nine and ten ter-night."
"That gives me time to pack. See here, White, while it isn't any of your
business, I want to explain a thing or two--before I go. I'll be back as
soon as I can--in a week or ten days at furthest. When I return I intend
to stay on, probably for the rest of my life."
White still held Truedale by the cold, steely gleam of his eyes which
was driving lucidity home to the dulled brain. By a power as unyielding
as death Jim was destroying the screen Truedale had managed to raise
against the homely codes of life and was leaving his guest naked and
exposed.
The shock of the telegram--the pause it evolved--had given Truedale time
to catch the meaning of White's attitude; now that he realized it, he
knew he must lay certain facts open--he could not wait until his return.
Presently Jim spoke from outside the door.
"I ain't settin' up for no critic. I ain't by nater a weigher or trimmer
and I don't care a durn for what ain't my business. When I _see_ my
business I settle it in my own way!"--there was almost a warning in
this. "I'm dead tired, root and branch. I'm goin' ter take a bite an'
turn in. I may sleep a couple o' days; put off yo' 'splainifyin' 'til
yo' come back ter end yo' days. Take the mare an' leave her by the
trail; she'll come home. Tell old Doc McPherson I was askin' arter him."
By that time Jim had ceased scorching his way to Truedale's soul and was
on the path to his own cabin.
"Looks like yo' had a tussle with the storm," he remarked. "Any livin'
thing killed?"
"No."
"Thank yo'!" Then, as if determined not to share any further confidence,
White strode on.
For a moment Truedale stood and stared after his host in impotent rage.
Was Jim White such a lily of purity that he presumed to take that
attitude? Was the code of the hills that of the Romany gypsies? How dare
any man judge and sentence another without trial?
The effect of the narcotic still worked sluggishly, now that White's
irritating presence was removed. Truedale shrugged his shoulders and
turned to his packing. He was feverishly eager to get to Nella-Rose.
Before nightfall she would be his before the world; in two weeks he
would be back; the future would shame White and bring him to his senses.
Jim had a soft heart; he was just, in his brutal fashion. When he
understood how matters were, he would feel like the fool he was--a fool
willing to cast a man off, unheard! But Truedale blamed himself for the
hesitation that meant so much. The telegram--his fear of making a wrong
step--had caused the grave mistake that could not be righted now.
At two o'clock Truedale started--on Jim's mare! White's cabin had all
the appearance of being barred against intrusion. Truedale did not mean
to test this, but it hurt him like a blow. However, there was nothing to
do but remedy, as soon as possible, the error he had permitted to arise.
No man on earth could make Nella-Rose more his than his love and good
faith had made her, still he was eager now to resort to all the
time-honoured safeguards before he left. Once married he would go with a
heart almost light. He would confide everything to Kendall and Lynda--at
least he would his marriage--and urge them to return with him to the
hills, and after that White and all the others would have an awakening.
The possibility thus conceived was like a flood of light and sweet air
in a place dark and bewildering but not evil--no, not that!
As he turned from the clearing Truedale looked back at his cabin.
Nella-Rose seemed still there. She would always be part of it just as
she was now part of his life. He would try and buy the cabin--it would
be sacrilege for others to enter!
So he hurried the mare on, hoping to be at the crossing before
Nella-Rose.
The crisp autumn air was redolent of pines and the significance of
summer long past. It had a physical and spiritual power.
Then turning suddenly from the trail, Truedale saw Nella-Rose sitting on
a rock--waiting! She had on a rough, mannish-looking coat, and a coarse,
red hood covered her bright head. Nella-Rose was garbed in winter
attire. She had worn this outfit for five years and it looked it.
Never again was Truedale to see a face of such radiant joy and trust as
the girl turned upon him. Her eyes were wide and filled with a light
that startled him. He jumped from the horse and took her in his arms.
"What is it?" he asked, fearing some intangible danger.
"The minister was killed by the flood!" Nella-Rose's tones were
thrilling. "He was going through Devil-may-come Hollow and a mighty big
rock struck him and--he's dead!"
"Then you must come with me, Nella-Rose." Truedale set his lips grimly;
there was no time to lose. Between three and nine o'clock surely they
could locate a minister or a justice of the peace. "Come!"
"But why, Mister Man?" She laughed up at him. "Where?"
"It doesn't matter. To New York if necessary. Jump up!" He turned to the
horse, holding the girl close.
"Me go away--in this? Me shame you before--them-all?"
Nella-Rose stood her ground and throwing the rough coat back displayed
her shabby, shrunken dress.
"I went home--they-all were away. I got my warm things, but I have a
white dress and a pink ribbon--I'll get them to-morrow. Then--But why
must we go--away?"
For the first time this thought caught her--she had been whirled along
too rapidly before to note it.
"I have had word that my uncle is dead. I must go at once, my dear, and
you--you must come with me. Would you let a little thing like a--a dress
weigh against our love, and honour?"
Above the native's horror of being dragged from her moorings was that
subtle understanding of honour that had come to Nella-Rose by devious
ways from a source that held it sacred.
"Honour?" she repeated softly; "honour? If I thought I had to go in rags
to make you sure; if I thought I needed to--I'd--"
Truedale saw his mistake. Realizing that if in the little time yet his
he made her comprehend, he might lose more than he could hope to gain,
he let her free while he took a card and pen from his pocket. He wrote
clearly and exactly his address, giving his uncle's home as his.
"Nella-Rose," he said calmly, "I shall be back in two or three weeks at
the latest, but if at any moment you want me, send word here--telegraph
from the station--_you_ come first, always! You are wiser than I, my
sweet; our honour and love are our own. Wait for me, my doney-gal
and--trust me."
She was all joy again--all sweetness. He kissed her, turned, then came
back.
"Where will you go, my darling?" he asked.
"Since they-all do not know"--she was lying against his breast, her eyes
heavy now with grief at the parting--"I reckon I will go home--to wait."
Solemnly Truedale kissed her and turned dejectedly away. Once again he
paused and looked back. She stood against the tree, small and shabby,
but the late afternoon sun transfigured her. In the gloomy setting of
the woods, that fair, little face shone like a gleaming star and so
Truedale remembered her and took her image with him on his lonely way.
Nella-Rose watched him out of sight and then she turned and did
something that well might make one wonder if a wise God or a cruel demon
controls our fates--she ran away from the home path and took the trail
leading far back to the cabin of old Lois Ann!
There was safety; there were compassion and comprehension. The old woman
could tell marvellous tales and so could beguile the waiting days.
Nella-Rose meant to confide in her and ask her to hide her until
Truedale came for her. It was a sudden inspiration and it brought
relief.
And that night--it was past midnight and cold as the north land--Burke
Lawson came face to face with Jed Martin! Lawson was issuing from his
cranny behind the old still and Martin was nosing about alone. He, like
a hungry thing of the wilds, had found his foe's trail and meant to bag
him unaided and have full vengeance and glory. But so unexpectedly, and
alarmingly unconcerned, did Burke materialize in the emptiness that
Jed's gun was a minute too late in getting into position. Lawson had the
drop on him! They were both very quiet for a moment, then Lawson laughed
and did it so boldly that Jed shrank back.
"Coming to make a friendly call, Martin?"
"Something like that!"
"Well, come in, come right in!"
"I reckon you an' me can settle what we've got ter settle in the open!"
Jed stuttered. It seemed a hideous, one-sided settlement.
"As yo' please, Jed, as yo' please. I have a leanin' to the open myself.
I'd just decided ter come out; I was going up ter Jim White's and help
him mete out justice, but maybe you and me can save him the trouble."
"You--goin' ter shoot me, Burke--like a--like a--hedgehog?"
"No. I'm goin' ter do unto yo' as yo' would have--" Here Burke
laughed--he was enjoying himself hugely.
"What yo' mean?"
"Well, I'm goin' ter put yer in my quarters and tie yer to a chair.
Yo'll be able to wiggle out in time, but it will take yer long enough
fur me to do what I'm set about doin'. Yo' torn down traitor!--yo' were
'lowing to put me behind bars, wasn't yer? Yo' meant to let outsiders
take the life out o' me--yo' skunk! Well, instead, Jed--I'm goin' on my
weddin' trip--me and lil' Nella-Rose. I've seen her; she done promised
to have me, when I come out o' hidin'. I'm coming out now! Nella-Rose
an' me are goin' to find a bigger place than Pine Cone Settlement. Yo'll
wiggle yer blasted hide loose by mornin' maybe; but then her an' me'll
be where you-all can't ketch us! Go in there, now, you green lizard;
turn about an' get on yer belly like the crawlin' thing yo' are! That's
it--go! the way opens up."
Jed was crawling through the bushes, Lawson after him with levelled gun.
"Now, then, take a seat an' make yerself ter home!" Jed got to the chair
and turned a green-white face upon his tormentor.
"Yer goin' ter let me starve here?" he asked with shaking voice.
"That depends on yo' power to wiggle. See, I tie you so!" Lawson had
pounced upon Jed and had him pinioned. "I ain't goin' ter turn a key on
yer like yo' was aimin' ter do on me! It's up to yo' an' yer wigglin'
powers, when yo' get free. The emptier yer belly is, the more room
ye'll have fer wiggling. God bless yer! yer dog-gone hound! Bless yer
an'--curse yer! I'm off--with the doney-gal!"
And off he was--he and his cruel but gay laugh.
There was no fire in the cave-like place; no light but the indirect
moonlight which slanted through the opening. It was death or wiggle for
Jed Martin--so he wiggled!
In the meantime, Burke headed for Jim White's. He meant to play a high
game there--to fling himself on White's mercy--appeal to the liking he
knew the sheriff had for him--confess his love for Nella-Rose--make his
promise for future redemption and then go, scot-free, to claim the girl
who had declared he might speak when once again he dared walk upright
among his fellows. So Lawson planned and went bravely to the doing of
it.