AFTER ONE YEAR
Scandal was rampant in Barnriff. But it was not of an open nature.
That is to say, it was scandal that passed surreptitiously from lip to
lip, and was rarely spoken where more than two people foregathered.
For small as Barnriff was, ignorant as were the majority of its
people, scandal was generally tabooed, and it was only in bad cases
where it was allowed to riot.
The reason of this restraint was simple enough. It was not that the
people of the village were any different to those of other small
places. They loved gossip as dearly as anybody else--when to gossip
was safe. But years ago Barnriff had learned that gossip was not
always safe in its midst.
The fact was that the peace laws of the place were largely enforced by
a process which might be called the "survival of the strong." There
were no duly authorized peace officers, and the process had evolved
out of this condition of things. Quarrels and bloodshed were by no
means frequent in the village, rather the reverse, and this was due to
the regulations governing peace.
If two men quarreled it was on the full understanding of the possible
and probable consequences; namely, a brief and effective life and
death struggle, followed by a sudden and immediate departure from the
fold of the survivor. Hence, scandal was held in close check, and
traveled slowly, with the slow twistings and windings of a venemous
snake. But for this very reason it was the more deadly, and was the
more surely based upon undeniable fact. The place was just now
a-simmer with suppressed scandal.
And its object. It was only a year since Eve and Will Henderson's
marriage. A sufficiently right and proper affair, said public opinion.
There were of course protestors. Many of the women had expected Eve to
marry Jim Thorpe. But then they were of the more mature section of the
population, those whose own marriages had taught them worldly wisdom,
and blotted out the early romance of their youths. It had been a love
match, a match where youth runs riot, and the madness of it sweeps its
victims along upon its hot tide. Now the tide was cooling, some said
it was already cold.
After their brief honeymoon the young people had returned to the
village. The understanding was that Eve should again take up her
business, while Will continued his season up in the hills, hunting
with his traps and gun. He was to visit Barnriff at intervals during
the season, and finally return and stay with Eve during the months
when the furs he might take would be unfit for the market. This was
the understanding, and in theory it was good, and might well have been
carried out satisfactorily. All went passably well until the close of
the fur season.
Eve returned to the village a bright and happy woman. She took up her
business again, and, perhaps, the novelty of her married state was the
reason that at first her trade increased. Then came Will's visits. At
first they were infrequent, with the arranged-for laps of time between
them. But gradually they became more frequent and their duration
longer. The women wagged their heads. "He is so deeply in love, he
can't stay away," they said. And they smiled approval, for they were
women, and women can never look on unmoved at the sight of a happy
love match. But against this the men shrugged their shoulders. "He's
wastin' a heap o' time," they said; "pelts needs chasin' some, an' y'
can't chase pelts an' make love to your own wife or any one else's,
for that matter." And this was their way of expressing a kindly
interest.
The men were right and the women were wrong. Will did more than waste
time. He literally pitched it away. He prolonged his stays in the
village beyond all reason, and as Eve, dutifully engaged upon her
business, could not give him any of her working hours, he was forced
to seek his pleasures elsewhere. That elsewhere, in a man prone to
drink, of necessity became the saloon. And the saloon meant gambling,
gambling meant money. Sometimes he won a little, but more often he
lost.
Being a reckless player, fired by the false stimulation of Rocket's
bad whiskey, he began to plunge to recoup himself, and, as ever
happens in such circumstances, he got deeper into the mire. At first
these heavy losses had a salutary effect upon him, and he would "hit
the trail" for the hills, and once more ply his trade with a feverish
zest.
This sort of thing went on until the close of his fur season. Then he
made up his bales of pelts, and, to his horror, discovered that his
year's "catch" was reduced by over fifty per cent., while, in place of
a wad of good United States currency in his hip pocket, he had floated
a perfect fleet of I. O. U.'s, each in itself for a comparatively
small amount, but collectively a total of no inconsiderable magnitude.
And each I. O. U. was dated for payment immediately after he had
marketed his pelts.
This stress, and the life he had been living in Barnriff, caused his
mercurial temper to suffer. And as his nature soured, so all that was
worst in him began to rise to the surface. He did not blame himself.
Did ever one hear of a man blaming himself when things went wrong? No.
He blamed the fur season. The hills were getting played out. The furs
were traveling north, and, in consequence were scarce. Besides, how
could he be in Barnriff and the hills at the same time? The position
was absurd. Eve must join him and give up her business, and they must
make their home up in the hills where she could learn to trap. Or they
must live in Barnriff and he must find fresh employment.
Yes, he would certainly find out how Eve's business was prospering. If
she had shown a better turnover than he, perhaps it would be as well
for him to go into Barnriff for good. The idea rather pleased him. Nor
could he see any drawback to it except those confounded I. O. U.'s.
The next news that Barnriff had was that Will and Eve were settled for
good in the village, and that he had no intention of returning to the
hills. Barnriff's comment was mixed. The women said, "Poor dears, they
can't live apart." Again the men disagreed. Their charity was less
kind, especially amongst those who had yet to collect the payment of
their I. O. U.'s. They said with sarcastic smile, "Wants to live on
his woman, and play 'draw.'" And time soon showed them to be
somewhere near the mark.
Will sold his furs, paid his debts, sighed his relief, and settled
down to a life in Barnriff. A month later he found to his profound
chagrin that the small margin of dollars left over after paying off
his I. O. U.'s had vanished, and a fresh crop of paper was beginning
to circulate. Whiskey and "draw" had got into his blood, and all
unconsciously he found himself pledged to it.
It was during this time that scandal definitely laid its clutch upon
the village. But it was not until later that its forked tongue grew
vicious. It was at the time that word got round the village that there
was trouble in Eve's little home that the caldron began to seethe. No
one knew how it got round; yet it surely did. Scandal said that Eve
and Will quarreled, that they quarreled violently, that Will had
struck her, that money was the bottom of the trouble, that Will had
none to meet his gambling debts, and that Eve, who had been steadily
supplying him out of her slender purse, had at last refused to do so
any more.
It went on to say that Will was a drunken sot, that his methods at
cards were not above suspicion, and that altogether he was rapidly
becoming an undesirable.
Peter Blunt heard the scandal; he had watched things himself very
closely. Jim Thorpe heard, but, curiously enough, rumor about these
two did not seem to reach the "AZ" ranch easily.
However, what did reach Jim infuriated him almost beyond words. It was
this last rumor that sent him riding furiously into the village late
one night, and drew him up at Peter Blunt's hut.
He found the gold seeker reading a well-known history of the Peruvian
Aztecs, but without hesitation broke in upon his studies.
"What's this I hear, Peter?" he demanded, without any preamble. "I
mean about the--the Hendersons."
His dark eyes were fierce. His clean-cut features were set and angry.
But these signs didn't seem to hurry Peter's answer. He laid his book
aside and folded his hands behind his head, while he searched the
other's face with his calm blue eyes.
"We've just got it out on the ranch," Jim went on. "He's--he's
knocking her about--they say."
"And so you've come in. What for?"
The big man's words had a calming effect.
"Peter, can't you tell me?" Jim went on, with a sudden change of
manner that became almost pleading. "It's awful. I can't bear to think
of Eve suffering. Is it, as they say, money? Has he--gone to the dogs
with drink and gambling? Peter," he said, with sudden sternness, his
feelings once more getting the better of him, "I feel like killing him
if----"
But the other's face was cold, and he shook his head.
"I'm not going to talk this scandal," he said. "You've no right to
feel like that--yet." And his words were an admission of his own
feelings on the subject.
Peter's eyes wandered thoughtfully from his friend to the book
shelves; and after a moment the other stirred impatiently. Then his
eyes came back to Jim's face. He watched the passionate straining in
them, that told of the spirit working within. Nor could he help
thinking what a difference there might have been had Eve only married
this man.
"You better go back to the ranch," he said presently.
But the light that suddenly leaped to Jim's eyes gave him answer
without the words which followed swiftly.
"I can't," he cried. "I can't without seeing her, and learning the
truth from her own lips."
"That you'll never do, boy, if I know Eve."
But Jim became obstinate.
"I'll try," he declared, with an ugly threat in his passionate eyes.
"And if it's Will--if he's----"
"You're talking foolish." The sharpness of Peter's voice silenced him.
But it was only for a moment, and later he broke out afresh.
"It's no use, Peter, I can't and won't listen to reason on this
matter. Eve is before all things in my life. I can't help loving her,
even if she is another's wife, and I wouldn't if I could. See here,"
he went on, letting himself go as his feelings took fresh hold of him,
"if Eve's unhappy there must be some way of helping her. If he's
ruining her life he must be dealt with. If he's brutal to her, if he's
hurting her, I mean knocking her about, Peter, I'll--I'll--smash him,
if I swing for it! She's all the world to me, and by Heavens I'll rid
her of him!"
Peter suddenly drew out his watch; he seemed wholly indifferent to the
other's storming.
"We'll go and see her now," he said. "Will 'll be down at the saloon
playing 'draw.' He don't generally get home till Rocket closes down.
Come on."
And the two passed out into the night.