_ CHAPTER XXVIII. 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. _