Hetty flushed, but the colour faded and left her face white again. "Well,"
she said, "Clavering isn't, and it is he who has made him so bitter
against Larry. Flo, it's horrible. They would have been glad if the boys
had killed him, and when he's ill and wounded they will not let me go to
him."
Her voice broke and trembled, and Flora Schuyler laid a hand restrainingly
upon her arm. "Of course. But why should you, Hetty?"
Hetty, who shook off her grasp, rose and stood quivering a little, but
very straight, looking down on her with pride, and a curious hardness in
her eyes.
"You don't know?" she said. "Then I'll tell you. Because there is nobody
like Larry, and never will be. Because I love him better than I ever
fancied I could love anybody, and--though it's 'most wonderful--he has
loved me and waited ever so patiently. Now they are all against him, I'm
going to him. Flo, they have 'most made me hate them, the people I belong
to, and I think if I was a man I could kill Clavering."
Flora Schuyler sat very still a moment, but it was fortunate she retained
her composure whatever she may have felt, for Hetty was in a mood for any
rashness. Stretching out her hand, she drew the girl down beside her with
a forceful gentleness.
"Hetty," she said, "I think I know how such a man as Larry is would feel,
and you want him to be proud of you. Well, there are things that neither
he nor you could do, and you must listen to me quietly."
She reasoned with the girl for a while until Hetty shook the passion from
her.
"Of course you are right, Flo," she said, and her voice was even. "If he
could bear all that, I can be patient too. Larry has had ever so many hard
things to do, but it is only because it would not be fair to him I'm not
going to him now. Flo, you will not leave me until the trouble's
through?"
Miss Schuyler turned and kissed her, and then, rising quietly, went out of
the room. She had shown Hetty her duty to Larry, which she felt would be
more convincing just then than an exposition of what she owed her father,
and had reasons for desiring solitude to grapple with affairs of her own.
What she had done had cost her an effort, but Flora Schuyler was fond of
Hetty and recognized the obligation of the bond she was contracting when
she made a friend.
Some minutes had passed when Hetty rose and took down her writing-case
from a shelf. She could at least communicate with Larry, for the maid, who
had more than one admirer among the cow-boys, had found a means by which
letters could be conveyed; but the girl could not command her thoughts,
and written sympathy seemed so poor and cold a thing. Two letters were
written and flung into the stove, for Flora Schuyler's counsel was bearing
fruit; and she had commenced two more when there was a tapping at the
door. Hetty looked up with a little flash in her eyes, and swept the
papers into the writing-case as Clavering came in. Then she rose, and
stood looking at him very coldly.
It was an especially unfortunate moment for the man to approach her in,
and, though he did not know why it should be so, he recognized it; but
there were reasons that made any further procrastination distinctly
unadvisable.
"There is something I have been wanting to tell you for a long time,
Hetty," he said.
"It would be better for you to wait a little longer," the girl said
chillingly. "I don't feel inclined to listen to anything to-night."
"The trouble," said Clavering, who spoke the truth, "is that I can't. It
has hurt me to keep silent as long as I have done already."
He saw the hardening of Hetty's lips, and knew that he had blundered; but
he was committed now, and could only obey when she said, with a gesture of
weariness "Then go on."
The abrupt command would probably have disconcerted most men and
effectually spoiled the appeal they meant to make, and Clavering's face
flushed as he recognized its ludicrous aspect. Still, he could not
withdraw then, and he made the best of a difficult position with a certain
gracefulness which might, under different circumstances, have secured him
a modicum of consideration. As it was, however, Hetty's anger left her
almost white, and there was a light he did not care to see in her eyes
when she turned towards him.
"I am glad you have told me this," she said. "Since nothing else would
convince you, it will enable me to talk plainly; I don't consider it an
honour--not in the least. Can't you see that it is wholly and altogether
out of the question that I should ever think in that way of you?"
Clavering gasped, and the darker colour that was in his cheek showed in
his forehead too. Hetty reminded him very much of her father, then--and he
had witnessed one or two displays of the cattle-baron's temper.
"I admit that I have a good many shortcomings, but, since you ask, I must
confess that I don't quite understand why my respectful offer should rouse
your indignation."
"No?" said Hetty coldly, with the vindictive sparkle still in her eyes.
"Then aren't you very foolish?"
Clavering smiled, though it was not easy. "Well," he said, "I was
evidently too audacious; but you have not told me yet why the proposal I
ventured to make should appear quite preposterous."
"I think," said Hetty, "it would be considerably nicer for you if I
didn't. I can, however, tell you this--I would never, under any
circumstances, marry you."
Clavering bent his head, and took himself away with the best grace he
could, while Hetty, who, perhaps because she had been under a heavy
strain, became suddenly sensible of a most illogical desire to laugh,
afterwards admitted that he really accomplished it becomingly. But the
laughter that would have been a relief to her did not come, and after
toying in a purposeless fashion with her writing-case, she rose and
slipped out of the room, unfortunately leaving it open.
A few minutes later Clavering met the maid in the corridor that led to
Torrance's room, and the girl, who saw his face, and may have guessed what
had brought the anger into his eyes, stopped a moment. It is also probable
that, being a young woman with quick perceptions, she had guessed with
some correctness how far his regard for Hetty went.
"You don't seem pleased to-night," she said.
"No?" said Clavering, with a little laugh which rang hollow. "Well, I
should be. It is quite a while since I had a talk with you."
"Pshaw!" said the girl, who failed to blush, though she wished to,
watching him covertly. "Now, I wonder if what I'm going to tell you will
make you more angry still. Suppose you heard Miss Torrance had been
sending letters to Larry Grant?"
"I don't know that I should believe it," said Clavering, as unconcernedly
as he could.
"Well, she has," the girl said. "What is more, she has been going out to
meet him in the Cedar Bluff."
Clavering's face betrayed him, and for a moment the girl, who saw his lips
set, was almost afraid. He contrived, however, to make a light answer, and
was about to ask a question when a door creaked. The next moment Torrance
came out into the corridor, and Clavering's opportunity vanished with the
maid. Torrance, who had evidently not seen her, kept him talking for a
while.
In the meanwhile, the girl contrived an excuse for entering the room where
she was quite aware Hetty and Clavering had met. She did not find her
mistress, but, as it happened, noticed the writing-case, and, having a
stake in affairs, opened it. Inside she found two sheets of paper, and
after considering the probabilities of detection appropriated one of them
on which was written, "Larry dear."
She had, however, no intention of showing it to Clavering just then, but,
deciding that such a paper might be worth a good many dollars to the
person who knew how to make use of it, she slipped it into her pocket, and
went out into the hall, where she saw him talking to Torrance. As she
watched they shook hands, and Clavering swung himself on to the back of a
horse somebody led up to the door. It was two or three weeks before he
came back again, and was led straight to the room where Torrance and some
of his neighbours were sitting. Clavering took his place among the rest,
and watched the faces that showed amidst the blue cigar-smoke. Some were
intent and eager, a few very grim, but the stamp of care was on all of
them save that of Torrance, who sat immobile and expressionless at the
head of the table. Allonby was speaking somewhat dejectedly.
"It seems to me that we have only gone round," he said. "It has cost us
more dollars than any of us care to reckon, and I for one am tolerably
near the end of my tether."
"So are the homestead-boys. We can last them out, and we have got to,"
said somebody.
Allonby raised his hand with a little hopeless gesture. "I'm not quite
sure; but what I want to show you is that we have come back to the place
we started from. When we first met here we decided that it was advisable
to put down Larry Grant, and though we have not accomplished it yet, it
seems to me more necessary than ever just now."
"I don't understand you," said one of the younger men. "Larry's boys have
broken loose from him, and he can't worry anybody much alone."
Torrance glanced at Allonby with a sardonic twinkle in his eyes. "That
sounds very like sense," he said.
"Well," said Allonby drily, "it isn't, and I think you know it at least as
well as I do. It is because the boys have broken out we want to get our
thumb on Larry."
There was a little murmur of bewilderment, for men were present that night
who had not attended many meetings of the district committee.
"You will have to make it plainer," somebody said.
Allonby glanced at Torrance, who nodded, and then went on. "Now, I know
that what I am going to tell you does not sound nice, and a year ago I
would have had unpleasant thoughts of the man who suggested any course of
that kind to me; but we have got to go under or pull down the enemy. The
legislature are beginning to look at things with the homesteaders' eyes,
and what we want is popular sympathy. We lost a good chance of getting it
over the stock-train. Larry was too clever for us again, and that brings
me to the point which should be quite plain. The homestead-boys have lost
their heads and will cut their own throats if they are let alone. They are
ripe for ranch-burning and firing on the cavalry, and once they start the
State will have to step in and whip them out for us."
"But where does Larry come in?" asked somebody.
"That," said Clavering, "is quite easy. So long as Larry is loose he will
have a following, and somehow he will hear of and stop their wildest
moves. As most of you know, I don't like him; but Larry is not a fool."
"To be quite plain, we are to cut out the restraining influence, and give
the rabble a free hand to let loose anarchy," said one man. "Then, you can
strike me off the roll. That is a kind of meanness that wouldn't suit
me!"
There were murmurs of approval from one or two of the company, but
Torrance checked them. "Gentlemen," he said, "we must win or be beaten and
get no mercy. You can't draw back, and the first step is to put Larry
down. If the State had backed us we would have made an end of the trouble,
and it is most square and fitting they should have the whipping of the
rabble forced upon them now. Are we cavalry troopers or a Sheriff's posse,
to do their work for them, and be kicked by way of thanks? They would not
nip the trouble when they could, and we'll sit tight and watch them try to
crush it when it's 'most too big for them."
Again there was a murmur, of grim approval this time; but one of the
objectors rose with an ironical smile.
"You have made a very poor show at catching Larry so far," he said. "Are
you quite sure the thing is within your ability?"
"I guess it is," said Torrance sharply. "He is living at his homestead,
and we need not be afraid of a hundred men with rifles coming to take him
from us now."
"He has a few neighbours who believe in him," one of the men said. "They
are not rabble, but level-headed Americans, with the hardest kind of grit
in them. It wouldn't suit us to be whipped again."
Clavering stood up, with his eyes fixed on Torrance. "I agree with our
leader--it can be done. In fact, I quite believe we can lay our hands on
Larry alone," he said. "Can I have a word with you, Mr. Torrance?"
Torrance nodded, and, leaving Allonby speaking, led Clavering into an
adjoining room. "Sit down, and get through as quick as you can," he said.
For five minutes Clavering spoke rapidly, in a slightly strained voice,
and a dark flush spread across the old man's face and grew deeper on his
forehead, from which the veins swelled. It had faded before he finished,
and there were paler patches in the cattle-baron's cheeks when he struck
the table with his fist.
"Clavering," he said hoarsely, "if you are deceiving me you are not going
to find a hole in this country that would hide you."
Clavering contrived to meet his gaze, though it was difficult. "I was very
unwilling to mention it," he said. "Still, if you will call Miss
Torrance's maid, and the man who grooms her horses, you can convince
yourself. It would be better if I was not present when you talk to them."
Torrance said nothing, but pointed to the door, and when the maid and man
he sent for had gone, sat for five long minutes rigidly still with a set
white face and his hands clenched on the table.
"My daughter--playing the traitress--and worse! It is too hard to bear,"
he said.
Then he stood up, shaking the passion from him, when Clavering came in,
and, holding himself very stiff and square, turned to him.
"I don't know why you have told me--now--and do not want to hear," he
said. "Still, by the Lord who made us both, if you try to make use of this
knowledge for any purpose, or let a whisper get about, I'll crush you
utterly."
"Have I deserved these threats, sir?"
Torrance looked at him steadily. "Did you expect thanks? The man who
grooms her horses would tell me nothing--he lied like a gentleman. But
they are not threats. You found buying up mortgages--with our dollars--an
easy game."
"But--" said Clavering.
Torrance stopped him with a little scornful gesture. "I knew when I took
this thing up I would have to let my scruples go, and now--while I wonder
whether my hands will ever feel clean again--I'm going through. You are
useful to the committee, and I'll have to tolerate you."
Clavering turned away, with pulses throbbing furiously and rage in his
heart, though he had known what the cost would be when he staked
everything he hoped for on Larry's destruction; while his neighbours
noticed a change in Torrance when he once more sat down at the head of the
table. He seemed several years older, and his face was very grim.
"I believe I can promise you that Larry will make us no more trouble," he
said. "Mr. Clavering has a workable scheme, and it will only need the
Sheriff and a few men whom I will choose when I am ready."
Nobody seemed to consider it advisable to ask questions, and the men
dispersed; but as they went down the stairway, Allonby turned to
Torrance.
"This thing is getting too big for you and me," he said. "You have not
complained, but to-night one could fancy that it's breaking you. Now, I'm
not made like you, and when I think of what it has cost me I have got to
talk."
Torrance turned, and Allonby shivered as he met his eyes.
"It has cost me what every dollar I ever made could not buy me back," he
said, and the damp showed on his forehead as he checked a groan.