RED WRITING
He stirred.
"Dan--dear!"
"My head," he muttered, "it sort of aches, Kate, as if--"
He was silent and she knew that he remembered.
"You're all right now, honey. I've come here to take care of you--I
won't leave you. Poor Dan!"
"How did you know?" he asked, the words trailing.
"Black Bart came for me."
"Good ol' Bart!"
The great wolf slunk closer, and licked the outstretched hand.
"Why, Kate, I'm on the floor and it's dark. Am I still in Morgan's
place? Yes, I begin to see clearer."
He made an effort to rise, but she pressed him back.
"If you try to move right away you may get a fever. I'm going back
to the house, and I'll bring you down some blankets. Morgan says you
shouldn't attempt to move for several hours. He says you've lost a
great deal of blood and that you mustn't make any effort or ride a
horse till tomorrow."
Dan relaxed with a sigh.
"Kate."
"Yes, honey."
Her hand travelled lightly as blown snow across his forehead. He
caught it and pressed the coolness against his cheek.
"I feel as if I'd sort of been through a fire. I seem to be still
seein' red."
"Dan, it makes me feel as if I never knew you! Now you must forget all
that has happened. Promise me you will!"
He was silent for a moment and then he sighed again.
"Maybe I can, Kate. Which I feel, though, as if there was somethin'
inside me writ--writ in red letters--I got to try to read the writin'
before I can talk much."
She barely heard him. Her hand was still against his face. A deep awe
and content was creeping through her, so that she began to smile and
was glad that the dark covered her face. She felt abashed before him
for the first time in her life, and there was a singular sense of
shame. It was as if some door in her inner heart had opened so that
Dan was at liberty to look down into her soul. There was terror in
this feeling, but there was also gladness.
"Kate."
"Yes--honey!"
"What were you hummin'?"
She started.
"I didn't know I was humming, Dan."
"You were, all right. It sounded sort of familiar, but I couldn't
figger out where I heard it."
"I know now. It's one of your own tunes."
Now she felt a tremor so strong that she feared he would notice it.
"I must go back to the house, Dan. Maybe Dad has returned. If he has,
perhaps he can arrange to have you carried back tonight."
"I don't want to think of movin', Kate. I feel mighty comfortable.
I'm forgettin' all about that ache in my head. Ain't that queer? Why,
Kate, what in the world are you laughin' about?"
"I don't know, Dan. I'm just happy!"
"Kate."
"Yes?"
"I like you pretty much."
"I'm so glad!"
"You an' Black Bart, an' Satan--"
"Oh!" Her tone changed.
"Why are you tryin' to take your hand away, Kate?"
"Don't you care for me any more than for your horse--and your dog?"
He drew a long breath, puzzled.
"It's some different, I figger."
"Tell me!"
"If Black Bart died--"
The wolf-dog whined, hearing his name.
"Good ol' Bart! Well, if Black Bart died maybe I'd some day have
another dog I'd like almost as much."
"Yes."
"An' if Satan died--even Satan!--maybe I could sometime like another
hoss pretty well--if he was a pile like Satan! But if you was to
die--it'd be different, a considerable pile different."
"Why?"
His pauses to consider these questions were maddening.
"I don't know," he muttered at last.
Once more she was thankful for the dark to hide her smile.
"Maybe you know the reason, Kate?"
Her laughter was rich music. His hold on her hand relaxed. He was
thinking of a new theme. When he laughed in turn it startled her. She
had never heard that laugh before.
"What is it, Dan?"
"He was pretty big, Kate. He was bigger'n almost any man I ever seen!
It was kind of funny. After he hit me I was almost glad. I didn't hate
him--"
"Dear Dan!"
"I didn't hate him--I jest nacherally wanted to kill him--and wantin'
to do that made me glad. Isn't that funny, Kate?"
He spoke of it as a chance traveller might point out a striking
feature of the landscape to a companion.
"Dan, if you really care for me you must drop the thought of him."
His hand slipped away.
"How can I do that? That writin' I was tellin' you about--"
"Yes?"
"It's about him!"
"Ah!"
"When he hit me the first time--"
"I won't hear you tell of it!"
"The blood come down my chin--jest a little trickle of it. It was
warm, Kate. That was what made me hot all through."
Her hands fell limp, cold, lifeless.
"It's as clear as the print in a book. I've got to finish him. That's
the only way I can forget the taste of my own blood."
"Dan, listen to me!"
He laughed again, in the new way. She remembered that her father had
dreaded the very thing that had come to Dan--this first taste of his
own powers--this first taste (she shuddered) of blood!
"Dan, you've told me that you like me. You have to make a choice now,
between pursuing this man, and me."
"You don't understand," he explained carefully. "I _got_ to follow
him. I can't help it no more'n Black Bart can help howlin' when he
sees the moon."
He fell silent, listening. Far across the hills came the plaintive
wail of a coyote--that shrill bodiless sound. Kate trembled.
"Dan!"
Outside, Satan whinnied softly like a call. She leaned and her lips
touched his. He thrust her away almost roughly.
"They's blood on my lips, Kate! I can't kiss you till they're clean."
He turned his head.
"You must listen to me, Dan!"
"Kate, would you talk to the wind?"
"Yes, if I loved the wind!"
He turned his head.
She pleaded: "Here are my hands to cover your eyes and shut out the
thoughts of this man you hate. Here are my lips, dear, to tell you
that I love you unless this thirst for killing carries you away from
me. Stay with me! Give me your heart to keep gentle!"
He said nothing, but even through the dark she was aware of a struggle
in his face, and then, through the gloom, she began to see his
eyes more clearly. They seemed to be illuminated by a light from
within--they changed--there was a hint of yellow in the brown. And she
spoke again, blindly, passionately.
"Give me your promise! It is so easy to do. One little word will make
you safe. It will save you from yourself."
Still he answered nothing. Black Bart came and crouched at his head
and stared at her fixedly.
"Speak to me!"
Only the yellow light answered her. Cold fear fought in her heart, but
love still struggled against it.
"For the last time--for God's sake, Dan!"
Still that silence. She rose, shaking and weak. The changeless eyes
followed her. Only fear remained now. She backed towards the door,
slowly, then faster, and faster. At the threshold she whirled and
plunged into the night.
Up the road she raced. Once she stumbled and fell to her knees. She
cried out and glanced behind her, breathing again when she saw that
nothing followed. At the house she made no pause, though she heard the
voice of her father singing. She could not tell him. He should be the
last in all the world to know. She went to her room and huddled into
bed.
Presently a knock came at her door, and her father's voice asked if
she were ill. She pleaded that she had a bad headache and wished to be
alone. He asked if she had seen Dan. By a great effort she managed to
reply that Dan had ridden to a neighbouring ranch. Her father left
the door without further question. Afterwards she heard him in the
distance singing his favourite mournful ballads. It doubled her sense
of woe and brought home the clinging fear. She felt that if she could
weep she might live, but otherwise her heart would burst. And after
hours and hours of that torture which burns the name of "woman" in the
soul of a girl, the tears came. The roosters announced the dawn before
she slept.
Late the next morning old Joe Cumberland knocked again at her door. He
was beginning to fear that this illness might be serious. Moreover, he
had a definite purpose in rousing her.
"Yes?" she called, after the second knock.
"Look out your window, honey, down to Morgan's place. You remember I
said I was goin' to clean up the landscape?"
The mention of Morgan's place cleared the sleep from Kate's mind and
it brought back the horror of the night before. Shivering she slipped
from her bed and went to the window. Morgan's place was a mass of
towering flames!
She grasped the window-sill and stared again. It could not be. It must
be merely another part of the nightmare, and no reality. Her father's
voice, high with exultation, came dimly to her ears, but what she saw
was Dan as he had laid there the night before, hurt, helpless, too
weak to move!
"There's the end of it," Joe Cumberland was saying complacently
outside her door. "There ain't goin' to be even a shadow of the saloon
left nor nothin' that's in it. I jest travelled down there this
mornin' and touched a match to it!"
Still she stared without moving, without making a sound. She was
seeing Dan as he must have wakened from a swoonlike sleep with the
smell of smoke and the heat of rising flames around him. She saw him
struggle, and fail to reach his feet. She almost heard him cry out--a
sound drowned easily by the roar of the fire, and the crackling of the
wood. She saw him drag himself with his hands across the floor, only
to be beaten back by a solid wall of flame. Black Bart crouched beside
him and would not leave his doomed master. Fascinated by the raging
fire the black stallion Satan would break from the shed and rush into
the flames!--and so the inseparable three must have perished together!
"Why don't you speak, Kate?" called her father.
"Dan!" she screamed, and pitched forward to the floor.