THE TRAITOR
Belle-Ann jumped instantly to her feet, looked, brushed her eyes with
her hand, and hastened to meet them, her curls bobbing and her bare legs
and arms gleaming in the moon's luster.
Little Bud turned off toward the cabin, but Lem's tall figure came
straight ahead.
"Lem," she cried excitedly, "I got t' go--dad sent word by Orlick. Dad's
a comin' heah t' take me t' th' mission school. Air yo' sorry, Lem?"
Lem halted as if struck. Then, recovering from the surprise, he took her
hand and they continued toward the witch-elm block. Slab had
disappeared.
"Sho', I'm sorry, Belle-Ann," Lem answered. "Yo'-all don't 'low I'd be
tickled t' lose yo', do yo'? But I 'low hit's fer th' best, an' yo' know
Maw wanted hit, too," he ended, with a touch of sadness.
"Yes, Lem," she agreed, "thet's why I'll try t' be brave, 'cause Maw
Lutts alers talked t' me 'bout my schoolin' same's she did 'bout th'
church. Lem, I do wish Maw could jest see th' new church now thet pap's
got hit finished! Hit looks jest like she said, Lem. I 'low she'd jest
cry fer gladness, wouldn't she?"
Lem nodded absently and quickly put a question that had been waiting
from the instant he heard of Orlick's visit.
"What time ded Orlick cum?"
"He cum short past sun-down," returned Belle-Ann as the two sat down on
the bench.
"Ded he parley 'bout long?"
"Jest a short spell. I wouldn't talk t' em much."
Lem stood up. He was long and lank, but broad of shoulder for a boy of
eighteen. He had a pleasing, intelligent countenance, with light,
steadfast eyes that never looked askance. He removed his wide, soft hat
and gazed up to Eagle Crown.
"Ded pap see Orlick?" he asked.
Belle-Ann shook her curls in the negative.
"Belle-Ann, ef yo' takes pertic'lar notice, every time Jutt Orlick cums
t' Moon mountain somethin' alers happens--somethin' goes wrong. 'Peers
like things starts back'ards."
"I 'low he air a hoodoo," observed Belle-Ann: "but he do look
soldierfied, don't he, Lem?" she added, with a subtle regard for
Orlick's military aspect and his bombastic airs.
Lem shot a jealous, reproachful look at the girl, turning sharply as she
rose, and pointed down to a gap in the scrub timber, which was half
lighted by the moon. They caught the fleeting shadow of a horseman
mounting the trail to the cabin.
"Hit's Orlick!" Lem announced.
The sound of metallic hoof-strokes came rapid and distinct. When the
rider had looped the spur they beheld the front of Orlick's horse coming
head on up the moon-path, his hocks now in the air. As always, Orlick
had flank-spurred his mount on the last lap, and the animal plunged,
panting, to the horse-block, and brought up stiff-legged, with
red-rimmed nostrils and distended jaws, fighting a cruel Spanish bit.
Orlick rolled out of the Mexican saddle, laughed shortly, and drawled:
"Howdy, yo'-all?" and smirked as he always did. "I hain't seen yo'-all
in a coon's age, Lem," he added cordially, though his evil eyes were
upon the girl as he extended his hand in greeting.
Lem Lutts touched the outstretched hand briefly.
Belle-Ann stood aloof with a look of suspicious admiration on her lovely
countenance.
"I hain't seen yo'-all 'bout much nuther," answered Lem, with a
contemptuous scrutiny of Orlick's brave trappings. Orlick chuckled.
"Yes--I'm gittin' over th' country a little nowadays. But, say, Lem, I
cum up to tell ye thar's a stranger down at th' cypress cut what wants
to come up. He's down yonder now a waitin'. He's got some business with
the cap'n."
Belle-Ann shrank away, shuddering.
"I rec'on hit's Burton, th' ghost-man," she muttered under her breath.
Always since that memorable day when she had knelt beside Maw Lutts'
dead body in the yard did the coming of a stranger thrill her with a
great fear--a fear that stirred the venom that already tenanted her
heart; a vivific thing, spawned at the killing of Maw Lutts. Time had
never healed this wound. Time had only nurtured its corrosive, growing
poison. Time that came to others of mankind to succor and heal, had
never assuaged Belle-Ann's heart-hurt.
Struggle as she would to forget, she only remembered that she had
struggled, and the aching grew on. It was a silent, self-contained
suffering,--a hatred for the law that sneaked into their home and dealt
death. This supernatural hulk, Burton, embodied the law. Burton, this
lupine, leering lover of blood--this killer of women.
When Orlick announced that a stranger had business with the old man, the
revenuer's ugly visage popped before the girl more vividly than ever.
That grim hated shadow of prey darted upon her tensioned senses and made
her shiver, sending a-scutter and a-scurry all the innate righteous
instincts whose home had been her heart; leaving in its void a well of
hate that congealed and turned into a live thing, that squirmed,
burrowed, and crawled to and fro in her soul; armed with a hundred claws
to goad and agonize and spread a misery through her young life. All this
warped the girl's spiritual being and imperiled the beauty of her
countenance, for at times it mingled the lettering of its presence with
the charms of her face.
Without a word, but with a significant look at Belle-Ann, Lem took the
cow-horn suspended over his shoulder by a rawhide, pointed it upward
toward the lone figure on the cliff and gave a long, sonorous blast.
Instantly the solitary figure on high moved and disappeared from view.
Belle-Ann drew apart, while the two men stood together, Orlick doing the
talking, and watched for the old man to come out into the trail.
There came a slight sound behind and, like a shadow, old Cap Lutts
stepped forth under the trees and confronted them, his polished rifle
gleaming in the moonlight, and a big, spotted hound hugging his heels.
His straight, powerful form rose to giant proportions. His very presence
pulsed keen discernment, subtle alertness, an agile, seemingly
implacable strength and aggressive tenacity.
He listened in silence as Orlick told his mission and then said quietly:
"Lem, you an' Orlick go down yonder an' lead th' party up heah ef he's
alone; if he ain't yo'-all blow the horn. An' yo', Orlick," the old man
added, with eyes that bored into Orlick's smirking face, "what air thes
I heered about your trapesin' around over yon in Southpaw?"
Orlick shifted his weight to the other foot.
"Yo'-all ain't 'lowin' to fix nothin' on Jutt Orlick--on a Orlick,
cap'n?" he cried huskily. "Where's my pap an' four brothers--where's
Hank an' Bill an' Tom Orlick, an' Tod an' old Elijah Lutts Orlick?
"Shot to pieces heah on Hellsfork, fightin' the revenuers an' th'
McGills! I kin lead yo' to their bones down yonder!" He pointed his
trooper's hat trembling in his outstretched hand.
"An' whut air I heah fer t'-night? Yo'-all ain't 'lowin' to fix nothin'
on the onlyst Orlick left, cap'n?"
Throughout this fervent defense not for one instant did the piercing,
chill eyes of old Lutts leave the boy's face.
"Orlick," he began slowly, "I hain't studyin' 'bout the past. Hit's the
time a comin'. I jest axed yo', have yo' been over in Southpaw?"
"Naw, I hain't!" declared Orlick, flushing slightly.
"Have yo' snooked with the revenuers below?"
"Not by er damn sight!"
"Leastways," observed the old man as he drew back, "I 'low yo're in bad
company, son; but ef yo' ever cross Hellsfork er I know plumb sho' thet
yo' snook with th' revenuers below, don't never 'low me t' git eyes on
ye', Orlick."
"Don't force th' old man t' lift a hand agin' yo' pint-blank, git out o'
th' mountings first. Now, yo' boys go an' fetch th' stranger party up.
Ef hit's thet infernal ghost-dog revenuer, don't skeer em off--bring em
up, quick! Ef hit's a sheriff, don't hurt his feelin's--bring em up,
cose I'm lonesome like."
Orlick fully understood the import of Cap Lutts' parting words, and,
casting a covert look toward the cabin where he knew Belle-Ann lingered
in the shadows, he swaggered along after Lem, leading his horse. And the
while a bold design shaped itself in his perfidious heart as he
pretended loyal friendship to the silent boy trudging beside him.
A cloud of dark suspicion hung over the head of Jutt Orlick.
Things had happened in the mountains the past two years which
subsequently pointed accusing fingers in his direction. Unless he was
present no one ever knew just where Orlick was.
Two years since he had disappeared and come back after nine months,
wearing soldier's garb, which he had affected ever since.
He told lurid tales of his conquests and adventures with the Mexican
revolutionists. He elaborated on the gilded splendor and the beautiful
things that the big cities held.
He recounted deeds of heroism abroad in which he was sole hero and he
poured these fabulous tales into Belle-Ann's ears at every opportunity.
At the end of his periodical migrations he always returned with a new
horse, and sums of money that astounded the humble mountaineers.
For more than two years, Orlick had been determined to possess himself
of Belle-Ann Benson. But he resolved first to free himself of Lem Lutts.
He had noted of late the subtle little courtesies exchanged between
Belle-Ann and Lem, and he knew that they had arrived at the realization
that they were not brother and sister. Was it not reasonable to conclude
that, in view of the girl's beauty, it was only a matter of time before
Lem would take Belle-Ann for his own?
The mere thought stirred Orlick's hot blood to a fury, as with a scowl
he fixed his eyes upon the figure leading the downward trail and he was
seized with a mad impulse to shoot Lem in the back.
His hand crept downward. The cool contact of steel in his holster woke
him to his folly and he trailed along, curbing his impatience, resolved
to follow to the letter the plan he had worked out to get Belle-Ann out
of the mountains and away, or bring ruin down on the whole Lutts family.
When Lem Lutts returned to the cabin an hour later, with a large, tired
man and a fagged-out horse, Orlick was not with them.
Old Lutts was pacing to and fro in the moonlight. He was occupied mainly
with thoughts of his new church and the dedication on Sunday.
The stranger below was to him a matter of secondary concern. He had been
a hunted man all his life. Therefore, there was neither novelty nor
consternation in the reflection.
The old man stalked up to the horse-block and greeted the stranger.
"Howdy? Sort o' warmish t'-night. Whut mought be yo'-all's business
seein' me?"
"This is Mr. Lutts, I take it?" ventured the newcomer.
"Thes air ol' Cap Lutts, o' Moon mountain," corrected the old man in a
precise tone.
"Yes, certainly," continued the man hastily. "Well, captain, I'm a
deputy sheriff. I was despatched to see you and deliver a message from
the sheriff."
Here he revealed his shield, then unbuckled his belt, containing a pair
of pistols, and hung them over the saddle-tree.
"And, captain," he pursued wearily but genially, "I'm dog tired. I've
been five hours coming up the last five miles. Can I talk with you a
bit, captain?"
The old man, who had listened intently, spoke up now, and there was a
touch of sarcasm in his drawl.
"Yo' air a new deputy, I 'low--hain't yo', sheriff?"
"You are right. I was appointed two weeks ago, and I'll get even with
somebody for sending me on this Godless trail--I smell some spite
somewhere."
"Wal, set down heah, sheriff, an' perceed," invited Lutts, with a
generous gesture toward the bench.
"I can state my position and my errand, captain, in very few words,"
began the new deputy, who had plainly lost a measure of his official
zeal along the almost impassable trail, and now appeared disgruntled.
"The sheriff, the district attorney, and the collector of this district
have gotten together and have drafted an ultimatum and I was chosen to
deliver it to you and get your answer. They propose to quash all the
various indictments now against you for illicit distilling and for
shootings alleged through warrants by some of the McGill faction."
"Both the Commonwealth, the civil and Federal authorities stand as a
unit to clear the dockets of these charges, providing that you come down
and sign an agreement to cease all further operations pertaining to feud
wars and the illicit distilling of liquor and turn over all your present
distilling property to the government. That's it in a nutshell. I just
want your answer--yes or no, captain--and my work is done."
The sheriff looked up into the inscrutable face for answer. The old man
smiled good-humoredly and tossed his long hair backward.
"I air all-fired sorry, sheriff," he responded calmly, "thet yo'-all hit
heah so late. I want t' show yo' th' gawspel-house. I built hit all
myself--every dang lick an' cut, sheriff; an' I air a givin' hit t'
Kaintucky, pertic'lar these parts whar hit's needed bad like. Lem, tote
thes hoss back an' rub em an' fresh em an' fill em an' stir thet Slab
roun'. Tell em t' step like a catamount an' hash up a hot snack fo' th'
sheriff. Pull a yaller young pullet offen the south limb o' th' burnt
cedar over yon. An', Lem-boy, yo'-all tell Belle-Ann t' jog thet Slab up
a pinch. Sheriff, yo' hain't a goin' 'way from heah, leastways till
mornin'.
"Ez I wus a sayin', sheriff, we-uns air bin a needin' a gawspel-house
hyarbouts fo' a hundred yeers--now hit's arriv'. Thar's some powerful
pesky folks hyarbouts, sheriff," with a deprecating gesture towards
Southpaw.
"Th' McGills mought hev j'ined in ef they'd ac'ed right. Maw wus fo'
peace--Maw Lutts wus--Maw alers hankered fo' peace. She air up yon in
th' groun' now. Thet damn ghost-man, Burton, kilt her!"
Lutts turned his face quickly away and was silent. A huge hand slid
coaxingly over the gleaming surface of the rifle-barrel between his
legs.
"Sheriff, hit hain't thes rifle-gun's fault--hit hain't my eye ner my
hand, I'll swear. Sheriff, I've hit thet damn ghost-revenuer ez many
times ez yo' see rocks at yore feet thar. He air holler inside, sheriff.
"Yo' know outside shoots hain't a hurtin' nobuddy--hit's when th'
bullets gits down in a buddy's in'ards an' gits tangled up with his
insides thet counts. Thet revenuer hain't got no insides. He air holler,
sheriff."
The old man paused in silence, his auditor pondering the manner of man
before him.
"Ez I wus a sayin', sheriff, th' McGills mought 'a' j'ined my
gawspel-house ef they had ac'ed half right. One Sabbath mornin', 'fore I
built th' gawspel-house, I follered Maw Lutts down t' th' brink of
Hellsfork, Maw a totin' a truce-flag.
"I hollers across t' ol' Sap McGill; an' I says, 'Sap McGill,' I
says--'seein' thet we-all air even up now on th' killin', ef yo'-all
lays down I lays down.' An' Maw Lutts up an' hollers across, too, an'
says: 'Sap McGill, ef yo'-all lays down yo' kin jine th' gawspel-house
pap 'lows t' built on Hellsfork, an' we-uns 'll all have our sins wyshed
away an' stop a fightin'.'
"Sheriff, ol' Sap, he hollers back, quick like, an' onery ez a varmint,
an' says: 'To hell with yore gawspel-house on Hellsfork! Hyars yo'
answer.' An' he shot me twice 'fore I could believe he wus so low-down
onery an' pesky as to do hit, an' Maw a holdin' up th' truce-flag! So I
had t' kill em."
The old man's eyes swept the moonlit distance that embraced the church
as he went on.
"I 'low we-uns 'll show yo' th' gawspel-house early in th' mornin',
sheriff. Ef yo' don't 'low t' go I'll pick yo' up in my arms an' tote
yo' down thar. Yo' got t' see hit. Thar hain't no purttier gawspel-house
down Blue-grass."
Belle-Ann stood before them.
"I 'low yo'-all kin be comin' along now, pap, 'fore th' snack gits
cold," she said shyly in her low, sweet drawl.
As the men rose the sheriff caught himself ogling. Following the
gliding, moccasined feet, he noted the grace and loveliness of her
lithe, round form. He assured himself that he had never beheld such
artless, unusual, natural beauty in a girl.
And he pondered soberly upon a lineage of blue blood manifest in her
face, her form, her voice, and manner.
A restless murmur rippled through the cool cedars where the birds had
gone to sleep. Cautiously a small shape with wizened face slid from out
the mystic shadows, lugging a rifle twice his length. Even for his
eleven years, Buddy Lutts was undersized.
His body was thin and small. His reasoning was little. But his heart was
big with hate for that devil-thing, the law. He vanished as noiselessly
and furtively as he had come. Little Bud had overheard every word the
sheriff had uttered.