A "PARTY CALL"
Peter led the way up the path from the gate of Eve's garden. He had
taken the lead in this visit; he felt it was necessary. Jim Thorpe's
frame of mind was not to be trusted, should they encounter Henderson.
He knocked at the door, reassured that Eve was within by the light in
her parlor window.
At first he received no reply, and in silence the two men waited. Then
Peter knocked again. This time Elia's voice was heard answering his
summons.
"Come in."
Peter raised the latch, and, closely followed by Jim, passed
directly into the parlor. He glanced swiftly round at the litter of
dressmaking, but Eve was not there. Jim's eyes, too, wandered over the
familiar little room. It was the first time he had entered it since
the day he had ridden over to ask her to marry him.
He saw Eve now in every detail of the furnishing; he saw her in the
work he had watched her at so often; he saw her in the very atmosphere
of the place, and the realization of all he had lost smote him sorely.
Then there came to him the object of his present visit, and he grew
sick with the intensity of his feelings.
But the room was empty, and yet it had been Elia's voice that
summoned them to enter. With only the briefest hesitation Peter
started toward the kitchen door, and Jim, his thoughts running riot
over the past, mechanically followed him. And as they reached it,
and Peter's great bulk filled up the opening, it was the latter's
sharp exclamation that brought Jim to matters of the moment. He
drew close up behind his companion and looked over his shoulder,
and a startled, horror-stricken cry broke from him.
"Look!" he cried, and the horror in his voice was in his eyes, and the
expression of his face.
The scene held them both for a second, and for years it lived in Jim's
memory. The ill-lit kitchen with its single lamp; the yellow rays
lighting up little more than the untidy supper-table with the
misshapen figure of Elia sitting on the far side of it, calmly
devouring his evening meal. The rest of the room was shadowy, except
where the light from the cook-stove threw its lurid rays upon the
white face and crumpled figure of Eve lying close beside it upon the
floor. Her eyes were closed, and a great wound upon her forehead, with
blood oozing slowly from it, suggested death to the horrified men.
In an instant Jim was at Eve's side, bending over her, seeking some
signs of life. Then, as Peter came up, he turned to him with a look of
unutterable relief.
"She's alive," he said.
"Thank God!"
"Quick," Jim hurried on, "water and a sponge, or towel or something."
Peter crossed the room to the barrel, and dipped out some water; and,
further, he procured a washing flannel, and hastened back with them to
Jim, who was kneeling supporting the girl's wounded head upon his
hand.
And all the time Elia, as though in sheer idle curiosity, watched the
scene, steadily continuing his meal the while. There was no sort of
feeling expressed in his cold eyes. Nor did he display the least
relief when Jim assured him Eve was alive. Peter watched the boy, and
while Jim bathed her wounded forehead with a tenderness which was
something almost maternal, he questioned him with some exasperation.
"How did it happen?" he demanded, his steady eyes fixed disapprovingly
on the lad's face.
"Don't know. Guess she must ha' fell some. Ther's suthin' red on the
edge o' the coal box. Mebbe it's her blood."
The cold indifference angered even Peter.
"And you sit there with her, maybe, dying. Say, you're pretty mean."
The boy's indifference suddenly passed. He glanced at Eve, then at the
door, and he stirred uneasily.
"I didn't know wher' Will 'ud be. If I'd called folks, an' he'd got
around an' found 'em here----"
"Why didn't you fetch him?" Peter broke in.
"I come in jest after he'd gone out, an'----"
"Found--this?" Peter indicated Eve.
"Yes."
Jim suddenly looked up, and his fierce eyes encountered Peter's. The
latter's tone promptly changed.
"How is she?" he asked gently, and it was evident he was trying to
banish the thoughts which Elia's statement had stirred in Jim's mind.
"Coming to," he said shortly, and turned again to his task of bathing
the injured woman's forehead.
But it was still some minutes before the flicker of the girl's eyelids
proved Jim's words. Then he sighed his relief and for a moment ceased
the bathing and examined the wound. Then he reached a cushion from
one of the kitchen chairs and folded it under her head.
The wound on her forehead was an ugly place just over her right
temple, and there was no doubt in his mind had it been half an inch
lower it would have proved fatal. He knelt there staring at it,
wondering and speculating. He glanced at the corner of the box, and
the thought of Eve's height suggested the impossibility of a tumble
causing such a wound. Suspicion stirred him to a cold, hard rage. This
was no accident, he told himself, and his mind flew at once to the
only person who, to his way of thinking, could have caused it. Will
had left her just as Elia came in; but Peter's voice called him to
himself.
"Best keep on with the bathing," he said.
And without a sign Jim bent to his task once more. A moment later Eve
stirred, and her eyes opened. At first there was no meaning in her
upward stare. Then the eyes began to move, and settled themselves on
Jim's face. In a moment consciousness returned, and she struggled to
sit up. It was then the man's arm was thrust under her shoulders, and
he gently lifted her.
"Feeling better, Eve?" he asked gently.
There was a moment's pause; then a whispered, "Yes," came from her
lips. But her wound began to bleed afresh, and Jim turned at once to
Elia.
"Go you and hunt up Doc Crombie," he said hastily. And as the boy
stirred to depart, he added in a tone that was curiously sharp set,
"Then go on to the saloon and tell Will Henderson to come right up
here."
But Peter interfered.
"Let him get the Doc," he said. "I'll see to him--later."
The two men exchanged glances, and Jim gave way.
"Very well. But hurry for Crombie."
After that Eve's voice demanding water held all Jim's attention. And
while Peter procured a cupful, he lifted her gently in his arms and
carried her into the parlor, and laid her on an old horsehair settee,
propping her carefully into a sitting position. When the water was
brought she drank thirstily, and then, closing her eyes, sank back
with something like a sigh of contentment.
But with the first touch of the wet flannel which Jim again applied to
her head she looked up.
"I fell on the coal box," she said hastily. And before Jim could
answer Peter spoke.
"That's how we guessed," he said kindly. "Maybe you were stooping for
coal--sure."
"Yes, yes. I was stooping for coal for the kitchen stove. I must have
got dizzy. You needn't send for the doctor. I'm all right, and the
bleeding will stop. I've just got a headache. Please don't send for
Will; I'm glad you haven't. He'd only be alarmed for--for nothing--and
really I'm all right. Thank you, Jim, and you too, Peter. You can't do
anything more. Really you can't and I don't want to spoil your
evening. I----"
"We're going to wait for the Doc, Eve," said Jim, firmly.
Her eagerness to be rid of them was painfully evident, and so unlike
her.
"Yes," agreed Peter, "we better wait for the Doc, Eve. You see we came
down to pay you a party call."
"A party call?"
"Yes. Y'see Jim rode in from the 'AZ's' to pay you a--party call."
The girl's eyes steadied themselves on Jim's face. He had drawn
himself up a chair, and was sitting opposite her. Peter was still
standing, his great bulk shutting the glare of the lamplight out of
her eyes. She looked long and earnestly into the man's face, as though
she would fathom the meaning of his visit before she in any way
committed herself. But she learned nothing from it.
"A party call--after all this time, Jim?" she asked, with something
like a wistful smile.
Jim turned away. He could not face the pathos in her expression. His
eyes wandered round the little room. Not one detail of it was
forgotten, yet it seemed ages and ages since he had seen it all. He
nodded.
"You see," he said lamely, "new married folks don't----"
Eve checked his explanation quickly. She didn't want any. All she
wanted was for them to go before Will returned.
"Yes; I know. And, besides, the ranch is a long way. Yet--why did you
come to-night?" She pressed her hand to her forehead lest the fear in
her eyes should betray her.
The pause which followed was awkward. Somehow neither of the men was
prepared for it. Neither had thought that such a question would be put
to him. Peter looked at Jim, who turned deliberately away. He was
struggling vainly for a way of approaching all he had to say to this
girl, and now that he was face to face with it he realized the
impossibility of his position. Finally it was the girl herself who
helped him out.
"It's very, very kind of you, anyway," she said, in a low voice.
"It's good to think that I've got friends thinking about me----"
"That's just it, Eve," cried Jim, seizing his opportunity with a
clumsy rush. "I've been thinking a heap--lately. You see--Will
Henderson's not working and--and--folks say----"
"And gossip says we're 'hard up,'" Eve added bitterly. She knew well
enough the talk that was rife. "So you've come in to see--if it is
true." She again pressed a hand to her forehead. This time it was the
pain of her head which had become excruciating.
Jim nodded, and Peter's smiling eyes continued to watch him.
"But it wasn't exactly that," the former went on in his straightforward
way. "Yet it's so blazing hard to put it so you can understand. You
see, I've been doing very well, and--you know I've got a big bunch of
cattle running up in the foot-hills now--I thought, maybe, seeing Will
isn't working, money might be a bit tight with you. You see, we're
folks of the world, and there's no fool sentiment about us in these
things; I mean no ridiculous pride. Now, if I was down, and you'd
offered to help me out, I'd just take it as a real friendly act. And I
just thought--maybe----"
How much longer he would have continued to flounder on it was
impossible to tell, but Peter saw his trouble and cut him short.
"You see, Eve," he said, "Jim wants to help you out. Some folks have
got busy, and he's heard that you're hard pushed for ready dollars.
That's how it is."
Jim frowned at his bluntness, but was in reality immensely relieved.
Eve had been listening with closed eyes, but now opened them, and
they were full of a friendliness.
"Thanks, Peter; thanks, Jim," she said softly. "You're both very good
to me, but--don't worry about money. If things go right we have
enough."
"That's it, Eve," Jim exclaimed eagerly. "If things go right. Are they
going right? Will they go right? That's just it. Say, can't you see it
hurts bad to think you've got to pinch, and that sort of thing? You
can surely take a loan from me. You----"
But Eve shook her head decidedly.
"Things will go right, believe me. Will has got something up--in the
hills. He says it's going to bring us in a lot." She turned wistful
eyes upon Peter's rugged face. "It's something in your line," she
said. "Gold. And he says----" She broke off with a look of sudden
distress. "I forgot. I wasn't to say anything to--to anybody.
Please--please forget about it. But I only wanted to show you that--we
are going to do very well."
"So Will's struck it rich." It was Peter's astonished voice that
answered her. The news had a peculiar interest for him. "Placer?" he
inquired.
"Yes--and easy to work. But you won't say a word about it, will you?
He told me not to speak of it. And if he knew he would be so angry.
I----"
"Don't worry, Eve," broke in Jim, gently. "Your secret is safe with
us--quite safe."
Peter said nothing. The news had staggered him for a moment, and he
was vainly trying to digest it. Jim rose from his seat and leaned
against the table. His attempt had failed. She would have none of his
help. But his coming to that house had told him, in spite of Eve's
reassurance, that the gossip was well founded. There was trouble in
Eve's home, and it was worse than he had anticipated.
The girl eyed them both for a moment with a return of that fear in her
eyes.
"Are you going now?" she inquired, with an anxiety she no longer tried
to conceal. She felt so ill that it didn't seem to matter what she
said.
"We're going to wait till Doc Crombie's fixed you up," said Peter,
steadily. Then he added thoughtfully, "After that I'm going to fetch
Will."
Eve gasped. Swift protest rose to her lips, but it remained unspoken,
for at that moment there came the sound of footsteps outside, and Elia
led the forceful doctor into the room.
"Hey, Mrs. Henderson," he cried, nodding at the two men. "Winged your
head some. Let's have a look," he added, crossing to Eve's side and
glancing keenly at her wound. "Whew!" he whistled. "How did you do it?
Eh?" he demanded, and Peter explained. The explanation was made to
save Eve what both he and Jim knew to be a lie.
The doctor's blunt scorn was withering.
"Pooh! Leanin' over the coal box? Fell on the corner? Nonsense! Say,
if you'd fell clear off o' the roof on to that dogone box, mebbe you
could ha' done that amount o' damage. But----"
Eve's eyes flashed indignantly.
"I'd be glad if you'd fix me up," she said coldly.
The rough doctor grinned and got to work. She had made him suddenly
realize that he was dealing with a woman, and not one of the men of
the village. He promptly waived what had, in the course of years,
become a sort of prerogative of his: the right to bully. In half an
hour he had finished and the three prepared to take their departure.
"Guess you'll be all right now," Crombie said, in his gruff but not
unkindly way. Then, unable to check entirely his hectoring, he went on
with a sarcastic grin. "An', say, ma'm, if you've a habit o' leanin'
so heavy over the coal box, I'd advise you to git the corners rounded
some. When falls sech as you've jest bin takin' happen around they
don't generly end with the first of 'em. I wish you good-night."
Peter also bade her good-night, and he and the doctor passed out. Jim
was about to follow when Eve stayed him. She waited to speak till the
others had passed out of ear-shot.
"Jim, you're real good," she said in a low voice. "And I can never
thank you enough. No," as he made an attempt to stop her, "I must
speak. I didn't want to, but--but I must. It isn't money we
want--truth. Not yet. But maybe you can help me. I don't rightly know.
You do want to, don't you? Sure--sure?"
Jim nodded. His eyes told her. At that moment he would have done
anything for her.
"Well, if you want to help me there's only one way. Help him. Oh, Jim,
he needs it. I don't know how it's to be done, but--for my sake--help
him. Jim, it's drink--drink and poker. They're ruining him. You can
only help me--by helping him. No, don't promise anything. Good-night,
Jim. God bless you!"
She held out her hand to him and, in a paroxysm of ardent feeling, he
clutched it and kissed it passionately. A moment later he was gone.
As the door closed Elia stepped into the light. The girl had forgotten
all about him. Now she was startled.
"Eve, wot fer did you lie about that?" he said, pointing at her
bandaged head.
The girl's head was aching so that it seemed it would split, and she
closed her eyes. But the boy would not be denied.
"You lied, sis," he exclaimed vehemently, though his face and eyes
were quite calm. "Will did that, 'cause you wouldn't give him thirty
dollars. I see him throw you 'crost the room. I hate him."
Eve was wide-eyed now.
"You saw him?" she cried in alarm. Then she paused. Suddenly her tone
changed. "Come here, Elia," she said gently.
The boy came toward her and she took one of his hands and fondled it.
"How did you see him?" she went on.
"Through the window. I was waitin' fer supper." In spite of her caress
the boy was sulky.
"Well, promise me you won't tell anybody. You haven't, have you?"
The boy shook his head.
"I won't tell, sis, if you don't want me. But--but why don't you kill
him?"
* * * * *
The three men were walking across the market-place.
"That's Will Henderson's work," exclaimed Crombie with a fierce oath,
nodding his head back at Eve's house.
Jim and Peter offered no comment. Both had long since realized the
fact.
"Gol durn him!" cried the fiery doctor. "He'll kill her--if he don't
get killed instead."
Jim said nothing. Eve's passionate appeal to him was still ringing in
his ears. It was Peter who answered.
"You goin' to home, Doc? I'm goin' down to the saloon--to fetch
Will."
"You are?" It was Jim's startled inquiry. "What for?"
"I'm going to yarn some--mebbe. You get right out to the ranch, boy.
An' don't get around here till I send you word."
The doctor stood for a moment.
"He needs hangin'," he declared. Then, in the cheery starlight, he
looked into the two men's faces and grinned. He had a great knowledge
of the men of his village. "Well, so long," he added, and abruptly
strode away.
The moment he had gone Jim protested.
"Peter," he said, "we've got to help him; we've got to get him clear
of that saloon. It's not because I like him or want----"
"Just so. But we got to help him. So, you get right out to the ranch,
an'--leave him to me."