WILL
It was a long day of suspense for Eve. There was so little to distract
her mind from the things which troubled. A few household duties, that
was all. There was Elia's food to be prepared when he came in from
Peter's new cutting, just outside the village limits. There was her
dressmaking. But this last left her so much room for thought, and only
helped to lengthen the dragging hours.
At dinner-time Elia informed her that there were some jack-rabbits in
a bluff just outside the village, and declared his intention of
snaring them for her that night. But she paid only the slightest
attention to him, and gave him permission to go almost without
thinking. Since Will had escaped there was only one thing of any
consequence. It was Jim's safety from the angry villagers.
That afternoon, as she sat over her work, he alone occupied her
thoughts and troubled her to a degree that would have startled her had
she been less concerned in his danger. She saw now how the cowardly
part she had played in accepting his help to save her worthless
husband had thrown the burden of his crime upon Jim's willing
shoulders. And now they wanted to hang him. She was to blame and she
alone. She who would not willingly hurt one hair of his head.
Hurt him? Oh, no, no! And yet, how she had hurt him already. She had
never meant to. It had been rushed upon her. She had acted upon the
impulse of the moment. And then--then he had refused to listen when
she realized the meaning of what she had done. Hurt him? No. Now she
felt that nothing else mattered if only she could see a way to clear
his name.
She thought long and hopelessly. Then, of a sudden, she sprang to her
feet with a cry. Yes, yes, there was a way. They should not hang him.
She still had it in her power to save him. She still had it in her
power to tell the whole miserable, pitiful truth. She had been a
coward, but she would be a coward no longer. This was for Jim. The
other had been for herself. Yes, she would tell the truth. She would
tell them that Will Henderson--her husband--was the thief. They would
believe--yes----
But her hope suddenly dropped from her. Would they believe? She
remembered what Annie had told her. She had been seen with Jim several
times in the village since he had left McLagan's. How many times?
Once--twice---- Yes, three times in all. And already the women of the
place had started scandalous stories. Would they believe her? If she
denounced Will, what then? Their retort would promptly be that she was
trying to rid herself of her husband, for--her own ends. Oh, it was
cruel!
She flung herself into her chair, and buried her face in her hands.
She could do nothing. Nothing but wait for help from others. And God
alone knew into what trouble she might not plunge them.
But gradually she became calmer. She began to think in a different
channel. She was thinking of these scandalous tongues, and searching
for an answer to them. She began to question her feelings. She told
herself that Jim was nothing but a friend. A well-liked friend. She
told herself this several times, and thought she believed it. Why
should it be otherwise? She had only seen him three times since he
came in from McLagan's. So why should it be otherwise? No, it was not
otherwise.
Slowly, as she thought, and the hours drifted on, her fears fell away
into the background. Her heart grew very tender, and her denial less
decided. She wondered where Jim was. She longed to go to him. She
would have loved to carry the warning to him herself. Somehow, she
wanted to be at his side, to tell him all she felt at the trouble she
had brought upon him. At the wrong she had so thoughtlessly,
unintentionally done him. She wanted to show him how she had only done
as her weak woman's conscience had prompted her. She had not thought
beyond what she believed to be her duty. She had not paused to think
what trouble she was bringing on others--on him. Had she only realized
at the time, that, with all her might, she was driving the searing
brand deeper into his flesh, she would rather have faced the rope
herself. She wanted to tell him all this, to open her heart to him,
and let him see that she was not the cruel, selfish creature he must
think her for having accepted his sacrifice in bearing the warning to
Will.
The fascination of her self-abnegating thought held her, and she
drifted on to more personal details. She pictured his kind eyes, and
heard his deep, gentle voice telling her that he forgave her, that he
preferred to carry the warning rather than she should suffer. She felt
in her heart that this was what he would say, for she knew, as most
women know these things, that the old love of a year ago was still as
it was then. And the thought of it was sweet and comforting now in her
trouble.
She remained in her wondrously seductive dreamland while the minutes
crept on. And, as the dusky shadows of evening gathered, she sat
silent in her woman's dream of the man. It was gentle, soothing,
irresistible. It was the natural reaction after long hours of mental
struggle, when a merciful Providence brings relief to the suffering
mind, the saving sedative of a few restful moments in the realms of a
gentle dreaming of subconsciousness.
But perhaps this respite was something in the nature of an inversion
of the tempering of the wind. Perhaps a strange Providence was giving
her a few moments in which to strengthen herself for the blow that was
to follow so quickly. It is of small consequence, however. These
things pass in a lifetime almost unobserved. It is only on subsequent
reflection that they become apparent.
The darkness had closed down, and for once the usually brilliant
summer evening was clouded, and the twilight quickly lost. The woman's
introspective gaze was smiling, the drawn lines about her pretty
mouth, the shadows under her eyes seemed to have fallen from her. It
almost seemed as though the happiness of her dreams had entirely
banished the trouble that had so long weighed her down.
Then suddenly the latch of her door lifted with a rattle. She started
at once into perfect consciousness. At last. It was Peter Blunt come
with his ready help. She started to her feet, all her dream-castles
tumbling about her. The door was pushed roughly open, and Will, her
husband, came hurriedly in:
"You?"
Eve's exclamation was the last thing in horror, the last thing in
unconscious detestation. But his eyes held hers as one fascinated by
the eyes of some cruel reptile. Nor was it until he nodded his reply
that the spell was broken.
"Yes--and I guess you ain't too pleased."
There was a harsh sarcasm in his tone, which added to the steely
horror in the woman's heart. Now her eyes glanced swiftly over his
body. He was dressed differently to anything she had ever seen him in.
He was wearing a suit of store clothes, and a soft cotton shirt with a
collar. His whole appearance suggested the Sunday costume of any of
the villagers, which they generally wore when setting out on a visit
to a town of some importance. Just for a moment she wondered if this
was Will's intention. Was he about to make a bolt out of the country?
He shut the door carefully, and glanced round the darkened room. There
was just sufficient glow from the stove to tell him there was no one
else in the place.
"Where's Elia? Are you alone?"
His tone was peremptory and suspicious. His furtive eyes told Eve that
he was apprehensive. She nodded.
"Elia's gone snaring jack-rabbits on the bluff, out back," she said
unsuspiciously. "Shall I light a lamp?"
"No." His negative came emphatically.
He came round to the stove, and stood looking down at her for some
moments. There was a dark, sullen frown in his eyes which might well
have suggested possibilities to the most unsuspicious. But she was not
suspicious, just then. She was wondering and fearful that he had
returned to the village instead of getting away. Why had he come? she
asked herself. But her question found no voice.
"Well?" he said at last, with such a sneer that she lifted a pair of
startled eyes to his face. Her heart was hammering in her bosom. She
had suddenly realized his temper.
"I'm going away," he said sharply. "I've got to get out. I came in for
money. Have you got any of my money?"
"All of it."
"Ah, good. You're more use than I thought you. How much?"
"Over a thousand dollars."
Eve's voice was icy. Her whole attitude seemed almost mechanical. Yet
a wild terror was slowly creeping over her, mounting steadily to her
brain. Nor was the reason for it quite apparent yet.
The man's eyes sparkled, and for a moment his frown lightened.
"Good. You can hand it over." And his voice was almost friendly.
Eve went into her bedroom and returned with a pile of bills. Will held
out his hand for them, but she ignored it, and laid them on the table.
He seized upon them greedily, glancing queerly at her as he pocketed
them.
"Good," he said thoughtfully, "now I can get busy." He lifted his eyes
to his wife's face again, and stared at her malevolently, and the
woman shivered under his scrutiny. She had shrunk from coming into
contact with the hand that had shot down one of the boys, and now she
was thinking of this man as the murderer.
"You best go," she said, vainly trying to keep her voice steady.
But the man made no move. His malevolent stare had become more
intense. Suddenly he laughed, his teeth baring, but his eyes remaining
unchanged.
"So that's it, eh?" he said. Then the malevolence of his eyes changed
to an angry fire. "I'm going sure, but not till I've done what I came
to do. Y'see, there's no great hurry. Folks aren't chasin' me here.
Here, I'm a respectable, hard-working gold prospector. An' I've been
down at the saloon an' talked with the folks. Bluff, eh? Gold
prospector. Gee! We know differently, eh? Don't we? Oh, yes, I'm
goin'--when it suits me. Not when it suits you. Guess you'd be glad to
be rid of me, eh? So it would leave room for Jim Thorpe. Oh, I've
heard. All the folks are talking."
The girl started. An angry flush slowly mounted to her cheeks, and a
sudden sparkle lit her eyes.
"But he don't cut any ice with me," the man went on with a laugh. "You
won't get him. Nor will any other woman. They're goin' to hang him.
Say, what was his price for riding out to me? Did you pay it
beforehand, or do you reckon to pay it before they hang him? Ha, ha!
guess you ain't paid it yet. Men don't work for women after they get
their pay. I'd say you're shrewd enough someways."
Eve's fury at the man's loathsome suggestion drove her beyond all
caution. And she flung her answer at him with a hatred that was wholly
infuriating to the man.
"You best go. Remember, I know the truth of you," she cried. "We've
saved you from the rope, once. I still have it in my power to----"
"Eh?"
He stepped up to her and stood, his face within a few inches of hers.
"So that's it, is it? You'd give me away. You!" He shook his head
slowly, all his purpose plainly written in his furious eyes. "You
won't give me away. I'll see to that. For two pins I'd silence you
now, only--only it isn't what I want. But don't make a mistake, you
won't give me away. Sit down. Sit down right there in the chair behind
you."
He stood over her, compelling her with the force behind his command,
and the terrified woman found herself obeying him against her will.
She almost fell into the chair. Then the man turned back to the door
and secured it.
"We don't want any one buttin' in," he said. "I've got to do a big
talk first, then I get goin'."
He came back and stood beside the stove, opposite her, so that he
could look right down into her face and watch the effect of his words.
He was brimful of a merciless project, which was to be carried out
partly for her edification, partly for his own revenge, and wholly for
the satisfaction of the devilish nature within him, which now, let
fully loose, swayed him beyond any thought of consequences.
"See here, you've been my Jonah right along. I never had a cent's
worth of luck since I got scratching around your fence," he began,
almost quietly. Only was the threat in his eyes. "I don't guess I can
say just how things happened--I mean how things got going wrong
with me, unless it was you. I'm going to tell you straight when it
happened. I got mean when I was fool enough to guess I was sweet
on you. Jim Thorpe was sweet on you too. I got mean toward him. We
shot a target for first chance to ask you to marry. He won. I got in
ahead, and, like a fool, married you. That was the beginning. An' I
didn't feel any less mean after. Yes, you were my Jonah, sure. I
couldn't work those first days 'cos of you, an' after I didn't guess
I wanted to. But it set me savage I didn't want to. Well, I'm not
here to tell you all the things that followed. You know them as
well as me. But there's things you don't know. After you got hurt
that night it was Peter Blunt who drove me out of Barnriff with
threats of kicking me out, and setting the townsfolk on me for the way
I'd treated you. But Jim was behind it. He didn't do the talkin'
to me--Peter did that. But Jim came in that night to see you. I
found that out. Say, I was mad. I was mad at Jim Thorpe, and not
Peter, for I read his doing in my own way. Y'see I was still a fool,
an' still sweet on you. But I saw how I could get back on him. I'd
been at work some time on the cattle-duffing, an' I saw just how I
could hurt him too.
"Say, cattle-duffing's a great gambol, an' I don't regret it. I'm
going to keep on at it--only elsewhere. Well, I got hold of Master
Jim's brand. I got kit as like he wears as two cents, in case I was
located. We're alike in figure----"
"But, thank God, there's no other resemblance."
Eve's scathing comment came with startling suddenness. Her terror was
passing, and only she felt a great loathing for this man.
"Keep all that till I've finished," Will said coolly. "Maybe you won't
be so ready then. Well, I used his brand, and set a bunch of cattle
running amongst his--McLagan's cattle, as you know. Then I waited for
developments. They came--oh, yes, they came. Jim was the cattle-thief.
I the lucky gold prospector. Good, eh?" He laughed heartily.
"But, say, I was still a fool," he went on, after a slight pause. "I
was still sweet on you. Then I heard every time Jim came into the
village he'd always call to see you. That set me mad--so mad you came
mighty near to passing in your checks, and Jim too. I'm glad those
things didn't happen now. Y'see, I didn't reckon on Elia. I'd
forgotten him. That imp of hell can hate, and it was me he hated, eh?
Y'see, I've heard how he tracked me. I hear most things doing in
Barnriff. Then you did your fool stunt sending Jim out to warn me. He
got me clear, and--and I hate him worse for it; but not so bad as I
hate you now. I see how it was done. I'm no fool. Jim did it for you,
and I guess you'll pay his price. That's how you're both thinking. But
you won't. They're goin' to hang him. There's only one person who can
put them wise about this cattle stealing, that's Elia. And I'm going
to kill him to-night. That's why I came in--that an' to get money.
When I've finished him I'll see to you----"
But Eve was on her feet in a frenzy of horror and fear for the brother
she loved. All her mother's instinct was roused to a fighting pitch.
"You shan't touch him!" she cried fiercely. "You shall kill me first!
I swear it! Oh, you wretched murderer! You filth! Ha, ha--nobody but
Elia knows. Peter knows, and--and others. You touch Elia, and I swear
you shan't escape!"
"Peter knows, eh? Ho, ho, my girl," the man mocked. Then he shook his
head. "It doesn't matter--not a little bit. What I'm going to do will
be done to-night. Elia will get his med'cine, and then I'll come back,
and--well, you shan't get a chance of paying Jim his price. Oh, no,"
as Eve opened her lips to speak again, "I'll take no chances. I'll
leave you safe here. I could settle you first, but I want you to know
your beloved brother is dead before--you join him. Get my meaning? You
see, Peter and those others knowing have altered my plans some. You'll
join your angel brother when I come back."
He had been bending over her, to impress his cruel words upon her more
forcibly. Now he suddenly straightened up and snatched some dress
material from the table. Before the wretched woman was aware of his
intentions he had flung it over her head. She tried to scream, but
instantly he had her by the throat with one hand and choked her cries
back. With the other he thrust the cloth into her mouth till she was
effectually gagged. Then he secured it in place with a long binding of
braid. But the moment this was done, and he released her throat, she
began to struggle violently, and he was forced to exert all his
strength to crush her down into the chair. Here he knelt on her, while
he lashed her hands together, and then her feet. Then he tied the two
bindings together, so that her arms were locked immovable round her
knees. Now, at his leisure, he took the table cover and securely bound
her into the chair.
This accomplished, he stood up and surveyed his handiwork carefully.
He was breathing hard with his exertion. Yes, she was well secured,
and he smiled sardonically. He watched her thus for some moments. Then
he glanced round the darkened room. It was the haunted look of the man
engaged in crime.
Suddenly he stepped softly to her side, and, stooping, lifted the
cloth with which she was gagged from before the upper part of her
face. He looked into the hunted, terrified eyes and grinned. Then he
put his lips close to one of her ears.
"Now I'm going to the bluff out back to--kill your brother, your
beloved Elia. Then I'm coming back to--kill you," he whispered. And
the next moment he was gone.