"No," said the man. "You have plenty of troubles of your own."
The grasp of the little hand grew tighter, and when Grant looked up he saw
the girl smiling down on him half-shyly, and yet, as it were,
imperiously.
"Tell me, dear," she said.
Larry felt his heart throb, and his resolution failed him. He could see
the girl's eyes, and their compelling tenderness.
"Well," he said, huskily, "what I have dreaded has come. The men I have
given up everything for have turned against me. No, you must not think I
am sorry for what I have done, and it was right then; but they have
listened to some of the crazy fools from Europe and are letting loose
anarchy. I and the others--the sensible Americans--have lost our hold on
them, and yet it was we who brought them in. We took on too big a
contract--and I'm most horribly afraid, Hetty."
The light had almost gone, but his face still showed drawn and white and
Hetty bent down nearer him.
"Put your hand in mine, Larry," she said softly. "I have something to tell
you."
The man obeyed her, wondering, while a thrill ran through him as the
mittened fingers closed upon his own.
"Hetty," he said, "I have only brought trouble on everyone. I'm not fit to
speak to you."
"No," said the girl, with a throb in her voice. "You have only done what
very few other men would have dared to do, and many a better girl than I
am would be proud to be fond of you. Now listen, Larry. For years you were
ever so good to me, and I was too mean and shallow and selfish even to
understand what you were giving me. I fancied I had a right to everything
you could do. But come nearer, Larry."
She drew him closer to her, until his garments pressed the horse's flank
and the blanket skirt she wore, and leaned down still further with her
hand upon his shoulder.
"I found out, dear, and now I want you to forgive me and always love me."
The grasp on her hand became compelling, and she moved her foot from the
stirrup as the man's arm reached upwards towards her waist. Had she wished
she could not have helped herself; as she slipped from the saddle the arm
closed round her and it was several seconds before she and Grant stood a
pace apart, with tingling blood, looking at one another. There was no sign
of Flora Schuyler, they were alone, enfolded in the silence of the bluff.
"It is wonderful," he said. "I can't even talk, Hetty. I want to realize
it."
Hetty laughed but there was a note in her voice that set the man's heart
beating furiously. "Yes, it is wonderful it should come to me," she said.
"No, you needn't look round, Larry. There is nothing and nobody that
counts now except you and me. I am just beginning to understand your
patience, and how hard I must have been to you."
"I waited a long time," he said. "It was worth while. Even the troubles I
felt crushing me seem very little now. If they were only over, and there
was nothing to come between you and me!"
"Larry," the girl said very softly, "are you sure they need do that? It
has been so horrible lately, and I can't even sleep at night for thinking
of the risks that you are taking."
Grant closed one hand, but it was too dark now for Hetty to see his face,
and she was glad of it.
"You mean--" he said hoarsely, and stopped.
"Just this," her voice almost a whisper. "I am frightened of it all, and
when you want me I will come to you. No, wait just a little. I could never
marry the man who was fighting against my father and the people I belong
to, while, now I know what you are, I could never ask him to go back on
what he felt was right; but, Larry, the men you did so much for have
turned against you, and the things they are doing are not right, and would
never please you. Can't we go away and leave the trouble behind us? Nobody
seems to want us now."
There was a cold dew on the man's forehead the girl could not see. "And
your father?" he said.
"I would never help anyone against him, as I told you," said the girl.
"Still, there are times when his bitterness almost frightens me. It is
hard to admit it, even to you, but I can't convince myself that he and the
others are not mistaken, too. I can't believe any longer that you are
wrong, dear. Besides, though he says very little, I feel he wants me to
marry Clavering."
"Clavering?" said Larry.
"Yes," said Hetty, with a shiver. "I dislike him bitterly--and I should be
safe with you."
Grant held out his hands. "Then, you must come, my dear. One way or other
the struggle will soon be over now, and if I have to go out an outcast I
can still shelter you."
[Illustration: THERE WAS A NOTE IN HER VOICE THAT SET THE MAN'S
HEART BEATING FURIOUSLY.--Page 267.]
The girl drew back a pace. "I can't turn against my own people--but yours
have turned on you. That makes it easier. If you will take me, dear, we
will go away."
Grant turned from her, and ground his heel into the snow. He had already
given up almost everything that made life bright to him, but he had never
felt the bitterness he did at that moment, when he realized that another
and heavier sacrifice was demanded of him.
"Hetty," he said slowly, "can't you understand? I and the others brought
the homesteaders in; this land has fed me and given me all I have, and now
I can't go back on it and them. I would not be fit to marry you if I went
away."
The words were very simple, but the man's voice betrayed what he felt.
Hetty understood, and the pride she had no lack of came to the rescue.
"Yes," she said with a little sob, "Larry you are right. You will forgive
me, dear, for once more tempting you. Perhaps it will all come right by
and by. And now I must go."
There was a crackle of brittle twigs, and Grant dimly saw Miss Schuyler
riding towards them. Reaching out, he took Hetty's hands and drew her
closer.
"There is just one thing you must promise me, my dear," he said. "If your
father insists on your listening to Clavering, you will let me know. Then
I will come to Cedar for you, and there are still a few Americans who have
not lost confidence in their leader and will come with me. Nothing must
make you say yes to him."
"No," said Hetty simply. "If I cannot avoid it any other way, I will send
for you. I can't wait any longer--and here is Flo."
Larry stooped; but before she laid her foot in the hand he held out for
her to mount by, Hetty bent her head swiftly, and kissed him.
"Now," she said softly, "do you think I could listen to Clavering? You
will do what you have to, and I will wait for you. It is hard on us both,
dear; but I can't help recognizing my duty, too."
Larry lifted her to the saddle, and she vanished into the gloom of the
birches before he could speak to Miss Schuyler, who wheeled her horse and
followed her. A few minutes more and he was riding towards Fremont as fast
as his horse could flounder through the slushy snow, his face grown set
and resolute again, for he knew he had difficult work to do.
"I don't quite know what has come over you, Larry," Breckenridge said an
hour or two later with a puzzled look at Grant as he lifted his eyes from
the writing pad on his knee. "I haven't seen you so obviously contented
for months, and yet the work before us may be grim enough. The most
unpleasant point about it is that Clavering must have got hold of one of
your warrant forms. It was a mistake to trust anybody with one not filled
in."
"Well, I feel that way too," Grant confessed, "and at the same time I'm
desperately anxious. We are going to have trouble with the boys right
along the line, and there is no man living can tell what will happen if
any of them go down in an affair with the cavalry."
"It wouldn't be difficult to guess what the consequences would be if they
cut the track just before the stock train came through. You are quite sure
they have not changed their minds again?"
"Yes," said Larry quietly. "I bluffed it out of Harper. He would have
taken a hand in, and only kicked when it came to taking lives. More of the
others cleared out over that point, too, and as the rest were half-afraid
of some of those who objected giving them away, they changed their plans;
but it seems quite certain they mean to pull the rails up at the bend on
the down grade by the bunch grass hollow. It is fortunate, any way. Cheyne
and his cavalry will be watching the bridge, you see; but you had better
get ready. I'll have the last instructions done directly, and it will be
morning before you are through."
Breckenridge poured himself out a big cup of coffee from the jug on the
stove, put on a black leather jacket, and went out to the stable. When he
came back, Grant handed him a bundle of notes.
"You will see every man gets one and tell him all he wants to know. I dare
not put down too much in black and white. They are to be round at the rise
behind the depot at six Thursday night."
"You believe they will come?"
"Yes," Grant said firmly. "They are good men, and I'm thankful there are
still so many of them, because just now they are all that is standing
between this country and anarchy."
Breckenridge smiled a little, but his voice was sympathetic. "Well," he
said, "I am glad, on my own account, too. It's nicer to have the chances
with you when you have to reckon with men of the kind we are going to
meet, but I shall not be sorry when this trouble's through. It is my first
attempt at reforming and a little of it goes a long way with me. I don't
know that there is a more thankless task than trying to make folks better
off than they want, or deserve, to be."
He went out with a packet of messages, and Grant sat still, with care in
his face, staring straight in front of him.