LEECH AND STILL MAKE A MOVE, AND TWO WOMEN CHECK THEM
The departure of Leech and Still from the County was followed by
the quieting down which always signalized their absence. The County
breathed the freer and enjoyed the calm, knowing that when they
returned there would be a renewed girding of loins for the struggle
which the approaching campaign would inevitably bring. It was not
even disquieted over the rumors of some unusual move which, it was
reported, the Government, on the application of Leech and Still, would
make to strengthen their hands. These rumors had been going on so long
that they were hardly heeded now. It would be time enough to meet the
storm when it came, as it had met others; meanwhile, the people of Red
Rock would enjoy the calm that had befallen. The calm would be broken
when Leech and Still returned for the trial of the Red Rock case at
the approaching term of court. Steve Allen and Jacquelin, meanwhile,
were applying all their energies to preparation for the trial. Rupert,
filled with the desire to do his part, was riding up and down the
County notifying their witnesses, and, it must be said, talking with a
boy’s imprudence of what they were going to do at the trial. “They were
going to show that Still was a thief, and were going to run him and
Leech out of the County,” etc.
Rupert left home one morning to go to the railway, promising to return
that evening. Jacquelin sat up for him, but he did not come; and as he
did not appear next morning, and no word had come from him, Jacquelin
rode down in the evening to see about him. At the station he learned
that Rupert had been there, but had left a little before dark, the
evening before, to return home. He had fallen in with three or four men
who had just come from the city on the train, and were making inquiries
concerning the various places and residents in the upper end of the
County, something about all of which they had appeared to know. They
said they were interested in timber lands and had a good deal of law
business they wished attended to, and they wanted advice as to who were
the best lawyers of the County; and Rupert said he could tell them all
about the lawyers: that General Legaie and Mr. Bagby were the best old
lawyers, and his brother and Steve Allen were the best young lawyers.
They asked him about Leech and McRaffle.
Leech wasn’t anything. Yes, he was—he was a thief, and so was Still.
Still had stolen his father’s bonds; but wait until he himself got on
the stand, he’d show him up! McRaffle was a turncoat hound, who had
stolen money from a woman and then tried to run her out of the County.
One of the men who lived about the station told Jacquelin that he had
gone up and tried to get Rupert away from the strangers, and urged him
to go home, but that the boy was too excited by this time to know what
he was doing.
“He was talking pretty wildly,” he said, “and was abusing Leech and
Still and pretty much all the Rads. I didn’t mind that so much, but he
was blowing about that old affair when the negro soldiers were shot,
and about the K.K.’s and the capture of the arms, and was telling what
he did about it. You know how a boy will do! And I put in to stop him,
but he wouldn’t be hearsaid. He said these men were friends of his and
had come up to employ you all in a lawsuit, and knew Leech and Still
were a parcel of rascals. So I let him alone, and he went off with ’em,
along with a wagon they’d hired, saying he was going to show them the
country, and I supposed he was safe home.”
By midnight the whole population of that part of the County was out,
white and black, and the latter were as much interested as the former.
All sorts of speculation was indulged in, and all sorts of rumors
started. Some thought he had been murdered, and others believed he and
his companion had gotten on a spree and had probably gone off together
to some adjoining county, or even had turned at some point and gone to
the city; but the search continued. Meantime, unknown to the searchers,
an unexpected ally had entered the field.
That evening Ruth Welch was sitting at home quietly reading when a
servant brought a message that a man was at the door asking to see
Major Welch. It happened that Major Welch was absent in town, and Mrs.
Welch had driven over that afternoon to see a sick woman. So Ruth went
out to see the man. He was a stranger, and Ruth was at once struck by
something peculiar about him. He was a little unsteady on his feet, his
voice was thick, and, at first, he did not appear to quite take in what
Ruth told him. He had been sent, he repeated several times, to tell
“Mazhur Welth” that they had taken his advice and had made the first
arrest, and bagged the man who had given the information that started
that riot, and had gotten evidence enough from him to hang him and to
haul in the others too.
“But I don’t understand,” said the girl. “What is all this about? Who’s
been arrested, and who is to be hung? My father has never advised the
arrest of anyone.”
“Tha’s all I know, miss,” said the man. “At least, tha’s all I was to
tell. I was told to bring him that message, and I guess it’s so, ’cause
they’ve got the young fellow shut up in a jail since last night and
as drunk as a monkey, and don’t anybody know he’s there—tha’s a good
joke, ain’t it?—and to-morrow mornin’ they’ll take him to the city and
lodge him in the jail there, and ’t ’ll go pretty hard with him. Don’t
anybody know he’s there, and they’re huntin’ everywheres for him.” He
appeared to think this a great joke.
“But I don’t understand at all whom you mean?”
“The young one. They bagged him, and they’re after the two older ones
too,” he said, confidentially. He was so repulsive that Ruth shrank
back.
“The one they calls Rupert; but they’re after the two head devils—his
brother and that Allen one. Them’s the ones the colonel and your friend
over there want to jug.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of Red
Rock.
It all flashed on the girl in a moment.
“Oh! They have arrested Mr. Rupert Gray, and they want Mr. Jacquelin
Gray and Captain Allen? Who has arrested him?”
“The d—tectives. But them’s the ones had it done—Major Leech and
Mist’ Still.” He winked elaborately, in a way that caused Ruth to
stiffen with indignation.
“What was it for?” she asked, coldly.
“For murder—killin’ them men three or four years back. They’ve got the
dead wood on ’em now—since the young one told all about it.”
“Has he confessed? What did he say?”
“Enough to hang him and them too, I heard. You see they tanked him up
and led him on till he put his head in the noose. Oh! they’re pretty
slick ones, them detectives is. They got him to pilot ’em most to the
jail door, and then they slipped him in there, to keep him till they
take him to the city to-morrow. He was so drunk—don’t nobody know
who he was, and he didn’t know himself. And they huntin’ all over the
country for him!” He laughed till he had to support himself against the
door.
The expression on Ruth’s face was such that the man noticed it.
“Oh! don’t you mind it, miss. I don’t think they’re after the young
one. They’re after the two elder ones, and if he gives it away so they
ever get them they’ll be easy on him.”
Ruth uttered an exclamation of disgust.
“He’ll never give it away——” She checked herself.
“Don’t know—a man’ll do a heap to save his own neck.” He made a
gesture, drawing his hand across his throat significantly.
“I know that young man, and I say he’ll die before he’d betray
anyone—much less his cousin and brother.”
“Well, maybe so.”
Just as the messenger turned away Ruth caught sight of someone standing
in the shrubbery, and as the man went out of the gate the person came
forward. It was Virgy Still. She appeared to be in a state of great
agitation, and began to tell Ruth a story in which her father and
Rupert Gray and Major Leech were all mixed up so incoherently that, but
that Ruth had just heard the facts, she could never have been able to
unravel it. At length Ruth was able to calm her and to get her account.
She had sent a man over to tell Ruth, but she was so afraid he had not
come that she had followed him. “They want to get rid of Mr. Rupert. It
has something to do with the case against pa and your father. They are
afraid Mr. Rupert will give evidence against them, and they mean to put
him in jail and keep him from doing it. Do you know what it is?”
Ruth shook her head.
“I do not either. I heard them talking about it, but I did not
understand what it was. They ain’t after Mr. Rupert; they’re after Mr.
Jacquelin and Captain Allen.”
She suddenly burst into tears.
“Oh, Miss Ruth,” she sobbed, “you don’t know—you don’t know——”
“I don’t know what?” asked Ruth, gently.
“He is the only one that was always kind to me.”
“Who?”
“Mr. Jacquelin. He was always good to me; when I was a little bit of
girl he was always kind to me. And now he hates me, and I never wanted
the place!”
“Oh, I don’t think he does,” said Ruth, consolingly.
“Yes, he does; I know he does,” sobbed the girl. “And I never wanted
the place. I have been miserable ever since I went there.”
Ruth looked at her with new sympathy. The idea that the poor girl
was in love with Jacquelin had never crossed her mind. She felt an
unspeakable pity for her.
“And now they want me to marry Mr. Leech,” moaned the girl, “and I hate
him—I hate him! Oh, I wish we never had had the place. I know he would
not want to marry me if pa did not have it, and could not help him get
the governorship. And I hate him. I hope we’ll lose the case.”
“I would not marry anyone I did not want to marry,” said Ruth.
“Oh, you don’t know,” said Virgy. “You don’t know Wash. And pa wants me
to marry him too; he says he’ll be Governor. Pa loves me, but he won’t
hear to my not marrying. And I’ll have to do it—unless we lose the
case,” she added.
She rose and went away, leaving Ruth with a new idea in her mind.
Ruth sat still for a few moments in deep thought. Suddenly she sprang
up, and, calling a servant, ordered her horse. While it was being got
she seized a pencil and scribbled a few lines on a piece of paper,
which she put in her pocket.
She blushed to find what an interest she took in the matter, and how
warmly her feeling was enlisted on the side opposed to that which she
felt she ought to espouse. And she hated herself to recognize the
cause. She tried to think that it was on account of the poor wild boy,
or on account of Blair Cary and Miss Thomasia; but no, she knew it
was not on their account—at least, not mainly so—but on account of
another.
When her horse came, Ruth muttered something to the servant about
telling her mother that she would be back in a little while; sprang
into the saddle and galloped away, leaving the negro gazing after her
with wonderment, and mumbling over the message she had given him.
Blair Cary was one of the best horsewomen in the State, and it was
fortunate for Ruth Welch’s project that night that, emulating her
friend, she also had become a capital horsewoman, self-possessed and
perfectly fearless; else she could not have managed the high-mettled,
spirited horse she rode.
Ruth knew her road well, and as soon as she turned into the highway
that led to the county seat she let her horse out, and they fairly
flew. She passed a number of men, riding all of them toward the
court-house, but she dashed by them too rapidly for them to speak to
her or to recognize her in the dark. As she came near the village the
riders increased in numbers, so she drew in her horse and turned into
a by-lane which skirted the back of the court-green and led near the
lawyers’ offices. Jumping her horse over the low fence, she tied him
to a swinging limb of a tree where he would be in the shadow, and,
with a pat or two to quiet him and keep him from whinnying, she made
her way on foot into the court-green. There were a number of lights
and many men moving about over across the street that ran between the
tavern and the court-green; but not a light was visible in any of the
offices. Ruth walked down as far as she dared, keeping close beside the
fence, and tried to recognize some of the men who were moving about
on the tavern veranda or in the road before it; but there was not one
that she knew. While she was listening the sound of a horse galloping
rapidly came from the direction of the road that led to the railway,
and the next minute the rider dashed up. Ruth’s heart gave a bound as
she recognized Captain Allen. His coming seemed to give her a sense
of security and protection. She felt reassured and certain that now
everything would be all right. As Steve sprang from his horse, he was
surrounded by the crowd with eager questions. His first words, however,
damped Ruth’s hopes.
No, no trace had been found of Rupert. Jacquelin and many others were
still searching for him, and would keep it up. No, he felt sure he had
not been murdered by any negro—that he had not been murdered at all.
He would be found in time, etc. All this in answer to questions.
Suddenly he singled out one man and drew him away from the crowd, and
to Ruth’s horror they came across the road straight toward where she
stood. She gave herself up for lost. She turned and would have fled,
but she could not. Instead, she simply dropped down on the ground and
cowered beside the fence. They came and leant against the fence within
ten feet of her, on the other side, and began to talk. The other person
was a stranger to Ruth; but his voice was that of an educated man, and
Steve Allen called him Helford, which Ruth remembered to have heard
somewhere before.
“Well, where is he?” the stranger asked Steve, as soon as they were out
of earshot of the crowd.
“Somewhere, shut up—hidden,” said Allen.
“Drunk?”
“Yes, and that’s not the worst of it.”
“What do you mean? He’ll turn up all right.”
“You think so! He’ll turn up in jail, and you and I shall too, if we
don’t mind. He’s been trapped and spirited away—by detectives, sent up
here on purpose.”
“What! Oh, nonsense! You’re daft about the boy. Many another young
fellow’s gone off and disappeared, to turn up with nothing worse than a
splitting head and somewhat damaged morals. You yourself, for instance,
when you were not much older than he——”
“Never mind about that,” interrupted Steve; “wait until I tell you all,
and you’ll see. I’m not given to being scary, I think.”
He went on to tell of Rupert’s falling in with the men at the station,
and of his disappearance, including all that his friends had learned
of him both before and after he left. The man gave a low whistle of
amazement and dismay.
“The little fool! What makes you think they were detectives?” He was
groping for a shred of encouragement.
“I know it,” said Steve; and he gave his reasons.
Ruth was astonished to see how closely his reasoning followed and
unravelled the facts as she knew them.
“Well, where is he now? Back in the city?”
“No. They haven’t got him there yet. They have hid him somewhere and
are keeping him drunk, and will try taking him off by night.”
“Well, what are you going to do?”
“Find him and take him away from them,” said Steve. “If Leech or Still
were in the County I’d find him in an hour; but they’re both in the
city—been away a fortnight hatching this thing.”
“All right, I’m with you. But where’ll we look? You say Leech and Still
are both away in the city, and you don’t think he’s at either of their
places? Where can he be?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll find out if he’s above ground,” said Steve,
“and some day I’ll call Jonadab Leech and Hiram Still to a settling.”
“I’ll tell you, Allen, where you may find him, or, at any rate, find a
trace of him. At that new carpet-bagger’s, Mr. Welch’s.”
“Nonsense! Why don’t you look in my office?”
“You may say so; but I’ll tell you you’d better look. You all over here
think he’s different from the rest: but I tell you he isn’t. When it
comes to these questions, they’re all tarred with the same stick, and a
d——d black stick it is.”
Ruth stirred with indignation. She wished she could have sprung up and
faced him.
“We won’t discuss that,” said Steve, coldly. “Major Welch certainly
differs widely from you and me on all political questions—perhaps on
many other questions. But he is a gentleman, and I’ll stake my life on
his being ignorant of anything like this. Gentlemen are the same the
world over in matters of honor.”
“Well, maybe so—if you think so,” said the other, impressed by Steve’s
seriousness. “But I don’t see why you should think he’s so different
from all the rest of them. You didn’t use to find one Yankee so much
better than another.”
Steve declared haughtily that he did not wish to discuss that question
further, and that he would have his horse fed and go to his office to
make out a few notices and be ready to start off again in an hour.
“The roads are all picketed, and if they get him to the city it will be
by a route they won’t want to take themselves,” he said grimly, as he
turned away.
“Suppose he’s already in jail somewhere?” asked his friend.
“We’ll take him out,” said Steve, stopping short. “There isn’t a jail
in this commonwealth that will hold him, if I discover where he is.”
“All right, we’ll be with you, old fellow,” said his friend, his
good-humor restored; “and if we could get a pull at some of your
carpet-bag friends at the same time so much the better. You are not the
only one who holds a due-bill of McRaffle’s, and has a score against
Leech. He arrested my father and kept him in jail a week.” His voice
had suddenly grown bitter.
When they moved off, Ruth rose and crept hurriedly away, stealing along
by the fence until she was in the shadow of the offices. She knew she
had not a moment to lose. She went up to the offices and scanned the
doors. Fortunately, by even the faint glimmer of the stars she could
make out the big names on the signs. She tried the door on which was
the name of “Allen and Gray,” and, finding it locked, slipped her
envelope under it and crept quickly away.
She was just in time, for she heard steps behind her and caught sight
of a tall figure striding across the green toward the door she had just
left. She found and mounted her horse and rode away, keeping well in
the shadow of the trees. As she turned into the road at a sharp canter
she almost ran over an old negro who was walking rapidly toward the
village. It was so close that she could not avoid calling out to him;
but she was not quite in time, for her horse touched him enough to
topple him over. Ruth pulled in instantly and, turning around, went
back to the man, who was scrambling to his feet grumbling and mumbling
to himself:
“Who d’name o’ King dat ridin’ over me?”
Ruth recognized old Waverley.
“Oh! Are you hurt, uncle? I hope not. I’m so sorry. It was so dark I
couldn’t see you,” she said, solicitously. The tone removed the old
man’s irritation immediately.
“Yes’m—’tis mighty dark, sho nough. Nor’m, I ain hut none—jes kind o’
skeered, dat’s all. I did’n hut yo’ hoss, did I? Ken you tell me, is
dee done heah anything o’ my young marster? I jes hurryin’ down heah to
git de lates’ wud ’bout him.”
Ruth told him that his young master had not been seen yet; but that he
would certainly be found within the next twenty-four hours, and that
she was sure he would be discovered to be all right.
“Well, I certney is glad to heah you say dat, mistis,” said the old
fellow, “‘cause my mistis is almost distracted, and so is he mammy
and all de fam’ly. I done walked down heah three times to-day to git
de news, an’ I know I ain’ gwine shet my eyes till he found. Hits all
de wuck of dat Cun’l Leech an’ dat debble, Hiram Still, an’ he son.
I knows ’em,” he broke out, fiercely, “and I’ll git at de bottom of
it yit.” He came near and gazed up at Ruth with a look of such keen
scrutiny, that to get away from him Ruth made her horse start. “I shall
have to let him go,” she said, and at a touch of her heel her horse
bounded away.
“I knows your hoss and I knows you too, now,” said the old man, looking
after her as she dashed away in the darkness. “Well, well!” and he went
on into the village.
When Ruth reached home, to her relief she found that her mother had not
yet returned. A message had come that Miss Bush was ill and she would
be detained until very late, but would certainly be back by bedtime.