CALUMET PLAYS BETTY'S GAME
The silence between Betty and Calumet continued so long that it grew
oppressive. The night noises came to their ears through the closed
door; a straggling moonbeam flittered through the branches of a tree in
the wood near the ranchhouse, penetrated the window and threw a
rapier-like shaft on Calumet's sneering face. Betty's eyes in the
flickering glare of the candle light, were steady and unwavering as she
vainly searched for any sign of emotion in the mask-like features of
the man seated before her. She saw the mask break presently, and a
cold, mirthless smile wreathe his lips.
"You make me sick," he said slowly. "If you'd had any sense you'd have
told the old fool to go to hell! You're goin' to reform me? You're
goin' to be my judge? You--you--you! Why you poor little sufferin'
innocent, what business have you got here at all? What right have you
got to be settin' there tellin' me that you're goin' to be my judge;
that you're goin' to butt into my game at all? Where's the money?" he
demanded, his voice hard and menacing.
"The money is hidden," she returned quietly.
"Where?"
"That is my business," she returned defiantly. "Where it is hidden no
one but me knows. And I am not going to tell until the time comes.
You are not going to scare me, either," she added confidently. "If you
don't care to abide by your father's wishes you are at liberty to
go--anywhere you please."
"Who'd get the money then?"
"You have a year in which to show that you forgive your father. If at
the end of that time you have not forgiven him, or if you leave the
ranch without agreeing to the provisions of the will, the entire
property comes to me."
"I reckon you'd like to have me leave?" he sneered.
"That," she returned, unruffled, "is my business. But I don't mind
telling you that I have no interest in the matter one way or another.
You may leave if you like, but if you stay you will yield to your
father's wishes if you are to receive the money and the property."
There was finality in her voice; he felt it and his face darkened with
passion. A sneer replaced the mirthless grin on his lips, and when he
got up and moved slowly toward Betty she sat motionless, for there was
a repressed savagery in his movements that chilled her blood. He came
and stood in front of her, towering over her; she saw that his hands
were clenched, the fingers working. Twice she tried to look up at him,
but each time her gaze stopped at his hands--they fascinated her. She
tried to scream when she finally saw them come out toward her, but
succeeded in emitting only a breathless gasp, for a broad, rough palm
suddenly enclosed each of her cheeks and her head was forced slowly and
resistlessly back until she found herself looking straight up at him.
"Why, you," he said, his voice vibrating with some strange passion,
while he shook her head slowly from side to side as though he were
resisting an impulse to throttle her; "why, you--you--" he repeated,
his voice a sudden, tense whisper; "for two bits I'd--"
He hesitated, for she had recovered from her momentary physical and
mental paralysis, roused by the awful threat in his voice and manner,
and was fighting to free herself, clawing at his hands, kicking,
squirming, but ineffectively, for his hands were like bands of steel.
Finding resistance useless she sat rigid again, her eyes flashing
impotent rage and scorn.
"Coward!" she said breathlessly.
For an instant longer he held her and then laughed and dropped his
hands to his sides.
"Shucks," he said, his voice expressing disgust; "I reckon the old man
knowed what he was doin' when he appointed you my guardian! A man
can't fight a woman--like that!"
He walked to the chair upon which he had been sitting, turned it around
so that its back was toward Betty, and straddled it, leaning his arms
on its back and resting his chin on them.
"Well," he said, with a slow grin at her; "if it will do you any good
to know, I've decided to stay here and let you practice on me. What's
the first move?"
But his action had aroused her; she stood up and confronted him, her
face flushed with shame and indignation.
"Leave this house!" she commanded, taking a step toward him and
speaking rapidly and hoarsely, her voice quivering as though she had
been running; "leave it instantly!" She stamped a foot to emphasize
the order.
Calumet did not move. He watched her, a smile on his lips, his eyes
narrowed. When she stamped her foot the smile grew to a short, amused
laugh.
"Sorta riled, eh?" he jeered. "Well, go as far as you like--you're
sure amusin'. But I don't reckon that I'll be leavin' here in a hurry.
Didn't the old man tell you I could stay here a year? What's the use
of me goin' now, just when you're goin' to start to reform me? Why,"
he finished, surveying her with interest; "I reckon the old man would
be plumb tickled to see the way you're carryin' on--obeyin' his last
wishes." He rested his head on his arms and laughed heartily.
He heard her step across the floor, and raised his head again, to look
into the muzzle of the pistol he had laid on the desk. It was close to
him, steady in her hands, and behind it her eyes were blazing with
wrath and determination.
"Go!" she ordered sharply; "go now--this minute, or I will shoot you!"
He laughed recklessly into the muzzle of the weapon and then without
visible excitement turned in his chair, reached out a swift hand,
grasped the weapon by the barrel and depressed the menacing muzzle so
that it pointed straight downward. Holding it thus in spite of her
frantic efforts to wrench it free, he got to his feet and stood in
front of her.
"Why, Betty," he jeered; "you're sure some excited." Seizing her other
hand, he turned her around so that she faced him fairly, holding her
with a grip so tight that she could not move.
"It's your game, ain't it?" he said mockingly. "Well, I'm playin' it
with you. Somethin' seems to tell me that we're goin' to have a daisy
time makin' a go of it."
He suddenly released her hands and stepped back, leaving her in
possession of the pistol.
"Usin' it?" he questioned, drawling, nodding toward the weapon. Betty
looked down at it, shuddered, and then with an expression of dread and
horror reached out and laid it gingerly on the desk top.
The next instant Calumet stood alone, grinning widely at the door
through which Betty had vanished. Listening, he heard her retreating
steps, heard a distant door slam. He walked to the desk and looked at
the pistol, then turned and surveyed the room with a speculative eye.
"She didn't even offer me a place to sleep," he said mockingly.
He stood for an instant longer, debating the situation. Then he
crossed the floor, closed the dining-room door, fastened it securely
and recrossing to the outside door stepped down from the porch and
sought his pony. Ten minutes later he carried the saddle in, threw it
on the floor, folded the saddle blanket and placed it on the sofa,
closed the outside door, opened the window, snuffed out the candle,
stretched himself out on the sofa and went to sleep.