FOR A WOMAN
Seated before the cold stove in Peter Blunt's hut, Jim Thorpe was lost
in moody thought. His day had been long and wearying. He had risen
before sun-up with little enough hope in his heart to cheer his day in
the saddle, and now he was contemplating his blankets at night with
even less.
Search, search. That had been his day. A fruitless search for the one
man whom he now believed to be the only person who could lift the
blight of suspicion from his overburdened shoulders.
Yes, where most Eve had sought to shield, she had most surely betrayed
by her woman's weakness and fear. For the truth had been forced upon
Jim's unsuspicious mind even against himself. Eve's terror, during her
long talk with him on his return from McLagan's ranch, had done the
very thing she had most sought to prevent. Her whole attitude had told
him its own story of her anxiety for some one, and that some one could
only have been her husband. And the rest had been brought about by the
arguments of his own common sense.
At first her fear had only suggested the anxiety of a friend for
himself, at the jeopardy in which public suspicion had placed him. Now
he laughed at the conceit of the thought, although, at the time, it
had seemed natural enough. Then the intensity of her fears had become
so great, and the personal, selfish note in her attitude so
pronounced, that his suspicion was aroused, and he found himself
groping for its meaning, its necessity.
Her terror seemed absurd. It could not be for him. It was out of all
proportion. No, it was not for him. Was it for herself? He could see
no reason. Then, why? For whom? And in a flash, as such realizations
sometimes do come, even to the most unsuspicious, the whole thing
leaped into his focus. If she had nothing to fear for herself, for
whom did she fear? There was but one person--her husband.
If she feared for her husband, then she must suspect him. If she
suspected, then there must be reason. But once this key was put into
his hand, it needed little argument to make the whole thing plain.
Point after point occurred to his mind carrying with each a conviction
that was beyond the necessity of any argument that he could offer. He
saw the whole thing with much the same instinctive conviction with
which the wife had seen it.
Will had calculated his revenge on him carefully. He saw now what Eve
had missed. The using of the "[double star]" brand,--which he must
have stolen from Jim's implement shed--the running of the small bunch
of McLagan's cattle with his, Jim's; these things had been well
thought out, a carefully calculated revenge for his interference on
the night Will had come so near to killing his own wife. He meant to
throw suspicion upon him, suspicion which, in such a country of
hot-headed cattlemen, was so narrowly removed from conviction.
So he had set out on his solitary quest to find this man, and had
failed. He felt that he must find him, yet he hardly knew how it could
serve him to do so. For there was that in the back of his mind which
sorely troubled him.
He was thinking of Eve. Poor Eve! With Will found, or suspicion
directed upon him, her troubles would be a hundred times magnified.
The man was her husband, and there was no doubt in his mind, that,
whatever his faults, she still loved him. If he needed confirmation of
his belief there was her anxiety, her terrible dread when talking to
him. The position was one to tax a far more subtle mind than his. What
was to be done?
Clear himself he must, but every way he looked seemed to be barred by
the certainty of bringing disgrace and unhappiness upon Eve. The
thought revolted him, and yet--and yet, why should he take the blame?
Why should he leave his name stinking in the mire of such a crime? It
was maddening. What devilish luck! Was there no end to the cruelty of
his fate?
Suddenly, he laughed. He had to, or the thing would drive him to
something desperate. Fate had such refreshing ways of getting at a
man. She brought about his disgrace through no fault of his own, and
then refused him the only means of clearing himself. Fortune certainly
could be a jade when she chose. Clear himself at the expense of the
one woman in the world he loved? No, he couldn't do that. Perhaps that
was why he was given such a cruel chance.
But his whimsical moment was quickly gone. The tragedy of his position
was all too harsh for such levity, and he frowned down at the cold
iron of Peter's stove. What must he do? He could see no way out. For
perhaps the hundredth time that day his question remained unanswered.
One thing he had made up his mind to, although he could not see how it
was to help him in his dilemma. He must find Will Henderson.
He rose from his seat, stretched his aching limbs, and turned to his
blankets.
But he did not unroll them. The heavy step of some one approaching
startled him. Who could it be? Peter was away--and yet--and yet---- He
listened intently, and suddenly his eyes lit. It was like Peter's
step. He went to the door and threw it open, and in a moment was
greeting the one man whose coming at such a moment could have made him
feel glad.
"Say, Peter, this is bully," he cried, shaking the big man's hand. "I
didn't guess you'd be coming along in. Who's that with you? Eh? Oh,
Elia."
Peter nodded. But his usual smile was lacking.
"Yes. Eve's just coming along. Ah, here she is," he added, as the girl
suddenly appeared in the doorway. "Come in, my dear," he went on
kindly. "Guess we caught Jim before he got down for the night."
Jim offered the girl no greeting. All thought of formalities was
driven from his mind at the sight of her expression. The hunted look
in her eyes was even greater than it had been two days ago, and he
wondered what fresh development had brought it about. He was not long
left in doubt. Peter eyed him ruefully, and then glanced at the door
which was still open.
"It's trouble, Jim, fresh trouble, so--I guess I'll shut this door
tight."
While he was doing so, Jim pushed the chair toward Eve, into which she
almost fell. Then he glanced at Elia, speculating. As Peter returned
to the group he dropped back and seated himself on the rough bed,
waiting for enlightenment. Peter leaned himself against the table, his
grizzled face frowning thoughtfully.
"I'm needing a horse to-night--now," he said. "An' he's got to do
sixty miles between this and sundown to-morrow. I want yours. Can I
have it?"
The man's shrewd blue eyes were steadily fixed on Jim's face. He was
putting all his knowledge of the ranchman to the test in his own
subtle way. He was asking this man to help him against himself. He was
asking this man to help him prevent his removing the unmerited
suspicion with which he was branded. But he intended to do it openly,
frankly. And his reason was because he understood a good deal of human
nature, and of Jim Thorpe particularly.
"You can have him. What for?"
"No, no," Eve cried, starting up to prevent Peter answering.
But the big man motioned her to calm herself.
"Don't worry, Eve, my dear," he said. "This thing's between Jim an'
me. And I don't think there's going to be much explanation needed."
Jim nodded, and his glance fell on Elia. He was wondering what part
the boy was playing in the scene.
"It's Will," said Peter. "We've got to get him warned--for her sake."
He nodded in Eve's direction, but turned away quickly as her face
dropped into her two hands and remained hidden.
"You don't need to tell me any more, Peter," said Jim, huskily. "Just
give me the other details. You see, I fancy I know all about him,
except his whereabouts."
Eve looked up startled.
"You know," she whispered in awe.
Jim nodded.
"I've thought things out this last two days," he said quietly. Then he
turned to Peter. "But this warning. What's made it necessary? Have
others been--thinking?"
"No. They've been put wise." Peter's eyes sought the unsmiling face of
Elia. "You see, Elia hunted him out. He's told Doc where he'll find
the rustlers. But mercifully he didn't say who the rustler was."
"Ah, Elia hates Will," Jim said thoughtfully.
"Doc's setting out to-night to--find him," Peter added.
Jim glanced from Eve to the grizzled man. Just for a second he
marveled at him. Then the feeling passed as recollections flew through
his mind of a dozen and one kindnesses of heart which this quaint
Englishman had performed. This was just the sort of thing Peter would
do. He would simply, and unconcernedly, thrust his head into the
lion's jaws to help anybody.
"You're going to take the warning?" he inquired.
"Sure." Then Peter added apologetically, with a swift glance in Eve's
direction, "You see, we can't let 'em--find him."
A shadowy smile grew into Jim's eyes. Peter wanted his horse for a
purpose. And that very purpose would inevitably drive the brand which
was already upon him deeper and deeper into his flesh. He was calmly
asking him to sacrifice himself for Eve. He glanced in the girl's
direction, and all the old love was uppermost in his simple heart.
"When did you get in?" he asked Peter, abruptly.
"Just now."
"Been in the saddle all day?"
"Yep. But that's no con----"
"No. Only I was thinking."
Jim's eyes were still on Eve. The girl was looking straight before her
at the stove. She could only wait. These men, she felt, were
shouldering her burden. But she was anxious. Somehow she hadn't the
same knowledge of Jim that Peter had. But then, how should she? Her
point of view was so different.
Suddenly Jim started up.
"No, Peter, old friend, you can't have the horse--I need it."
Peter started forward. He was startled out of his belief in the man.
"What in----"
But Jim cut him short.
"Hold up, Peter. Eve's here," he said. Then he glanced at Elia. "I'll
carry that warning. And I'll tell you why. Oh, no," as Eve suddenly
started to protest, "I'm only going to speak common sense. Here's the
facts which you, old friend, with all your wisdom, seem to have
overlooked." He smiled up into Peter's face. "First, the man who goes
must ride light. You can't be accused of that. You see, we've sure got
to get there first. My plug's been out all day, and has only had about
four hours' rest. I can get the most out of him the easiest. Then, you
see, you're known to be in town, and if you pike the trail to-night
folks'll get guessing. Then, you see, it's my business to be out--they
expect it of me. Then--if things go wrong--which I don't guess they
will--my name stinks a bit around here, and, well, a bit more or less
don't cut any ice. Then there's another thing--Elia. You've got to
keep a close eye on him, sure. If they get at him--well---- Anyway,
that's what I can't do under the circumstances."
Peter's face grew almost stern as he listened to the marshaling of the
man's arguments. Jim saw his look and understood. But he had clearly
made up his mind.
"It's no use, Peter. You can't have that horse. I'm going to get the
saddle on."
He rose to go. But the big man suddenly barred his way. His face was
stern and set--something like a thunder-cloud seemed to have settled
upon his kindly brow.
"Hold on. I'll allow your arguments are mostly clear. Guess you'll
have to go. But I want to tell you this, Jim. If things go wrong,
I'll--I'll shoot the man that lays hands on you. I'll shoot him
dead!"
But Eve was on her feet at Jim's side, and her soft hands were
gripping his arm with a nervous clutch.
"No, no, Jim," she cried, with tears in her eyes. "You--you mustn't
go. I see it now. I didn't see it before. You--you are branded now,
and--and you're going to help him. Oh, Jim, you mustn't! We had no
right to ask for your horse. Indeed, indeed we hadn't. You mustn't go.
Neither of you must. No, please, please stay. It means hanging if you
are----"
"Don't you say anything more, Eve," Jim said, gently but firmly
releasing himself from her hold. "I've thought of all those things.
Besides, you must never forget that Will--is my cousin."
But Peter could stand no more.
"Come on," he said, almost roughly. "It's late enough already. Maybe
they'll be starting directly. Here, Elia, you tell us just where
Will's in hiding, and mind you don't miss anything."
It took barely five minutes for Elia to give the required directions
again, which he did ungraciously enough. But Peter verified his
account with the original story, and was satisfied.
Then the two men went out and saddled the horse. In three minutes Jim
was in the saddle, and Peter gripped him by the hand.
"The good God'll help you out for this, Jim. So long."
"So long."
As the horseman passed the hut Eve and Elia were standing before the
closed door. Jim saw them, but he would not pause. However, his keen
ears heard the whispered "God bless you" which the woman threw after
him. And somehow he felt that nothing else in his life much mattered.
A few moments later Eve was at her gate, fumbling for the latch. Elia
was at her side, looking out at the lights of the village. Suddenly he
turned and raised his beautiful face to hers.
"Say, sis, you're a fule woman," he declared sharply. He was listening
to the sounds of bustle down at the saloon. "Can't you hear? That's
the boys. They've come in, and they're gettin' ready to start with
Doc. If they get him--they'll hang him."
"Him? Who? What d'you mean?"
The terrified woman was staring down into his calm eyes.
"Why--Jim."
"Oh, God, no! They can't! They won't! He's too good--too brave! God
will never let them. It would be too cruel."
"Say, I guess you'd be sorry some?"
"Sorry?"
But Eve was fumbling again at the gate. Nor could the boy extract
another word from her.