The fifth instalment of "hush-money," that had been paid to Jerry Rook,
proved to be the last.
On meeting the contracting parties, and applying for the sixth, he found
to his great surprise, as well as chagrin, that the grand secret was
gone out of his keeping, and his power over them at an end!
They were not only prepared to repudiate, but talked of his refunding,
and even threatened to lynch him upon the spot.
So far from making his claim, he was but too glad to get out of their
company.
It is probable they would have insisted upon the repayment, or put
lynching in practice, but for fear of the scandal that either must
necessarily create in the community. To this was Jerry indebted for his
escape from their vengeful indignation.
"Who could have told them that Pierre Robideau still lived?"
This was the question put by Jerry Rook to himself, as he rode back to
his house, filled with mortification. He asked it a score of times,
amid oaths and angry ejaculations.
It could not have been Pierre himself, who was now his welcome guest,
and had been so ever since the night of that strange rencontre under the
cottonwood? Though the returned gold-seeker had strolled about the
clearing, with Lena for a companion, he had never once gone beyond its
boundaries, and could scarce have been seen by any outsider. No one--
neighbour or stranger--had been near the house. The half-dozen negroes
who belonged to Jerry Rook, had no previous acquaintance with Pierre
Robideau's person; and, even had it been otherwise, they would scarce
have recognised him now. It was not through them the information had
reached Alfred Brandon and his associates. Who, then, could have been
the informer?
For the life of him Jerry Rook could not guess; and Pierre himself, when
told of it, was equally puzzled upon the point.
The only conjecture at all probable, was, that some one had seen and
identified him--one of the gang themselves; or it might have been some
individual totally uninterested, who, by chance, had seen and recognised
him, soon after his arrival at the stand.
Now that his being alive was known to them, there was no longer any
object in his keeping concealed; and he went about the settlements as of
yore, at times visiting the town of Helena, for the purchase of such
commodities as he required.
He had taken up his stay at the house of his former host, and was so
often seen in the company of his host's daughter, that it soon became
talked of in the neighbourhood. Those who took any interest in the
affairs of Jerry Rook's family were satisfied that his daughter, so long
resisting, had at length yielded her heart to the dark-skinned, but
handsome stranger, who was staying at her father's house.
There were few accustomed to have communication with either the quondam
squatter or his people. It was a time when there were many new comers
among the surrounding settlements, and a stranger, of whatever kind,
attracted but slight attention. Under these circumstances Pierre
Robideau escaped much notice, and many remarks that might otherwise have
been made about him.
There were more than one, however, keenly sensible of his existence--his
success with Lena Rook--who saw with black bitterness that the smiles of
that young lady were being bestowed upon him.
Bill Buck was among the number of these disappointed aspirants; but the
chief sufferer was Alfred Brandon. With heart on fire, and bosom
brimful of jealous rage, he heard all the talk about Jerry Rook's
daughter and her stranger sweetheart.
It in no way tranquilised his spirits when Jerry Rook returned him his
loan of stores and dollars, and promptly on the first demand. It but
farther embittered it; for he could not help knowing whence the money
had come. He saw that his wealth would no longer avail him. There
would be no chance now of reducing the parent to that penury that would
give him power over the child. His scheme had fallen through? and he
set himself to the concoction of some new plan that would help him
either to Lena Rook or revenge.
He spent nearly the whole of his time in reflecting upon his atrocious
purpose--brooding over it until he had come to the determination of
committing murder!
Several times he had thought of this, but on each occasion had recoiled
at the thought, less from horror of the crime itself, than through fear
of the consequences.
He had half resolved to make common cause with Bill Buck, and induce him
to become a confederate in the foul deed. But the doubtful character of
the horse-dealer's son, each day getting darker, had scared him from
entering into such a perilous partnership; and he still kept his designs
locked up within his own troubled bosom.
Strange enough, Buck was at the same time entertaining in his own mind a
scheme of assassination, and with the same victim in view.
Without suspecting it, Pierre Robideau was in double danger.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was about ten days after the returned gold-seeker had taken up his
residence at the house of Jerry Rook, when an errand called him to the
town of Helena. It was the mending of his bridle-bit, which had been
broken by accident, and required to be half an hour in the hands of a
blacksmith.
It was the bridle he had brought with him from the Choctaw country--an
Indian article with reins of plaited horsehair--and as he had no other,
it necessitated his going afoot.
In this way he started from Jerry Rook's house, leaving Jerry Rook's
daughter at the door, looking lovingly after and calling him to come
soon back.
The distance was not great; and in less than an hour after he was
standing in the blacksmith's shop, a tranquil spectator to the welding
of his broken bit.
There was one who saw him there, whose spirit was less composed--one who
had seen him entering the town, and had sauntered after at a distance,
careless like, but closely watching him. This was not a citizen of the
place; but a man in planter costume, who, by the spurs on his heels, had
evidently ridden in from the country. In his hand he carried a rifle,
as was common at the time to all going abroad, no matter to what
distance, on horseback.
The man thus armed and accoutred was Alfred Brandon.
There were plenty of other people in the streets, and but few took note
of him as he walked carelessly along. No one noticed the lurid light in
his eye, nor the tight contraction of his lips that spoke of some
dangerous design.
Much less were these indications observed by the man who was calling
them forth. Standing beside the blacksmith's forge, quietly watching
the work, Pierre Robideau had no thought of the eyes that were upon him,
nor did he even know that Brandon was in the town.
Little dreamt he at that moment how near was a treacherous enemy
thirsting for his blood.
Brandon's design was to pick a quarrel with the stranger, and before the
latter could draw in his defence, shoot him down in his track. In this
there would be nothing strange for the streets of Helena, nor anything
very reprehensible. Pierre was armed with knife and pistol, but both
were carried unseen.
All at once the planter appeared to recoil from his purpose, and looking
askant, he spent some time in surveying his intended victim, and as if
calculating the chances of a rencontre. Perhaps the stalwart frame and
strong vigorous arms of the _ci-devant_ gold-seeker rendered him
apprehensive about the issue, and caused him to change his resolution.
The protruding breast of Pierre Robideau's coat told of pistol or other
weapon, and should the first fire fail, his own life, and not that of
his unsuspecting adversary, might be the forfeit in the affray.
While thus communing with his own mind, a still fouler thought came into
it, kindling in his eye with more sinister lights.
Suddenly turning away, as if from some change of design, he patrolled
back along the street, entered the stable where he had left his horse,
and, mounting inside the stable-yard, rode hastily out of the town.