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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/39056-8.txt b/39056-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8bf258a --- /dev/null +++ b/39056-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9105 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Bruce of the Circle A, by Harold Titus + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Bruce of the Circle A + +Author: Harold Titus + +Release Date: March 4, 2012 [EBook #39056] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BRUCE OF THE CIRCLE A *** + + + + +Produced by Darleen Dove, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + + BRUCE + + OF THE CIRCLE A + + BY HAROLD TITUS + + Author of "--I Conquered" + + + ILLUSTRATED + + BOSTON + SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY + PUBLISHERS + + Copyright, 1918 + By SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY + (INCORPORATED) + + + + +[Illustration: Except for the animal's breathing, the world was very +quiet.] + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I. THE WOMAN 1 + + II. SOME MEN 7 + + III. THE LODGER NEXT DOOR 17 + + IV. A REVELATION 31 + + V. THE CLERGY OF YAVAPAI 46 + + VI. AT THE CIRCLE A 56 + + VII. TONGUES WAG 68 + + VIII. A HEART SPEAKS 84 + + IX. LYTTON'S NEMESIS 102 + + X. WHOM GOD HATH JOINED 119 + + XI. THE STORY OF ABE 131 + + XII. THE RUNAWAY 147 + + XIII. THE SCOURGING 163 + + XIV. THE WOMAN ON HORSEBACK 187 + + XV. HER LORD AND MASTER 204 + + XVI. THE MESSAGE ON THE SADDLE 223 + + XVII. THE END OF THE VIGIL 239 + + XVIII. THE FIGHT 255 + + XIX. THE TRAILS UNITE 278 + + + + +BRUCE OF THE CIRCLE A + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE WOMAN + + +Daylight and the Prescott-Phoenix train were going from Yavapai. Fifty +paces from the box of a station a woman stood alone beside the track, +bag in hand, watching the three red lights of the observation platform +dwindle to a ruby unit far down the clicking ribbons of steel. As she +watched, she felt herself becoming lost in the spaciousness, the silence +of an Arizona evening. + +Ann Lytton was a stranger in that strange land. Impressions pelted in +upon her--the silhouetted range against the cerise flush of western sky; +the valley sweeping outward in all other directions to lose itself in +the creeping blue-grays of night; droning voices of men from the +station; a sense of her own physical inconsequence; her loneliness ... +and, as a background, the insistent vastness of the place. + +Then, out of the silence from somewhere not far off, came a flat, dead +crash, the report of a firearm. The woman was acutely conscious that the +voices in the station had broken short with an abruptness which alarmed +her. The other sound--the shot--had touched fear in her, too, and the +knowledge that it had nipped the attention of the talking men sent a +cool thrill down her limbs. + +A man emerged from the depot and his voice broke in, + +"Wonder where that--" + +He stopped short and the woman divined the reason. She strained to catch +the thrum of running hoofs, knowing intuitively that the man, also, had +ceased speaking to listen. She was conscious that she trembled. + +Another man stepped into the open and spoke, hurriedly, but so low that +Ann could not hear; the first replied in the same manner, giving a sense +of stealth, of furtiveness that seemed to the woman portentous. She took +a step forward, frightened at she knew not what, wanting to run to the +men just because she was afraid and they were human beings. She checked +herself, though, and forced reason. + +This was nonsense! She laid it on her nerves. They were ragged after the +suspense and the long journey, the dread and hopes. A shot, a galloping +horse, a suspected anxiety in the talk of the two men had combined to +play upon them in their overwrought condition. + +Then, the first speaker's voice again, in normal tone, + +"Trunk here, but I didn't see anybody get off." + +Ann wanted to laugh with relief. Just that one sentence linked her up +with everyday life again, took the shake from her knees and the accented +leap from her heart. She was impelled to run to him, and held herself +to a walk by effort. + +"I beg your pardon. Can you tell me the name of the best hotel?" she +asked. + +The man who had seized the trunk stopped rolling it toward the doorway +and turned quickly to look at the woman who stood there in the pallid +glow from the one oil lamp. He saw a blue straw toque fitting tightly +over a compact mass of black hair; he saw blue eyes, earnest and +troubled; red lips, with the fullness of youth; flushed cheeks, a trim, +small body clothed in a close fitting, dark suit. + +"Yes, ma'am; it's th' Manzanita House. It's th' two-story buildin' up +th' street. Is this your trunk?" + +"Yes. May I leave it here until morning?" + +The man nodded. "Sure," he answered. + +"Thank you. Is there a carriage here?" + +He set the trunk on end, wiped his palms on his hips and smiled +slightly. + +"No, ma'am. Yavapai ain't quite up to hacks an' things yet. We're young. +You can walk it in two minutes." + +Ann hesitated. + +"It's ... all right, is it?" + +He did not comprehend. + +"For me to walk, I mean. Just now.... It sounded as if some one shot, I +thought." + +He laughed. + +"Oh, Yavapai's a safe place! Somebody just shot at somethin', I guess. +But it's all right. We ain't got no hacks, but we don't have no killin's +either." + +"I'm glad of the one anyhow," Ann smiled, and started away from him not, +however, wholly reassured. + +She walked toward the array of yellow lighted windows that showed +through the deepening darkness, making her way over the hard ground, +hurriedly, skirt lifted in the free hand. She had not inspected the +shadowy town beyond glancing casually to register the ill-defined +impressions of scattered stock pens, sprawling buildings, a short string +of box-cars, a water-tank. The country, the location of the settlement, +was the thing which had demanded her first attention, for it was all +strange, new, a bit terrifying in the twilight. Two men passed her, +talking; their voices ceased and she knew that they turned to stare; +then one spoke in a lowered tone ... and the night had them. A man on +horseback rode down the street at a slow trot. She wondered uneasily if +that was the horse which had raced away at the sound of the shot. From +the most brilliantly lighted building the sound of a mechanical piano +suddenly burst, hammering out a blatant melody. + +A thick sprinkling of stars had pricked through the darkening sky and +Ann, as she walked along, scanned the outline that each structure made +against them. Once she laughed shortly to herself and thought, + +"_The_ two-story building!" + +And, almost with that thought, she stood before it. An oil lamp on an +uncertain post was set close against the veranda and through an open +window she saw a woman, bearing a tray, pause beside a table and deposit +steaming dishes. She walked up the steps, opened the screen door, and +entered an unlighted hall, barren, also, to judge from the sounds. On +one side was the dining room; on the other, a cramped office. + +"This is the Manzanita House?" she asked a youth who, hat on the back of +his head, read a newspaper which was spread over the top of a small +glass cigar case on the end of a narrow counter. + +"Yes, ma'am"--evidently surprised. + +He saw her bag, looked at her face again, took off his hat shyly and +opened a ruled copybook to which a pencil was attached by a length of +grimy cotton twine. He pushed it toward her, and the woman, as she drew +off her glove, saw that this was the hotel register. + +In a bold, large hand she wrote: + +"Ann Lytton, Portland, Maine." + +"I'd like a room for to-night," she said, "and to-morrow I'd like to get +to the Sunset mine. Can you direct me?" + +A faint suggestion of anxiety was in her query and on the question the +youth looked at her sharply, met her gaze and let his waver off. He +turned to put the register on the shelf behind him. + +"Why, I can find out," he answered, evasively. "It's over thirty miles +out there and th' road ain't so very good yet. You can get th' +automobile to take you. It's out now--took the doctor out this +afternoon--and won't be back till late, prob'ly." + +He took the register from the shelf again and, on pretext of noting her +room number on the margin of the leaf, re-read her name and address, +moving his lips in the soundless syllables. + +"I'd ... I'd like to go to my room, if I may," the woman said, and, +picking up one of the two lighted lamps, the other led her into the hall +and up the narrow flight of stairs. + +Ten minutes later, the young man stood in the hotel kitchen, the house +register in his hands. Over his right shoulder the waitress peered and +over his left, the cook breathed heavily, as became her weight. + +"Just Ann. It don't say Miss or Missus," the waitress said. + +"I know, Nora, but somehow she don't look like _his_ Missus," the boy +said, with a shake of his head. + +"From what you say about her, she sure don't. Are you goin' to tell her +anythin'? Are you goin' to try to find out?" + +"Not me. I wouldn't tell her nothin'! Gee, I wouldn't have th' nerve. +Not after knowin' him and then takin' a real good look at a face like +hers." + +"If she is his, it's a dirty shame!" the girl declared, picking up her +tray. She kicked open the swinging door and passed into the dining +room. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +SOME MEN + + +Ann Lytton ate alone--ate alone, but did not sit alone. She was the last +patron of the dining room that evening, and, after Nora Brewster, the +waitress, had surrounded her plate with an odd assortment of heavy +side-dishes, she drew out a chair at the end of the table, seated +herself, elbows on the limp, light linen, and, black eyes fast on the +face of the other woman, pushed conversation. + +"From the East, ain't you?" she began, and Ann smiled assent. + +"New York?" + +"No, not New York," and the blue eyes met the black ones, running +quickly over the pretty, dark-skinned face, the thick coils of chestnut +hair, noting the big, kindly mouth, the peculiarly weak chin. Obviously, +the girl was striving to pump the newcomer and on the realization some +of the trouble retreated far into the blue eyes and Ann smiled in +kindliness at Nora, as she parried the girl's direct questions. + +In another mood a part of her might have resented this blunt curiosity, +but just now it came as a relief from a line of thought which had been +too long sustained. And, after they had talked a few moments, the +eastern woman found herself interested in the simplicity, the patent +sincerity, of the other. The conversation flourished throughout the meal +and by the time Ann had tasted and put aside the canned plums she had +discovered much about Nora Brewster, while Nora, returning to the +kitchen to tell the cook and the boy from the office all she had +learned, awakened to the fact that she had found out nothing at all! + +Ann walked slowly from the dining room into the office to leave +instructions about her trunk, but the room was empty and she went back +to the door which stood open and looked out into the street. From across +the way the mechanical piano continued its racket, and an occasional +voice was lifted in song or laughter. She thought again of the shot, the +running horse. She watched the shadowy figures passing to and fro behind +the glazed windows of the saloon and between her brows came a frown. She +drew a deep breath, held it a long instant, then let it slip quickly +out, ending in a little catch of a cough. She closed one hand and let it +fall into the other palm. + +"To-morrow at this time, I may know," she muttered. + +She would have turned away and climbed the stairs, then, but on her last +glance into the street a moving blotch attracted her attention. She +looked at it again, closer; it was approaching the hotel and, after a +moment she discerned the outlines of a man walking, leading a horse. A +peculiar quality about his movements, an undistinguished part of the +picture, held her in the doorway an instant longer. + +Then, she saw that the man was carrying the limp figure of another and +that he was coming directly toward her, striding into the circle of +feeble light cast from the lamp on the post, growing more and more +distinct with each step. A thrill ran through the woman, making her +shudder as she drew back; the arms and legs of the figure that was being +borne toward her swung so helplessly, as though they were boneless; the +head, too, swayed from side to side. Yet these appearances, suggestive +as they were of tragedy, did not form the influence which caused Ann's +throat to tighten and her pulse to speed. She heard voices and footsteps +as other men ran up. She drew back into the shadows of the hall. + +"What you got, Bruce?" one asked, in a tone of concern. + +"O, a small parcel of man meat," she heard the tall one explain +casually, with something like amusement in his voice. + +"Who is it?" + +An answer was made, but the woman could not understand. + +"Oh, _him_!" Disdain was in the voice, as though there were no longer +cause for apprehension, as if the potential consequence of the situation +had been dissipated by identification of the unconscious figure. + +Other arrivals, fresh voices; out under the light a dozen men were +clustered about the tall fellow and his burden. + +"Where'd you find him?" one asked. + +"Out at th' edge of town--in th' ditch. Abe, here,"--with a jerk of his +head to indicate the sleek sorrel horse he led--"found him. He acted so +damned funny he made me get off to see what it was, an', sure enough, +here was Yavapai's most enthusiastic drinker, sleepin' in th' ditch! + +"Here, let me put him down on th' porch, there,"--elbowing his way +through the knot about him. "He ain't much more man in pounds than he is +in principle, but he weighs up considerable after packin' him all this +way." + +The watching woman saw that his burden was a slight figure, short and +slender, dressed roughly, with his clothing worn and torn and stained. + +"Why didn't you let Abe pack him?" a man asked, as the big cowboy, +stooping gently, put the inert head and shoulders to the boards and +slowly lowered the limp legs. He straightened, and, with a red +handkerchief, whipped the dust from his shirt. Then, he hitched up his +white goatskin chaps and looked into the face of his questioner and +smiled. + +"Well, Tommy, Abe here ain't never had to carry a souse yet, an' I guess +he won't have to so long as I'm around an' healthy. That right, Abe?" + +He reached out a hand and the sorrel, intelligent ears forward in +inquiry, moved closer by a step to smell the fingers; then, allowed them +to scratch the white patch on his nose. + +A chuckle of surprise greeted the man's remark. + +"Why, Bruce, to hear you talk anybody'd think that you close-herded your +morals continual; that you was a 'Aid S'city' wagon boss; that lips that +touch liquor should never--" + +"I ain't said nothin' to make you think that, Tommy Clary," the other +replied, laughing at the upturned face of his challenger, who was short +and pug-nosed and possessed of a mouth that refused to do anything but +smile; who was completely over-shadowed and rendered top-heavy by a hat +of astonishing proportions. "I drink," he went on, "like th' rest of us +damn fools, but I don't think it's smart to do it. I think it is pretty +much all nonsense, an' I think that when you drink you ought to +associate with drinkin' folks an' let th' ones who have better sense +alone. + +"That's why I never ride Abe to town when I figure I'm goin' to be doin' +any hellin' around; that's why, if I have got drunk by mistake when I +had him here, I've slept in town instead of goin' home. Abe, you see, +Tommy, has got a good deal of white man in him for a horse. He'd carry +me all right if I was drunk, if I asked him to; but I won't, because +he's such a _good_ horse that he ought to always have a mighty good man +on his middle. When a man's drunk, he ain't good ... for nothin'. Like +this here"--with a contemptuous movement of one booted foot to indicate +the huddle of a figure which lay in the lamplight. + +"No, I don't make no claim to bein' a saint, Tommy. Good Lord, _hombre_, +do you think, if I thought I was right decent all th' time, all through, +I'd ever be seen swapping lies with any such ugly outcast as you are?" + +The others laughed again at that, and the tall man removed his hat to +wipe the moisture from his forehead. + +Ann, watching from the shadows, lips pressed together, heart on a +rampage from a fear that was at once groundless and natural, saw his +fine profile against the lamp, as he laughed good-naturedly at the man +he had jibed. His head was flung back boyishly, but about its poise, its +lines, the way it was set on his sturdy neck, was an indication of +superb strength, a fine mettle. His hair fell backward from the brow. It +tended toward waviness and was dry and light in texture as well as in +color, for the rays of the light were scattered and diffused as they +shot through it. He was incredibly tall in his high-heeled riding boots, +but his breadth was in proportion. The movements of his long arms, his +finely moulded shoulders, his whole lithe torso were well measured, +splendidly balanced, of that natural grace and assurance which marks the +inherent leadership born in individuals. His voice went well with the +rest of him, for it was smooth and deep and filled with capabilities of +expression. + +"Well, if you think all us drunkards are such buzzard fodder, what are +you packin' this around with you for?" Clary asked, after the laughter +had subsided. + +The cowman looked down thoughtfully a moment and his face grew serious. +He shook his head soberly. + +"This fellow's a cripple, boys; that's all. Just a cripple," he +explained. + +"Cripple! He's about th' liveliest, most cantankerous, trouble-maker +this country has had to watch since Bill Williams named his mountain!" a +man in the group scoffed. + +"Yes, I know. His legs ain't broke or deformed; he can use both arms; +his fool tongue has made us all pretty hot since we've knowed him. But +he ain't right up here, in his head, boys. He's crippled there. There +ain't no reason for a human bein' gettin' to be so nasty as he's got to +be. It ain't natural. It's th' booze, Tommy, th' booze that's crippled +him. He ought to be kept away from it until he's had a chance, but +nobody's took enough interest in him or th' good of th' town to tend to +that. We've just locked him up when he got too drunk an' turned him +loose to hell some more when he was halfway sober. He ain't had nobody +to look out for him, when he's needed it more 'n anything else. + +"I ain't blamin' nobody. Don't know as I'd looked out for him myself, if +he hadn't looked so helpless, there 'n th' ditch, Gosh, any one of you'd +take in a dog with a busted leg an' try to fix him up; if he bit at you +an' scratched and tried to fight, you'd only feel sorrier for him. This +feller ... he's kind of a dog, too. Maybe it'd be a good investment for +us to look after him a little an' see if we can't set him on his feet. +We've tried makin' an example of him; now let's try to treat him like +any of you'd treat me, if I was down an' out." + +He looked down upon the figure on the porch; in his voice had been a +fine humane quality that set the muscles of the listening woman's throat +contracting. + +"Say, Bruce, he's bleedin'!" + +On the man's announced discovery the group outside again became compact +about the unconscious man and the tall cowboy squatted beside him +quickly. + +"Get back out of th' light, boys," he said, quietly, and the curious men +moved. "Hum ... I'm a sheepherder, if somebody ain't nicked him in th' +arm, boys! I'll be-- + +"Say, he must of laid on that arm an' stopped th' blood. It's +clotted.... Oh, damn! It's bleedin' worse. Say, I'll have to get him +inside where we can have him fixed up before that breaks open again. +Wonder how much he's bled--" + +He rose and moved to the door, pulled open the screen quickly. He made +one step across the threshold and then paused between strides, for +before him in the darkness of the hallway a woman's face stood out like +a cameo. It was white, made whiter by the few feeble rays of the light +outside that struggled into the entry; the eyes were great, dark +splotches, the lips were parted; one hand was at the chin and about the +whole suggested posture of her body was a tensity, an anxiety, a +helplessness that startled the man ... that, and her beauty. For a +moment they stood so, face to face, the one in silhouette, the other in +black and white; the one surprised, only, but the other shrinking in +terror. + +"I ... he ..." + +Then, giving no articulate coherence to the idea that was in his mind, +Bruce Bayard stepped through the doorway to his left and entered the +office, as though he had not seen the woman at all. He looked about, +returned to the hallway, gazed almost absently at the stairway where he +had seen that troubled countenance and which was now a blank, hesitated +a moment and stepped out to join the others. + +"I heard somebody shoot, when we was comin' up from th' depot," someone +was saying when Bayard broke in: + +"Nobody here. Anybody seen Charley?" + +"Here's his dad," Clary said, as a fat, wheezing man made his way +importantly into the group. + +"Uncle, I want to get a room," Bayard said, "to take this here man to so +I can wash him up an' look after his arm. He's been shot. I passed Doc +on th' road goin' out when I come in, so I'll just try my hand as a +veterinary myself. Can you fix me up?" + +"All right! Right here! Bring him in. I've got a room; a nice dollar +room," the man wheezed as he stumped into the building. "No disturbance, +mind, but I've got a room ... dollar room ..."--and the screen door +slapped shut behind him. + +"He won't die on you, Bruce," the man with a moustache said, +straightening, after inspecting the ragged, dirt-filled wound, and +laughing lightly. "It just stung him a little. There's a lot of +disorderly conduct left in him yet, an' it's a wonder he ain't been +ventilated before." + +"Yeah.... Well, we'll take him up and look him over," Bayard said, his +face serious, and stooped to gather the burden in his arms. + +"Want any help, Bruce?" Tommy asked. + +"Not on this trip, thanks. A good sleep and a stiff cussin' out'll help +a little I guess. Mebbe he's learnt a lesson an' he may go back home an' +behave himself." + +He shouldered open the screen door and, led by the wheezing landlord who +carried a lamp at a reckless angle in his trembling hand, started +clumping up the resounding stairway, while the group that had been about +the lamp-post drifted off into the darkness. Only the sorrel horse, Abe, +remained, bridle-reins down, one hip slumped, great, intelligent eyes +watching occasional figures that passed, ears moving to catch the +scattered sounds that went up toward the Arizona stars. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE LODGER NEXT DOOR + + +"Now, this is fine, Uncle," Bayard said, as he stood erect and surveyed +the lax body he had deposited on the bed. + +His great height made the low, tiny room seem lower, smaller, and in the +pale lamplight the fat hotel proprietor peered up into his face with +little greedy green eyes, chewing briskly with his front teeth, +scratching the fringe of red whiskers speculatively. + +"Well, Bayard, you're all right," he blurted out, huskily, as if he had +reached that decision only after lengthy debate. "Th' room's a dollar, +but I'll wait till mornin' as a favor to you. I wouldn't trust most +cowboys, but your reputation's gild-edged, fine!" + +"Thanks! Seein' nobody's around to overhear, I'll take a chance an' +return th' compliment." + +And as the other, turning in the doorway, looked back to determine, if +he could, the meaning of that last remark, Bayard stooped and gingerly +lifted the wounded forearm from which the sleeve had been rolled back. + +"What a lookin' human bein'!" he whispered slowly, a moment later, +shaking his head and letting his whole-hearted disgust find expression +in deep lines about his mouth, as he scanned the bloated, bruised, +muddied face below him. "You've got just about as low down, Pardner, as +anybody can get! Lord, that face of yourn would scare the Devil +himself ... even if it is his own work!" + +He kicked out of his chaps, flung off jumper and vest, rolled up his +sleeves and, turning to the rickety washstand, sloshed water into the +bowl from the cracked pitcher and vigorously applied lather to his hands +and forearms. From the next room came the sounds of a person moving; the +creak of a board, the tinkle of a glass, even the low brushing of a +garment being hung on a hook, for the partitions were of inch boards +covered only by wallpaper. + +"Th' privacies of this here establishment ain't exactly perfect, are +they?" the man asked, raising his voice and smiling. "I've got a friend +here who needs to have things done for him an' he may wake up and +object, but it ain't nothin' serious so don't let us disturb your sleep +any more'n you can help," he added and paused, stooped over, to listen +for an answer. + +None came; no further sound either; the person in the other room seemed +to be listening, too. Bayard, after the interval of silence, shrugged +his shoulders, filled the bowl with clean water, placed it on a +wooden-bottomed chair which held the lamp and sat down on the edge of +the bed with soap and towels beside him. + +"I'll wash out this here nick, first," he muttered. "Then, I'll scrub +up that ugly mug.... Ugh!" He made a wry face as he again looked at the +distorted, smeared countenance. + +He bathed the forearm carefully, then centered his attention on the +wound. + +"Ho-ho! Went deeper than I thought.... Full of dirt an' ... clot ... +an'...." + +He stopped his muttering and left off his bathing of the wound suddenly +and clamped his fingers above the gash, for, as he had washed away the +clotted blood and caked dirt, a thin, sharp stream of blood had spurted +out from the ragged tear in the flesh. + +"He got an artery, did he? Huh! When you dropped, you laid on that arm +or you'd be eatin' breakfast to-morrow in a place considerable hotter +than Arizona," Bayard muttered. + +He looked about him calculatingly as though wondering what was best to +do first, and the man on the bed stirred uneasily. + +"Lay still, you!" + +The other moaned and squirmed and threatened to jerk his arm free. + +"You don't amount to much, Pardner, but I can't hold you still and play +doctor by myself if ... + +"Say, friend,"--raising his voice. "You, in th' next room; would you +mind comin' in here a minute? I've took down more rope than I handle +right easy." + +He turned his head to listen better and through the thin partition came +again the sound of movements. Feet stepped quickly, lightly, on the +noisy floor; a chair was shoved from one place to another, a door +opened, the feet came down the hall, the door of the room in which +Bayard waited swung back ... and Ann Lytton stood in the doorway. + +For a moment their eyes held on one another. The woman's lips were +compressed, her nostrils dilated in excitement, her blue eyes wide and +apprehensive, although she struggled to repress all these evidences of +emotional disturbance. The man's jaw slacked in astonishment, then +tightened, and his chest swelled with a deep breath of pleased surprise; +he experienced a strange tremor and subconsciously he told himself that +she was as rare looking as he had thought she must be from the +impression he had received down in the dark hallway. + +"Why ... why, I didn't think you ... it might be a lady in there, Miss," +he said in slow astonishment. "I thought it was a man ... because ladies +don't often get in here. I ... this is a nasty mess an' maybe you better +not tackle it ... if ... if you could call somebody to help me.... Nora, +th' girl downstairs, would come, Miss--" + +"I can help you," she said, and a flush rushed into her cheeks, which at +once relieved and accentuated their pallor. It was as though he had +accused her of a weakness that she resented. + +Bayard looked her over through a silent moment; then moved one foot +quickly and, eyes still holding her gaze, his left hand groped for a +towel, found it, shook it out and spread it over the face of the +drunken, wounded man he had called her to help him tend. + +"He ain't a beauty, Miss," he explained, relieved that the countenance +was concealed from her. "I hate to look at him myself an' I'd hate to +have a girl ... like you have to look at him ... I'm sure he would, +too,"--as though he did not actually mean the last. + +The woman moved to his side then, eyes held on the wound by evident +effort. It was as if she were impelled to turn her gaze to that covered +face and fought against the desire with all the will she could muster. + +"You see, Miss, this artery's been cut an' I've got my thumb shut down +on it here," he indicated. "This gent got shot up a trifle to-night an' +we--you an' me--have got to fix him up. I can't do it alone because he's +bleedin' an' he's lost more than's healthy for him now. + +"It sure is fine of you to come, Miss." + +He looked at her curiously and steadily yet without giving offense. It +was as though he had characterized this woman for himself, was thinking +more about the effect on her of the work they were to do than of that +work itself. He was interested in this newcomer; he wanted to know about +her. That was obvious. He watched her as he talked and his manner made +her know that he was very gentle, very considerate of her peace of mind, +in spite of the quality about him which she could not understand, which +was his desire to know how she would act in this unfamiliar, trying +situation. + +"Now, you take that towel and roll it up," he was saying. "Yes, th' long +way.... Then, bring that stick they use to prop up th' window--" + +"It's a tourniquet you want," she broke in. + +He looked up at her again. + +"Tourniquet.... Tourniquet," he repeated, to fix the new word in his +mind. "Yes, that's what I want: to shut off the blood." + +She folded the towel and brought the stick. From her audible breathing +Bayard knew that she was excited, but, otherwise, she had ceased to give +indication of the fact. + +"Loop it around and tie a knot," he said. + +"Is that right?" she asked, in a voice that was too calm, too well +controlled for the circumstances. + +"Yes, it's all right, Miss. How about you?"--a twinkle in his eye. "If +this ... if you don't think you can stand it to fuss with him--" he +began, but she cut him off with a look that contained something of a +quality of reassurance, but which was more obviously a rebuff. + +"I said I could help you. Why do you keep doubting me?" + +"I don't; I'm tryin' to be careful of your feelings,"--averting his eyes +that she might not see the quick fire of appreciation in them. "Will you +tighten it with that stick, now, Miss?" + +The man on the bed breathed loudly, uncouthly, with now and then a +short, sharp moan. The sour smell of stale liquor was about him; the arm +and hand that had been washed were the only clean parts of his body. + +"Now you twist it," Bayard said, when she was ready, although he could +have done it easily with his free hand. + +She grasped the stick with determination and, as she turned it quickly +to take up the slack in the loop, Bayard leaned back, part of his weight +on the elbow which kept the legs of the unconscious man from threshing +too violently as the contrivance shut down on his arm. His attention, +however, was not for their patient; it was centered on the girl's hands +as they manipulated stick and towel. They were the smallest hands, the +trimmest, he had ever seen. The fingers were incredibly fine-boned and +about them was a nicety, a finish, that was beyond his experience; yet, +they were not weak hands; rather, competent looking. He watched their +quick play, the spring of the tendons in her white wrist and, with a new +interest, detected a smooth white mark about the third finger of her +left hand where a ring had been. He looked into her intent face again, +wondering what sort of ring that had been and why it was no longer +there; then, forgot all about it in seeing the tight line of her mouth +and finding delight in the splendid curve of her chin. + +"You hate to do it," he thought, "but you're goin' to see it through!" + +"There!" she said, under her breath. "Is that tight enough?" + +He looked quickly away from her face to the wound and released the +pressure of his thumb. + +"Not quite. It oozes a little." + +He liked the manner in which she moved her head forward to indicate her +resolve, when she forced the cloth even more tightly about the arm. The +injured man cried aloud and sought to roll over, and Bayard saw the +girl's mouth set in a firmer cast, but in other ways she bore herself as +if there had been no sound or movement to frighten or disturb her. + +"That'll do," he told her, watching the result of the pressure +carefully. "Now, would you tear that pillow slip into strips wide enough +for a bandage?" She shook the pillow from the casing. "That'll tickle +Uncle, downstairs," he added. "It's worth two bits, but he can charge me +a dollar for it." + +She did not appear to hear this last; just went on tearing strips with +hands that trembled ever so little and his gray eyes lighted with a +peculiar fire. Weakness was present in her, the weakness of +inexperience, brought on by the sight of blood, the presence of a +strange man of a strange type, the proximity of that muttering, filthy +figure with his face shrouded from her; but, behind that weakness, was +an inherent strength, a determination that made her struggle with all +her faculties to hide its evidences; and that courage was the quality +which Bayard had sought in her. Only, he could not then appreciate its +true proportions. + +"Is this enough?" she asked. + +"Plenty. I can manage alone now, if--" + +"But I might as well help you through with this!" + +She had again detected his doubt of her, discerned his motive in giving +her an avenue of graceful escape from the unpleasant situation; she +thought that he still mistrusted her stamina and her stubborn refusal to +give way to any weakness set the words on her lips to cut him short. + +"Well, if you want to," he said, soberly, "you can keep this thing +tight, while I wash this hole out an' bind it up.... I wouldn't look at +it, if I was you; you ain't used to it, you know." + +He looked her in the eye, on that last advice, for a moment. She +understood fully and, as she took the stick in her hand to keep the +blood flow checked, she averted her face. For a breath he looked at the +stray little hairs about the depression at the back of her neck. Then, +to his work. + +He was gentle in cleansing the wound, but he could not touch the raw +flesh without giving pain and still accomplish his end, and, on the +first pressure of his fingers, the man writhed and twitched and jerked +at the arm, drawing his knees up spasmodically. + +"I'll have to set on him, Miss," Bayard said. + +He did so, straddling the man's thighs and leaning to the right, close +against the woman's stooping body. He grasped the cold wrist with one +hand and washed the jagged hurt quickly, thoroughly. The man he held +protested inarticulately and struggled to move about. Once, the towel +that hid his face was thrown off and Bayard replaced it, glad that the +girl's back had been turned so she did not see. + +It was the crude, cruel surgery of the frontier and once, towards the +end, the tortured man lifted his thick, scarcely human voice in a +cursing phrase and Bayard, glancing sharply at the woman, murmured, + +"I beg your pardon, Miss ... for him." + +"That's not necessary," she answered, and her whisper was thin, weak. + +"You ain't goin' to faint, are you?" he asked, in quick apprehension, +ceasing his work to peer anxiously at her. + +"No.... No, but hurry, please; it is very unpleasant." + +He nodded his head in assent and began the bandaging, hurriedly. He made +the strips of cloth secure with deft movements and then said, + +"There, Miss, it's all over!" + +She straightened and turned from him and put a hand quickly to her +forehead, drew a deep breath as of exasperation and moved an uncertain +step or two toward the door. + +"All right," she said, with a half laugh, stopping and turning about. +"I was afraid ... you see! I'm not accustomed...." + +Bayard removed his weight from the other man and sat again on the edge +of the bed. + +"Lots of men, men out here in this country, would have felt the same way +... only worse," he said, reassuringly. "It takes lots of sand to fuss +with blood an' man meat until you get used to it. You've got the sand, +Miss, an' I sure appreciate what you've done. He will, too." + +She turned to meet his gaze and he saw that her face was colorless and +strained, but she smiled and asked, + +"I couldn't do less, could I?" + +"You couldn't do more," he said, staring hard at her, giving the +impression that his mind was not on what he was saying. "More for me or +more for ... a carcass like that." A tremor of anger was in his voice, +and resentment showed in his expression as he turned to look at the +covered face of the heavily breathing man. "It's a shame, Miss, to make +your kind come under the same roof with a ... a thing like he is!" + +After a moment she asked, + +"Is he so very bad, then?" + +"As bad as men get ... and the best of us are awful sinful." + +"Do you ... do you think men ever get so bad that anyone can be hurt by +being ... by coming under the same roof with them?" + +He shook his head and smiled again. + +"I'd say yes, if it wasn't that I'd picked this _hombre_ out of th' +ditch an' brought him here an' played doctor to-night. You never can +tell what you'll believe until the time comes when you've got to believe +something." + +A silent interval, which the woman broke. + +"Is there anything else I can do for you now?" + +He knew that she wanted to go, yet some quality about her made him +suspect that she wanted to stay on, too. + +"No, Miss, nothin' ..." he answered. "I've got to go tend to my horse. +He's such a baby that he won't leave his tracks for anybody so long's he +knows I'm here, so I can't send anybody else to look after him. But +you've done enough. I'll wait a while till somebody else comes along to +watch--" + +"No, no! let me stay here ... with him." + +"But--" + +"I came here to help you. Won't you let me go through with it?" + +He thought again that it was her pride forcing her on; he could not know +that the prompting in her was something far deeper, something tragic. He +said: + +"Why if you want to, of course you can. I won't be gone but a minute. +I've let up on this pressure a little; we'll keep letting up on it +gradual ... I've done this thing before. He's got to be watched, though, +so he don't pull the bandages off and start her bleeding again." + +The woman seated herself on the chair as he turned to go. + +"It'll only be a minute," he assured her again, hesitating in the +doorway. "I wouldn't go at all, only, when my horse is the kind of a pal +he is, I can't let him go hungry. See?" + +"I see," she said, but her tone implied that she did not, that such +devotion between man and beast was quite incomprehensible ... or else +that she had given his word no heed at all, had only waited impatiently +for him to go. + +He strode down the hallway and she marked his every footfall, heard him +go stumping and ringing down the stairs two at a time, heard him leave +the porch and held her breath to hear him say, + +"Well, Old Timer, I didn't plan to be so long." + +Then, the sound of shod hoofs crossing the street at a gallop. + +She closed her eyes and let her head bow slowly and whispered, + +"Oh, God ... there _is_ manhood left!" + +She sat so a long interval, suffering stamped on her fine forehead, +indicated in the pink and white knots formed from her clenched hands. +Then, her lips partly opened and she lifted her head and looked long at +the covered face of the man on the bed. Her breath was swift and shallow +and her attitude that of one who nerves herself for an ordeal. Once, she +looked down at the hand on the bed near her and touched with her own +the hardened, soiled fingers, then gave a shake to her head that was +almost a shudder, straightened in her chair and muttered aloud, + +"He said ... I had the sand...." + +She leaned forward, stretched a hand to the towel which covered the +man's face, hesitated just an instant, caught her breath, lifted the +shrouding cloth and gave a long, shivering sigh as she sat back in her +chair. + +At that moment Bruce Bayard in the corral across the street, pulled the +bridle over his sorrel's ears. He slung the contrivance on one arm and +held the animal's hot, white muzzle in his hands a moment. He squeezed +so tightly that the horse shook his head and lifted a fore foot in +protest and then, alarmed, backed quickly away. + +"... I didn't intend it, Abe," the man muttered. "... I was thinkin' +about somethin' else." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +A REVELATION + + +When Bayard returned to the Manzanita House, he ran up the stairs with +an eagerness that was not in the least inspired by a desire to return to +his watching over the man he had chosen to succor. He strode down the +hallway and into the room with his keen anticipation thinly disguised by +a sham concern. And within the doorway he halted abruptly, for the woman +who had helped him, whose presence there had brought him back from his +horse on a run, sat at the bedside with her hands limp in her lap and +about her bearing an air that quite staggered him. Her face was as +nearly expressionless as a human countenance can become. It was as if +something had occurred which had taken from her all emotion, all ability +to respond to any mental or sensory influence. For the moment, she was +crushed, and so completely that even her reflexes did not react to the +horror of the revelation. She did not look at Bayard, did not move; she +might have been without the sense of sight or hearing; she did not even +breathe perceptibly; just sat there with a fixity that frightened him. + +"Why, Miss!" he cried in confused alarm. "I ... I wouldn't left you--" + +She roused on his cry and shook her head, and he thought she wanted him +to stop, so he stood there through an awkward moment, waiting for her to +say more. + +"Course, it was too much for you!" he concluded aloud, +self-reproachfully, when she did not speak. "You're tired; this ... this +takin' care of this booze-soaked carcass was too much to ask of you. +I--" + +"Don't," she said, in a dry, flat voice, looking up at him appealingly, +mastering her voice with a heroic effort. "Don't, please! This.... This +booze-soaked ... carcass ... + +"He is my husband." + +The words with which she ended came in a listless whisper; she made no +further sound, and the hissing of Bayard's breath, as it slipped out +between his teeth, was audible. + +All that he had said against that other man came back to him, all the +epithets he had used, all the pains he had taken to impress on this +woman, his wife, a sense of the utter degradation, the vileness, of Ned +Lytton. For the instant, he was filled with regret because of his rash +speech; the next, he was overwhelmed by realizing that all he had said +was true and that he had been justified in saying those things of this +woman's husband. The thought unpoised him. + +"I didn't think you was married," he said, slowly, distinctly, his +voice unsteady, scarcely conscious of the fact that he was putting what +transpired in his mind into words. "Especially ... to a thing like +that!" + +The gesture of his one arm which indicated the prostrate figure was +eloquent of the contempt he felt and the posture of his body, bent +forward from his hips, was indication of his sincerity. He was so +intense emotionally that he could not realize that his last words might +lash the suffering woman cruelly. The thought was in him, so strong, so +revolting, that it had to come out. He could not have restrained it had +he consciously appreciated the hurt that its expression would give the +woman. + +She stared up at him, her numb brain wondering clumsily at the storm +indicated in his eyes, about his mouth, and they held so a moment before +she sat back in her chair, weakly, one wrist against her forehead. + +"Here, come over by the window ... never mind him," he said, almost +roughly, stepping to her side, grasping her arm and shaking it. + +Ten minutes before the careful watching of that unconscious man had been +the one important thing of the night, but now it was an inconsequential +affair, a bother. Ten minutes before his interest in the woman had been +a light, transient fancy; now he was more deeply concerned with her +trouble than he ever had been with an affair of his own. He lifted the +bandaged arm and placed a pillow beneath it, almost carelessly; then +closed the door. He turned about and looked at Ann Lytton, who had gone +to stand by the window, her back to him, face in her hands. + +He walked across and halted, towering over her, looking helplessly down +at the back of her bowed head. His arms were limp at his sides, until +she swayed as though she would fall, and, then, he reached out to +support her, grasping her shoulders gently with his big palms; when she +steadied, he left his hands so, lifting the right one awkwardly to +stroke her shivering shoulder. They stood silent many minutes, the man +suffering with the woman, suffering largely because of his inability to +bear a portion of her grief. After a time, he forced her about with his +hands and, when she had turned halfway around, she lifted her face to +look into his. She blinked and strained her eyes open and laughed +mirthlessly, then was silent, with the knuckles of her fist pressed +tightly against her mouth. + +"I am so glad ... so glad that it was you ..." she said, huskily, after +a wait in which she mastered herself, the thought that was uppermost in +her mind finding the first expression. "I heard you say, down there, +that he was a cripple and that ... that's what he is ... what I thought. +You ... you understand, don't you? A woman in my place _has_ to think +something like that!"--in unconscious confession to a weakness. "I heard +you say he was a cripple ... the man you were carrying ... and I thought +it must be Ned, because I've had to think that, too. You understand? +Don't you?" + +She looked into his eyes with the directness of a pleading child and, +gripping her shoulders, he nodded. + +"I think I understand, ma'am. I ... and I hope you can forget all th' +mean things I've said about him to-night. I--" + +"And when you called me in here," she interrupted, heedless of his +attempt at apology, "I was afraid at first, because something told me it +was he. I had come all the way from Maine to see him; to find out about +him, and I didn't want to blind myself after that. I wanted to know ... +the worst." + +"You have, ma'am," he said, grimly, and took his hands from her +shoulders and turned away. + +"I was afraid it was Ned from the very first, but out there, with those +other men around, I ... couldn't make myself look at him. And after that +the suspense was horrible. I was glad when you called me to help you +because that made me face it ... and even knowing what I know now is +better in some ways than uncertainty. I ... I might have dodged, anyhow, +if you hadn't made me feel you were trying to find out how far I would +go ... what I would do. Your doubting me made me doubt myself and +that ... that drove me on. + +"It took a lot of courage to look at his ... face. But I had to know. I +had to; I'd come all this way to know." + +She hesitated, staring absently, and Bayard waited in silence for her to +go on. + +"It seemed quite natural to hear those men talking about him the way +they did, swearing at him and laughing.... And then to hear someone +protecting him because he is weak,"--with a brave effort at a smile. +"That's what people in the East, his own people, even, have done; and +I ... I had to stand up for him when everything, even he, was against +me.... + +"I'd hoped that out here, at the mine, he'd be different, that he'd +behave, that people would come to respect and like him. I'd hoped for +that right up to the time I saw you coming across the street with him. I +felt it must be he. I hadn't heard from him in months, not a line. +That's why I came out here. And I guess that in my heart I'd expected to +find him like that. The uncertainty, that was the worst.... + +"Peculiar, isn't it, why I should have been uncertain? I should have +admitted what I felt intuitively, but I always have hoped, I always will +hope that he'll come through it sometime. That hope has kept me from +telling myself that it must be the same with him out here as it was back +there; that's why I fooled myself until I saw you ... with him. + +"And I'm so glad it happened to be you who picked him up. You +understand, you--" + +Emotion choked off her words. + +Bayard walked from her, returned to the bedside and stared down at the +inert figure there. He was in a tumult. The contrast between this man +and wife was too dreadful to be comprehended in calm. Lytton was the +lowest human being he had ever known, degenerated to an organism that +lived solely to satiate its most unworthy appetites. Ann, the woman +crying yonder, was quite the most beautiful creature on whom he had ever +looked and, though he had seen her for the first time no more than an +hour before, her charm had touched every masculine instinct, had gripped +him with that urge which draws the sexes one to another ... yet, he was +not conscious of it. She was, in his eyes, so wonderful, so removed from +his world, that he could not presume to recognize her attraction as for +himself. She was a distant, unattainable creature, one to serve, to +admire; perhaps, sometime, to worship reverently and that was the fact +which set the blood congesting in his head when he looked down at the +waster for whom she had traveled across a continent that she might +suffer like this. Lytton was attainable, was comprehensible, and Bayard +was urged to make him suffer in atonement for the wretchedness he had +brought to this woman who loved him.... Who.... _loved_ him? + +The man turned to look at Ann again, his lower lip caught speculatively +between his thumb and forefinger. + +"Now, I suppose the thing to do is to plan, to make some sort of +arrangements ... now that I have found him," she said in a strained +voice, bracing her shoulders, lifting a hand to brush a lock of hair +back from her white, blue-veined temple. + +She smiled courageously at the cowboy who approached her diffidently. + +"I came out here to find out what was going on, to help him if he were +succeeding, to ... help him if ... as I have found him." + +Her directness had returned and, as she spoke, she looked Bayard in the +eye, steadily. + +"Well, whatever I can do, ma'am, I'm anxious to do," he said, repressing +himself that he might not give ground to the suspicion that he was +forcing himself on her, though his first impulse was to take her affairs +in hand and shield her from the trying circumstances which were bound to +follow. "I can't do much to help you, but all I can do--" + +"I don't think I could do anything without you," she said, simply, +letting her gaze travel over his big frame. "It's so far away, out here, +from anyone I know or the things I am accustomed to. It's ... it's too +wonderful, finding someone out here who understands Ned, when even his +own people back home didn't. I wonder ... is it asking too much to ask +you to help me plan? You know people and conditions. I don't." + +She made the request almost timidly, but he leaped at the opportunity +and cried: + +"If I can help you, if I could be of use to you, I'd think it was th' +finest thing that ever happened to me, ma'am. I've never been of much +use to anybody but myself. I ... I'd like to help you!" His manner was +so wholly boyish that she impulsively put out her hand to him. + +"You're kind to me, so...." + +She lost the rest of the sentence because of the fierceness with which +he grasped her proffered hand and for a moment his gray eyes burned into +hers with confusing intensity. Then he straightened and looked away with +an inarticulate word. + +"Well, what do you want to do?" he asked, stepping to one side to bring +a chair for her. + +"I don't know; he's in a frightful ... I've never seen him as bad as +this,"--her voice threatening to break. + +"An' he'll be that way so long as he's near that!" + +He held his hand up in a gesture that impelled her to listen as the +notes from the saloon piano drifted into the little room. + +"He's pretty far gone, ma'am, your husband. He ain't got a whole lot of +strength, an' it takes strength to show will power. We might keep him +away from drinkin' by watching him all the time, but that wouldn't do +much good; that wouldn't be a cure; it would only be delay, and wasting +our time and foolin' ourselves. He'd ought to be took away from it, a +long ways away from it." + +"That's what I've thought. Couldn't I take him out to the mine--" + +"His mine is most forty miles from here, ma'am." + +"So much the better, isn't it? We'd be away from all this. I could keep +him there, I know." + +Bayard regarded her critically until her eyes fell before his. + +"You might keep him there, and you might not. I judge you didn't have +much control over him in th' East. You didn't seem to have a great deal +of influence with him by letter,"--gently, very kindly, yet +impressively. "If you got out in camp all alone with him, livin' a life +that's new to you, you might not make good there. See what I mean? You'd +be all alone, cause the mine's abandoned." She started at that. "There'd +be nobody to help you if he got crazy wild like he'll sure get before he +comes through. You--" + +"You don't think I'm up to it? Is that it?" she interrupted. + +He looked closely at her before he answered. + +"Ma'am, if a woman like you can't keep a man straight by just lovin' +him,"--with a curious flatness in his voice--"you can't do it no way, +can you?" + +She sat silent, and he continued to question her with his gaze. + +"I judge you've tried that way, from what you've told me. You've been +pretty faithful on the job. You ... you _do_ love him yet, don't you?" +he asked, and she looked up with a catch of her breath. + +"I do,"--dropping her eyes quickly. + +The man paced the length of the room and back again as though this +confession had altered the case and presented another factor for his +consideration. But, when he stopped before her, he only said: + +"You can't leave him in town; you can't take him to his mine. There +ain't any place away from town I know of where they'd want to be +bothered with a sick man," he explained, gravely, evading an expression +of the community's attitude toward Lytton. "I might take him to my +place. I'm only eight miles out west. I could look after him there, +cause there ain't much press of work right now an'--" + +"But I would go with him, too, of course," she said. "It's awfully kind +of you to offer...." + +In a flash the picture of this woman and that ruin of manhood together +in his house came before Bayard and, again, he realized the tragedy in +their contrast. He saw himself watching them, hearing their talk, seeing +the woman make love to her debauched husband, perhaps, in an effort to +strengthen him; he felt his wrath warm at thought of that girl's +devotion and loyalty wasting itself so, and a sudden, alarming distrust +of his own patience, his ability to remain a disinterested neutral, +arose. + +"Do you think he better know you're here?" he asked, inspired, and +turned on her quickly. + +"Why, why not?"--in surprise. + +"It would sure stir him up, ma'am. He ain't even wrote to you, you say, +so it would be a surprise for him to see you here. He's goin' to need +all the nerve he's got left, ma'am, 'specially right at first,"--his +mind working swiftly to invent an excuse--"Your husband's goin' to have +the hardest fight he's ever had to make when he comes out of this. He's +on the ragged edge of goin' _loco_ from booze now; if he had somethin' +more to worry him, he might.... + +"Besides, my outfit ain't a place for a woman. He can get along because +he's lived like we do, but you couldn't. All I got is one +room,"--hesitating as if he were embarrassed--"and no comforts for ... a +lady like you, ma'am." + +"But my place is with him! That's why I've come here." + +"Would your bein' with him help? Could you do anything but stir him up?" + +"Why of--" + +"Have you ever been able to, ma'am?" + +She stopped, unable to get beyond that fact. + +"If you ain't, just remember that he's a hundred times worse than he was +when you had your last try at him." + +She squeezed the fingers of one hand with the other. Her chin trembled +sharply but she mastered the threatened breakdown. + +"What would you have me do?" she asked, weakly, and at that Bayard swung +his arms slightly and smiled at her in relief. + +"Can't you stay right here in Yavapai and wait until the worst is over? +It won't be so very long." + +"I might. I'll try. If you think best ... I will, of course." + +"I'll come in town every time I get a chance and tell you about him," he +promised, eagerly. "I'll ... I'll be glad to," he hastened to add, with +a drop in his voice that made her look at him. "Then, when he's better, +when he's able to make it around the place on foot, when you think you +can manage him, I s'pose you can go off to his mine, then." + +He ceased to smile and smote one hip in a manner that told of his sudden +feeling of hopelessness. He walked toward the bed again and Ann watched +him. As he passed the lamp on the chair, she saw the fine ripple of his +thigh muscles under the close-fitting overalls, saw with eyes that did +not comprehend at first but which focused suddenly and then scrutinized +the detail of his big frame with an odd uneasiness. + +He turned on her and said irrelevantly, as if they had discussed the +idea at length, + +"I'm glad to do it for you, ma'am." + +He stared at her steadily, seeming absorbed by the thought of service to +her, and the woman, after a moment, removed her gaze from his. + +"It's so good of you!" she said, and became silent when he gave her no +heed. + +So it was arranged that Bayard should take Ned Lytton to his home to +nurse and bring him back to bodily health and moral strength, if such +accomplishments were possible. The hours passed until night had ceased +to age and day was young before the cowman deemed it wise to move the +still sleeping Easterner. He chose to make the drive to his ranch in +darkness, rather than wait for daylight when his going would attract +attention and set minds speculating and tongues wagging. + +Until his departure, the three remained in the room where they had met, +Ann much of the time sitting beside her husband, staring before her, +Bayard moving restlessly about in the shadows, watching her face and her +movements, questioning her occasionally, growing more absorbed in +studying the woman, until, during their last hour together, he was in a +fever to be away from her where he could think straight of all that had +happened since night came to Yavapai. + +Before he left he said: + +"Probably nobody will ask you questions, but if they do just say that +your husband went away before daylight an' that I left after I washed +his arm out. That'll be the truth an' what folks don't know won't hurt +'em ... nor make you uncomfortable by havin' 'em watch you an' do a lot +of unnecessary talkin'." + +From her window Ann watched Bayard emerge from the doorway below and +place the limp figure of his burden on the seat of the buckboard he had +secured for the trip home. In the starlight she saw him knot the bridle +reins of his sorrel over the saddle horn, heard him say, "Go home, Abe," +and saw the splendid beast stride swiftly off into the night alone. +Then, the creak of springs as he, too, mounted the wagon, his word to +the horses, the sounds of wheels, and she thought she saw him turn his +face toward her window as he rounded the corner of the hotel. + +The woman stood a moment in the cold draught of the wind that heralded +dawn. It was as though something horrible had gone out of her life and, +at the same time, as if something wonderful had come in; only, while the +one left the heaviness, the other brought with it a sweet sorrow. Half +aloud she told herself that; then cried: + +"No, it can't be! Nothing has gone; nothing has come. Things are as they +were ... or worse...." + +Then, she turned to her hard, lumpy bed. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE CLERGY OF YAVAPAI + + +Hours passed before Ann could sleep, and then her slumber was broken, +her rest harried by weird dreams, her half-waking periods crammed with +disturbing fantasies. When broad daylight came, she rose and drew down +the shades of her window and after she had listened to the birds, to the +sounds of the awakening town, to the passing of a train, rest came and +until nearly noon she slept heavily. + +She came to herself possessed by a queer sense of unreality and it was +moments before she could determine its source. Then the events of the +evening and night swept back to her intelligence and she closed her +eyes, feeling sick and worn. + +Restlessness came upon her finally and she arose, dressed, went +downstairs and forced herself to eat. Several others were in the dining +room and two men sat with her at table. She was conscious that the talk, +which had been loud, diminished when she entered and that those nearest +her were evidently uncomfortable, embarrassed, glad to be through and +gone. + +When Nora, the waitress, took her order, Ann saw that the girl eyed her +curiously, possibly sympathetically, and, while that quality could not +help but rouse an appreciation in her, she shrank from the thought that +this whole strange little town was eying her, wondering about her, +dissecting her as she suffered in its midst and even through her loyalty +to her husband crept a hope that her true identity might remain secret. + +She left the table and started for the stairway, when the boy who had +given her her room the night before came out of the office. He had not +expected to see her. He stopped and flushed and stammered. + +"You ... last night ... you said you might ... that is, do you want th' +automobile, ma'am?" + +"I shan't want to go out to-day," Ann answered him, forcing her voice to +steadiness. "I have changed my mind." + +Then, she went swiftly up the stairs. + +She knew that the youth knew at least a part of her reason for altering +her plans. She knew that within the hour all Yavapai would know that she +was not going to the Sunset mine because Ned Lytton was drunk and hurt, +and she felt like crying aloud to relieve the distress in her heart. + +Her room was hot, its smallness was unbearable and, putting on her hat, +she went down the stairs, out of the hotel and, looking up and down the +main street, struck off to the left, for that direction seemed to offer +the quickest exit from the town. + +Ann walked swiftly along the hard highway, head down until she had left +the last buildings behind. Then she lifted her chin and drew a deep +breath of the fine mountain air and for the first time realized the +immensity of the surrounding country. Sight of it brought a little gasp +of wonder from her and she halted and turned slowly to look about. + +The town was set in the northern edge of a huge valley which appeared to +head in abruptly rising hills not so far to the westward. But to the +south and eastward it swept on and out, astonishing in its apparent +smoothness, its lavish colorings. Northward, its rise was more decided +and not far from the town clumps of brush and scant low timber dotted +the country, but out yonder there appeared to be no growth except the +grass which, where it grew in rank patches, bowed before the breeze and +flashed silver under the brilliant sun. The distances were blue and +inviting. She felt as though she would like to start walking and walk +and walk, alone under that high blue sky. + +She strolled on after that and followed the wagon track an hour. Then, +bodily weariness asserted itself and she rested in the shade of a low +oak scrub, twining grass stalks with nervous fingers. + +"I would have said that a country like this would have inspired +anybody," she said aloud after a time. "But he's the same. He's small, +he's small!" + +Vindictiveness was about her and her tone was bitter. + +"Still," she thought, "it may not be too late. That other man ... is as +big as this...." + +When she had rested and risen and gone a half mile back toward Yavapai, +she repeated aloud: + +"As big as this...." + +A great contrast that had been! Bruce Bayard, big, strong, controlled, +clean and thinking largely and clearly; Ned Lytton, little, weak, victim +of his appetites, foul and selfish. She wondered rather vaguely about +Bayard. Was he of that country? Was he the lover of some mountain girl? +Was he, possibly, the husband? No, she recalled that he had said that he +lived alone.... Well, so did she, for that matter! + +Scraps of Bayard's talk the night before came back to her and she +pondered over them, twisting their meanings, wondering if she had been +justified in the relief his assurances gave her. There, alone in the +daylight, they all seemed very incredible that she should have opened +her heart, given her dearest confidences to that man. As she thought +back through the hour, she became a trifle panicky, for she did not +realize then that to have remained silent, to have bottled her emotions +within herself longer would have been disastrous; she had reached +Yavapai and the breaking point at the same hour, and, had not Bayard +opportunely encountered her, she would have been forced to talk to the +wheezing hotel proprietor or Nora, the waitress, or the first human +being she met on the street ... someone, anyone! Then, abruptly changing +her course of thought, she reminded herself of the strangeness of the +truth that not once had it occurred to her to worry over the fact that +her husband, in an unconscious condition, had been taken away, she knew +not where, by this stranger. The faith she had felt in Bayard from the +first prevailed. She faced the future with forebodings; about the +present condition of Ned Lytton she did not dare think. A comforting +factor was the conviction that everything was being done for him that +she could do and more ... for she always had been helpless. + +She breathed in nervous exasperation at the idea that everything she +saw, talked about, thought or experienced came back to impress her +further with the hopelessness of the situation, then told herself that +fretting would not help; that she must do her all to make matters over, +that she must make good her purpose in coming to this new place. + +As she neared the town again, she saw the figure of a man approaching. +He walked slowly, with head down, and his face was wholly shaded by the +broad brim of his felt hat. His hands were behind his back and the +aimlessness of his carriage gave evidence of deep thought. + +When the woman was about to pass him, he turned back toward town without +looking up and it was the scuffing of her shoe that attracted him. He +faced about quickly at the sound and stared hard at Ann. The stare was +not offensive. She saw first his eyes, black and large and wonderfully +kind; his hair was white; his shaven lips gentle. Then she observed +that he wore the clothing of a clergyman. + +His hand went to his hat band, after his first gaze at her, and he +smiled. + +"How-do-you-do?" he said, with friendly confidence. + +Ann murmured a greeting. + +"I didn't know anyone was on the road. I was thinking rather fiercely, I +guess." + +He started to walk beside her and Ann was glad, for he was of that type +whose first appearance attracts by its promise of friendship. + +"I've been thinking, too," she answered. "Thinking, among other things +what a wonderful country this is. I'm from the East, I suppose it is not +necessary to say, and this is my first look at your valley." + +"Manzanita is a great old sweep of country!" he exclaimed, looking out +over it. "That valley is a good thing to look at when we think that +human anxieties are mighty matters." + +He smiled, and Ann looked into his face with a new interest and said: + +"I should think that such an influence as this is would tend to lessen +those anxieties; that it would tend to make the people who live near it +big, as it is big." + +He looked away and shook his head slowly. + +"I hold that theory, too, sometimes ... in my most optimistic hours. But +the more I see of the places in which men live, the closer I watch the +way we humans react to our physical environments, the less faith I have +in it. Some of the biggest, rarest souls I know have developed in the +meanest localities and, on the other hand, some of the worst culls of +the species I've ever seen have been products of countries so big that +they would inspire most men. Perhaps, though, the big men of the small +places would have been bigger in a country like this; possibly, those +who are found wanting out here would fall even shorter of what we expect +of them if they were in less wonderful surroundings." + +He paused a moment and then continued: "It may be a myth, this tradition +of the bigness of mountain men; or the impression may thrive because, +out here, we are so few and so widely scattered that we are the only +people who get a proper perspective on one another. That would be a +comfortable thing to believe, wouldn't it? It would mean, possibly, that +if we could only remove ourselves far enough from any community we would +appreciate its virtues and be able to overlook its vices. I'd like to +believe without qualification that a magnificent creation like this +valley would lift us all to a higher level; but I can't. Some of your +enthusiastic young men who come out from the East and write books about +the West would have it that these specimens of humanity which thrive in +the mountains and deserts are all supermen, with only enough rascals +sprinkled about to serve the purposes of their plots. That, of course, +is a fallacy and it may be due to the surprising point of view which we +find ourselves able to adopt when we are removed far enough by distance +or tradition from other people. We have some splendid men here, but the +average man in the mountains won't measure up to where he will +overshadow the average man of any other region ... I believe. We haven't +so many opportunities, perhaps, to show our qualities of goodness and +badness ... although some of us can be downright nasty on occasion!" + +He ended with an inflection which caused Ann to believe that he was +thinking of some specific case of misconduct; she felt herself flush +quickly and became suddenly fearful that he might refer directly to Ned. +Last night she had poured her misery into a stranger's ears; to-day she +could not bear the thought of further discussing her husband's life or +condition; she shrank, even, from the idea of being associated with him +in the minds of other people and in desperation she veered the subject +by asking, + +"Is it populated much, the valley, I mean?" + +"Not yet. Cattle and horse and some sheep ranches are scattered about. +One outfit will use up a lot of that country for grazing purposes, you +know. Someday there'll be water and more people ... and less bigness!" + +He told her more of the valley, stopping now and then to indicate +directions. + +"I came from over there yesterday," he said, facing about and pointing +into the westward. "Had a funeral beyond those hills. Stopped for +dinner with a young friend of mine whose ranch is just beyond that swell +yonder.... Fine boy; Bayard, Bruce Bayard." + +Ann wanted to ask him more about the rancher, but somehow she could not +trust herself; she felt that her voice would be uncertain, for one +thing. Some unnamed shyness, too, held her from questioning him now. + +They stopped before the hotel and the man said: + +"My name is Weyl. I am the clergy of Yavapai. If you are to be here +long, I'm sure Mrs. Weyl would like to see you. She is in Prescott for a +week or two now." + +He put out his hand, and, as she clasped it, Ann said, scarcely +thinking: + +"I am Ann Lytton. I arrived last night and may be here some time." + +She saw a quick look of pain come into his readable eyes and felt his +finger tighten on hers. + +"Oh, yes!" he said, in a manner that made her catch her breath. "I +know.... Your brother, isn't it, the young miner?" + +At that the woman started and merely to escape further painful +discussion, unthinkingly clouding her own identity, replied, + +"Ned, you mean ... yes...." + +"Well, if you're to be here long we will see you, surely. And if there's +anything I can do for you, please ask it." + +"You're very kind," she said, as she turned from him. + +In her room she stood silent a moment, palms against her cheeks. +Bayard's words came back to her: + +"I didn't think you was married ... especially to a thing like that...." + +And now this other man concluded that she could not be Ned's wife! + +"I must be his wife ... his _good_ wife!" she said, with a stamp of her +foot. "If he ever needed one ... it's now...." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +AT THE CIRCLE A + + +Ned Lytton swam back to consciousness through painful half dreams. Light +hurt his inflamed eyes; a horrible throbbing, originating in the center +of his head, proceeded outward and seemed to threaten the solidity of +his skull; his body was as though it had been mauled and banged about +until no inch of flesh remained unbruised; his left forearm burned and +stung fiendishly. He was in bed, undressed, he realized, and covered to +the chin with clean smelling bedding. He moved his tortured head from +side to side and marveled dully because it rested on a pillow. + +It was some time before he appreciated more. Then he saw that the fine +sunlight which hurt his eyes streamed into the room from open windows +and door, that it was flung back at him by whitewashed walls and +scrubbed floor. He was in someone's house, cared for without his +knowing. He moved stiffly on the thought. Someone had taken him in, +someone had shown him a kindness, and, even in his semi-stupor, he +wondered, because, for an incalculable period, he had been hating and +hated. + +He did not know how Bayard had dragged a bed from another room and set +it up in his kitchen that he might better nurse his patient; did not +know how the rancher had slept in his chair, and then but briefly, that +he might not be tardy in attending to any need during the early morning +hours; did not realize that the whole program of life in that +comfortable ranch house had been altered that it might center about him. +He did comprehend, though, that someone cared, that he was experiencing +kindness. + +The sound of moving feet and the ring of spurs reached him; then a boot +was set on the threshold and Bruce Bayard stepped into the room. He was +rubbing his face with a towel and in the other hand was a razor and +shaving brush. He had been scraping his chin in the shade of the ash +tree that waved lazily in the warm breeze and tossed fantastically +changing shadows through the far window. He looked up as he entered and +encountered the gaze from these swollen, inflamed eyes set in the +bruised face of Ned Lytton. + +"Hello!" he cried in surprise. "You're awake?" + +He put down the things he carried and crossed the room to the bedside. + +"Yes.... For God's sake, haven't you got a drink?"--in a painful rasp. + +"I have; one; just one, for you," the other replied, left the room and +came back with a tumbler a third filled with whiskey. He propped +Lytton's head with one hand and held the glass to his misshapen lips, +while he guzzled greedily. + +"More ... another ..." Lytton muttered a moment after he was back on his +pillow. + +"Seems to me you'd ought to know you've punished enough of this by now," +the rancher said, standing with his hands on his hips and looking at the +distorted expression of suffering on Lytton's face. + +The sick man moved his head slightly in negation. Then, after a moment: + +"How'd I get here? Who are you ... anyhow?" + +"Don't you know me?" + +The fevered eyes held on him, studying laboriously, and a smile +struggled to bend the puffed lips. + +"Sure ... you're the fellow, Nora's fellow ... the girl in the hotel. I +tried to ... and she said you'd beat me up...." Something intended for a +laugh sounded from his throat. The face of the man above him flushed +slightly and the jaw muscles bulged under his cheek. "Where in hell am +I? How'd I get here?" + +"I brought you here last night. You'd gone the limit in town. Somebody +tried to shoot you an' got as far's your arm. I brought you here to try +to make somethin' like a man of you,"--ending with a hint of bitterness +in spite of the whimsical smile with which he watched the effect of his +last words. + +Lytton stirred. + +"Damned arm!" he muttered, thickly, evidently conscious of only physical +things. "I thought something was wrong. It hurts like.... Say, whatever +your name is, haven't you got another drink?" + +"My name is Bayard; you know me when you're sober. You're at my ranch, +th' Circle A. You've had your drink for to-day." + +"May--Bayard. Say, for God's sake, Bayard, you ain't going to let +me.... Why, like one gentleman to another, when your girl Nora, the +waitress ... said you'd knock me ... keep away. I wasn't afraid.... +Didn't know she was yours.... I quit when I knew.... Treated you like a +gentleman. Now why ... don't you treat me like a gentle ... give me a +drink. I kept away from your wo--" + +"Oh, shut up!" + +The ominous quality of the carelessly spoken, half laughing demand +carried even to Lytton's confused understanding and he checked himself +between syllables, staring upward into the countenance of the other. + +"In the first place, she's not my woman, in th' way you mean; if she +was, I wouldn't stand here an' only tell you to shut your mouth when you +talked about her like that. Sick as you are, I'd choke you, maybe. In +th' second place, I'm no gentleman, I guess,"--with a smile breaking +through into a laugh. "I'm just a kind of he-man an' I don't know much +about th' way you gentlemen have dealin's with each other. + +"No more booze for you to-day. Get that in your head, if you can. I've +got coffee for you now an' some soup." + +He turned and walked to the stove in the far corner, kicked open the +draft and took a cup from the shelf above. All the while the bleared, +scarce understanding gaze of the man in bed followed him as though he +were trying to comprehend, trying to get the meaning of Bayard's simple, +direct sentences. + +After he had been helped in drinking a quantity of hot coffee and had +swallowed a few spoonfuls of soup, Lytton dropped back on the pillow, +sighed and, with his puffed eyes half open, slipped back into a state +that was half slumber, half stupor. + +Bayard took the wounded arm from beneath the cover, unwrapped the +bandages, eyed the clotted tear critically and bound it up again. Then +he walked to the doorway and, with hands hooked in his belt, scowled out +across the lavendar floor of the treeless valley which spread before and +below him, rising to blue heights in the far, far distance. He stood +there a long, silent interval, staring vacantly at that vast panorama, +then, moved slowly across the fenced dooryard, let himself into a big +enclosure and approached a round corral, through the bars of which the +sorrel horse watched his progress with alert ears. For a half hour he +busied himself with currycomb and brush, rubbing the fine hair until the +sunlight was shot back from it in points of golden light and all the +time the frown between his brows grew deeper, more perplexed. Finally, +he straightened, tapped the comb against a post to free it of dust, +flung an arm affectionately about the horse's neck, caressed one of the +great, flat cheeks, idly, and, after a moment, began to laugh. + +"Because we set our fool eyes on beauty in distress we cross a jag-cure +with a reform school an' set up to herd th' cussed thing!" he chuckled. +"Abe, was there ever two bigger fools 'n you an' me? Because she's a +beauty, she'll draw attention like honey draws bees; because she's in +trouble an' can't hide it, she'll have everybody prospectin' round to +locate her misery an' when they do, we'll be in th' middle of it all, +keepin' th' worthless husband of a pretty young woman away from her. All +out of th' goodness of our hearts. It won't sound good when they talk +about it an' giggle, Abe. It won't sound good!" And then, very +seriously, + +"How 'n hell could she marry a ... thing like that?" + +During the day Lytton roused several times and begged for whiskey, +incoherently, scarce consciously, but only once again did Bayard respond +with stimulants. That was late evening and, after the drink, the man +dropped off into profound slumber, not to rouse from it until the sun +again rose above the hills and once more flooded the room with its +glorious light. Then, he looked up to see Bayard smiling seriously at +him, a basin and towel in his hands. + +"You're a good sleeper," he said. "I took a look at your pinked arm an' +you didn't even move; just cussed me a little." + +The other smiled, this time in a more human manner, for the swelling had +partly gone from his lips and his eyes were nearer those of his species. + +"Now, sit up," the cowman went on, "an' get your face washed, like a +good boy." + +Gently, swiftly, thoroughly, he washed Lytton's face and neck in water +fresh from the well under the ash tree, and, when he had finished, he +took the sick man in the crook of his big, steady arm, lifted him +without much effort and placed him halfway erect against the re-arranged +pillows. + +"Would you eat somethin'?" he asked, and for the first time that day his +patient spoke. + +"Lord, yes! I'm starved,"--feebly. + +Bayard brought coffee again and eggs and stood by while Lytton consumed +them with a weak show of relish. During this breakfast only a few words +were exchanged, but when the dishes were removed and Bayard returned to +the bed with a glass of water the other stared into his face for the +space of many breaths. + +"Old chap, you're mighty white to do all this," he said, and his voice +trembled with earnestness. "I ... I don't believe I've ever spoken to +you a dozen times when I was sober and yet you.... How long have you +been doing all this for me?" + +"Only since night before last," Bayard answered, with a depreciating +laugh. "It's no more 'n any man would do for another ... if he needed +it." + +Lytton searched his face seriously again. + +"Oh, yes, it is," he muttered, with a painful shake of his head. "No one +has ever done for me like this, never since I was a little kid.... + +"I ... I don't blame 'em; especially the ones out here. I've been a +rotter all right; no excuse for it. I ... I've gone the limit and I +guess whoever tried to shoot me was justified ... I don't know,"--with a +slow sigh--"how much hell I've raised. + +"But ... but why did you do this for me? You've never seen me much; +never had any reason to like me." + +The smile went from Bayard's eyes. He thought "I'm doing this not for +you, but for a woman I've seen only once...." What he said aloud was: +"Why, I reckoned if somebody didn't take care of you, you'd get killed +up. I might just as well do it as anybody an' save Yavapai th' trouble +of a funeral." + +They looked at one another silently. + +"A while ago ... yesterday, maybe ... I said something to you about a, +about a woman," the man said, and an uneasiness marked his expression. +"I apologize, Old Man. I don't know just what I said, but I was nasty, +and I'm sorry. A ... a man's woman is his own affair; nobody's else." + +"You think so?" The question came with a surprising bluntness. + +"Why, yes; always." + +Bayard turned from the bedside abruptly and strode across the floor to +the table where a pan waited for the dirty dishes, rolling up his +sleeves as he went, face troubled. Lytton's eyes followed him, a trifle +sadly at first, but slowly, as the other worked, a cunning came into +them, a shiftiness, a crafty glitter. He moistened his lips with his +tongue and stirred uneasily on his pillow. Once, he opened his mouth as +though to speak but checked the impulse. When the dishpan was hung away +and Bayard stood rolling down his sleeves, Lytton said: + +"Old man, yesterday you gave me a drink or two. Can't ... haven't you +any left this morning?" + +"I have," the rancher said slowly, "but you don't need it to-day. You +did yesterday, but this mornin' you've got some grub in you, you got +somethin' more like a clear head, an' I don't guess any snake juice +would help matters along very fast. There's more coffee here an' you can +fill up on that any old time you get shaky." + +"Coffee!" scoffed the other, a sudden weak rage asserting itself. "What +th' hell do I want of coffee? What I need's whiskey! Don't you think I +know what I want? Lord, Bayard, I'm a man, ain't I? I can judge for +myself what I want, can't I?" + +"Yesterday, you said you was a gentleman," Bayard replied, +reminiscently, his tone lightly chaffing, "an' I guess that about states +your case. As for you knowin' what you want ... I don't agree with you; +judgin' from your past, anyhow." + +The man in the bed bared his teeth in an unpleasant smile; two of the +front teeth were missing, another broken, result of some recent fight, +and with his swollen eyes he was a revolting sight. As he looked at him, +Bayard's face reflected his deep disgust. + +"What's your game?" Lytton challenged. "I didn't ask you to bring me +here, did I? I haven't asked any favors of you, have I? You ... You +shanghaied me out to your damned ranch; you keep me here, and then won't +even give me a drink out of your bottle. Hell, any sheepherder'd do that +for me! + +"If you think I'm ungrateful for what you've done--sobered me up, I +mean--just say so and I'll get out. That was all right. But what was +your object?" + +"I thought by bringing you out here you might get straightened up. I did +it for your own good. You don't understand right now, but you may ... +sometime." + +"My own good! Well, I've had enough for my own good, now, so I guess I +won't wait any longer to understand!" + +He kicked off the covers and stood erect, swaying dizzily. Bayard +stepped across to him. + +"Get back into bed," he said, evenly, with no display of temper. "You +couldn't walk to water an' you couldn't set on a horse five minutes. +You're here an' you're goin' to stay a while whether you like it or +not." + +The cords of his neck stood out, giving the only evidence of the anger +he felt. He gently forced the other man back into bed and covered him, +breathing a trifle swiftly but offering no further protest for +explanation. + +"You keep me here by force, and then you prate about doing it for my own +good!" Lytton panted. "You damned hypocrite; you.... It's on account of +a woman, I know! She tried to get coy with me; she tried to make me +think she was all yours when I followed her up. She told you about it +and ... damn you, you're afraid to let me go back to town!"--lifting +himself on an elbow. "Come, Bayard, be frank with me: the thing between +us is a woman, isn't it?" + +The rancher eyed him a long time, almost absently. Then he walked slowly +to the far corner of the room and moved a chair back against the wall +with great pains; it was as though he were deciding something, something +of great importance, something on which an immediate decision was +gravely necessary. He faced about and walked slowly back to the bedside +without speaking. His lips were shut and the one hand held behind him +was clenched into a knot. + +"Not now ... a woman," he said, as though he were uncertain himself. +"Not now ... but it may be, sometime...." + +The other laughed and fell back into his pillows. Bayard looked down at +him, eyes speculative beneath slightly drawn brows. + +"And then," he added, "if it ever comes to that...." + +He snapped his fingers and turned away abruptly, as if the thought +brought a great uneasiness. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +TONGUES WAG + + +It was afternoon the next day that Bruce Bayard, swinging down from his +horse, whipped the dust from his clothing with his hat and walked +through the kitchen door of the Manzanita House. + +"Hello, Nora," he said to the girl who approached him. "Got a little +clean water for a dirty cow puncher?" + +He kicked out of his chaps and, dropping his hat to the floor, reached +for the dipper. The girl, after a brief greeting, stood looking at him +in perplexed speculation. + +"What's wrong, Sister? You look mighty mournful this afternoon!" + +"Bruce, what do you know about Ned Lytton?" she asked, cautiously, +looking about to see that no one could overhear. + +"Why? What do _you_ know about him?" + +"Well, his wife's here; you took him upstairs with you that night dead +drunk, you went home and he was gone before any of us was up. She ... +she's worried to fits about him. Everybody's tryin' to put her off his +track, 'cause they feel sorry for her; they think he's probably gone +back to his mine to sober up, but nobody wants to see her follow and +find out what he is. Nobody thinks she knows how he's been actin'. + +"You know, they think that she's his sister. I don't." + +He scooped water from the shallow basin and buried his face in the +cupped hands that held it, rubbing and blowing furiously. + +"That's what I come to town for, Nora, because I suspected she'd be +worryin'." To himself he thought, "Sister! That helps!" + +"You mean, you know where he is?" + +"Yeah,"--nodding his head as he wiped his hands--"I took him home. I got +him there in bed an' I come to town th' first chance I got to tell her +he's gettin' along fine." + +"That was swell of you, Bruce," she said, with an admiring smile. + +He shrugged his shoulders deprecatingly. + +"Yes, it was!" she insisted. "To do it for her. She's th' sweetest thing +ever come into this town, an' he's...." + +She ended by making a wry face. + +"You had a run-in with him, didn't you?" he asked, as if casually, and +the girl looked at him sharply. + +"How'd you know?" + +"He's been kind of nutty an' said somethin' about it." + +A pause. + +"He come in here last week, Bruce, drunk. He made a grab for me an' said +somethin' fresh an' he was so crazy, so awful lookin', that it scart me +for a minute. I told him to keep away or you'd knock all th' poison out +of him. He ... You see,"--apologetically--"I was scart an' I knew that +was th' easiest way out--to tell him you'd get after him. You ... Th' +worst of 'em back up when they think you're likely to land on 'em." + +He reached out and pinched her cheek, smiled and shook his head with +mock seriousness. + +"Lordy, Sister, you'd make me out a hell-winder of a bad man, wouldn't +you?" + +"Not much! 'N awful good man, Bruce. That's what puts a crimp in +'em--your goodness!" + +He flushed at that. + +"Tryin' to josh me now, ain't you?" he laughed. "Well, josh away, but if +any of 'em get fresh with you an' I'll ... I'll have th' sheriff on +'em!"--with a twinkle in his gray eyes. Then he sobered. + +"I s'pose I'd better go up to her room now," he said, an uneasy manner +coming over him. "She'll be glad to know he's gettin' along so well.... + +"So everybody thinks she's his sister, do they?"--with an effort to make +his question sound casual and as an afterthought. + +"Yes, they do. I'm th' only one who's guessed she's his wife an' I kept +my mouth shut. Rest of 'em all swear she couldn't be, that's she's his +sister, 'cause she ... well, she ain't th' kind that would marry a +thing like that. I didn't say nothin'. I let 'em think as they do; but I +know! No sister would worry th' way she does!" + +"You're a wise gal," he said, "an' when you said she was th' sweetest +thing that ever come to this town you wasn't so awful wrong." + +He opened the door and closed it behind him. + +In the middle of the kitchen floor the girl stood alone, motionless, her +eyes glowing, pulses quickened. Then, the keen light went from her face; +its expression became doggedly patient, as if she were confronted by a +long, almost hopeless undertaking, and with a sigh she turned to her +tasks. + +Patient Nora! As Bayard had closed the door behind him unthinkingly, so +had he closed the door to his heart against the girl. All her crude, +timid advances had failed to impress him, so detached from response to +sex attraction was his interest in her. And for months she had +waited ... waited, finding solace in the fact that no other woman stood +closer to him; but now ... she feared an unnamed influence. + +Ann Lytton, staring at the page of a book, heard his boots on the stair. +He mounted slowly, spurs ringing lightly with each step, and, when he +was halfway up, she rose to her feet, walked to the door of her room and +stood watching him come down the narrow, dark hallway, filling it with +his splendid height, his unusual breadth. + +They spoke no greeting. She merely backed into the room and Bruce +followed with a show of slight embarrassment. Yet his gaze was full on +her, steady, searching, intent. Only when she stopped and held out her +hand did his manner of looking at her change. Then, he smiled and met +her firm grasp with a hand that was cold and which trembled ever so +slightly. + +"He ... is he ..." she began in an uncertain voice. + +"He's doin' fine, ma'am," he said, and her fingers tightened on his, +sending a thrill up his arm and making its muscles contract to draw her +a bit closer to him. "He's doin' fine," he repeated, relinquishing his +grasp. "He's feelin' better an' lookin' better an' he'll begin to gain +strength right off." + +An inarticulate exclamation of gladness broke from her. + +"Oh, it's been an age!" she said, smiling wanly and shaking her head +slowly as she looked up into his face. "Every hour has seemed a day, +every day a week. I didn't dare, didn't dare think; and I've hoped so +long, with so little result that I didn't dare hope!" + +She bowed her head and held her folded hands against her mouth. For a +moment they were so, the cowboy looking down at her with a restless, +covetous light in his eyes and it was the impulsive lifting of one hand +as though he would stroke the blue-black braids that roused her. + +"Come, sit down," she said, indicating a chair opposite hers by the +open window. "I want you to tell me everything and I want to ask you if +it isn't best that I go to him now. + +"Now, from the beginning, please!" + +He looked into her eyes as though he did not hear her words. Her +expression of eager anticipation changed; her look wavered, she left off +meeting his gaze and Bayard, with a start, moved in his chair. + +"There ain't much to tell," he mumbled. "I got him home easy enough an' +sent th' team back that day by a friend of mine who happened along...." + +Her eyes returned to his face, riveting there with an impersonal +earnestness that would not be challenged. Her red lips were parted as +she sat with elbows on knees in the low rocker before him. It was his +gaze, now, that wavered, but he hastened on with his recital of what he +thought best to tell about what had occurred at his ranch in the last +two days. + +From time to time he glanced at her and on every occasion the mounting +appreciation of her beauty, the unfaltering earnestness of her desire to +learn every detail about her husband, the wonder that her sort could +remain devoted to Ned Lytton's kind, combined to enrage him, to make him +rebel hotly, even as he talked, at thought of such impossible human +relations, and he was on the point of giving vent to his indignation +when he remembered with a decided shock that on their first meeting she +had told him that she loved her husband. Beyond that, he reasoned, +nothing could be said. + +"He's awful weak, of course, but he was quiet," he concluded. "I left +him sleepin' an' I'll get back before he rouses up, it's likely." + +"Well, don't you think I might go back with you?" she asked, eagerly. +"Don't you think he's strong enough now, so I might be with him?" + +He had expected this and was steeled against it. + +"Why, you might, ma'am, if things was different," he said. "It's sort of +rough out there; just a shack, understand, an' you've never lived that +kind of life. There's only one room, an' I...." + +"Oh, I hadn't thought of crowding you out! Please don't think I'd +overlook your own comfort." + +Her regret was so spontaneous, that he stirred uneasily, for he was not +accustomed to lying. + +"Not at all, ma'am. Why, I'd move out an' sleep in th' hills for you, if +I knew it was best ... for you!" + +The heart that was in his voice startled her. She sat back in her chair. + +"You've been very kind ... so kind!" she said, after a pause. + +He fidgetted in his chair and rose. + +"Nobody could help bein' kind ... to you, ma'am," he stammered. "If +anybody was anything but kind to you they deserve...." + +He realized of a sudden that the man for whose sake she was undergoing +this ordeal had been cruel to her, and checked himself. Because +bitterness surged up within him and he felt that to follow his first +impulses would place him between Ann Lytton and her husband, aligned +against the man in the rôle of protector. + +She divined the reason for his silence and said very gently, + +"Remember the cripples!" + +He turned toward her so fiercely that she started back, having risen. + +"I'm tryin' to!" he cried, with a surprising sharpness. "Tryin' to, +ma'am, every minute; tryin' to remember th' cripples." + +He looked about in flushed confusion. Ann stared at him. + +His intensity frightened her. The men of her experience would not have +presumed to show such direct interest in her affairs on brief +acquaintance. A deal of conventional sparring and shamming would have +been required for any of them to evince a degree of passion in the +discussion of her predicament; but this man, on their second meeting, +was obviously forced to hold himself firmly, restraining a natural +prompting to step in and adjust matters to accord with his own sense of +right. The girl felt instinctively that his motives were most high, but +his manner was rough and new; she was accustomed to the usual, the +familiar, and, while her confidence in Bayard had been profoundly +aroused, her inherent distrust of strangeness caused her to suspect, to +be reluctant to accept his attitude without reserve. Looking up at her +he read the conflict in her face. + +"I'd better go now," he added in a voice from which the vigor had gone. +"I..." + +"But you'll let me know about Ned?" she asked, trying to rally her +composure. + +"I'll come to-morrow, ma'am," he promised. + +"That'll be so kind of you!" + +"You don't understand, maybe, that it's no kindness to you," he said. +"It might be somethin' else. Have you thought of that? Have you thought, +ma'am, that maybe I ain't th' kind of man I'm pretendin' to be?" + +Then, he walked out before she could answer and she stood alone, his +words augmenting the disquiet his manner had aroused. She moved to the +window, anxiously waiting to see him ride past. He did, a few minutes +later, his head down in thought, his fine, flat shoulders braced +backward, body poised splendidly, light, masterly in the saddle, the +wonderful creature under him moving with long, sure strides. The woman +drew a deep breath and turned back into the room. + +"I mustn't ... I mustn't," she whispered. + +Then wheeled quickly, snatched back the curtains and pressed her cheek +against the upper panes to catch a last glimpse of him. + + * * * * * + +Next day Bayard was back and found that the hours Ann had spent alone +had taken their toll and she controlled herself only by continual +repression. He urged her to talk, hoping to start her thinking fresh +thoughts, but she could think, then, only of the present hour. Her +loneliness had again broken down all barriers. Bayard was her confessor, +her talk with him the only outlet for the emotional pressure that +threatened her self-control; that relief was imperative, overriding her +distrust of the day before. For an hour the man listened while she gave +him the dreary details of her married life with that eagerness of the +individual who, for too long a period, has hidden and nursed +heart-breaking troubles. She was only twenty-four and had married at +twenty. A year later Ned's father had died, the boy came into sudden +command of considerable property, lost his head, frittered away the +fortune, drank, could not face the condemnation of his family and fled +West on the pretext of developing the Sunset mine, the last tangible +asset that remained. She tried to cover the entire truth there, but +Bayard knew that Lytton's move was only desertion, for she told of going +to work to support herself, of standing between Ned and his relatives, +of shielding him from the consequences of the misadministration of his +father's estate, of waiting weeks and months for word of him, of denying +herself actual necessities that she might come West on this mission. + +At the end she cried and Bayard felt an unholy desire to ride to his +Circle A ranch and do violence to the man who had functioned in this +woman's life as a maker of misery. But he merely sat there and put his +hands under his thighs to keep them from reaching out for the woman, to +comfort her, to claim a place as her protector.... + +The talk and tears relieved Ann and she smiled bravely at him when he +left; a tenderness was in her face that disturbed him. + +Day after day the rancher appeared in Yavapai, each time going directly +to the hotel and to Ann. Many times he talked to her in her room; often, +they were seen together on the veranda; occasionally, they walked short +distances. The eyes of the community were on Ann anyhow, because, being +new, she was intrinsically interesting, but this regularity on the part +of Bayard could not help but attract curious attention and cause gossip, +for in the years people had watched him grow from a child to manhood one +of the accepted facts about him had been his evident lack of interest in +women. To Nora, the waitress, he had given frank, companionable +attention and regarding them was a whispered tradition arising when the +unknown girl arrived in Yavapai and Bruce appeared to be on intimate +terms with her from the first. + +But now Nora received little enough of his time. She watched his comings +and goings with a growing concern which she kept in close secret and no +one, unless they had watched ever so closely, would have seen the slow +change that came over the brown haired girl. Her amiable bearing toward +the people she served became slightly forced, her laughter grew a trifle +hard, and, when Bruce was in sight, she kept her eyes on him with steady +inquiry, as one who reads eagerly and yet dreads to know what is +written. + +One day the cattleman came from the hotel and crossed the street to the +Yavapai saloon where a dozen men were assembled. Tommy Clary was there +among others and, when they lined up before the bar on Bruce's arrival, +feet on the piece of railroad steel that did service as footrail, Tommy, +with a wink to the man at his right said: + +"Now, Bruce, you're just in time to settle 'n argument. All these here +other _hombres_ are sayin' you've lost your head an' are clean skirt +crazy, an' I've been tellin' 'em that you're only tryin' to be a brother +to her. Ain't that right, now? Just back me up, Bruce!" + +He stood back and gestured in mock appeal, while the others leaned +forward over the bar at varying degrees that they might see and grinned +in silence. Bayard looked straight before him and the corners of his +mouth twitched in a half smile. + +"Who is this lady you're honorin' by hitchin' me up with?" he asked. + +"Ho, that's good! I s'pose you don't quite comprehend our meanin'! Well, +I'll help you out. This Lytton girl, sister to our hydrophobia skunk! +They think you're in love, Bruce, but I stick up for you like a friend +ought to. I think you're only brotherly!" + +"Why, Tommy, they ought to take your word on anythin' like that," Bayard +countered, turning slowly to face the other. "Th' reason th' _Yavapai +Argus_ perished was 'cause Tom Clary beat th' editor to all th' news, +wasn't it?" + +The laugh was on the short cowboy and he joined it heartily. + +"But if that's true--that brother stuff--," he said, when he could be +heard, "seems to me you're throwin' in with a fine sample of stalwart +manhood!" + +Then they were off on a concerted damnation of Ned Lytton and under its +cover Bayard thanked his stars that Nora had been right, that Yavapai +had been satisfied with jumping at the conclusion that Ann could not be +her husband's wife. + +"But I'll tell you, Bruce," went on Tommy, as Bayard started to leave, +"if I was as pretty a fellow as you are, I'd make a play for that gal +myself! If she'd only get to know me an' know 'bout my brains, it'd all +be downhill an' shady. But she won't. You got th' looks; I've got th' +horse power in my head. Can't we form a combination?" + +"I'm sort of again' combinations ... where women are concerned," Bruce +answered, and walked out before they could see the seriousness that +possessed him. + +On his way out of town Bayard passed two friends but did not look at +them nor appear to hear their salutations. He was a mile up the road +before his absorption gave way to a shake of the head and the following +summing up, spoken to the jogging Abe: + +"Gosh, Pardner, back there they've all got me in love with her. I had a +hard time keepin' my head, when they tried to josh me about it. I ain't +ever admitted it to myself, even, but has that--not admittin' it--got +anything to do with it, I wonder? Does it keep it from bein' so? Why +should I get hot, if it ain't true?" + +When they were in sight of the ranch, he spoke again, + +"How 'n th' name of God can a man help lovin' a woman like that?" + +And in answer to the assertion that popped up in his mind, he cried +aloud: "He ain't no man; _he_ ain't ... an' she loves him!" + +He put the stallion into a high lope then, partly to relieve the stress +of his thinking, partly because he suddenly realized that he had been +away from the ranch many hours. This was the first time that Lytton had +been up and about when he departed and he wondered if, in the interval, +the man had left the ranch, had stolen a march on him, and escaped to +Yavapai or elsewhere to find stimulant. + +Lytton's improvement seemed to have been marked in the last two days. +That forenoon, when Bayard told him he was to go to town, the man had +insisted on helping with the work, though his body was still weak. He +had been pleasant, almost jovial, and it was with pride that the +rancher had told Ann of the results he had obtained by his care and his +patience; had spoken with satisfaction in spite of the knowledge that +ultimate success meant a snuffing out of the fire that burned in his +heart ... the fire that he would not yet admit existed. + +Arrived at the ranch, Bruce forced the sorrel against his gate, leaned +low to release the fastening and went on through. He was grave of face +and silent and he walked toward the house after dismounting, deep in +thought, struggling with the problem of conduct which was evolving from +the circumstance in which he found himself. + +On the threshold, after looking into the kitchen, he stood poised a +moment. Then, with a cry of anger he strode into the room, halted and +looked about him. + +"You damned liar!" he cried into the silence. + +Ned Lytton lay across the bed, face downward, breathing muffled by the +tumbled blankets, and on the floor beside him was an empty whiskey +bottle. + +"You liar!" Bayard said again. "You strung me this mornin', didn't you? +This was why you was so crazy to help me get an early start! You +coyote!" + +He moved noisily across the room and halted again to survey the scene. A +cupboard had been roughly emptied and the clock had been overturned when +Lytton searched its shelf; in another room an old dresser stood gaping, +the things it had contained in a pile on the floor, its drawers flung in +a corner. Everywhere was evidence of a hurried search for a hidden +thing. And that sought object was the bottle, the contents of which had +sent the prostrate figure into its present state. + +"You're just ... carrion!" he said, disgustedly, staring at Lytton. + +Then, with set face, he undressed the man, laid him gently on the +pillows and covered him well. + +"God help me to remember that you're a cripple!" he muttered, and turned +to straighten the disorder of his house. + +An hour later Bayard drew a chair to the bedside, seated himself and +frowned steadily at the sleeping man. + +"I've got to remember you're a cripple ... got to," he said, over and +over. "For her sake, I must. An' I can't ... trust myself near her ... I +can't!" + +The drunken man roused himself with a start and stared blearily, +unintelligently into the other's face. + +"Tha's righ', Ole Man," he mumbled. "Tha's ri'...." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +A HEART SPEAKS + + +With forebodings Bruce Bayard went to Ann Lytton the next day. She saw +trouble on his face as he entered her room. + +"What is it?" she asked, quietly, steadying herself, for she was ever +ready for the worst. + +He only continued to look gravely at her. + +"Don't be afraid to tell me, Mr. Bayard. I can stand it; you can't hide +it." + +He looked at her, until he made sure that she was not speculating, that +she was certain that he brought her bad news. + +"Yesterday, while I was here, your husband ransacked my house an' found a +quart of whiskey I had...." + +"Oh! After he sent you away, making you feel..." + +"You know him right well, ma'am," he interrupted. "Yes, I guess all his +show of bein' himself in th' mornin' was to get me to move out so he +could look for th' booze. He knew it was there; he'd been waitin' this +chance, I expect." + +"How awful! What a way to treat you." + +He smiled. "Don't mind me, ma'am; I'm thinkin' about you." + +She looked back at him bravely. + +"And the other day ... when you left, you tried to make me stop thinking +these kind things about you," she challenged. "You suggested that your +interest in Ned and in me might not be fine." + +It did not occur to either of them that at such a moment, under those +conditions which they told themselves prevailed, talk and thought of +their own special relations was out of place. + +"I'm only doin' what I can ... for you," he assured her. "An' I guess it +ain't much I can do. I'm kind of a failure at reformin' men, I guess. I +want to keep on tryin', though. I,"--he moistened his lips--"I don't +like to think of givin' up an' I don't like to think of turnin' him over +to you like he is." + +She smiled appreciatively, downing her misery for the moment, and +hastened to say: + +"Don't you think it would be better, if I were there now? You see, I +could be with him all the time, watch him, help him over the worst days. +It surely wouldn't set him back to see me now." + +"And might it not be that living alone with you, away from the things he +needs: good care, the comforts he's been brought up to know, the right +food...." + +So confused was Bayard before the conviction that he must meet this +argument, that he proceeded without caution, without thought of the +foundation of lies on which his separation of husband and wife rested, +he burst out: + +"But he has them there! Here, ma'am, he'd been seein' an' hearin' folks, +he'd be tempted continually. Out there ... why, ma'am, he don't see +nobody, hear nothin'. He couldn't be more comfortable. There ain't a +house in Yavapai, not one this side o' Prescott, that's better fixed up. +I brought out a bed for him into th' kitchen so 't would be lighter, +easier for him to be watched. He ... I have sheets for him an' good +beddin'. I got eggs an' fruit an' ..." + +The perplexity on her face stopped him. + +"But you said, you said it was too rough for a woman, that it wasn't +much of a house, that it only had one room, that it ..." + +One hand extended, leaning toward him, brows raised, accusing, she +sought for explanation and she saw his face flood with flush, saw his +chest fill. + +"Well, I lied to you," he said, the lines of his body going suddenly lax +as he half turned from her. "It ain't rough. It's a pretty fair outfit." + +She dropped her hands until they met before her and a look of offended +trust, came into her face, settling the lines about her mouth into an +expression of determination. + +"But why?" she asked him. "Why should you lie to me and keep me from +Ned, my husband? I trusted you; I believed what you said. Why was it, +Mr. Bayard?" + +He turned on her, eyes burning, color running from his face. + +"I'll tell you why, ma'am," he said, chokingly, as though his lungs were +too full of air. "I'll tell you: It's because I didn't dare trust myself +under th' same roof with you, that's why; it's because I know that if +you're around me you'll be ... you'll be in danger." + +"No man should tempt himself too far an' 'twould be temptin', if I was +to let you come there. You don't know this country. You don't know us +men ... men like I am. I don't know your kind of men myself; but we're +rough, we're not nice when we want a thing. We haven't got nice manners. +I tell you, ma'am, I want to help you all I can, but I've got to look +out for myself, you see! Do you see that, ma'am? I thought I could see +you now an' then safe enough, but I can't I guess.... This had to come +out; it had to!" + +A forearm half raised she stepped back from him, settling her weight to +one foot. He breathed heavily twice to relieve the congestion that +strained his voice. + +"When I stood down there th' other night,"--gesturing toward the +entrance of the hotel--"an' looked into the darkness an' saw your face +there, it was like an angel ... or somethin'. It caught me in th' +throat, it made my knees shake--an' they've never shook from fear or +anythin' else in my life. When we set in that next room washin' out that +wound, bindin' it up, I didn't give a damn if that man lived or died--" + +"Oh!" she cried, and drew away another step, but he followed close, +bound that she should hear, should understand. + +"--If he lived or died," he repeated. "I wanted to be near you, to watch +your fingers, to see th' move of your shoulders, to look at th'--th' +pink of your neck through your waist, to see your lips an' your eyes an' +your hair ... ma'am. I didn't give a damn about that man. It was you; +your strangeness, your nerve, your sand, I wanted to see, to know +about ... an' your looks. Then you said, you said he was your husband +an' for a minute I wanted him to die, I did! That was a black minute, +ma'am; things went round, I didn't know what was happenin'. Then, I come +out of it and I realized; realized what kind of a woman you are, if +you'd come clear from th' East on th' trail of a ... a ... your husband, +an' speak of him as a cripple an' be as ... as wrought up over him as +you was-- + +"I thought then, like a fool I was, that I'd be doin' somethin' fine if +I took that ... that ... your husband an' made a man of him an' sent him +back to you, a man!" + +He gulped and breathed and his hands fell to his sides. He moved back an +awkward pace. + +"Well, it would,"--averting his face. The resonance had gone from his +voice. "It would have been fine. It ... it _will_ be fine,"--in a +whisper. + +"But I can't stand you around," he muttered, the tone rallying some of +its strength. "I can't; I can't! I couldn't have you in th' same room +in my sight. I'd keep thinkin' what he is an' what you are; comparin' +you. It'd tear my heart out! + +"Ma'am don't think I ain't tried to fight against this!" extending his +palms pleadingly. "I've thought about you every minute since I first saw +you down there 'n th' hallway. I've lied to myself, I've tried to make +myself think different but I can't! I can't help it, ma'am ... an' I +don't know as I would if I could, 'cause it's somethin' I never knew +could be before!" + +He was talking through clenched teeth now, swiftly, words running +together, and the woman, a hand on her lips, gave evidence of a queer, +fascinating fright. + +He had said that she did not know his sort of man. He had spoken truth +there. And because she did not know his breed, she did not know how to +judge him now. Would he really harm her? Was he possessed of desires and +urgings of which he had no control? She put those questions to herself +and yet she could not make her own heart believe the very things he had +told her about himself. She feared, yes; but about the quality she +feared was a strong fascination. He caused her to sense his own uncurbed +vitality, yet about the danger of which he talked was a compelling +quality that urged her on, that made her want to know that danger +intimately ... to suffer, perhaps, but to know! + +"You'll let me alone, won't you, ma'am?" he continued. "You'll stay +away? You'll stay right here an' give me a chance to play my hand? I'll +make him or break him, ma'am! I'll send him back to you, if there's a +spark of man left in him, I will; I promise you that! I will because +you're th' only woman--" + +"Don't!" She threw up a hand as she cried sharply, "Don't say it!" + +"I will say it!" he declared, moving to her again. "I will! + +"I love you, I love you! I love that lock of hair blowin' across your +cheek; I love that scared look in your eyes now; I love th' way th' +blood's pumpin' in your veins; I love you ... all of you. But you told +me th' other night, you loved your husband. I asked you. You said you +did. 'I do,' that's what you said. I know how you looked, how it +sounded, when you said it, 'I do.' That's why I'm workin' with him; +that's why I want to make him a man. You can't waste your lovin', ma'am; +you can't!" + +He stepped even closer. + +"That's why you've got to keep away from me! You can't handle him alone. +You can't come to my ranch to handle him because of _me_. Nobody else +will take him in around here. It's me or nobody. It's my way or th' old +way he's been goin' until he comes to th' end. + +"I promise you this. I'll watch over him an' care for him an' guard him +in every way. I'll put the best I've got into bringin' him back.... An' +all th' time I'll be wishin'--prayin', if I could--that a thunderbolt +'uld strike him dead! He ain't fit for you, ma'am! He's no more fit for +you than ... than ... + +"Hell, ma'am, there's no use talkin'! He's your husband, you've said you +loved him, that's enough. But if he, if he wasn't your husband, if he +..." + +He jerked open the front of his shirt, reached in and drew out his flat, +blue automatic pistol. + +She started back with a cry. + +"Don't you be afraid of me," he cried fiercely, grasping her wrist. +"Don't you ever! + +"You take this gun; you keep it. It's mine. I don't want to be able to +hurt him, if I should ever lose my head. Sometimes when I set there an' +look at him an' hear him cussin' me, I get hot in th' head; hot an' +heavy an' it buzzes. I ... I thought maybe sometime I might go crazy an' +shoot him,"--with deadly seriousness. "An' I wouldn't do that, ma'am, +not to yours, no matter what he might do or say to me. I brought my +rifle in to-day to have th' sights fixed; they needed it an' 't would +get it out of th' house. You'll keep this gun, won't you, please, +ma'am?" + +His pleading was as direct as that of a child and, eyes on his with a +mingling of emotions, Ann Lytton reached a groping hand for the weapon. +She was stunned. Her nervous weakness, his strength, the putting into +words of that great love he bore for her, the suggested picture of +contrast with the man between them, the conflict it all aroused in her +conscience, the reasonless surging of her deepest emotions, combined to +bewilder the woman. She reached out slowly to take his weapon and do his +bidding, moved by a subconscious desire to obey, and all the while her +eyes grew wider, her breath faster in its slipping between her parted +lips. + +Her fingers touched the metal, warmed by his body heat, closed on it and +her hand, holding the pistol, fell back to her side. She turned her face +from him and, with a palm hard against one cheek, whispered, + +"Oh, this is horrible!" + +The man made a wry smile. + +"I presume it is, ma'am,"--drearily, "but I can't help it, lovin' you." + +"No, no, not that!" she cried. "I didn't mean _that_ was horrible. +It ... it isn't. The horrible thing is the rest, the whole situation." + +"I know it is," he went on, heedless of her explanation, moving toward +the window and looking into the street as he talked, his back to her. "I +know it is, but it had to be. If I had kept from talkin' it would sort +of festered in me. When a horse runs somethin' in his foot, you've got +to cut th' hoof away, got to hurt him for a while, or it'll go bad with +him. Let what's in there out an' gettin' along will be simple. + +"That's how it was with me, you see. If I'd kept still, I'd 'a' gone +sort of _loco_, I might have hurt him. But now ... + +"Why, now, I can just remember that you know how I feel, that you +wouldn't want a man who's said he loves you to be anythin' but kind to +your ... to Ned Lytton." + +When he finished, the woman took just one step forward. It was an +impulsive movement, as if she would run to him, throw herself on him; +and her lips were parted, her throat ready to cry out and ask him to +take her and forget all else but that love he had declared for her. In a +flash the madness was past; she remembered that she must not forget +anything because of his confession of love, rather that she must keep +more firmly than ever in mind those other factors of her life, that she +must stifle and throttle this yearning for the man before her which had +been latent, the existence of which she had denied to herself until this +hour, and which was consuming her strength now with its desire for +expression. + +She walked slowly to the dresser and laid his gun there, as though even +its slight weight were a burden. + +"I'm so sorry," she said, as though physically weak, "I'm so sorry." He +turned away from the window with a helpless smile. "I don't feel right, +now, in letting you do this for me. I feel ..." + +"Why don't you feel right?" + +"Because ... because it means that you are giving me everything and I'm +giving nothing in return." + +"Don't think that, ma'am," with a slow, convinced shaking of his head, +"I'm doin' little enough for what I get." + +"For what _you_ get!" + +"What I get, ma'am, is this. I can come to see you. I can look at your +face, I can see your hair, I can watch you move an' hear you talk an' be +near you now an' then, even if I ain't any right, even if ..." + +He threw out his arms and let them fall back to his thighs as he turned +from her again. + +"That's what I get in exchange," he continued a moment later. "That's my +pay, an' for it, I'd go through anything, thirst or hunger or cold ... +anythin', ma'am. That's how much I think of you: that's why carin' +for ... for that man out home ain't any job even if he is ... if you are +his!" + +On that, doubt, desire, again overrode her training, her traditional +manner of thought. She struggled to find words, but she could not even +clarify her ideas. Impressions came to her in hot, passing flashes. A +dozen times she was on the point of crying out, of telling him one thing +or another, but each time the thought was gone before she could seize +upon and crystallize it. All she fully realized was that this thing was +love, big, clean, sanctified; that this man was a natural lover of +women, with a body as great, as fine as the heart which could so reveal +itself to her; and that in spite of that love's quality she was +helpless, bound, gagged even, by the circumstances that life had thrown +about her. She would have cried out against them, denouncing it all ... + +Only for the fact that that thing, conscience, handed down to her +through strict-living generations, kept her still, binding her to +silence, to passivity. + +"I won't bother you again this way," she heard him saying, his voice +sounding unreal as it forced its way through the roaring in her head. "I +had to get it out of my system, or it'd have gone in some other +direction; reaction, they call it, I guess. Then, somebody'd have been +hurt or somethin' broken, maybe your heart,"--looking at her with his +patient smile. + +"I'll go back home; I'll work with him. Sometimes, I'll come to see you, +if you don't mind, to tell you about ... him. You don't mind, do you?" + +With an obvious effort, she shook her head. "No, I don't mind. I'll be +glad to see you," she muttered, holding her self-possession doggedly. + +An awkward pause followed in which Bayard fussed with the ends of the +gay silk scarf that hung about his neck and shoulders. + +"I guess I'd better go now," he mumbled, and picked up his hat. + +"You see, I don't know what to say to you," Ann confessed, drawing a +hand across her eyes. "It has all overwhelmed me so. I ... perhaps +another time I can talk it over with you." + +"If you think it's best to mention it again, ma'am," he said. + +She extended her hand to him and he clasped it. On the contact, his arm +trembled as though he would crush the small fingers in his, but the +grasp went no further than a formal shake. + +"In a day or two ... Ann," he said, using her given name for the first +time. + +He bowed low, turned quickly and half stumbled into the hall, closing +the door behind him as he went. + +The woman sat down on the edge of the bed weakly. + + * * * * * + +In the dining room Nora Brewster was dusting and she looked up quickly +at Bayard's entrance. + +"Hello, Bruce," she said, eyes fastening on him eagerly. "You're gettin' +to be a frequent caller, ain't you?" + +He tried to smile when he answered, + +"Hardly a caller; kind of an errand boy, between bein' a nurse an' +jailer." + +He could not deceive the girl. She dropped her dustcloth to a chair, +scanning his face intently. + +"What's wrong, Bruce? You look all frazzled out." + +He could not know how she feared his answer. + +"Nothin'," he evaded. "He's been pretty bad an' I've missed sleep +lately; that's all." + +But that explanation did not satisfy Nora. She knew it was not the whole +truth. She searched his face suspiciously. + +"She ... his wife," he went on, steadying his voice. "It's hard on her, +Nora." + +"I know it is, poor thing," she replied, almost mechanically. "I talk +to her every time I can, but she, she ain't my kind, Bruce. You know +that. The' ain't much I can say to her. Besides, I dasn't let on that I +know who she is or that you've got her husband." + +Her eyes still held on his inquiringly. + +"You might get her outdoors," he ventured. "Keepin' in that room day an' +night, worryin' as she does, is worse 'n jail. You ... You ride a lot. +Why don't you get her some ridin' clothes an' take her along? I'll tell +Nate to give you an extra horse. You see...." + +The girl did see. She saw his anxiety for the woman upstairs. She knew +the truth then, and the thing which she had feared through those days +rang in her head like a sullen tocsin. She had felt an uneasiness come +into her heart with the arrival of this eastern woman, this product of +another civilization with her sweetness, her charm for both her own sex +and for men. And that uneasiness had grown to apprehension, had mounted +as she watched the change in Bayard under Ann's influence until now, +when she realized that the thing which she had hoped against for months, +which she had felt impending for days, had become reality; and that she, +Bayard, Ned Lytton, Ann, were fast in the meshes of circumstances that +bound and shut down upon them like a net, forecasting tragedy and the +destruction of hopes. Nora feared, she feared with that groundless, +intuitive fear peculiar to her kind; almost an animal instinct, and she +felt her heart leaping, her head becoming giddy as that warning note +struck and reverberated through her consciousness. Her gaze left the +man's face slowly, her shoulders slackened and almost impatiently she +turned back to her work that he might not see the foreboding about her. + +"You see, th' open air would help her, an' bein' with you, another +woman, even if you an' she don't talk th' same language, would help +too," he ended. + +"I see," Nora answered after a moment, as she tilted a chair to one leg +and stooped low to rub the dust from its spindles. "I understand, Bruce. +I'll take her to ride ... every day, if you think it's best." + +Something about her made Bayard pause, and the moment of silence which +followed was an uneasy one for him. The girl kept on with her task, eyes +averted, and he did not notice that she next commenced working on a +chair that she had already dusted. + +"That's a good girl, Nora," he said. "That'll help her." + +He left then and, when the ring of his spurs had been lost in the lazy +afternoon, the girl sat suddenly in the chair on which she had busied +herself and pressed the dustcloth hard against her eyes. She drew a +long, sharp breath. Then, she stood erect and muttered, + +"Oh, God, has it come?" + +Then, stolidly, with set mouth, she went on with her work, movements a +little slower, perhaps, a bit lethargic, surely, bungling now and then. +Something had gone from her ... a hope, a sustaining spark, a leaven +that had lightened the drudgery. + + * * * * * + +Upstairs in her room Ann Lytton lay face down on her bed, hands gripping +the coarse coverlet, eyes pressed shut, breath swift and irregular, +heart racing. What had gone from the girl below--the hope, the spark, +the leaven which makes life itself palatable--had come to her after +those years of nightmare, and Ann was resisting, driving it back, +telling herself that it must not be, that it could not be, not in the +face of all that had happened; not now, when ethical, moral, legal ties +bound her to another! Oh, she was bound, no mistaking that; but it was +not Ann's heart that wrenched at the bonds. It was her conscience, her +trained sense of right and wrong, the traditions that had moulded her. +No, her heart was gone, utterly, to the man who crossed the hard, beaten +street of Yavapai, head down, dejection in the swing of his shoulders, +for her heart knew no right, no wrong ... only beauty and ugliness. + +Bayard, too, fought his bitter fight. The urge in him was to take her, +to bear her away, to defy the laws that men had made to hurt her and to +devil him; but something behind, something deep in him, forbade. He must +go on, nursing back to strength that mockery of manhood who could lift +his fuddled, obscene head and, with the blessing of society, claim Ann +Lytton as his--her body, her soul! He must go on, though he wanted to +strangle all life from the drunken ruin, because in him was the same +rigid adherence to things that have been which held the woman there on +her bed, face down, even though her limbs twitched to race after him and +her arms yearned to twine about his neck, to pull herself close to his +good chest, within which the great heart pumped. + +And Nora? Was she conscienceless? Indeed, not. She had promised to +befriend this strange woman because Bruce Bayard had asked it. It was +not for Ann's sake she dully planned diversion; it was because of her +love for the owner of the Circle A that she stifled her sorrow, her +natural jealousy. She knew that to refuse him, to follow her first +impulses, would hurt him; and that would react, would hurt her, for her +devotion was that sort which would go to any length to make the man of +her heart happier. + +To Ann's ears came Bruce's sharp little whistle, and she could no longer +lie still. She rose, half staggered to the window and stood holding the +curtains the least bit apart, watching him stand motionless in the +middle of the thoroughfare. Again, his whistle sounded and from a +distance she heard the high call of the sorrel horse who had moved along +the strip of grass that grew close beside the buildings, nibbling here +and there. The animal approached his master at a swinging trot, holding +his head far to the right, nose high in the air, that the trailing reins +might not dangle under his feet. All the time he nickered his +reassurance and, when he drew to a halt beside his master, Abe's voice +retreated down into his long throat until it was only a guttural murmur +of affection. + +"Old Timer, if I was as good a man as you are horse, I'd find a way," +Bruce said half aloud as he gathered the reins. + +He mounted with a rhythmical swing of shoulder and limb, and gave the +stallion his head, trotting out of town with never a look about. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +LYTTON'S NEMESIS + + +That which followed was a hard night for both Bayard and Lytton. The +wounded arm was doing nicely, but the shattered nervous system could not +be repaired so simply. Since the incident of the ransacked house and the +pilfered whiskey, Lytton had not had so much as one drink of stimulant +and, because of that indulgence of his appetite, his suffering was made +manifold. Denial of further liquor was the penalty Ned was forced to pay +for the abuse of Bayard's trust. Much of the time the sick man kept +himself well in hand, was able to cover up outward evidence of the +torture which he underwent, and in that fact rested some indication of +the determination that had once been in him. But this night the effects +of his excesses were tearing at his will persistently and sleep would +not come. + +He walked the floor of the room into which his bed had been moved from +the kitchen after the first few days at the ranch; his strength gave out +and for a time he lay on the bed, muttering wildly,--then walked again +with trembling stride. + +Bayard heard. He, too, was suffering; sleep would not come to ease him. +He did not talk, did not yearn for action; just lay very quiet and +thought and thought until his mind refused to function further with +coherence. After that, he forced himself to give heed to other matters +for the sake of distraction and became conscious of the sounds from the +next room. When they increased with the hours rather than subsiding, he +got up, partly dressed, made a light and went to Lytton. + +Quarrelling followed. The sick man raved and cursed. He blamed Bayard +for all his suffering, denounced him as a meddler, whining and storming +in turn. He declared that to fight against his weakness was futile; the +next moment vowed that he would return to town, and face temptation +there and beat it; and within a breath was explaining that he could +easily cure himself, if he could only be allowed to taper off, to take +one less drink each day. Before it all, Bayard remained quietly firm and +the incident ended by Lytton screaming that at daylight he would leave +the ranch and die on the Yavapai road before he would submit to another +day of life there. + +But when dawn came he was sleeping and the rancher, after covering him +carefully, retired to his room for two hours' rest before rousing for a +morning's ride through the hills. + +He was back at noon and found Lytton white faced, contrite. Together +they prepared a meal. + +"I was pretty much of an ass last night," Lytton said after they had +eaten a few moments in silence. It was one of those rare intervals in +which a bearing of normal civility struggled through his despicability +and Bayard looked up quickly to meet his indecisive gaze, feeling +somehow that with every flash of this strength he was rewarded for all +the work he had done, the unpleasantness he had undergone. Rewarded, +though it only made Lytton a stronger, more enduring obstacle between +him and a consummation of his love. + +"I'm sorry," the man confessed. "It wasn't I. It was the booze that's +still in me." + +"I understand," the cowman said, with a nod. A moment of silence +followed. + +"There's something else, I'm sorry about," Lytton continued. "The other +day I tried to get nasty about a girl, the girl Nora at the Manzanita +House, didn't I?" + +"Oh, you didn't know what you said." + +"Well, if I didn't, that's no excuse." He was growing clearer, obtaining +a better poise, assuming a more decided personality. "I apologize to you +for what I said, and, if you think best, I'll go see her and apologize +for the advances I made to her." + +"No, no,"--with a quick gesture. "That wouldn't do any good; she'll +never know." + +"As you say, then. I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry; that's all. I +know how a fellow feels when his girl's name is dragged into a brawl +that way. I've noticed you sort of dolling up lately when you've started +for town,"--with a faint twinkle in his eyes and a smile that +approximated good nature. "I know how it is with you fellows who still +have the woman bug,"--a hint of bitterness. "I know how touchy you'll +all get. You ... you seem to be rather interested in that Nora girl." + +Bayard made no answer. He was uneasy, apprehensive. + +"I've heard 'em talk about it in town. Funny that she's the only woman +you've fallen for, Bayard. They tell me you won't look at another, that +you brought her to Yavapai yourself several years ago. You're so +particular that you have to import one; is that it?" + +He laughed aloud and a hint of nastiness was again in the tone. The +other man did not answer with more than a quickly passing smile. + +"Well, you fellows have all got to have your whirl at it, I suppose," +Lytton went on, the good nature entirely gone. "You'll never learn +except from your own experience. Rush around with the girls, have a gay +time; then, it's some one girl, next, it's marriage and she's got +you,"--holding up his gripped fist for emphasis. "She's got you hard and +fast!" + +He stirred in his chair and broke another biscuit in half. + +"Believe me, I know, Bayard! I've been there. I.... Hell, I married a +girl with a conscience,"--drawling the words, "That's the kind that +hangs on when they get you ... that _good_ kind! She's too damn fine for +human use, she and her kind. You know," ... laughing bitterly--"she +started out to reform me. One of that kind; get me? A damned +straight-laced Puritan! She snivelled and prayed and, instead of helping +me, she just drove me on and on. She's got me. See? I can't get away +from her and the only good thing about being here is that there are +miles between us and I don't hear her cant and prating!" + +"Seems to me that a woman who sticks by a man when he goes clean to hell +must amount to something," observed Bayard, gazing at him pointedly. + +Lytton shrugged his shoulders. + +"Maybe ... in some ways, but who the devil wants that kind hanging +around his neck?" He pushed his plate away and stared surlily out +through the door. Bayard tilted back in his chair and looked the +Easterner in the face critically. + +"Suppose somebody was to come along an' tell you they was goin' to take +her off your hands. What'd you say then?" + +"What do you mean?" disgruntled at the challenge in Bayard's query. + +"Just what I say. You've been tellin' me what a bad mess mixin' with +women is. I'm askin' you what you'd do if somebody tried to take your +woman. You say it's bad, bein' tied up. How about it, if somebody was to +step in an' relieve you?" + +The other moved in his chair. + +"That's different," he said. "To want to be away from a woman until she +got some common sense, and to have another man _take_ your wife are two +different things. To have a man take your wife would make anybody want +to kill, no matter what trouble you might have had with her. Breaking up +marriages, taking something that belongs to another man, has nothing to +do with what I was talking about." + +"You don't want her yourself. You don't want anybody else to have her. +Is that it?" + +"Didn't I say that those were two different--" + +"You want to look out, Neighbor!" Bayard said, with a smile, dropping +the forelegs of his chair to the floor and leaning his elbows on the +table. "You're talking one thing and meaning another. You want to keep +your head, if you want to keep your wife. Don't make out you want to let +go when you really want to hang on. Women are funny things. They'll +stick to men like a burr, they'll take abuse an' suffer and give no sign +of quittin', because they want love, gentleness, and they hate to give +up thinkin' they'll get it from the man they'd planned would give it to +'em. + +"But some day, while they're stickin' to a man who don't appreciate 'em, +they'll see happiness goin' by ... then, they're likely to get it. And +sometime that's goin' to happen to your wife; she'll see happiness +somewhere else an' she'll go after it; then, she won't be around your +neck, but somebody else'll have her! + +"Oh, they're queer things ... funny things! You can't tell where th' +man's comin' from that'll meet 'em an' take their heart an' their head. +He may be right near 'em all th' time an' they never wake up to it for +years; he may come along casual-like, not lookin' for anything, an' see +'em just by chance an' open his heart an' take 'em.... + +"Once I was in th' Club in Prescott an' I heard a mining engineer from +th' East sing a song about some man who lived on th' desert. + + "'From th' desert I come to thee,' + +"it went, + + "'On a stallion shod with fire....' + +"An' then he goes on with th' finest love song you ever heard, endin' +up: + + "... 'a love that shall not die + Till th' sun grows cold, + An' th' stars are old, + An' th' leaves of th' Judgment Book unfold!' + +"... That's the sort of guy that upsets a woman who's hungry for +happiness. It's that kind of love they want. They'll stand most anything +a long, long time; seems like some of 'em loved abuse. But if a real +_hombre_ ever comes along ... Look out! + +"You can't tell, Lytton. This thing love comes like a storm sometimes. A +man's interest in a woman may be easy an' not amount to much at first. +It's like this breeze comin' in here now; warm an' soft an' gentle, th' +mildest, meekest little breeze you've ever felt, ain't it? Well, you +can't tell what it'll be by night! + +"I've seen it just like this, without a dust devil on th' valley or a +cloud in th' sky. Then she'd get puffy an' dust would commence to rise +up, an' th' sky off there south an' west would begin to look dirty, +rusty. Then, away off, you'd hear a whisper, a kind of mutter, growin' +louder every minute, an' you'd see trees bend down to one another like +they was hidin' their faces from somethin' that scared 'em. Dust would +come before it like a wall an' then th' grass would flatten out an' look +a funny white under that black and then ... Zwoop! She'd be on you, +blowin' an' howlin' an' thunderin' and lightnin' like hell itself.... +When an hour before it'd been a breeze just like this." + +He paused an instant. + +"So you want to look out ... if you want to keep her. Some man on a +'stallion shod with fire' may ride past an' look into your house an' see +her an' crawl down an' commence to sing a love song that'll make her +forget all about tryin' to straighten you up.... Some feller who's never +counted with her may wake up and go after her as strong as a summer +storm. + +"She's young; she's sweet; she's beau ..." + +"Say, who told you about my wife?" Lytton demanded, drawing himself up. + +Bayard stopped with a show of surprise. His earnestness had swept his +caution, his sense of the necessity for deception, quite away, but he +rallied himself as he answered: + +"Why, I judge she is. She's stickin' by you like a sweet woman would." + +"Well, what if she is?" Lytton countered, the surprise in his face +giving way to sullenness. "We've discussed me and my wife enough for one +day. You're inexperienced. You don't know her kind. You don't know +women, Bayard. Why, damn their dirty skins, they--" + +"You drop that!" Bruce cried, rising and leaning across the table. "You +keep your lying, dirty mouth shut or I'll..." + +He drew his great fists upward slowly as though they lifted their limit +in weight. Then suddenly went limp and smiled down at the face of the +other man. He turned away slowly and Lytton drawled. + +"Well, what's got into you?" + +"Excuse me," said the rancher, with a short laugh. "I'm ... I'm only +worked up about a woman myself," reaching out a hand for the casing of +the doorway to steady himself. "I'm only wondering what th' best thing +to do is.... You said yourself that ... experience was th' only way to +learn...." + + * * * * * + +That afternoon Lytton slept deeply. Of this fact Bayard made sure when, +from his work in the little blacksmith shop, he saw a horseman riding +toward the ranch from a wash that gouged down into Manzanita Valley. +When he saw the man slumbering heavily on his bed, worn from the +struggle and the sleeplessness of last night, he closed the door softly +and returned to resume the shoeing of the pinto horse that stood dozing +in the sunlight. + +"Oh, you is it, Benny Lynch?" Bayard called, as the horseman leaned low +to open the gate and rode in. + +"Right again, Bruce. How's things?" + +"Fine, Benny. Ain't saw you in a long time. Get down. Feed your horse?" + +"No, thanks, we've both et." + +The newcomer dismounted and, undoing his tie rope, made his pony fast to +a post. He was a short, thick set young chap, dressed in rough clothing, +wearing hobnailed shoes. His clothes, his saddle, the horse itself +belied the impression of a stock man and his shoes gave conclusive +evidence that he was a miner. He turned to face Bayard and pushed his +hat far back on his head, letting the sun beat down on his honest, +bronzed face, peculiarly boyish, yet lined as that of a man who has +known the rough edges of life. + +"Mind if I talk to you a while, Bruce?" he asked, serious, preoccupied +in his manner. + +"Tickled to death, Benny; your conversation generally is enlightenin' +an' interestin'." + +This provoked only a faint flash of a smile from the other. Bayard +kicked a wooden box along beside the building and both seated themselves +on it. An interval of silence, which the miner broke by saying abruptly: + +"I've done somethin', Bruce, that I don't like to keep to myself. I'm +planning on doin' somethin' more that I want somebody to know so that if +anything happens, folks'll understand. + +"I come to you,"--marking the ground with the edge of his shoe sole, +"because you're th' only man I know in this country--an' I know most of +'em--I'd trust." + +"Them bouquets are elegant, Benny." Bayard laughed, trying to relieve +the tension of the other. "Go ahead, I love 'em!" + +"You know what I mean, Bruce. You've always played square with everybody +'round here, not mindin' a great deal about what other folks done so +long as they was open an' honest about it. You've never stole calves, +you've never been in trouble with your neighbors--" + +"Hold on, Benny! You don't know how many calves I've stole." + +The other smiled and put aside Bayard's attempt at levity with a gesture +of one hand. + +"You understand how it is, when a fellar's just got to talk?" + +"I understand," said Bayard. "I've been in that fix myself, recent." + +"I knew you would; that's why I come." + +He shifted on the box and pulled his hat down over his eyes and said: + +"I tried to kill a feller th' other night. I didn't make good. I'm +likely to make another try some time, an' go through with it." + +Bayard waited for more, with a queer thrill of realization. + +"You know this pup Lytton, don't you, Bruce? Yes, everybody does, +th' ----! I tried to get him th' other night in Yavapai. I thought I'd +done it an' lit out, but I heard later I only nicked his arm. That means +I've got to do it later." + +"It's that necessary to kill him, is it, Benny?" Bayard asked. "I know +he was hit.... Fact is, I found him an' took him into th' Hotel an' +fixed him up." + +Their gazes met. Benny Lynch's was peculiarly devoid of anger, steady +and frank. + +"That was like you, Bruce. You'd take care of a sick wolf, I guess. Next +time, though, I'll give somebody a job as a gravedigger, 'stead of a +good Samaritan.... + +"But what I stopped in to-day for was to tell you th' whole story, so +you'd know it all." + +"Let her fly, Benny!" + +"Prob'ly you know, Bruce, that I come out here from Tennessee, when I +was only a spindly kid, with th' old man an' my mammy. We was th' last +of our family. They'd feuded our folks down to 'n old man 'n old woman +and a kid--me. We come 'cause th' old man got religion and moved west so +he wouldn't have to kill nobody. I s'pose some back there claims to have +druv him out, but they either didn't know him or they're lyin'. He'd +never be druv out by fear, Bruce; he wasn't that kind. + +"Well, we drifted through Colorado an' New Mex an' finally over here. We +landed out yonder on th' Sunset group which th' old man located an' +commenced to work. I growed up there, Bruce. I helped my mammy an' my +pap cut down trees an' pick up stone to make our house. I built my +mammy's coffin myself when I was seventeen. Me an' pap buried her; me +shovelin' in dirt an' rocks, him prayin' an' readin' out of th' Bible." + +He paused to overcome the shaking of his voice. + +"We hung on there an' was doin' right well with th' mine, workin' out a +spell now an' then, goin' back an' developin' as long as our grub an' +powder lasted. We got her right to where we thought she was ready to +boom, when hard times come along, an' made us slow up. I started out, +leavin' th' old man home, 'cause he was gettin' so old he wasn't much +use anywhere an' it ain't right that old folks should work that way +anyhow. + +"I landed over in California and was in an' 'round th' Funeral Range for +over two years, writin' to pap occasional an' hearin' from him every few +months. I didn't make it very well an' our mine just had to wait on my +luck, let alone th' hard times. We wouldn't sell out, then, 'cause we'd +had to take little or nothin' for th' property. It worried me; my old +man was gettin' old fast, he'd never had nothin' but hard knocks, if he +was ever goin' to have any rest an' any fun it'd have to come out of +that mine.... + +"Well, while I was away along come this here Eastern outfit, promised to +do all sorts of things, formed a corporation, roped th' old man in with +their slick lies, an' give him 'bout a quarter value for what we had. +They beat him out of all he'd ever earnt, when he was past workin' for +more! Now, Bruce, a gang of skunks that'd do that to as fine an old man +as my dad was, ought to be burnt, hadn't they?" + +"They had. Everybody sure loved your daddy, Ben." + +"Well, the' was nothin' we could do. Them Eastern pups just set down an' +waited for us to get tired an' let 'em have a clear field. So we moved +out, left our house an' all, went to Prescott an' went to work, both of +us, keepin' an eye on th' mine to see they didn't commence to operate on +th' sly. After a while I got what looked like a good thing down on th' +desert in a new town an' I went there. + +"While I was gone, along comes this here Lytton an' finishes th' job. +His dad had owned most of th' stock, an' he'd come here to start +somethin'. He begun with my pappy. He lied to him, took advantage of an +old man who was trustful an' an easy mark. He crooked it every way he +could, he got everythin' we had; all th' work of my hands,"--holding +their honest, calloused palms out--"all th' hopes of a good old man. It +done him no good; he couldn't get enough backin' to do business.... But +it killed my dad." + +He stared vacantly ahead before saying: + +"You know th' rest. Dad died. That killed him, Bruce, an' Lytton was to +blame. Ain't that murder? Ain't it?" + +"It's murder, Benny, but they won't call it that." + +"No, but what they call it don't make no difference in th' right or th' +wrong of it, does it? An' it don't matter to me. I've got a law all my +own, Bruce, an' it's a damn sight more just 'n theirs!" He had become +suddenly alert, intent. "Th' last thing that my old man said was that +th' wickedest of th' world had killed him. He wouldn't blame no one man +but I will ... I do!" + +He moved quickly on the box, bringing himself to face Bayard. + +"I come back to this country an' waited. I've been thinkin' it over most +two years, Bruce, an' I don't see no way out but to fix my old man's +case myself. Maybe if things was different, I'd feel some other way +about it, but this here Lytton is worse 'n scum, Bruce. You know an' +everybody knows what he is. He's a drunken, lyin' ----! That's what he +is! + +"I've been watchin' him close for weeks, seein' him drink every cent of +my dad's money, seein' him get to be less 'n less of a man. + +"One day I was in town. I'd been drinkin' myself to keep from goin' +crazy thinkin' 'bout this thing. Just at dusk, just when th' train come +in an' everybody was down to th' station, I walked down th' street +toward Nate's corral to get my horse. I seen him comin' towards me, +Bruce. He was drunk, he could just about make it. He didn't know me, +never has knowed who I was, but he looks up at me an' commences to cuss, +an' I ... Well, I draws an' fires." + +He leaned back against the building. + +"He dropped an' I thought things was squared, so I lit out. But I found +out I shot too quick ... or maybe I was drunker 'n I thought. + +"Where was he hit, Bruce?" + +"Left forearm, Benny ... right there." + +"Hum ... I thought so. I had a notion that gun was shootin' to th' +right." + +They sat silent a moment, then he resumed: + +"When I got to thinkin' it over I was glad I hadn't killed him. I made +up my mind that wasn't the best way. That's a little too much like +killin' just 'cause you're mad, so I made up my mind I'd go on about my +business until I was meddled with. + +"I'm livin' at my home, now, Bruce. I'm back at th' Sunset, livin' in +th' cabin me an' my folks built with our hands, workin' alone in our +mine, waitin' for good times to come again. I'm goin' to stay there ... +right along. It's goin' to be my mine 'cause it rightfully belongs to +me, no matter what Lytton's damn corporation papers may say. + +"Some day, when he sobers up, he'll start back there, Bruce. I'll be +waitin' for him. I won't harm a hair, I won't say a word until he steps +on to them claims. Then, by God, I'll shoot him down like he was a +coyote tryin' to get my chickens!" + +Bayard got up and thoughtfully stroked the hip of the pinto horse. + +"I guess I understand, Benny," he said, after a moment. "I'm pretty sure +I do." + +"He's ... He's as low as a snake's belly, ain't he, Bruce?"--as if for +reassurance. + +"Yes, an' he'd be lower, Benny, if there was anythin' lower," he +remarked, grimly. + +"He can shoot though; watch him, Benny! I've seen him beat th' best of +us at a turkey shootin'." + +"That's what makes me feel easy about it. I wouldn't want to kill a man +that couldn't shoot as good as I can, anyhow." + +Benny Lynch departed, still unsmiling, very serious, and, as Bayard +watched him ride away, he shook his head in perplexity. + +"I wish I was as free to act as you are," he thought. "But I ain't; an' +your tellin' me has dug my hole just that much deeper!" + +He looked out over the valley a long moment. It was bright under the +afternoon sun but somehow it seemed, for him, to be queerly shadowed. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +WHOM GOD HATH JOINED + + +The next day the puzzled cowman rode the trail to Yavapai to find that +Ann was out. He was told that Nora had taken her riding, so he waited +for their return, restless, finding no solace in the companionship that +the saloon, the town's one gathering place for men, afforded. + +He stood leaning against the front of the general store, deep in +thought, when a distant rattle attracted his attention. He glanced down +the street to his right and beyond the limits of the town saw a rapidly +moving dust cloud approach. As it drew near, the rattling increased, +became more distinct, gave evidence that it was a combination of many +sounds, and Bayard smiled broadly, stirring himself in anticipation. + +A moment more and the dust cloud dissolved itself into a speeding mantle +for a team of ponies and a buckboard, on the seat of which sat the Rev. +Judson A. Weyl. The horses came down the hard street, ears back, +straining away from one another until they ran far outside the wheel +tracks. The harnesses, too large for the beasts, dangled and flopped and +jingled, the clatter and clank of the vehicle's progress became +manifold as every bolt, every brace, every bar and slat and spoke +vibrated, seeming to shake in protest at that which held it to the rest, +and, above it all, came the regular grating slap of the tire of a dished +hindwheel, as in the course of its revolutions it met the metal brake +shoe, as if to beat time for the ensemble. + +The man on the seat sat very still, the reins lax in his hands. The +spring under him sagged with his weight and his long legs were doubled +oddly between the seat and broken dash. He appeared to give no heed to +his team's progress; just sat and thought while they raced along, the +off horse breaking into a gallop at intervals to keep pace with its long +stepping mate. + +Across from where Bayard stood, the team swung sharply to the right, +shot under a pinyon tree, just grazing the trunk with both hubs of the +wheels, and rounded the corner of a low little house, stopping abruptly +when out of sight; and the rancher laughed aloud in the sudden silence +that followed. + +He went across the thoroughfare, followed the tracks of the buckboard +and came upon the tall, thin, dust covered driver, who had descended, +unfastened the tugs and was turning his wild-eyed, malevolent-nosed team +of half broken horses into a corral which was shaded by a tall pine +tree. He looked up as Bayard approached. + +"Hel-_lo_, Bruce!" he cried, flinging the harness up on a post, and +extending a hearty hand. "I haven't seen you in an age!" + +"How are you, Parson?" the other responded, gripping the offered hand +and smiling good-naturedly into the alert gaze from the black eyes. "I +ain't saw you for a long time, either, but every now and then, when I'm +ridin' along after my old cows, I hear a most awful noise comin' from +miles away, an' I say to myself, 'There goes th' parson tryin' to beat +th' devil to another soul!'" + +The other laughed and cast a half shameful look at his buckboard, which +Bayard was inspecting critically. It was held together with rope and +wire; bolts hung loosely in their sockets; not a tight spoke remained in +the wheels; the pole was warped and cracked and the hair stuffing of the +seat cushion was held there only by its tendency to mat and become +compact, for the cover was three-quarters gone. + +"It's deplorable, ain't it," Bayard chuckled, "how th' Lord outfits his +servants in this here country?" + +The clergyman laughed. + +"That's a chariot of fire, Bruce!" he cried. "Don't you understand?" + +"It'd be on fire, if I had it, all right! It ain't fit for nothin' else. +Why, Parson, I should think th' devil'd get you sure some of these +nights when you're riskin' your neck in this here contraption an' +trustin' to your Employer to restrainin' th' wickedness in that pair of +unlovely males you call horses!" + +"Well, maybe I should get a new rig," the other admitted, still +laughing. "But somehow, I'm so busy looking after His strays in this +country that I don't get time to think about my own comfort. Maybe +that's the best way. If I took time to worry about material discomforts, +I suppose I'd feel dirty and worn and hot now, for I've had a long, long +drive." + +"A drink'd do you a lot of good, Parson," said Bruce, with a twinkle in +his eye. "I don't mind drinkin' with you, even if you are a preacher." + +"And _because_ I'm a member of the clergy I have to drink with you +whether I like it or not, Bruce!"--with a crack of his big hand on +Bayard's shoulder. "A bottle of pop would taste fine about now, son!" + +"Well, you wait here an' I'll get that brand of sham liquor," said +Bruce, turning to start for the saloon. + +"Hold on, Bruce. I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I don't feel +that I want to let you buy anything for me out of that place. Get me +some at the drug store." + +The younger man hesitated. + +"Well, I got a few convictions myself, Parson. Maybe there ain't much to +be said for s'loon men, but your friend who runs that pill foundry sells +booze to Indians, I suspect, which ain't right an' which no +self-respectin' s'loon man would do." + +"Son, all life is a compromise," laughed Weyl. "You go buy what you like +to drink; I'll buy mine. How's that?" + +"That's about as fair as a proposition can be, I guess." + +Ten minutes later they were seated in the shade of the pine tree, backs +against the corral where the sweat-crusted horses munched alfalfa. +Bayard drank from a foaming bottle of beer, Weyl from a pop container. +Both had removed their hats, and their physical comfort approached the +absolute. + +The cowman, though, was not wholly at ease. He listened attentively to +the rector's discourse on the condition of his parish, but all the while +he seemed to be bothered by some idea that lurked deep in his mind. +During a pause, in which the brown pop gurgled its way through Weyl's +thin lips, Bruce squinted through the beer that remained in his bottle +and said, + +"Somethin's been botherin' me th' last day or so, Parson, an' I sure was +glad when I seen you comin' up in this here ... chariot of fire." + +"What is it, Bruce?" + +"Well, here's th' case. If a jasper comes to you an' tells you somethin' +in confidence, are you bound to keep your mouth shut even if somebody's +likely to get hurt by this here first party's plan? I know your outfit +don't have no confession--'tain't confession I want.... It's advice ... +what'd you do if you was in that fix?" + +The other straightened his long limbs and smiled gravely. + +"I can tell you what I would do, Bruce; but, if it's a matter of +consequence, I can't advise you what to do. + +"That's one of the hardest things I have to meet--honest men, such as +you, coming to me with honest questions. I'm only a man like you are; I +have the same problems, the same perplexities; it's necessary for me to +meet them in the way you do. Because I button my collar behind is of no +significance. Because I'm trying to help men to know their own souls +gives me no superiority over them. That's as far as I can go--helping +men to know themselves. Once that is accomplished, I can't guide their +actions or influence their decisions. So far as I can determine, that's +all God wants of us. He wants us to see ourselves in the light of truth; +then, be honest with ourselves. + +"In your particular matter, I couldn't stand by and see a man walk into +danger unaware and yet it would mean a lot for me to betray another +man's confidence. I suppose I'd do as I do in so many matters, and that +is to compromise. I would consider it my duty to keep a confidence, if +it was made in the spirit of honesty and, just as surely, it is my duty +to save men from harm. My word of honor means much ... yes. But my +brother's safety, if I am his keeper, is of as much consequence, surely. +If I couldn't compromise--if taking a middle course wouldn't be +practical--then I think I would choose the cause which I considered most +just and throw all my influence and energy into it. + +"That's what I would do, my friend. Perhaps, it is not what you would +do, but so long as you are honest in your perplexity then, basically, +whatever action you decide on, must be right." + +Bayard drank again, slowly. + +"I've never been inside your church," he said at length. "I'm like a lot +of men. I don't care much about churches. Do you preach like that on +Sunday?"--turning his face to Weyl. + +The other laughed heartily. + +"I don't preach, Bruce! I just talk and try to think out loud and make +my people think. Yes ... I try to be before my people just as I am +before you, or any other friend." + +"Some day, then, I'm likely to come along and ask to throw in with your +outfit ... your church. I'll bet that after I've let a little more hell +out of my system, I could get to be a top deacon in no time ... in your +church!" + +The clergyman smiled and rested his hand affectionately on Bayard's +knee. + +"We're always glad to have stoppers come along," he replied. "Every now +and then one drops in to see what we're like. Some have stayed and gone +to work with us and turned out to be good hands." + +Bruce made no response and the other was not the sort to urge. So they +sat a time in companionable silence until the younger man asked, + +"Had you come far to-day?" + +"Wolf Basin. I went over there yesterday and married old Tom Nelson's +girl to a newcomer over there." + +Bayard looked at him keenly. He had wanted to bring up another +question, but had been unable to decide upon a device for the +manipulation of the conversation. This was a fortunate opening. + +"Did you hear the yarn they was tellin' 'bout old Newt Hagadorn, when +they 'lected him justice of th' peace in Bumble Bee? At his first +weddin' Newt got tangled up in his rope an' says, + +"'Who me 'nd God has j'ined together let no man put apart!'" + +Weyl threw back his head and laughed heartily. Bruce shook with mirth +but watched his friend's face, and, when the clergyman had sobered +again, he asked, + +"How about this who-God-hath-joined-together idea anyhow, Parson? Does +it always work out?" + +"Not always, Bruce,"--with a shake of his head--"You should know that." + +"Well, when it don't, what've you parsons got to say about it? You've +hogtied 'em in th' name of all that's holy; what if it don't turn out +right? They're married in th' name of God, ain't they?" + +Weyl drained the last of his pop and tossed the bottle away. + +"I used to think they were ... they all were, Bruce. That was when I was +as young in years, as I try to be young in heart now. But the more +couples I marry, the stronger is my conviction that God isn't a party to +all those transactions, not by a long sight! + +"If my bishop were to hear me say that, he'd have me up for a lecture, +because he is bothered with a lot of traditions and precedent, but many +men are calling on Him to bless the unions of young men and women when +He only refuses to answer. Men don't know; somehow they can't see that +God turns his face from marriage at times; they keep on thinking that +all that is necessary is to have some ordained minister warn society to +keep hands off, that it is the Father's business ... when it is not, +when love, when God, isn't there." + +"How are young goin' to tell when He's missin' from those present?" + +Weyl shrugged his shoulders. + +"The individuals, the parties concerned, are the only ones who know +that." + +"When they do know, when they don't give up even then? What are you +goin' to do 'bout that?" + +The other man shook his head sadly. + +"There are many things that you and I--that society--must do, Bruce, my +son. It's up to us to change our attitude, to change our way of looking +at human relations, to pull off the bandages that are blinding our eyes +and see the true God. Other things besides marriage demand that unerring +sight, too....' + +"But what I'm gettin' at," broke in the other, pulling him back to the +question of matrimony, "is, what are you goin' to do, when you know God +ain't ridin' with a couple, when it's a sin for 'em to be together, but +when th' man holds to his wife like I'd hold to a cow with my brand on +her, an' when th' woman--maybe--hangs to him 'cause she thinks th' Lord +_has_ had somethin' to do with it." + +"In that case, if she thinks of the Father's connection as an affair of +the past, she must know it is no longer holy; someone should open her +eyes, someone who is unselfish, who has a perspective, who is willing to +be patient and help her, to suffer with her, if need be." + +"You wouldn't recommend that a party who sort of hankered to wring th' +husband's neck an' who thought the wife was 'bout th' finest thing God +ever put breath into, start out to tackle th' job, would you?" + +Weyl rubbed his chin in thoughtful consideration; then replied slowly: + +"No, it is our duty to give the blind sight; we can only do that by +knowing that our motives are holy when we undertake the job. That is the +first and only matter to consider. Beyond motives, we cannot judge men +and women.... + +"My bishop would drop dead before me, Bruce, if he heard that." + +The other was silent a moment; then he said, slowly, "I wish some of us +miser'ble sinners could be so open minded as some of you God fearin', +hell-preachin' church goers!" + +After a long interval, in which their discussion rambled over a score of +topics, Bayard left. + +"If you ever get near th' Circle A in that chariot of fire, I hope she +goes up in smoke, so you'll have to stay a while!" he said. "An' I hope +M's. Weyl's with you when it happens." + +"Your wishes for bad luck are only offset by the hope that sometime we +can come and spend some days with you, my friend!" laughed the minister +as they shook hands. + + * * * * * + +Ann and Nora had returned when Bruce reached the Manzanita House and in +the former's room a few moments later, after he had reported on Lytton's +slow gaining of strength, Bayard said to her, + +"Do you believe what I tell you, ma'am?" + +She looked at him as though she did not get his meaning, but saw he was +in earnest and replied, + +"I've never doubted a thing you've told me." + +"Then I want you to believe one more thing I'm goin' to tell you, an' I +don't want you to ask me any questions about it, cause I'm so +hogtied--that is, situated, ma'am--that I can't answer any. I just want +to tell you never to let your husband go back to th' Sunset mine." + +"Never to _let_ him? Why, when he's himself again that's where his work +will be--" + +"I can't help that, ma'am. All I can say is, not to let him. It means +more to you than anybody can think who don't know th' ways of men in a +country like this. Just remember that, an' believe that, will you?" + +"You want him to give up everything?" + +"All I want, ma'am, is for you to say you'll never let him go there." + +Finally, she unwillingly, uncomprehendingly, agreed to do all she could +to prevent Ned's return to the mining camp. + +"Then, that's all, for now," Bayard announced, dryly, and went from the +room. + +Their hands had not touched; there had been no word, no glance +suggestive of the emotional outburst which characterized their last +meeting, and, when he was gone, the woman, with all her conscience, felt +a keen disappointment. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE STORY OF ABE + + +True to her promise to Bruce, Nora had taken Ann in hand. She proposed +that they ride together the day after the man had suggested such a +kindness and the step was met most enthusiastically by the eastern +woman, for it promised her relief from the anxiety provoked by mere +waiting. + +"I know nothing about this, so you'll have to tell me everything, Nora," +she said as, in a new riding skirt, she settled herself in the saddle +and felt her horse move under her. + +"I don't know much either," the girl replied, fussing with her blouse +front. "I was learnt to ride by a fine teacher, but I was so busy +learnin' 'bout him that I didn't pay much attention to what he said." + +She looked up shyly, yet her mouth was set in determination and she +forced herself to meet Ann Lytton's gaze, to will to be kind to her ... +because Bruce had asked it. Her thinly veiled declaration of interest in +Bayard was not made without guile. It was a timid expression of her +claim to a free field. Perhaps, beneath all her sense of having failed +in the big ambition of her life, was a hope. This eastern woman was +married. Nora knew Bruce, knew his close adherence to his own code of +morals, and she believed that something possibly might come to pass, +some circumstance might arise which would take Ann out of their lives +before the control that Bayard had built about his natural impulses +could be broken down. That would leave her alone with the rancher, to +worship him from a distance, to find a great solace in the fact that +though he refused to be her lover no other woman was more intimately in +his life. That hope prompted her mild insinuation of a right of +priority. + +Ann caught something of the subtle enmity which Nora could not wholly +cover by her outward kindness. She had heard Nora's and Bruce's names +associated about the hotel, and when, on speaking of Bayard, she saw her +companion become more shy, felt her unconscious hostility increase +perceptibly, she deduced the reason. With her conclusion came a feeling +of resentment and with a decided shock Ann realized that she was +prompted to be somewhat jealous of this daughter of the west. Indignant +at herself for what she believed was a mean weakness she resolved to +refrain from talking of Bruce to Nora for the sake of the girl's peace +of mind, although she could not help wondering just how far the affair +between the waitress and her own extraordinary lover had gone. + +Keeping off the subject was difficult, for the two were so far apart, +their viewpoints so widely removed, that they had little or no matter on +which to converse, aside from Yavapai and its people; and of the +community Bayard was the outstanding feature for them both. + +"How long have you been here, Nora?" Ann asked. + +"Three years; ever since Bruce got me my job." + +There you were! + +"Do you like it here?" + +"Well, folks have showed me a good time; Bruce especially." + +Again the talk was stalled. + +"Were you born out here?" + +"Yes; that's why I ain't got much education ... except what Bruce gave +me." + +Once more; everything on which they could converse went directly back to +Bayard and, finally, Ann abandoned the attempt to avoid the embarrassing +subject and plunged resolutely into it, hoping to dissipate the +intangible barrier that was between them. + +"Tell me about Bruce," she said. "He brought you here, he educated you; +he must have been very kind to you. He must be unusual,"--looking at the +other girl to detect, if she could, any misgiving sign. + +Nora stared straight ahead. + +"He's been good to me," she said slowly. "He's good to everybody, as I +guess you know. The' ain't much to know about him. His name ain't +Bayard; nobody knows what it is. He was picked up out of a railroad +wreck a long time ago an' old Tim Bayard took him an' raised him. They +never got track of his folks; th' wreck burnt. + +"Tim died four years ago an' Bruce's runnin' th' outfit. He's got a fine +ranch!"--voice rising in unconscious enthusiasm. "He ain't rich, but +he'll be well fixed some day. He don't care much about gettin' rich; +says it takes too much time. He'd rather read an' fuss with horses an' +things." + +"Isn't it unusual to find a man out here or anywhere who feels like +that? Are there more like him in this country, Nora?" + +"God, no!"--with a roughness that startled her companion. "None of 'em +are like him. He was born different; you can tell that by lookin' at +him. He ain't their kind, but they all like him, you bet! _He's_ +smarter'n they are. Feller from th' East, a perfesser, come out here +with th' consumption once when Tim was alive an' stayed there; he taught +Bruce lots. My!"--with a sigh of mingled pride and hopelessness--"he +sure knows a lot. Just as if he was raised an' educated in th' East, +only with none of th' frills you folks get." + +Then she was silent and refused to respond readily to Ann's advances, +but rode looking at her pony's ears, her lips in a straight line. + +That was the beginning. Each day the two women rode together, Nora +teaching Ann all she knew of horses and showing her, in her own way, the +mighty beauty of that country. + +After the first time, they said little about Bruce; with a better +acquaintance, more matters could be talked about and for that each was +thankful. + +Removed as they were from one another by birth and training, each of +these two women, strangers until within a few days, found that a great +part of her life was identical with that of the other. Yet, at the very +point where they came closest to one another, divergence began again. +Their common interest was their feeling for Bruce Bayard, and their +greatest difference was the manner in which each reacted to the emotion. +The waitress, more elemental, more direct and child-like, wanted the man +with an unequivocal desire. She would have gone through any ordeal, +subjected herself to any ignominious circumstances, for his pleasure. +But she did not want him as a possession, as something which belonged to +her; she wanted him for a master, longed with every fiber of her sensory +system to belong to him. She would have slaved for him, drudged for him, +received any brutal outburst he might have turned on her, gratefully, +just so long as she knew she was his. + +Ann Lytton, complicated in her manner of thought by the life she had +lived, hampered by conventions, by preconceived standards of conduct, +would not let herself be whiffed about so wholly by emotion. It was as +though she braced backward and moved reluctantly before a high wind, +urged to flight, resisting the tugging by all the strength of her limbs, +yet losing control with every reluctant step. For her, also, Bruce +Bayard was the most wonderful human being that she had ever experienced. +His roughness, his little uncouth touches, did not jar on her highly +sensitized appreciation of proprieties. With another individual of a +weaker or less cleanly type, the slips in grammar, even, would have been +annoying; but his virility and his unsmirched manner of thought, his +robust, clean body, overbalanced those shortcomings and, deep in her +heart, she idolized him. And yet she would not go further, would not +willingly let that emotion come into the light where it could thrive and +grow with the days; she tried to repress it, keeping it from its natural +sources of nourishment and thereby its growth--for it would grow in +spite of her--became a disrupting progress. One part of her, the real, +natural, unhampered Ann, told her that for his embraces, for his +companionship, she would sell her chances of eternity; she had no desire +to own him, no urge to subject herself to him; the status she wanted was +equal footing, a shoulder-to-shoulder relationship that would be a +joyous thing. And yet that other part, that Puritanical Ann, resisted, +fought down this urge, told her that she must not, could not want Bayard +because, at the Circle A ranch, waited another man who, in the eyes of +the law, of other people, of her God, even, was the one who owned her +loyalty and devotion even though he could not claim her love. Strange +the ways of women who will guard so zealously their bodies but who will +struggle against every natural, holy influence to give so recklessly, so +uselessly, so hopelessly, of their souls! + +Nora was the quicker to analyze her companion-rival. Her subjection to +Bayard's every whim was so complete that, when he told her to be kind to +this other woman, she obeyed with all the heart she could muster, in +spite of what she read in his face and in Ann's blue eyes when that +latter-day part of the eastern woman dreamed through them. She went +about her task doggedly, methodically, forcing herself to nurse the bond +between these two, thinking not of the future, of what it meant to her +own relationships with the cattleman, of nothing but the fact that +Bayard, the lover of her dreams, had willed it. The girl was a religious +fanatic; her religion was that of service to Bayard and she tortured +herself in the name of that belief. + +And in that she was only reflecting the spirit of the man she loved. +Back at the ranch, Bayard underwent the same ordeal of repressing his +natural desires, only, in his case, he could not at all times control +his revulsion for Lytton, while Nora kept her jealousy well in hand. As +at first, he centered his whole activity about bringing Lytton back to +some semblance of manhood. He nursed him, humored him as much as he +could, watched him constantly to see that the man did not slip away, go +to Yavapai and there, in an hour, undo all that Bruce had accomplished. + +Lytton regained strength slowly. His nervous system, racked and torn by +his relentless dissipation, would not allow his body to mend rapidly. He +had been on the verge of acute alcoholism; another day or two of +continued debauchery would have left him a bundle of uncontrollable +nerves, and remedying the condition was no one day task. A fortnight +passed before Lytton was able to sit up through the entire day and, even +then, a walk of a hundred yards would bring him back pale and panting. + +Meager as his daily improvement was, nevertheless it was progress, and +the rehabilitation of his strength meant only one thing for Bruce +Bayard. It meant that Lytton, within a short time, must know of Ann's +presence, must go to her, and that, thereafter, Bayard would be excluded +from the woman's presence, for he still felt that to see them together +would strip him of self-restraint, would make him a primitive man, +battling blindly for the woman he desired. + +As the days passed and Bruce saw Lytton steadying, gaining physical and +mental force, his composure, already disturbed, was badly shaken. He +tried to tell himself that what must be, must be; that brooding would +help matters not at all, that he must keep up his courage and surrender +gracefully for the sake of the woman he loved, keeping her peace of mind +sacred. At other times, he went over the doctrine of unimpeachable +motive, of individual duty that the clergyman had expounded, but some +inherent reluctance to adopt the new, some latent conservatism in him +rebelled at thought of man's crossing man where a woman was at stake. He +did not know, but he formed the third being who was held to a rigid +course by conscience! Of the four entangled by this situation, Ned +Lytton alone was without scruples, without a code of ethics. + +Between the two men was the same attitude that had prevailed from the +first. Bayard kept Lytton in restraint by his physical and mental +dominance. He gave up attempting to persuade, attempting to appeal to +the spark of manhood left in his patient, after that day when Lytton +stole and drank the whiskey. He relied entirely on his superiority and +frankly kept his charge in subjection. When strength came back to the +debauched body, Bayard told himself, he could begin to plead, to argue +for his results; not before. + +For the greater portion of the time Lytton was morose, quarrelsome. Now +and again came flashes of a better nature, but invariably they were +followed by spiteful, reasonless outbursts and remonstrances. To these +Bayard listened with tolerance, accepting the other man's curses and +insults as he would the reasonless pet of a child, and each time that +Ned showed a desire to act as a normal human being, to interest himself +in life or the things about him, the big rancher was on the alert to +give information, to encourage thought that would take the sick man's +mind from his own difficulties. + +One factor of the life at the ranch evidently worried Lytton, but of it +he did not speak. This was the manner with which Bayard kept one room, +the room in which he slept, to himself. The door through which he +entered never stood open, Lytton was never asked to cross the sill. +Bayard never referred to it in conversation. A secret chamber, it was, +rendered mysterious by the fact that its occupant took pains that it +should never be mentioned. Lytton instinctively respected this attitude +and never asked a question touching on it, though at times his annoyance +at being so completely excluded from a portion of the house was evident. + +Once Lytton, sitting in the shade of the ash tree, watched Bayard riding +in from the valley on his sorrel horse. The animal nickered as his +master let him head for the well beside the house. + +"He likes to drink here," Bruce laughed, dropping off and wiping the +dust from his face. "He thinks that because this well's beside the +house, it's better than drinkin' out yonder in th' corral. Kind of a +stuck up old pup, ain't you, Abe?" slapping the horse's belly until he +lifted one hind foot high in a meaningless threat of destruction. "Put +down that foot you four-flusher!" setting his boot over the hoof and +forcing it back to earth. + +He pulled off the saddle, dropped it, drew the bridle over the sleek, +finely proportioned ears and let the big beast shake himself mightily, +roll in the dooryard dust and drink again. + +"Where'd he come from?" Lytton asked, after staring at the splendid +lines of the animal for several minutes. + +"Oh, Abe run hog-wild out on th' valley," Bayard answered, with a +laugh, waving his hand out toward the expanse of country, now a fine +lilac tinted with green under the brilliant sunlight, purple and +uncertain away out where the heat waves distorted the horizon. "He was a +hell bender of a horse for a while.... + +"You see, he come from some stock that wasn't intended to get out. +Probably, an army stallion got away from some officer at Whipple +Barracks and fell in with a range mare. That kind of a sire accounts for +his weight and that head and neck, an' his mammy must have been a +leather-lunged, steel-legged little cuss--'cause he's that, too. He's +got the lines of a fine bred horse, with the insides of a first class +bronc." + +"He attracted attention when he was a two year old and some of th' boys +tried to get him, but couldn't. They kept after him until he was four +and then sort of give up. He was a good horse gone bad. He drove off +gentle mares and caused all kind of trouble and would 'a been shot, if +he hadn't been so well put up. He was no use at all that way; he was a +peace disturber an' he was fast an' wise. That's a bad combination to +beat in a country like ours,"--with another gesture toward the valley. + +"But his fifth summer was th' dry year--no rain--creeks dryin' up--hell +on horses; Tim and I went to get him. + +"There was just three waterin' places left on that range. One on Lynch +Creek, one under Bald Mountain, other way over by Sugar Block. We fenced +the first two in tight so nothin' but birds could get to 'em, built a +corral around th' third, that was clean across th' valley +there,"--indicating as he talked-"an' left th' gate open." + +"Well, first day all th' horses on th' valley collected over other side +by those fenced holes, wonderin' what was up,"--he scratched his head +and grinned at the memory, "an' Tim and I set out by Sugar Block in th' +sun waitin'.... Lord, it was hot, an' there wasn't no shade to be had. +That night, some of the old mares come trailin' across th' valley +leadin' their colts, whinnerin' when they smelled water. We was sleepin' +nearby and could kind 'a' see 'em by th' starlight. They nosed around +th' corral and finally went in and drunk. Next day, th' others was +hangin' in sight, suspicious, an' too thirsty to graze. All of 'em stood +head toward th' water, lookin' an' lookin' hours at a time. 'Long toward +night in they come, one at a time, finally, with a rush; unbranded +mares, a few big young colts, all drove to it by thirst. + +"Old Abe, though, he stood up on th' far rim of a wash an' watched an' +hollered an' trotted back an' forth. He wouldn't come; not much! We had +a glass an' could see him switch his tail an' run back a little ways +with his ears flat down. Then, he'd stop an' turn his head an' stick up +his ears stiff as starch; then he'd turn 'round an' walk towards us, +slow for a few steps. Never got within pistol shot, though. All next day +he hung there alone, watchin' us, dryin' up to his bones under that +sun. Antelope come up, a dozen in a bunch, an' hung near him all +afternoon. Next mornin' come th' sun an' there was Mr. Abe, standin' +with his neck straight in th' air, ears peekin' at our camp to see if we +was there yet. Gosh, how hot it got that day!" He rose, drew a bucket of +water from the well and lifting it in his big hands, drank deeply from +the rim at the memory. + +"I thought it was goin' to burn th' valley up. + +"'This'll bring him,' says Tim. + +"'Not him,' I says! 'He'll die first.' + +"'He's too damn good a sport to die,' Tim said. 'He'll quit when he's +licked.' + +"An' he did." + +The man walked to the sorrel, who stood still idly switching at flies. +He threw his arm about the great head and the horse, swaying forward, +pushed against his body with playful affection until Bayard was shoved +from his footing. + +"You did, didn't you, Abe? He didn't wait for dark. It was still light +an' after waitin' all that time on us, you'd thought he'd stuck it out +until we couldn't see so well. But it seemed as if Tim was right, as if +he quit when he saw he was licked, like a good sport. He just +disappeared into that wash an' come up on th' near side an' walked slow +toward us, stoppin' now an' then, sidesteppin' like he was goin' to turn +back, but always comin' on an' on. He made a big circle toward the +corral an', when he got close, 'bout fifty yards off, he started to +trot an' he went through that gate on a high lope, comin' to stop plumb +in th' middle of that hole, spatterin' water an' mud all over himself +an' half th' country. + +"'Twasn't much then. We made it to th' gate on our horses. He could see +us, but we knew after bein' dried out that long he'd just naturally have +to fill up. When I reached for th' gate, he made one move like he tried +to get away but 'twas too late. We had him trapped. He was licked. He +looked us over an' then went to lay down in th' water." + +He stroked the long, fine neck slowly. + +"After that 'twas easy. I knew he was more or less man even if he was +horse. We put th' first rope on him he'd ever felt next mornin'. Of +course, 'twas kind of a tournament for a while, but, finally we both +tied on an' started home with him between us. He played around some, but +finally let up; not licked, not discouraged, understand, but just as if +he admitted we had one on him an' he was goin' to see our game through +for curiosity. + +"We put him in th' round corral an' left him there for a straight month, +foolin' with him every day, of course. Then I got up an' rode him. +That's all there is to it. + +"He was my best friend th' minute I tied on to him; he is yet. We never +had no trouble. I treat him square an' white. He's never tried to pitch +with me, never has quit runnin' until I told him to, an', for my part, +I've never abused him or asked him to go th' limit." + +He walked out to the corral then, horse following at his heels like a +dog, nosing the big brown hand that swung against Bayard's thigh. + +"That's always been a lesson to me," Bruce said, on his return as he +prepared to wash in the tin basin beside the wall. "Runnin' hog-wild +never got him nothin' but enemies, never did him no good. He found out +that it didn't pay, that men was too much for him, an' he's a lot +happier, lot better off, lot more comfortable than he was when he was +hellin' round with no restraint on him. He knows that. I can tell. + +"So,"--as he lathered his hands with soap--"I've always figured that +when us men got runnin' too loose we was makin' mistakes, losin' a lot. +It may seem a little hard on us to stop doin' what we've had a good time +doin' for a while, but, when you stop to consider all sides, I guess +there's about as much pleasure for us when we think of others as there +is when we're so selfish that we don't see nothin' but our own desires." + +Lytton stirred uneasily in his chair and tossed his chin scornfully. + +"Don't you ever get tired playing the hero?" he taunted. "That's what +you are, you know. You're the hero; I'm the villain. You're the one +who's always saying the things heroes say in books. You're the one who's +always right, while I'm always wrong. + +"You know, Bayard, when a man gets to be so damn heroic it's time he +watched himself. I've never seen one yet whose foot didn't slip sooner +or later. The higher you fly, understand, the harder you fall. You're +pretty high; mighty superior to most of us. Look out!" + +The other regarded him a moment, cheeks flushing slowly under the taunt. + +"Lytton, if I was to ask a favor of you, would you consider it?" + +"Fire away! The devil alone knows what I could do for anybody." + +"Just this. Be careful of me, please. I might, sometime, sort of choke +you or something!" + +He turned back to the wash basin at that and soused his face and head in +the cold water. + +A moment before he had looked through that red film which makes killers +of gentle men. He had mastered himself at the cost of a mighty effort, +but in the wake of his rage came a fresh loathing for that other man ... +the man he was grooming, rehabilitating, only to blot out the +possibility of having a bit of Ann's life for himself. He was putting +his best heart, his best mind, his best strength into that discouraging +task, hoping against hope that he might lift Lytton to a level where Ann +would find something to attract and hold her, something to safeguard her +against the true lover who might ride past on his fire-shod stallion. +And it was bitter work. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE RUNAWAY + + +During these days Bayard saw Ann regularly. He would be up before dawn +that he might do the necessary riding after his cattle and reach Yavapai +before sunset, because, somehow, he felt that to see another man's wife +by daylight was less of a transgression than though he went under cover +of darkness. Perhaps it was also because he feared that in spite of his +caution to keep Ann's identity secret, in spite of the community's +accepted first conclusion, Yavapai might learn that she was wife and not +sister, and wished to fortify her against the sting of comment that +might be passed should the revelation occur and his affection for her be +guessed. + +He was punctilious about his appearance. Invariably he changed shirts +and overalls before riding to the town, and he had reserved one gorgeous +green silk scarf for those occasions. He never appeared before the woman +unshaven and, since his one confessional outburst, he was as careful of +his speech, his manner, as he was of his person. + +Ann had taken to Arizona whole heartedly and dressed suitably for the +new life she was leading--divided skirts, simple blouses, a brimmed hat +that would shade her eyes. Her cheeks bronzed from sun and wind, the +blood pumped closer to her skin from the outdoor life and her eyes, +above the latent pain in their depths, took on the brilliance of health. +Her new manner of dress, the better color that came to her face and +accentuated her beauty, the growing indications of vitality about her, +served only to fan the flame in Bayard's heart, for as it made her more +attractive to him, it also made her more understandable, brought her +nearer to his virile kind. + +[Illustration: Ann had taken to Arizona whole-heartedly and dressed +suitably for the new life she was leading.] + +"I've come to tell you about him, ma'am," he always said, by way of +opening their conversations. + +Not once again did he call her by her given name, but, though he was +always formal, stiffly polite, never allowing an intimation of personal +regard to pass his lips, he could not hide the adoration in his eyes. It +came through his dogged resolution to hold it back, for he could not +keep his gaze from following her every move, every bend of her neck, +change of her lips, lift of her arms and shoulders or free, rhythmic +movement as she walked. + +Ann saw and read that light and, though something in her kept demanding +that she blind herself to its significance, that, if necessary to +accomplish this, she refuse to give Bayard gaze for gaze, she could no +more have hidden the fact of that evidence of his love from her +understanding than she could have stopped the quickening of her pulse +when he approached. + +Nora saw that light, too. She saw the trouble with it in his face; +and the realization of what it all meant was like a stab in the breast. +He had ceased entirely to laugh and banter with her as he had done +before Ann Lytton came to Yavapai; in other days he had always eaten at +the Manzanita House when in town, and his humorous chiding had been one +of the things in which the girl found simple delight. Now, he came and +went without eating; his words to her were few, almost without exception +they were of the other woman and, always, his speech was sober. + +Mrs. Weyl returned to Yavapai and with her coming Ann found another +outlet for the trouble that she fought vainly to repress. To Bayard she +had given the fullest detail of her confidence; through Nora she had +found a method of forgetting for short successions of hours. But Bayard +was a man, and between them was the peculiar barrier which his love had +erected; Nora was not the type to which Ann would go for comfort and +there, anyhow, was again a dividing circumstance which could not wholly +be overcome. It was the emotional receptiveness of an understanding +woman that Ann Lytton needed; she wanted to be mothered, to be pitied, +to be assured in the terms of her kind and all that she found in the +clergyman's wife. + +"Why, the poor child!" that good woman had cried when, on her arrival +home, her husband had told her of Ann's presence. "And you say her +brother has disappeared?" + +"From Yavapai, yes; I suspect, though, that Bruce Bayard knows +something of where he is and I guess the girl could find him. Something +peculiar about it, though. Bruce is worried. And I think he's quite +desperately in love." + +Forthwith, his wife dropped all other duties and went to Ann. In fifteen +minutes the novelty of acquaintance had worn off and in an hour Ann was +crying in the motherly arms, while she poured her whole wretched story +into the sympathetic ears; that is, all of the story up to the day when +Bruce Bayard told her why she must not help him nurse Ned Lytton back to +physical and moral health. + +To the accompaniment of many there-there's and dear-child's and caresses +Ann's outburst of grief spent itself and the distress that had reflected +on the countenance of the older woman gave way to an expression of sweet +understanding. + +"And because of everything, we--Mr. Bayard and I--had thought it best to +let people go on thinking that I am ... Ned's sister.... You see, it +might be embarrassing to have them talk." + +Her look wavered and the face of Mrs. Weyl showed a sudden +comprehension. For a breath she sat gazing at the profile of the girl +beside her. Then she leaned forward, kissed her on the cheek and said, + +"I know, daughter, I know." + +That meeting led to daily visits and soon Bruce and Ann were invited to +eat their evening meal at the Weyls'. It was a peculiar event, with the +self-consciousness of Ann and the rancher putting an effective damper on +the conversation. Afterward, when the men sat outside in the twilight, +Bruce smoking a cigarette and the minister drawing temperately on an +aged cob pipe, the cowman broke a lengthy silence with: + +"I'm glad she told your wife ... about bein' his wife.... It relieves +me. A thing like that is considerable of a secret to pack around." + +The other blew ashes gently from the bowl of his pipe, exposing the ruby +coal before he spoke. + +"If you ever think there's anything any man can do to help--from +listening on up--just let me try, will you, my boy?" + +"If any man could help, you'd be the one," was the answer. "But th' +other day we sifted this thing down; it's up to th' man himself to be +sure that he's ridin' th' open trail an' ain't got anything to cover up. + +"But lately so much has happened that I don't feel free, even when I'm +out on the valley. I feel, somehow, like I was under fence ... fenced +in." + +Nora and Ann continued their rides together and one afternoon they had +gone to the westward in the direction of Bayard's ranch. It was at +Nora's suggestion, after they had agreed that Bruce might be on his way +to Yavapai that day. In the distance, they had sighted a rider and after +watching him a time saw him wave his hat. + +"That's him," the waitress said. "Here's some fine grass; let's give th' +horses a bite an' let 'em cool till he comes up." + +They waited there then, slouched in their saddles. Ann wanted to talk +about something other than Bruce, because, at the mention of his name, +that old chill was bound to assert itself in Nora. + +"This is a better horse than the one I've had," she commented, stroking +the pony's withers and hoping to start talk that would make the interval +of waiting one of ease between them. + +"Yes," agreed Nora, "but he's got a bad eye. I was afraid of him when we +first started out, but he seems to be all right. Bruce had one that +looked like him once an' he tried to pitch me off." + +"Hold up your head, pony," Ann said, "You'll get us into trouble--" + +Her horse, searching grass, had thrust his head under the pony Nora rode +and, as Ann pulled on the reins, he responded with the alacrity of a +nervous animal, striking the stirrup as he threw up his head. He +crouched, backed, half turned and Nora's spur caught under the headstall +of his bridle. It was a bridle without a throat-latch, and, at the first +jerk, it slipped over his ears, the bit slid from his mouth and +clattered on the rocks. Ann's first laugh changed to a cry of fright. +Nora, with a jab of her spurs, started to send her pony close against +the other, reaching out at the same time with her arms to encircle his +head. But she was too late, too slow. The freed horse trotted off a few +steps, throwing his nose to one side in curiosity, felt no restraint, +broke into a lope, struck back along the road toward town and, +surprised, frightened by his unexpected liberty, increased his pace to a +panicky run. + +Behind, Nora pulled her horse up sharply, knowing that to pursue would +only set the runaway at a greater speed. + +"Hang on!" she shouted, in a voice shrill with excitement. "Hang on!" + +Ann was hanging on with all her strength. She was riding, too, with all +the skill at her command; for greater safety she clung to the horn with +both hands. She tried to speak to the horse under her, thinking that she +might quiet him by words, but the rush of wind whipped the feeble sounds +from her lips and their remnants were drowned in the staccatoed drumming +of hoofs as the crazed beast, breathing in excited gulps, breasted the +hill that led them back toward town, gathering speed with every leap +that carried them forward. + +Nora, seeing that a runaway was inevitable, cried to her mount and the +pony, keyed to flight, sped along behind the other, losing with every +length traveled. Tears of fright spilled from the girl's eyes, chilling +her cheeks. What might happen was incalculable, she knew. + +Then new sounds, above the beat of her horse's hoofs, above the wind in +her ears; the sweeping, measured, rolling batter of other hoofs, and +Nora turned her head to see Bruce Bayard, mouth set, eyes glowing, brim +of his hat plastered back against the crown by his rush, urge his big +sorrel horse toward her. He hung low over the fork of his saddle, clear +of his seat, tense, yet lithe, and responding to every undulation of the +beast that carried him. + +From a distance Bayard had seen. He thought at first that Ann had +started her pony purposely, but when the animal raced away toward town +at such frantic speed, when Ann's hat was whipped from her head, when he +heard a distant, faint scream, he knew that no prompting of the woman's +had been behind the break. He stretched himself low over Abe's neck and +cried aloud, hung in his spurs and fanned the great beast's flanks with +his quirt. Never before had the sorrel been called upon so sharply; +never before had he felt such a prodding of rowels or lashing of +rawhide. Ears back, nose out, limbs flexing and straightening, spurning +the roadway with his drumming hoofs, the great animal started in +pursuit. + +For a mile the road held up hill, following closely the rim of a rise +that hung high above the valley to the right. As it rose, the wagon +track bent to the left, with the trend of the rim. At the crest of the +hill Yavapai would be visible; from there the road, too, could be seen, +swinging in a big arc toward the town, which might be reached by travel +over a straight line; but that way would lead down an abrupt drop and +over footing that was atrocious, strewn with _malpais_ boulders and +rutted by many washes. + +It was to overtake Ann's runaway before he topped this rise that Bayard +whipped his sorrel. He knew what might happen there. The animal that +bore the woman was crazed beyond control, beyond his own horse judgment. +He was running, and his sole objective was home. Now, he was taking the +quickest possible route and the moment he struck the higher country he +might leave the road and go straight for Yavapai, plunging down the +sharp point that stood three hundred feet above the valley, and making +over the rocks with the abandon of a beast that is bred and reared among +them. Well enough to run over rough ground at most times, but in this +insane going the horse would be heedless of his instinctive caution, +sacrificing everything for speed. He might fall before he reached the +valley floor, he might lose his footing at any yard between there and +town, and a fall in that ragged, volcanic rock, would be a terrible +thing for a woman. + +Abe responded superbly to the urging. He passed Nora's pony in a shower +of gravel. His belly seemed to hang unbelievably close to the ground, +his stride lengthened, his tail stood rippling behind him, his feet +smote the road as though spitefully and he stretched his white patched +nose far out as if he would force his tendons to a performance beyond +their actual power. But he could not make it; the task of overcoming +that handicap in that distance was beyond the ability of blood and +bone. + +As he went on, leap by leap, and saw that his gaining was not bringing +him beside Ann in time, Bayard commenced to call aloud to the horse +under him, and his eyes grew wide with dread. + +His fears were well grounded. As though he had planned it long before, +as if the whole route of his flight had been preconceived, the black +pony swung to the right as he came up on level ground. He cut across the +intervening flat and, ears back, hindquarters scrooching far under his +body as he changed his gait for the steep drop, he disappeared over the +rim. + +Bayard cried aloud, the sorrel swung unbidden on the trail of the +runaway and twenty yards behind stuck his fore feet stiffly out for the +first leap down the rock-littered point. Unspeakable footing, that. +_Malpais_ lumps, ranging from the size of an egg to some that weighed +tons, were everywhere. Between them sparse grass grew, but in no place +was there bare ground the size of a horse's hoof, and for every four +lengths they traveled forward, they dropped toward the valley by one! + +Ears up now, the sorrel watched his footing anxiously, but the black +pony, eyes rolling, put his whole vigor into the running, urged on to +even greater efforts by the nearness of the pursuing animal. The fortune +that goes with flying bronchos alone kept his feet beneath his body. + +Bayard's mouth was open and each time the shock of being thrown forward +and down racked his body, the breath was beaten from him. He looked +ahead, watching the footing at the bottom, leaving that over which they +then passed to his horse, for the most critical moment in a run such as +they took is when the horses strike level ground. Then they are apt to +go end over end, tripped by the impetus that their rush downhill gives +them. He knew that he could not overtake and turn Ann's pony with safety +before they reached the bottom. He feared that to come abreast of him +might drive the frantic beast to that last effort which would result in +an immediate fall. Every instant was precious; every leap filled with +potential disaster. + +The stallion left off pretense at clean running. He slipped and +floundered and scrambled down the point; at times almost sitting on his +haunches to keep the rush of his descent within safety and retain +control of his balance. Slowly he drew closer to the other animal, +crowding a bit to the left to be nearer, grunting with his straining, +dividing his attention between preserving caution and making progress. + +Ann's hair came down, tumbling about her shoulders, then down her back, +and finally brushed the sweated coat of her runaway with its ends. The +horrible sensation of falling, of pitching forward helplessly, swept +through her vitals each time the animal under her leaped outward and +down. It grew to an acute physical pain by its constant repetition. Her +face was very white, but almost expressionless. Only her eyes betrayed +the fear in her by their darkness, by their strained lids. Her mouth was +fixed in determination to play the game to its end. She heard the other +horse coming; Bayard's voice had called out to her. That was all she +knew. This flight was horrible, tragic; with each move of her horse she +feared that it must be the last, that she would be flung into those +rocks, yet, somehow, she felt that it would end well. For Bayard was +near her. + +Not so with the man. As they slid down halfway to the valley, he cried +aloud to his horse again, for he saw that along the base of the drop, +right at the place toward which they were floundering, a recent storm +had gouged a fresh wash. Deep and narrow and rock filled, and, if her +horse, unable to stop, unable to turn with any degree of safety whatever +went into that ... + +Behind them, loosened rocks clattered along, the dust rose, their trail +was marked by black blotches where the scant red soil had been turned +up. The sorrel's nose reached the black's reeling rump; it stretched to +his flank, to the saddle, to his shoulder.... And Ann turned her head +quickly, appealingly. + +"Careful ... Abe! Once more ... easy ..." + +Bayard dropped his reins; he leaned to the left. He scratched with his +spurs. His horse leaped powerfully twice, thrice, caution abandoned, +risking everything now. The man swung down, his arm encircled Ann's +waist, he brought the pressure of his right knee to bear against the +saddle, and lifted her clear, a warm, limp weight against his body. + +Staggering under the added burden, the stallion gathered himself for a +try at the wash which he must either clear or in which he and those he +carried were to fall in a tangle. Bayard, lifting the woman high, +balanced in his saddle and gathered her closer. + +The black floundered in uncertain jumps, throwing his head down in an +effort to check his progress, was overcome by his own momentum and +leaped recklessly. He misjudged, fell short and with a grunt and a thud +and a threshing went down into the bald rocks that floods had piled in +the gully. + +Abe did not try to stop, to overcome the added impetus that this new +weight gave him. He lowered his head in a show of determination, took +the last three strides with a swift scramble and leaped. + +Bayard thought that they were in the air for seconds. They seemed to +float over that wash. Seemed to hang suspended a deliberate instant. +Then they came down with a sob wrenched from the horse as his forefeet +clawed the far footing for a retaining hold and his hindquarters, the +bank crumbling under them, slipped down into the gully. He strained an +instant against sliding further back, gathering himself in an agony of +effort and floundered safely up! + +Bruce became conscious that Ann's arms were about his neck, that her +body was close against his. He knew that his limbs quivered, partly from +the recent fright, partly from contact with the woman. + +Abe staggered forward a few steps, halted and turned to look at his +unfortunate brother galloping lamely toward Yavapai. + +Except for the animal's breathing, the world was very quiet. For a +moment Ann lay in Bayard's embrace; his one arm was about her shoulders, +the other hooked behind her knees; then, convulsively, her arms +tightened about his neck; she pressed her cheek against his and clung so +while their hearts throbbed, one against the other. He had not moved, he +refrained from crushing her, from taking her lips with his. It cost him +dearly and the effort to resist shot another tremor through his frame. +On that she roused. + +"I wasn't afraid ... after I knew it was you," she said, raising her +head. + +"I was, ma'am," he said, soberly, lifting and seating her on Abe's +withers. + +"I was mighty scared. See what happened to your horse? That ... You'd +have been with him in those rocks." + +He dismounted, still supporting her in her position. + +"You sit in th' saddle, ma'am; I'll walk an' lead Abe. You're ... you're +not scared now?" + +"A little,"--breathing deeply as he helped her, and, laughing in a +strained tone. "I'll ... I'll be frightened later I expect, but I'm not +now ... much ... It's you, you keep me from it," she said. "I'm not +frightened with you." + +"I tried to keep things so you won't have to be, ma'am." + +Probably because she was weak, perhaps wholly because of the hot +yearning that contact with him had roused in her, Ann swayed down toward +him. It was as though she would fall into his arms, as though she +herself would stir his repressed desire for her until it overcame his +own judgment, and yield to his will there in the brilliant afternoon; as +though she were going to him, then, for all time, regardless of +everything, caring only for the instant that her lips should be on his. +He started forward, flung up one arm as though to catch her; then drew +back. + +"Don't, ma'am," he begged. "Don't! For the sake ... for your sake, +don't." + +The woman swallowed and straightened her back as though just coming to +the complete realization of what had happened. + +"Forgive me," she whispered. + +They had not heard Nora riding down to them, so great was their +absorption in one another, but at that moment when Ann's head drooped +and Bayard's shoulders flexed as from a great fatigue the waitress +halted her horse beside them. + +"God! I didn't think...." + +She had looked at them with the fear that had struck her as she watched +the last phase of their descent still gripping her. But in their faces +she read that which they both struggled to hide from one another and the +light that had been in her eyes went out. She turned her face away from +them, looking out at the long afternoon shadows. + +"I'll have to be gettin' back," she said, dully, as though unconscious +of the words. + +"We'll go with you, Nora," the man said, very quietly. "Mrs. Lytton," he +pronounced the words distinctly as if to impress himself with their +significance--"is the first person who has ever been on Abe but me.... +He seems to like it." + +Leading the horse by the reins, he began to climb the point back toward +the road. In the east the runaway had dwindled to a bobbing fleck. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE SCOURGING + + +In the last moments of twilight Ann sat alone in her room, cheeks still +flushed, limbs still trembling at intervals, pulses retaining their +swift measure. She was unstrung, aquiver with strange emotions. + +It was not wholly the fright of the afternoon that had provoked her +nerves to this state; it was not alone the emotional surging loosed by +her moment in Bayard's arms, her cheek against his cheek; nor was it +entirely inspired by the fact, growing in portent with each passing +hour, that Bruce had told her his work with Ned Lytton was all but +ended, that within a day or two he was sending her husband to her. It +was a combination of all this, with possibly her husband's impending +return forming a background. + +Again and again she saw Bruce as he delivered his message, heard his +even, dogged voice uttering the words. He had waited until they reached +the hotel, he had let Nora leave them and, then, in the sunset quiet, +standing on the steps where she had first seen him, he had refused to +hear her thanks for saving her from bodily hurt, and had broken in: + +"It ain't likely I'll be in again for a while, ma'am. Your husband's +about ready to move. I've done all I can; it'd only hurt him to stay on +against his will. Sometime this week, ma'am, he'll be comin'." + +And that was Wednesday! She had been struck stupid by his words. She had +heard him no further, though he did say other things; she had watched +him go, unable to call him back. + +It relieved Ann not at all to tell herself that it was this for which +she had waited, had worried, had restrained herself throughout these +weeks; that she had come West to find her husband and that she was about +to join him, knowing that he was strengthened, that he had been lifted +up to a physical and mental level where she might guide him, aid him in +the fight which must continue. + +That knowledge was no solace. It was that for which she had outwardly +waited, but it was that against which she inwardly recoiled. She +realized this truth now, and conscience cried back that it must not be +so, that she must stifle that feeling of revulsion, that she must +welcome her husband, eagerly, gladly. And it went on to accuse ... that +conscience; it shamed her because she had been held to the breast of +another man; it scorned her because she had drawn herself closer to him +with her own arms; it taunted her bitterly because she could not readily +agree with her older self that in the doing she had sinned, because to +her slowly opening eyes that moment had seemed the most beautiful +interval of her life! + +A peculiar difference in the vivacity of her impressions had been +asserting itself. The memory of the runaway had faded. Her picture of +the moment when she strained her body against Bayard's was not so clear +as it had been an hour before, though the thrill, the great joy of it, +still remained to mingle with those other thoughts and emotions which +confused her. The last great impression of the day, though--Bayard's +solemn announcement of his completed task--grew more sharply defined, +more outstanding, more important as the moments passed, because its +eventuality was a thing before which she felt powerless in the face of +her conscience, before which all this other must be forgotten, before +which this new rebellious Ann must give way to the old long-suffering, +submissive wife. She felt as though she had known her moment of beauty +and that it had gone, leaving her not even a sweet memory; for her +grimmer self whispered that that brief span of time had been vile, +unchaste. And yet, in the next moment, her strength had rallied and she +was fighting against the influence of tradition, against blind +precedents. + +A knock came on her door and Ann, wondering with a thrill if it could be +Bayard, both troubled and pleased at the possibility, stepped across the +floor to answer it. + +"Oh, Nora!" she said in surprise. "Come in,"--when the girl stood still +in the hall, neither offering to speak nor to enter. "Do come in," she +insisted after a pause and the other crossed the threshold, still +without speaking. + +"I've been sitting here in the dark thinking about what happened this +afternoon," Ann said, drawing a chair to face hers that was by the +window. "It was all very exciting, wasn't it?" + +Nora had followed across the room slowly and Ann felt that the girl's +gaze held on her with unusual steadfastness. + +"I guess it's a fortunate thing that Bruce Bayard came along when he +did. I ... I tremble every time I think of the way my horse went down!" +She broke off and laughed nervously. + +Nora stood before her, still silent, still eyeing her pointedly. + +"Well ... Won't you sit down, Nora?"--confused by the portentous silence +and the staring of the other. "Won't you sit down here?" + +Mechanically the girl took her seat and Ann, wondering what this strange +bearing might mean, resumed her own chair. They sat so, facing one +another in the last sunset glow, the one staring stolidly, Ann covering +her embarrassment, her wonder with a forced smile. Gradually, that smile +faded, an uncertainty appeared in Ann's eyes and she broke out: + +"Why, what is the matter with you, Nora?" + +At that question the girl averted her face and let her hands drop down +over the chair arms with careless laxity. + +"Don't you know what it is?" she asked, in her deep, throaty voice, +meeting Ann's inquiring gaze, shifting her eyes quickly, moving her +shoulders with a slight suggestion of defiance. + +"Why, no, Nora! You're so queer. Is something troubling you? Can't you +tell me?" + +Ann leaned forward solicitously. + +The waitress laughed sharply, and lifted a hand to her brow, and shook +her head. + +"Don't you know what it is?" she asked again, voice hardening. "Can't +you see? Are you blind? Or are you afraid? + +"What'd you come out here for anyhow?" she cried, abruptly accusing, one +hand out in a gesture of challenge, and Ann could see an angry flush +come into her face and her lower lids puff with the emotion. + +"Why, Nora...." + +"Don't tell me! I know what you come for! You come to look after your +worthless whelp of a man; that's why; an' you stayed to try to take +mine!"--voice weakening as she again turned her face toward the window. + +"Why, Nora Brewster ..." + +The sharp shake of the girl's arm threw off Ann's hand that had gone out +to grasp it and the rasp in Nora's voice checked the eastern woman's +protest. + +"Don't try to tell me anything different! I know! Can't I see? Am I as +blind as you try to make me think you are?"--with another swagger of the +shoulders as she moved in her chair. "Can't I see what's goin' on? Can't +I see you makin' up to him an' eyein' him an' leadin' him on?--You, a +married woman!" + +"Nora, stop it!" + +With set mouth Ann straightened, her breathing audible. + +"I _won't_ stop. You're goin' to hear me through, understand? You're +goin' to know all about it; you're goin' to know what I am an' what he +is an' what's been between us ... what you've been breakin' up. Then, I +guess you won't come in here with your swell eastern ways an' try to +take him.... I guess not!" + +She laughed bitterly and Ann could see the baleful glow in her eyes. + +"I told you that he brung me here an' put me to work, I guess. Well, +that was so; he did. I'll tell you where he got me." She hitched +forward. "He brung me from th' Fork. You come through there; all you +know 'bout it is that there's a swell hotel there an' it's a junction +point. Well, the's a lot more to know about th' Fork ... or was." + +She paused a moment and rubbed her palms together triumphantly, as if +she had long anticipated this moment. + +"When I was there, the' wasn't no hotel; the' wasn't nothin' but a +junction an' ... hell itself. 'Twasn't a place with much noise about it, +not so many killin's as some places maybe, but 'twas bad, low down. + +"The' was a place there ... Charley Ling's.... 'Twas a Chinese place, +with white women. I was one of 'em." + +Ann gasped slightly and drew back, and Nora laughed. + +"I thought that'd hurt," she mocked. "I thought you couldn't stand it! + +"Charley's was a fine place. Sheep herders come there an' Mexicans an' +sometimes somebody of darker color. We wasn't particular, see? We wasn't +particular, I guess not! Men was white or black or red or yellow or +brown, but their money was all one color.... + +"The' was dope an' booze an' ... hell.... Charley's was a reg'lar boil +on th' face of God's earth, that's what it was.... He--Bruce Bayard--got +me out of there." + +The girl breathed hard and swiftly. Her upper lip was drawn back and her +white teeth gleamed in the semi-darkness as she sat forward in her +chair, flushed, her accusing face thrust forward toward the bewildered, +horrified Ann Lytton. + +"He got me there, so you know what I was, what I am. He brung me here, +got me this job, has kept me here ever since,"--with a suggestion of +faltering purpose in her voice. "It's been him ever since; just him. +I'll say that for myself. I've been on th' level with Bruce an' ain't +had nothin' to do with others. + +"You see he's mine!"--her voice, which had dropped to a monotone, rose +bitingly again. "He's mine; he's all I got. If 'twasn't for him, I +wouldn't be here. If he quits me, I'll go back to that other. I don't +want to go back; so long as he sticks by me I won't go back. If I leave, +it'll be because I'm drove back.... + +"That's what you're doin'. You're drivin' me back to Charley's ... or +some place like it...." + +She moved from side to side, defiantly, and leaned further forward, +resting her elbows on her knees, staring out into the darkened street +below them. + +"You come here, a married woman; you got one man now, an' he don't suit. +So you think you're goin' to take mine. That's big business for a ... a +respectable lady, like yourself, ain't it? Stealin' a man off a woman +like me!" + +She laughed shortly, and did not so much as look up as Ann tried to +reply and could not make words frame coherent sentences. + +"I've kept still until now, 'cause I ain't proud of my past, 'cause I +thought you, havin' one man, had enough without meddlin' with mine. But +I'm through keepin' my mouth shut now,"--menacingly. "I'm through, I +tell you,"--wiping her hands along her thighs and straightening her +body slowly as she turned a malevolent gaze on the silent Ann. "You're +tryin' to take what belongs to me an' I won't set by an' let you walk +off with him. I'll-- + +"Why, what'd this town say, if I was to tell 'em you're Ned Lytton's +wife instead of his sister? They all know you've been havin' Bruce come +here to your room; they all think he's your lover. First thing, they'd +fire you out of th' hotel; then, they'd laugh at you as you walked along +th' street! It'd ruin him, too; what with keepin' your man out at his +ranch so's he can see you without trouble!" + +Her voice had mounted steadily and, at the last, she rose to her feet, +bending over the bewildered Ann and gesturing heavily with her right arm +while the other was pressed tightly across her chest. + +"That's what I come here to tell you to-night!" she cried. "That's what +you know, now. But I want you to know that while I've been bad, as bad +as women get, that I've been open about it; I ain't been no hypocrite; I +ain't passed as a good woman an' ... been bad--" + +"Nora, stop this!" + +Ann leaped to her feet and confronted the girl, for the moment furious, +combative. They faced one another in the faint light that came through +the windows and before her roused intensity Nora stepped backward, +yielding suddenly, frightened by this show of vigorous indignation, for +she had believed that her accusation would grind the spirit, the pride, +from Ann. + +"Why, you-u-u- ..." + +Ann's hands clenched and opened convulsively at her sides as she groped +fruitlessly for words. + +"You go now, Nora; go away from me! What you have said has been too +contemptible, too base for me even to answer!" + +She walked quickly to the door, opened it and faced about with a gesture +of command. Nora hesitated a moment, then, without a word, walked from +the room. In the hall she paused, back still toward Ann as though she +had more that she would say, as if, possibly, she considered the +advisability of going further; but, if that was true, she had no +opportunity then, for the door closed firmly and the lock clicked. + +It was the most confused moment in Ann's life. The identification of her +husband, her several trying scenes with Bayard, would not compare with +it. She heard Nora's slow, receding footsteps with infinite relief and, +when they were quite gone, she realized that as she stood, back to the +door, she was shaking violently. She was weakened, frightened by what +had passed, and, as she strove through those minutes to control her +thoughts, to marshal the elements of the ordeal through which she had +come, she became possessed by the terrifying conviction that she had no +defence to offer! That she could not answer the other woman's +accusations, that by telling Nora she was above replying to those +charges she was only hiding behind a front of false superiority, a +veneer of assurance that was as artificial as it was thin. + +She moved to her bed with lagging, uncertain steps and sat down with a +long sigh; then, drew a wrist across her eyes, propping herself erect +with the other arm. + +"She ... he belongs to her ..." she said aloud, trying to bring +coherence to her thinking by the uttered words. "He belongs ... to +her...." + +A slow warmth went through her body, into her cheeks to make them flame +fiercely. That was a sense of guilt coming over her, shaming her, +torturing her, and behind it, inspiring, urging it along, giving it +strength, was that conscience of hers. + +At other times she had defied that older self; only that evening she had +regained some of the ground from which it had driven her by its last +assault, lifting herself above the judgments she had been trained to +respect because, in transgressing them, she had experienced a free, holy +joy that had never been hers so long as she had remained within their +bounds. But now! That cry for escape was gone. + +She had been stealing another woman's man ... and such a woman! + +Never before had she faced such ugly truths as the girl had poured upon +her. Of the cancerous places in the social structure she had known, of +course; at times she had even gone so far as to judge herself a +wide-awake, keen-seeing woman, but now ... she shuddered as the woman's +words came back to her, "White or black or red or brown; but their money +was all th' same color." That was too horrible, too revolting; she could +not accept it with a detached point of view. Its very truth--she did not +doubt it--smirched her, for she had been stealing the man of such a +woman! + +Oh, that conscience was finding its revenge! That day it had been +outraged, had been all but unseated; but now it came back with a +vengeance. She, the lawful wife of Ned Lytton, had plotted to win Bruce +Bayard. No, she had not! one part of her protested, as she weakened and +sought for any escape that meant relief. You did, you did! thundered +that older self. By passively accepting, as a fact, her want of him, she +had sinned. By finding joy in his touch, at sight of him, she had +grievously wronged not only Ned and herself but all people. She was a +contaminated thing! She was as bad, worse than Nora Brewster, because, +while Nora had sinned, she admitted it, had done it openly, and frankly +while she, Ann Lytton, had covered it with a cloak of hypocrisy, had +refused to admit her transgressions even to herself and lied and +distorted happenings, even her thoughts, until they were made to appease +her craven heart! + +"She said it; she said it!" Ann muttered aloud. "She said that I was a +hypocrite. She said ... she did not hide!" Then, for a moment, she was +firm, drawing her body, even, to firmness to contend more effectively +against these suggestive accusations. What matter if she were married? +What if Bayard did love an abandoned woman? What mattered anything but +that she loved him? + +And, as though it had waited for her to go that far to show her hand, +that other self cried out: "To your God you have given your word to love +this man, your husband! To your God you have promised to love no other! +To your God you have pledged him your body, your soul, your life, come +what may!" + +She cowered before the thought, tearless, silent, and sat there, going +through and through the same emotional experiences, always coming +against the stone wall formed by her concepts of honor and morality. + +In another room of the Manzanita House another woman fought with herself +that night. Nora, too, stood backed against her locked door a long time +after she had gained its refuge, bewildered, trying to think her way to +a clear understanding of all that had happened. Its entire consequence +came to her sooner than it had come to Ann. She groped along the wall to +her matchsafe, scratched a light, removed the chimney from her lamp and +set the wick burning. She waved out the match absently, put the charred +remains in the oilcloth cover of the washstand and said to herself, + +"Well, I've done it." + +It was as though she spoke of the accomplishment of an end the +advisability of which had been debatable in her mind, and as if there +were now no remedy. What was done, was done; events of the past could +not be altered, their consequences could not be changed. + +She undressed listlessly, put on her nightgown and moved to the crinkled +mirror to take down her hair. + +"I guess that'll fix her," she muttered. "She'll get out, now...." + +She looked at herself in the mirror as she began to speak, but, when her +sight met its own reflection, her voice faltered, the words trailed off. +She stood motionless, scrutinizing herself closely, critically; then saw +a slow flush come up from her neck, flooding her cheeks. Uneasily her +eyes dropped from their reflection, then shot back with a rallying of +the dark defiance that had been in them; only for an instant, for the +fire disappeared, they became unsteady. + +Her movements grew rapid. She drew hairpins from the coils and dropped +them heedlessly. She shook out her hair and brushed it with nervous +vigor; then braided it feverishly, as if some inner emotion might find +vent in that simple task. + +Time after time she shot glances into the mirror, but in each instance +she felt her cheeks burn more fiercely, saw the confused humility +increasing in her expression and, finally, her rapid breathing lost its +regularity, her lips quivered and her shoulders lifted in a sob. She +covered her face with her hands, pressing finger tips tightly against +her eyes, struggling to master herself, to bring again that defiant +spirit. But she could not; it had gone and she was fighting doggedly +against the reaction, knowing that it must come, knowing what it would +be, almost terror stricken at the realization. + +She paced the floor, stopping now and then, and finally cried aloud: + +"She _was_ stealin' him; he _is_ mine!"--as though some presence had +accused her of a lie. Again, she repeated the words, but in a whisper; +and conviction was not with her. + +She sat down on the edge of her bed, but could not remain quiet, and +commenced walking, moving automatically, almost dreamlike, distressed, +flinging her arms about like a guilt-maddened Lady Macbeth. Each time +she passed the mirror she experienced a terrible desire to meet her own +gaze again, but she would not, for her own eyes accused her, bored +relentlessly into her heart. + +"An' I called her a hypocrite," she burst out suddenly, halted, turned +and rushed back toward the dresser, straining forward, forcing her gaze +to read the soul that was bared before her, there in the mirror. + +"You lied to her!" she muttered. "You told her dirty lies; you're +throwin' him down. You're killin' her... You ... + +"Oh, Bruce, Bruce!" + +She turned away and let the tears come again. + +"You'd hate me, Bruce, you'd hate me!" + +She threw herself full length on the bed. Jealousy had had its inning. +All the bitterness that it could create had been flung forth on to the +woman who had roused it and then the emotion had died. Strong as it was +in Nora, the elemental, the childish, it was not so strong as her +loyalty to Bayard's influence and the same thing in her that would have +welcomed physical abuse from him now called on her to undo her work of +the evening, to strive to prevent his love for Ann from wasting itself, +though every effort that she might make toward that end would cause her +suffering. + +It was midnight when Ann Lytton, still motionless, still chilling and +flushing as thought followed thought through her confused mind, found +herself in the center of her dark room. The knock that had roused her to +things outside sounded again on her door, low and cautious. + +"Who is it?" she asked, unsteadily. + +"It's me, Nora." + +The tone was husky, weak, contrite. + +"Well, what do you want, Nora?"--summoning a sternness for the query. + +"I ... I want to come in; I want to tell you somethin' ... if you'll let +me." + +Ann calculated a moment, but the quality of the other woman's voice, +supplicating, uncertain, swung the balance and she unlocked the door, +opening it wide. Nora stood in her long white gown, head hung, fingers +nervously intertwining before her. + +A pitiable humility was about the girl, and on sight of it Ann's manner +changed. + +"What is it, Nora? Won't you come in?" + +She stepped forward, took her by the hand and gently urged her into the +room, closing the door. + +"Sit on the bed, Nora, while I light the lamp." + +"Oh, M's. Lytton, please don't ..."--with an uneasy movement. "I'd +rather ... not have to look at you...." + +A pause. + +"Why, if you want it that way, of course, Nora. Sit down here. Aren't +you cold?" + +She took a shawl from its hook, threw it across the other's shoulders +and sat down on the bed, drawing Nora to her side. An awkward silence +followed, then came the sound of Nora's crying, lifted to a pitch just +above a sigh. + +"Don't, Nora! Please, don't! What is it, now? Tell me ... do tell me," +Ann pleaded, growing stronger, of better balance, feeling some of her +genuine assurance returning. + +"I ... I lied to you. I ..." Nora began and stopped. + +Ann uttered no word; just inhaled very slowly and squared her shoulders +with relief. + +"I ... was jealous of you. When I saw him with his arms around you this +afternoon, I ... couldn't stand it. I had to do somethin'. I was drove +to it." + +She brushed the damp hair back from her forehead and cleared her throat. +She clutched Ann's one hand in both hers and turned to talk closely into +her face. + +"I ... it wasn't all lies. That part about me, about Charley Ling's, was +true. It was true that Bruce took me out of there, too, but not for what +you think. I ... I was pretty bad for a young girl, but I never knew +much different until I knew Bruce ... I didn't know much. + +"I was at Ling's. I didn't lie about that," she repeated stoically, +baring her shame in an attempt to atone for her former behavior. "I'd +been there quite a while, when one night when the' was whiskey an' men +an' hell, he come.... + +"I'll never forget it. I can't. He was so big that he filled th' door, +he was so ... different, so clean an' disgusted-like, that it stopped +th' noise for a minute. He stood lookin' us over; then he saw me an' +looked an' looked, an' I couldn't do nothin' but hang my head when 'twas +my business to laugh at him. + +"He didn't say a word at first, but he come across to to me an' set down +beside me, an' when th' piano started again an' folks quit givin' us +attention he said, + +"'You're only a kid.' + +"Just that; but it made me cry. He was so kind of accusin' an' so +gentle. Nobody'd ever been gentle with me before that I could remember +of. They'd been accusin' all right, all right ... but not gentle. He +went away that night an' I cried until it was light. In th' mornin' he +come back an' asked for me an' took me outdoors an' talked to me. He +talked.... He didn't do no preachin'; he didn't say nothin' about bein' +good or bein' bad. He just said that that place wasn't fit for coyotes +to live in, that I'd never see th' mountains or th' stars or th' +sunshine livin' there. He said that.... An' he said he'd get me a job +here in Yavapai.... + +"He did. Got me this job, in this hotel. He stuck by me when folks +started to talk; he stopped it. He taught me to ride an' like horses an' +dogs an' th' valley an' things like that. He give me things to read an' +talked to me about 'em an' ... was good to me. + +"I've always been like his sister. That's straight, M's. Lytton; that's +no lie. He's been my brother; that's all. More 'n that, I'm about th' +only woman he's looked at in three years until ... you come. He ain't a +saint but he's ... an awful fine man." + +She was silent a moment and stroked the hand she had taken in hers. + +"That's all. That's all the' is to say. I've tried to get him, tried to +make him care for me ... a lot; but I ain't his kind,"--with a slow +shake of the head as she withdrew one hand. "I can never be his kind ... +in that way. I've known it all along, but I've never let myself believe +th' truth. He didn't know, didn't even guess. That's how hopeless it +was. He ain't never seen that I'd do ... anythin' for him. + +"When you come, I saw th' difference in him ... right off. He ... You're +his kind, M's. Lytton. You're what he's waited for, what he's lookin' +for. I was jealous. I hated you from th' first. I was nice to you +'cause he wanted it, 'cause that would make him happier. I fought +against showin' what I felt for his sake ... for him. Then, to-day, when +I seen how he looked after he'd had you in his arms where I've wanted to +be always, as I've wanted to make him look, I.... + +"It made me kind of crazy. I felt like tellin' you what I was, lyin' +about what I was to Bruce, thinkin' it might drive you away an' I might +sometime make him love me. But, after I'd done it, after I got it into +words, I knew it was against everything he'd ever taught me, against +everything he'd ever been, an' that if you went 't would break his +heart. That's why I come back to tell you I lied, to tell you how it +is.... + +"You go to him now; you go before it's too late. I tried to come between +you ... an' didn't. You go to him before somethin' does...." + +She felt Ann's arm go about her and stifling her sobs she yielded to the +pull until her head rested on the other woman's shoulder. + +"Oh, Nora, I can't tell you how this makes me feel; I can't. I'll never +be able to. There's nothing I can say at all, nothing I can do, even!" + +The waitress lifted her face to peer closely at her. + +"Just one thing you can do," she said, lowly. "Go to him now. That's +what I come back here for--to tell you I lied, so you would go." + +Ann straightened and shook her head sharply. + +"That's impossible," she said, emphatically. "Impossible." + +"Impossible, M's. Lytton?"--wiping her eyes. + +"Yes, Nora." + +"But why? He loves you!" + +"When you were here before you gave the reason--I'm a married woman." + +"But that ain't.... Why, do you _love_ your husband?" + +She grasped Ann's arm and shook it gently as she put that question in a +voice that the tears had made hoarse, and leaned forward to catch the +answer. For an interval Ann did not reply, gave no sign that she had +heard, and Nora repeated her query with impressive slowness. + +"It isn't a question of loving, Nora," she finally said. "I'm his wife; +I have a wife's duty to perform." + +"But do you love him?" the girl persisted. + +"No, I don't any more ..."--sadly, yet without regret. + +"An' you'd go back to him, M's. Lytton? You'd go back without lovin' +him?" + +Incredulity was in her tone. + +"Of course. It is my place. He is coming to me soon, stronger, wiser, I +hope, and there's a chance that we will find at least a little peace +together." + +"But the' won't be love,"--in a whisper. + +Ann gave a little shudder and braced her shoulders backward. + +"No, Nora. That is past. Besides, I--" + +"Don't be afraid to admit it!" the girl urged, speaking rapidly. "Don't +be afraid to tell me. I know what you're thinkin'. You love Bruce +Bayard! I know; you can't hide it from me, M's. Lytton." + +Ann's fingers twisted the coverlet. + +"And if I do?" she asked weakly. "What if I do?" + +"What if you do? Ain't lovin' a man answer enough for any woman?" cried +the other. "Is the' anything else that holds folks together? Is the' +anything else that makes men an' women happy? Does your bein' a man's +wife mean happiness? Your promisin' to love him didn't make you love, +did it? Because a preacher told you you was one didn't make it so, did +it? Nobody can make you love him, not even yourself, 'cause you said it +was duty that takes you back; that you don't love him. But you can't +help lovin' Bruce Bayard! + +"Oh, M's. Lytton, don't fool yourself about this duty! It's up to a man +an' a woman to take love, to take happiness, when it comes. You can't +set still an' watch it go by an' hope to have it come again; real +happiness don't happen but once in most of our lives. I know. I've been +down ... I've been happy, too ... I know! + +"An' duty! Why, ma'am, duty like you think you ought to do, is waste! +You're young, you're healthy, you're pretty. You'll waste your best +years, you'll waste your health, you'll waste your looks on duty! +You'll waste all your love; you'll get old an' bitter an'.... + +"If the's anything under heaven that's a crime, it's wasted love! Oh, +M's. Lytton, I wasted my love when I was a kid, 'cause I didn't know +better. I sold mine for money. For God's sake, don't sell yours for +duty! If the's anything your God meant folks to do was to get what joy +they can out of life. He wouldn't want you to think of bein' Ned +Lytton's wife as ... as your duty. He ... God ain't that kind, M's. +Lytton; he ain't!" + +"Nora, Nora, don't say these things!" Ann pleaded. "You're wrong, you +must be! Don't tempt me to ... these new ways ... don't...." + +"New!" the girl broke in. "It ain't new, what I've been sayin'. It's as +old as men an' women. It's as old as th' world. Th' things you try to +make yourself believe are th' new ones. Love was old before folks first +thought about duty. It seems new, because you ain't ever let yourself +see straight ... you never had to until now." + +"Nora, stop I You must stop! You can't be right ... you can't be!" + +The waitress trembled against Ann and commenced to cry under the strain +of her earnestness. + +"But I know I'm right, M's. Lytton, I know I am! I know what you're +doin'. Do--don't you see that you wouldn't be much different from what I +was, if you went back to your husband, hatin' him an' lovin' another? +Happiness comes just once; it's a sin to let it go by!" + +Slowly Ann withdrew her embrace from the girl. She sat with hands limp +in her lap until Nora's sobbing had subsided to mere long-drawn breaths; +then she rose and walked to the window, looking out into the moonlit +night. And when Nora, drying her eyes, regaining control of her +emotions, started to speak again she saw that Ann was lost in thought, +that it was unnecessary to argue further, so she went quietly from the +room. The rattle of the knob, the sound of the closing door did not +rouse the woman she left behind. Ann only stared out at the far hills +which were a murky blot in the cold light; stared with eyes that did not +see, for out of the storm of that night a new creature was coming into +active life within her and the re-birth was so wonderful that it quite +deadened her physical senses. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE WOMAN ON HORSEBACK + + +Lytton had gone for a ride in the hills, leaving Bayard alone at the +ranch, busying himself with accomplishing many odds and ends of tasks +which had been neglected in the weeks that his attention had been +divided between his cattle and the troubles of Ann. Ned was back to his +usual strength, now; also, his mending mental attitude had made him a +better companion, a less trying patient. He rode daily, he helped +somewhat with the ranch work, his sleeps were long and untroubled. The +first time a horse had carried him from sight Bayard had scarcely +expected to see him back again; he had firmly believed that Lytton would +ride directly to Yavapai and fill himself with whiskey. When he came +riding into the ranch, tired, glad to be home once more, Bruce knew that +the man was not wholly unappreciative, that his earlier remonstrances at +remaining at the Circle A had not always been genuine. + +"Mighty white of you, old chap," he had said, after dismounting. "Mighty +white of you to treat me like this. Some day I'll pay you back." + +"You'll pay me back by gettin' to be good an' strong an' goin' out an' +bein' a man," the rancher had answered, and Lytton had laughed at his +seriousness. + +No intimation of his wife's nearness had been given to Lytton. Isolated +as they were, far off the beaten path of travel, few people ever stopped +at the ranch and, when stray visitors had dropped in, chance or Bayard's +diplomacy had prevented their discovering the other man's presence. Not +once after their argument over the rights of a man to his wife had Ned +referred to Ann and in that Bruce found both a conscious and an +unconscious comfort: the first sort because it hurt him brutally to be +reminded of the girl as this man's mate, and the other because the fact +that while Lytton had only bitterness for Ann Bayard could wholly +justify his own attention to her, his own love. + +Day after day the progress continued uninterrupted, Bruce making it a +point to have his charge ride alone, unless Ned himself expressed a +desire to go in company. The rancher believed that if the other were +ever to be strong enough to resist the temptation to return to his old +haunts and ways, now was the time. Although Lytton's attitude was, +except at rare intervals, subtly resentful, his passive acceptance of +the conditions under which he lived was evidence that he saw the wisdom +in remaining at the ranch and those hours alone on horseback, out of +sight, away from any influencing contact, were the first tests. Bayard +was delighted to see that his work did not collapse the moment he +removed from it his watchful support. And yet, while he took pride in +this accomplishment, he went about his daily work with a sense of +depression constantly on him. It was as though some inevitable calamity +impended, as though, almost, hope had been removed from his future. He +tried not to allow himself to think of Ann Lytton. He knew that to let +his fancies and emotions go unrestrained for an hour would rouse in his +heart a hatred so intense, so compelling, that he would rise in all his +strength during some of Lytton's moods and do the man violence; or, if +not that, then, when talking to her, he would lose self-control and +break his word to her and to himself that not again so long as she loved +her husband would he speak of his regard for her. + +But the end of that phase was approaching. Within a few days Lytton +would know that his wife was in the country, would go to her, and +Bayard's interval of protectorate over them both, which at least gave +him opportunity to see the woman he loved, would come to its conclusion. + +Now, as he worked on a broken hinge of the corral gate his heart was +heavy and, finally, to force himself to stop brooding, he broke into +song: + + "From th' desert I come to thee + On a stallion shod wi-- + +"No ... not that," he muttered. "I'll not be comin' ... on a stallion +shod with fire, or anythin' else." Then he began this cruder, livelier +strain: + + "Foot in th' stirrup an' hand on th' horn, + Best damn cowboy ever was born, + + "Coma ti yi youpa ya, youpa ya, + Coma ti yi-- + +"Dog-gone bolt's too short, Abe," he muttered to the sorrel who stood +within the enclosure. "Too short-- + + "I herded an' I hollered an' I done very well, + Till th' boss says, Boys, just let 'em go to hell! + + "Coma ti yi-- + +"What do you see, Boy?" + +As he turned to go toward the blacksmith shop, he saw the horse standing +with head up and every line of his body rigid, gazing off on the valley. + +"You see somebody?" he asked, and swung up on the corral for a better +view. + +Far out beyond and below him a lazy wisp of dust rose lightly to be +trailed away by the breath of warm breeze, and, after his eyes had +studied it a moment, he discerned a moving dot that he knew was horse +and rider. + +"Lytton didn't go that way," he muttered, as he dropped to the ground +again. "No use worryin' any more, though; it's time somebody knew he was +here; they will soon, an' it won't do any harm." + +He swept the valley with his gaze again and shook his head. "Seems like +it's in shadow all the time now," he muttered, "an' not a cloud in the +sky!" + +When he found a bolt of proper length and fitted it in place the horse +and rider were appreciably nearer and he watched them crawl toward him a +moment. + + "I went to th' wagon to get my roll, + To come back to Texas, dad-burn my soul; + I went to th' wagon to draw my roll, + Th' boss said I was nine dollars in th' hole! + + "Coma ti yi, youpy, youpy ya, youpy ya, + Coma ti--" + +He turned again to look at the approaching rider before he went into the +stable. Then, for twenty minutes he was busy with hammer and saw, +humming to himself, thinking of things quite other than the work at +which his hands were busy. + +"Is this the way you greet your visitors?" + +It was Ann Lytton's voice coming from the stable doorway, and Bayard +straightened slowly, turning awkwardly to look at her over his shoulder. +She was flushed, flustered, uncertain for the moment just how to comport +herself, but he did not notice for he was far off balance himself. + +"Good-mornin', ma'am," he said, taking off his hat and stepping out from +the stall in which he had been working. "What do you want here?" + +His voice was pitched almost in a tone of rebuke. + +"I came to see my husband," she answered, and for a moment they stared +hard at one another, Bayard, as though he did not believe her, and the +woman, as if conscious that he questioned the truth of her reply. Also, +as if she feared he might read in her the _whole_ truth. + +"He ought to be back soon," the rancher said, replacing his hat. "He's +off for a ride. Won't you come into the house?" + +They stepped outside. He saw that behind her saddle a bundle was tied. +He looked from it to her inquiringly. + +"I have thought it all over," she said, as if he had challenged her with +words, "and I've made up my mind that my place, for the time, anyhow, is +with Ned. It's best for me to be here; it's best for Ned to know and +have it over with.... Have a complete understanding." + +He looked away from her, failing to mark the significance of her last +words or to see the fresh determination in her face. + +"It had to come sometime. I expect now's about as likely a day as any," +he said, gloomily, and untied the roll from her saddle. "I'll show you +around th' house so you'll know where things are,"--and started across +toward the shade of the ash tree. + +Ann walked beside him, wanting to speak, not knowing what to say. She +found no words at all, until they gained the kitchen and stood within. +Bayard placed her bundle on the table. + +"Do you mean that you won't be here?" she faltered. + +"Well, that's th' best way," he said, looking down and rubbing the back +of a chair thoughtfully. + +"I can't...." + +"Yes, you can,"--divining what was in her mind and interrupting. "I'll +be glad to have you meet him here, ma'am. 'Twould offend me if you went +away, but I think, considerin' everythin', how you've been apart so long +an' all, it'd be better for me to leave you two alone. I've got business +in town anyhow," he lied. "I'd have to go in either to-night or in th' +mornin'. It's th' best way all round." + +He did not look at her during this, could not trust himself to. He felt +that to meet her gaze would mean that he would be tempted again to +declare his love for her, his hatred for her husband, because this hour +was another turning point for them all. For the safety of Ned Lytton to +hold himself in accord with his own sense of right, it was wise for him +to be away at the meeting of husband and wife; not fear for himself but +of himself drove him from his hearth. He knew that Ann's eyes were on +him, steady and inquiring, felt somehow that she had suddenly become +mistress of the situation. Heretofore, he had dominated all their +interviews. But now that eminence was gone. He was retreating from this +woman and not wholly in good order, for he could not remain with her nor +could he trust himself to give a true explanation of his departure. + +To delay longer, to just stand there and discuss the very embarrassing +situation, would be no relief, might only lead to greater discomfiture, +he knew, so he said: + +"All th' things to cook with are in that cupboard, ma'am,"--turning away +from her to indicate. "All th' pots an' pans an' dishes are below there, +on those shelves. He ... your husband knows, anyhow. He can show you +round. + +"In here.... This is his room." + +He paused when halfway across the floor, turned and looked at her. In +her eye he caught a troubled quality. + +"He's been sleepin' here," he repeated, walking on and opening the door. + +The woman followed and looked over his shoulder. + +"But I've another room; my room, in here,"--moving to another door. +"This is mine, an' as I won't be here you can use it as you ... as you +want to." + +Nothing in his tone or manner of speech suggested anything but the idea +contained in his words, but Ann's eyes rested on his profile with a +sudden gratitude, a warmth. Surprise came to her a moment later and she +exclaimed, + +"Oh, how fine!" + +He had thrown the door back and stood aside for her to enter. Light came +into the room from three windows and before the gentle breeze white +curtains billowed inward. Navajo blankets covered the floor. The bed, +in one corner, was spread with a gay serape and beside it was a bookcase +with shelves well filled. In the center of the room stood a table and on +it a reading lamp. About the walls were pictures, few in number but +interesting. + +At Ann's exclamation Bruce smiled broadly, pleased. + +"I'm glad you like it," he said. "I do. I thought maybe you would." + +"Why, it's splendid!" she cried again. "It doesn't look like a room in +the house of a bachelor rancher. It doesn't look like...." + +She stopped and looked up at him, puzzled, questioning so eloquently +with her gaze that it was unnecessary for him to await the spoken query. + +"Yes, I did it myself," he said with a flushed laugh. Their +self-consciousness was relieved by the change of thought. "It's mine; +all mine. You ... You're the first person to come in here, ma'am, except +Tim.... He was my daddy, an' he's dead. I don't ask folks in here 'cause +it's so much trouble to explain to most of 'em. They'd think I'm stuck +up, with lace curtains an' all...." + +He waved his hands to include the setting. + +"I can live with th' roughest of 'em an' enjoy it; I can put up with +anything when it's necessary, but somehow I've always wanted something +different, something that'll fill a place that plenty of grub an' a hot +stove don't always satisfy. + +"Them curtains,"--with a chuckle--"came from th' Manzanita House. They +were th' first decorations I put up. I woke up one mornin' after I'd +been ... well, relieving my youth a little. I was in one of th' hotel +rooms. 'Twas about this time of year an' th' wind was soft an' gentle, +blowin' through th' windows like it does now, an' them curtains looked +so cool an' clean an' homelike that I... Well, I just rustled three +pair, ma'am!" + +He laughed again and crossed the room to free one curtain that had +caught itself on a protruding hook. + +"Tim an' me had a great argument, when I brought 'em home. Tim, he says +that if I was goin' to have curtains, I ought to go through with th' +whole deal an' have gilt rods to hang 'em on. I says, no, that was goin' +too far, gettin' to be too dudish, so I nailed 'em up!" + +He pointed to show her the six-penny nails that held them in place, and +Ann laughed heartily. + +"Then, I played a little game that th' boys out here call Monte. It's +played with cards, ma'am. I played with a Navajo I know--an' cards--an' +he had just one kind of luck, awful bad. That's where these blankets +come from,"--smiling in recollection. + +All this pleased him; he saw the humor of a man of his physique, his +pursuit, furnishing a room with all the pains of a girl. + +"Those are good rugs. See? They're all black an' gray an' brown: natural +colors. Red an' green are for tourists. + +"I bought that serape from a Mexican in Sonora when I was down there +lookin' around. That lamp, though, that's th' best thing I got." + +He leaned low to blow the dust from its green shade with great pains, +and Ann laughed outright at him. + +"I never could learn to dust proper, ma'am. It don't bother me so long's +I don't see it," he confessed. "A man who came out here to stay with us +for his health--a teacher--brought that lamp; when he went back, he left +it for me. I think a lot of it." + +"You read by it?" she asked. + +"Lord, yes! Those,"--waving his hand toward the books, and she walked +across to inspect them, Bayard moving beside her. "He left 'em for me. +He keeps sendin' me more every fall. I ... I learnt all I know out of +them, an' from what he told me. It ain't much--what I know. But I got it +all myself; that makes it seem more." + +Ann's throat tightened at that, but she only leaned lower over the +shelves. Dickens was there, and Thackeray; one or two of Scott and a +broken set of Dumas. History and travel predominated, with a volume of +Kipling verse and a book on mythology discovered in a cursory +inspection. + +"I think a lot of my books. I like 'em all.... I liked that story 'bout +Oliver Twist th' best of 'em," he said, pointing to the Dickens. "Poor +kid! An' old Bill Sykes! Lord, he was a hellion--a bad one, +ma'am,"--correcting himself hastily. "An' Miss Sharpe this man +Thackeray wrote about in his book! I'd like to know a woman like her; +she sure was a slick one, wasn't she? She'd done well in th' cow +business." + +"Do you like these?" she asked, indicating the Scott. + +"Well, sometimes," he said. "I like th' history in 'em, but, unless I +got a lot of time, like winter, I don't read 'em much. I like 'Ivanhoe' +pretty well any time, but in most of 'em Walt sure rounded up a lot of +words!" + +She smiled at that. + +"This is th' best of 'em all, though," he said, drawing out Carlyle's +French Revolution. "It took me all one winter to get on to th' hang of +that book, but I stayed by her an' ... well, I'd rather read it now than +anythin'. Funny that a man writin' so long ago could say so many things +that keep right on makin' good. + +"I'd like to know him," he said a moment later. "I could think up a lot +of questions to ask a man like that." + +He stood running over the worn, soiled pages of his "French Revolution" +lost in thought and Ann, stooping before the shelves, turned her face to +watch him covertly. This was the explanation of the Bruce Bayard she +knew and loved; she now understood. This was why he had drawn her to him +so easily. He was rough of manner, of speech, but behind it all was +thought, intelligence; not that alone, but the intelligence of an +intrinsically fine mind. For an unschooled man to accomplish what he had +accomplished was beyond her experience. + +"I liked them," he said, touching some volumes of Owen Wister. "Lord, he +sure knows cowboys an' such. He wrote a story about 'n _hombre_ called +Jones, Specimen Jones, that makes me sore from laughin' every time I +read it. It's about Arizona an' naturally hits me. + +"That's why I like that picture. It's my country, too." He pointed to a +print of Remington's "Fight for The Water Hole." + +"That's th' way it looks--heat an' color an' distance," he said. "But +when a thing's painted like that, you get more 'n th' looks. You get +taste an' smell an' th' feeling. I get thirsty an' hot an' desperate +every time I look at that picture very long.... + +"This Cousin Jack, Kipling," he resumed, turning back to the books, "he +wrote a poem about what a man ought to be before he considers himself a +man that says all there is to say on th' subject. Nothin' new in what he +wrote, but he's corraled all th' ideas anybody's ever thought about. +It's fine--" + +"But who is that?" she broke in, walking closer to the photograph of a +young woman, too eager to see the whole of this room to pause long over +any one thing. + +He smiled in embarrassment. + +"My sister, ma'am." + +"Your sister!" + +"Yeah. You see, I never had any folks. Nearest thing to ancestors I know +about was a lot of bent steel an' burnin' railroad cars. Old Tim picked +me out of a wreck when I was a baby, an' we never found out nothin' +about me." He rubbed the back of one hand on his hip. "I... It ain't +nice, knowin' you don't belong to nobody, so I picked out my +family,"--smiling again. + +"I was in Phoenix once an' I saw that lady's picture in front of a +photograph gallery. It was early mornin' an' I was on my way to th' +train comin' north. I busted th' glass of th' show case an' took it. I +left a five-dollar gold piece there so th' photographer wouldn't mind, +an' I guess th' lady, if she knew, wouldn't care so awful much. Nobody +ever seen her here but Tim an' me. I respect her a lot, like I would my +sister. You expect she would mind, ma'am?" + +"I think she would be very much pleased," Ann said, soberly. + +"An' that up there's my mother," he said, after their gazes had clung a +moment. + +"Whistler's 'Mother'!" + +"Yes, he painted it; but she's th' one I'd like to have for my mother, +if I could picked her out. She looks like a good mother, don't she? I +thought so when I got that ... with a San Francisco newspaper." + +Ann did not trust herself to speak or to look at him. + +"Your father?" she asked after a moment. + +"Oh, I had one. Tim. He was my daddy. He did all any father could for +me. No, ma'am, I wouldn't pick out nobody to take Tim's place. He +brought me up. But if I was to have uncles, I'd like them." + +He moved across the room to where prints of Lincoln and Lee were tacked +to the wall. + +"But, they were enemies!" Ann objected. + +"Sure, I know it. But they both thought somethin' an' stuck by it an' +fought it out. Lincoln believed one way, Lee another; they both stood by +their principles an' that's all that counts. Out here we have cattlemen +an' sheepmen. I'm in cattle an' lots of times I've felt like gunnin' for +th' fellers who were tryin' to sheep me, but then I'd stop an' think +that maybe there was somethin' to be said on their side. + +"I'd sure liked to have men for uncles who could believe in a thing as +hard as they believed!" + +A pause followed and he looked about the room again calculatingly; then +started as though he had forgotten something. + +"But what I brought you in here for was to tell you that this is yours, +to do what you want with ... you ..." + +His words brought them back to the situation they confronted and an +embarrassed silence followed. + +"I don't feel right, driving you out like this," Ann protested, at +length. + +"But don't you understand? Nobody's ever been in here, but Tim, who's +dead, an' you. You're th' first person I've ever asked to stay in here. +I'd like it ... to think you'd been in here ... stayin'.... It's you who +'re doin' th' favor...." + +He ended in a lowered tone and was so intent, so keen in his desire that +Ann looked on him with a queer little feeling of misgiving. Every now +and then she had encountered those phases of him for which she could not +account, which made her doubt and, for the instant, fear him. But, after +she had searched his face and found there nothing but the sincere +concern for her welfare, she knew that his motive was of the highest, +that he thought only of her, and she answered, + +"Why, I'll be glad to stay here, in your room." + +He turned and walked into the kitchen, swinging one hand. + +"I'll be driftin'," he said, when she followed, forcing himself to a +brusque manner which disarmed her. + +"You ask Ned to water th' horses. I'm ridin' th' pinto to town. I'll be +back to-morrow sometime." + +He put on his hat and started for the door resolutely. Then halted. + +"If anything should happen," he began, attempting a casual tone. But he +could not remain casual, nor could he finish his sentence. He stammered +and flushed and his gaze dropped. "Nothin' will ... to you," he +finished. + +With that he was gone, leading her borrowed horse back to town at her +request. From a point half a mile distant he looked back. She was still +in the doorway and when he halted his pony he saw a flicker of white as +she waved a handkerchief at him. He lifted his hat in salute; then rode +on, with a heart that was heavy and cold. + +"Th' finest woman that God ever gave a body," he said, "an' I've given +her over to th' only man that walks th' earth who wouldn't try to +appreciate her!" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +HER LORD AND MASTER + + +Ann watched him go, an apprehensive mood coming upon her. He shacked off +on the pinto horse while Abe, left alone in the corral, trotted about +and nickered and pawed to show his displeasure at being left behind. For +a long time the girl stood there, not moving, breathing slowly; then she +looked about her, turned and walked into Bruce's room, roamed around, +examining the books, the pictures, the furniture, touching things with +her finger tips gently, lovingly, hearing his voice again as it told her +of them. For her each article in that room now held a particular +interest. She stared at the photograph of the girl he had selected as a +sister, at Whistler's fine, capped old lady, opened the "French +Revolution" and riffled the leaves he had thumbed and soiled and torn, +and laughed deep in her throat as she saw the curtains hanging +irregularly from their six-penny nails ... laughed, though her eyes were +damp. + +A step sounded in the kitchen and the woman became rigid as she +listened. + +"... hotter ..." + +Just the one word of the muttered sentence was distinguishable, but she +knew it was not Bayard's voice; knew, then, whose it must be. + +Very quietly she walked to the doorway of the bedroom and stood there. +Ned Lytton had halted a step from the kitchen entry and was wiping his +face with a black silk kerchief. He completed the operation, removed his +hat, tossed it to a chair, unbuttoned the neck of his shirt ... and +ceased all movements. + +For each the wordless, soundless period that followed seemed to be an +age. The woman looked at the man with a slight feeling of giddiness, a +sensation that was at once relief and horror, for he was as her worst +fears would have it; his face, in spite of his weeks of good living, was +the color of suet, purple sacks under the eyes, lips hard and cruel, and +from chin to brow were the indelible marks of wasting, of debauchery. + +"Ann!" he exclaimed. + +Surprise, dread, a mingling of many emotions was in the tone, and he +waited at high tension for her to answer. His wife, a woman he had not +seen in three years, standing there before him in the garb of this new +country, beautiful, desirable, come as though from thin air! He thought +this might be merely an hallucination, that it might be some uncanny +creation of his unstable mind. + +"Yes, Ned; it is I," she answered, with a catch in her voice. + +On her words he stepped quickly forward, fear gone, eagerness about him. +He took her hands in his, fondling them nervously, and had she not +swayed back from him to the slightest noticeable degree, he would have +followed out his prompting to take her lips with as much +matter-of-factness as he had clutched her hands. + +"Ann, where did you come from?" he cried. "Why, I thought maybe you were +a ... a ghost or something! Oh, I'm glad to see you!" + +"Are you, Ned?"--almost plaintively, stroking the back of one of his +hands as she looked into his lighted eyes, reading sadly the desire +behind that shallow joy at sight of her. "Are you really glad?" + +"Of course I'm glad! Who wouldn't be? Gad, Ann, you're in fine +shape!"--stepping back from her, still holding her hands, and looking +her up and down, greedily. "Oh, you're good to look at!" + +He went close to her again and reached out one arm quickly to slip it +about her waist, but she turned away from him quite casually and he +stopped, disconcerted, hurt, humiliated, but covering the fact as well +as he could. + +An awkward fraction of a minute followed, which he broke by asking: + +"But where did you come from, Ann? How did you get here? How did you +know? What brought you?" + +She smiled wanly. + +"One at a time, Ned. You brought me. You should know that. I came out +here to find you, to see what was happening, to help you if I could." + +She allowed him to take her hands again and looked wistfully into his +face as she talked. A change came into his expression with her words and +his gaze shifted from hers while a show of petulance appeared in his +slightly drawn brows. + +"Well, I've needed help in one way," he muttered. + +"You've been very ill, I know." + +"You know?"--in surprise. + +"Yes; I have been here through it all." + +He dropped her hand and tilted his head incredulously. + +"Through it all! What do you mean?" + +"I've been here for a month." + +"A month! You've been here a month and this is the first time you've +come to see me?" + +"I didn't think it best to come before." + +"You've been here while I've been passing through hell itself? You've +known about me, known how I've suffered? Have you?" + +"Oh, Ned, I have...." + +"And you didn't come to me when I needed help most! You've not even +taken the trouble to find out about me--" + +"You're wrong there," Ann broke in simply. With the return of his old, +petulant, irritating manner, the wistfulness slipped from her and a +little show of independence, of resentment, came over the woman. "I +have known about you; I've kept track of you; I've waited and prayed for +the time when it would be best for me to see you...." + +He folded his arms theatrically and swung one leg over the corner of the +table. Ann stopped talking on that, for his attitude was one of open +challenge. + +"You've come out here to spy on me! Isn't that it? You've come to help +me, you said, and yet you wouldn't even let me know you were here? Isn't +it the same old game? Isn't it?" + +She did not answer. + +"Isn't it a fact that you've been waiting to see what I'd do when I got +well? I suppose you've come out here to-day with a prayer-book and a lot +of soft words, a lot of cant, to try to reform me?" He thrust his face +close to hers as he asked the last. + +"Is this the way you're going to greet me?" she asked. "Haven't you +anything but the same old suspicion, the same old denunciation for me?" + +He looked away from her and shrugged his shoulders. + +"How have you known about me when you haven't been to see me?" he asked, +evasively. + +"Mr. Bayard has kept me informed." + +He looked at her through a moment of silence, and she looked back as +steadily, as intently as he. + +"Bayard?" he asked. "Bayard? He's been telling you ... about me?" + +"He's been as kind to me as he has to you, Ned,"--with a feeling of +misgiving even as she uttered the words. "He has ... ridden to Yavapai +many times just to tell me about you." + +He looked at her again, and she saw the puzzlement in his face. He +started as though to speak, checked himself and looked past her into +Bayard's room. + +"Where is he now?" + +"He's gone to town; he left a few moments after I came. He asked me +to--" + +"Did he show you into that room?" + +"Yes,"--turning to look. "He told me to use it." + +Her husband eyed her calculatingly and rested his weight on the table +once more. It was as though he had settled some important question for +himself. + +"Why haven't you been out before, Ann?" he asked her, eyes holding on +her face to detect its slightest change of expression. + +She felt herself flushing at that; her conscience again! + +"You were in an awful condition, Ned," she forced herself to say. "I saw +you in Yavapai, the night I arrived. I--I helped Mr. Bayard fix your +arm; I knew how ill you would be when you came to yourself. We +agreed--Mr. Bayard and I--that it would needlessly excite you, if I were +to come here, so I stayed away. I stayed as long as I could,"--with +deadly honesty--"I had to come to-day." + +"You and Bayard.... You both thought it best for me to stay here +without knowing my wife was in Arizona?" + +His attitude had become that of a cross-examiner. + +"Yes, Ned. You were in fearful shape. You know that for days after +you--" + +"And you've relied on him to give you news of me?" + +He stood erect and moved nearer, watching her face closely as her eyes +became less certain, her cheeks a deeper color. + +"Yes, Ned. Don't get worked up. It's been all right. I'm sure the weeks +you put in here have given...." + +"Given what?" he broke in, brows gathering, thrusting out his chin, +glaring at her and drawing back his lips to bare the gap left by the +broken and missing teeth. + +The woman recoiled. + +"Give what?" he demanded again, trembling from knee to fingers. "To give +him a chance to come and see you, that's what you've given!" + +"Ned Ly--"--crouching, a hand to one cheek, Ann backed into Bayard's +room quickly as her husband, fists clenched and raised, lurched toward +her. + +"Don't talk to me!" he cried thickly, face dark, voice unnatural. "Don't +talk to me,"--looking not at her eyes but at her heaving breast. "I +know. I know now what I should have known weeks ago! I know now why he's +been shaving his pretty face every day, why he's been dolling up every +time he left for town, putting on his gay scarfs, changing his shirts +like a gentleman, instead of a dirty hound that would steal a man's wife +as soon as he would steal a neighbor's calf! I know why he's held me +here and lied to me and played the hypocrite,"--words running together +under the intensity of his raving. + +"I see it now! I see why he's admitted that there was a woman bothering +him. I see why he's tried to ring in that hotel waitress to make me +think she was the one he went to see. I see it all; I see what a fool +I've been, what a lying pup Bayard is with all his smug talk about +helping me! Helping me ... when he's been helping himself to my wife!" + +"Ned!" + +"A month, eh?" he went on. "You've been here a month, have you? And he's +known it; he's kept me here, by God, through fear, that's all. I confess +it to you! I'd have been gone long ago but I was afraid of him! He's +intimidated me on the pretext of doing it for my own good while he could +steal my wife ... my wife ... you-u-u...." + +He advanced slowly, reasonless eyes on hers now, and Ann backed swiftly, +putting the table between them, watching him with fear stamped on her +features. + +"Ugh! The snake! The poison, lying, grovelling--" + +"Ned!" + +The sharpness of her cry, the way she straightened and stamped her foot +and vibrated with indignation broke through his rage, even, and he +stopped. + +"You don't know what you're saying." Her voice quivered. "You're +accusing the best man friend you've ever had; you're cursing one of the +best men that ever walked ground, and you're doing it without reason!" + +"Without reason, am I?" he parried, quieter, breathing hard, but +controlling his voice. "It's without reason when he lives with me a +month, seeing my wife day after day, knowing I've not seen her in years +and then never breathing a word about it? It's without reason when he +opens this room to you ... a room he's never let me look into, and tells +you to use it? It's no reason when he runs away to town rather than face +me here in your presence? Can you argue against that? + +"And it's without reason when you stand there flushed to your hair, you +guilty woman?" + +He thumped the table with his fist. "You guilty woman," he repeated, +just above a whisper. "You guilty--My wife, conspiring with your lover +while he keeps me here by force, by brute force. Can you argue against +that ... against that?" + +It was the great moment of Ann Lytton's life. It seemed as though the +inner conflict was causing congestion in her chest, stilling her heart, +clogging her breathing, making her blind and powerless to move or speak +or think. It was the last struggle against her old manner of thought, +against the old Ann, the strangling for once and for all that narrow +conscience, the wiping out of that false conception of morality, for she +emerged from her moment of doubt, of torment, a beautiful, brave +creature. Her great sacrifice had been offered; it had been repulsed +with contempt and now she stood free, ready to fight for her spiritual +honor, her self-respect, in the face of a world's disapproval, if that +should become necessary. + +"Yes, I can argue against that," she cried, closing her eyes and smiling +in fine confidence. "I can, Ned Lytton. I can, because he is my lover, +because the love he bears for me is pure, is good, is true holiness!" + +She leaned toward him across the table, still smiling and letting her +voice drop to its normal tone, yet losing none of its triumphant +resonance. + +"And you can say that," he jeered, "after he's been ... after you've +been letting him keep you a month!" + +"Oh, you can't hurt me with your insults, Ned, for they won't go home. +You know that statement isn't true; you know me too well for that. I'm +your wife by law, Ned, but beyond that I'm as free as I was five years +ago, before I ever saw you. Emancipating myself wasn't easy. I came out +here hampered by tradition and terms and prejudice, but I've learned the +truth from this country, these people, from ... you. I've learned that +without love, without sympathy, without understanding or the effort, +the desire, to understand, no marriage is a marriage; that without them +it is only ugly, hideous. + +"I've had to fight it all out and think it all out for myself. +Circumstances and people have helped me make my decision. I owed you +something, I still thought, and I came here to-day to fulfill my duty, +to give you another chance. If you had met me with even friendliness, +I'd have shut my eyes, my ears, my heart to Bruce Bayard in spite of all +he means to me. I'd have gone with you, thinking that I might take up +the work of regeneration where he left off and give my life to making a +man of you, foregoing anything greater, better for myself, in the hope +that some day, some time you and I might approach halfway to happiness. + +"But what did you do; what did I find? In the first moments hate of me +came into your face; you jeered at me for coming, mocked me. That's what +happened. Then you suspect me, suspect Bayard, who has kept you alive, +who has given you another chance at everything ... including me." + +"Suspect him? Of course I suspect him! You've admitted your guilt, you +damned--" + +"Don't go on that way, Ned. It's only a waste of time. I told you what +would have happened, if you had greeted me in another way. You've had +your chance ... you've had your thousand chances in these last five +years. It's all over now. It's over between us, Ned. It's been a bitter, +dreary failure and the sooner we end it all, the better. Don't think +I'm going to transgress what you call morality," she pleaded, smiling +weakly. "You deserted me, Ned, after you'd abused me. You've refused to +support me, you've been unfaithful in every way. I don't think the law +that made me your wife will refuse to release me now--" + +"You're forgetting something," he broke in, rallying his assurance with +an effort. "You're forgetting that while you were conspiring to keep me +here, your lover, Bruce Bayard,"--drawling the words--"was meeting you +secretly. What do you think your law will say to that?" + +"I'll trust to it, Ned," she answered, in splendid composure. "I will +trust to other men to judge between us--" + +"Then, I won't!" he screamed, stepping quickly around the table, +grasping for her arm. She retreated quickly and he lunged for her again +and again missed. + +Then, with a choking oath, he threw the table aside and the lamp went +crashing to the floor. + +"Then, I won't, damn you! You're my wife, to do as I please with; the +law gave you to me, and it hasn't taken you from me yet!" + +He advanced menacingly toward her as she backed into a corner, paling +with actual fear now; his elbows stuck stiffly out from his sides, his +hands were clenched at his hips, face thrust forward, feet carrying him +to her with slow uncertainty. + +"Ned--" Her voice quavered. "Ned, what are you going to do?" + +"Maybe I'll ... strangle you!" he said. + +She looked quickly from side to side and one hand clutched at her breast +convulsively, clutched the cloth ... and something that was resting +within her waist. She started and with a quick movement unbuttoned the +garment at her bosom, reached in and drew out an automatic pistol. + +"Ned, don't force me!" she said, slowly, voice unsteady. + +The man halted, hesitated, backed away, both hands half raised. + +"Ann, you wouldn't shoot me!" he whispered. + +"You said ... you'd strangle me, Ned,"--leaning against the wall for +support, because weakness had swept over her. + +Lytton drew a hand across his eyes. He trembled visibly. + +"But ... I was mad, Ann," he stammered. "I was crazy; I wouldn't...." + +Her hands dropped to her sides and she turned her face from him, +shutting her eyes and frowning at the helplessness that came over her +with the excitement and the fear of a physical encounter. She could +brave any moral clash, but her body was a woman's body, her strength a +woman's strength, and now, when she faced disaster, her muscles failed +her. + +Ned comprehended. He stepped quickly to her side, reached to the hand +that held the weapon, fastened on it and with a wrench, jerked it free +from her limp grasp. + +"You would, would you?" he muttered, his old malevolence returning with +assurance that the woman could no longer defend herself. "This! Where +did you get it?"--surveying the weapon. + +"It's Bayard's." + +"He gave it to you to use on me?"--with a short laugh. + +The woman shook her head wearily. + +"You refuse to understand anything," she responded. "He gave it to me to +protect you from himself." + +He stood looking at her, revolving that assertion quickly in his mind, +feeling for the first time that his command over the situation was good +only so long as they were alone. Before his suddenly rising fear of +Bruce Bayard his bitterness retreated. + +"Well, we'll quit this place," he said with a swagger. "We'll clear out, +you and I.... I've had enough of this damned treachery; trying to steal +you, my wife. I might have known. I told him his foot would slip!" + +Ann scarcely heard. She was possessed by a queer lethargy. She wanted to +rest, to be quiet, to be left alone, yet she knew that much remained to +be endured. She had never rebelled before; she had always compromised +and she felt that after her great demonstration of self-sufficiency +nothing could matter a great deal. Ned had said that they would quit +this place. She had no idea of resisting, of even arguing. It was easier +to go, to delay a further break, for their journey would not be far, she +felt, nor would she be with her husband long. Bayard would come somehow; +he had come when she was in danger before, and now that which menaced +her was of much less consequence. Why fear? + +She stooped to pick up a book that had been thrown to the floor when the +table overturned. + +"Leave that alone!" he ordered. + +She straightened mechanically, the listlessness that was upon her making +it far easier to obey than to summon the show of strength necessary to +resist. + +"We'll quit this place," Ned repeated again. "And you'll go with me ..." + +He turned to face the doorway. The bent reading lamp lay at his feet, +shade and chimney wrecked, oil gurgling from it. He kicked the thing +viciously, sending it crashing against the wall. + +"The damned snake!" he muttered. "He brought you in here, did he? Into +this place.... Bah!" + +He seized a volume from the bookcase and flung it at the ruined lamp. + +"Ned, don't!" she pleaded. + +"You keep quiet; you'll have enough to think about coming with me. Come +on, now!" + +Mechanically she responded and with unreal, heavy movements put on her +hat as he told her to do, crossed the kitchen floor and emerged into the +afternoon sunlight. Her husband's horse, still saddled, stood in the +shade of the ash tree. + +"He's left only that damn stallion," she heard Ned say. "Well, we'll +take him." + +"What for, Ned?" she asked dully, walking after him as he strode toward +the corral and catching his sleeve, shaking it for his attention. "Why +are you taking him?" + +"To take you away on," he snapped. + +"That's stealing." + +"He didn't think of that when he tried to steal my wife; I'll steal two +of his horses for a while ... just like he had you ... for a while." + +Her strength of wit had been spent in the furious scene within the house +and she attempted no answer, just stood outside while Lytton entered the +corral, bridled the curious stallion and turned to lead him out. Abe +would not move. He would not even turn about and the man's strength was +not sufficient to do more than pull his head around. + +"Come along, you----" + +He took off his hat and swung it to strike the horse's nose sharply, but +Abe only threw up his head and blinked rapidly. The ears were flat and +he switched his tail when Lytton again tried to drag him out. He would +not respond; just braced backward and resisted. + +Ann forced her mind to function with some degree of alertness. + +"Let me take him, Ned," she said, white faced and quiet. "I can't see +you abuse him." + +She took the reins from her husband who relinquished his grip on them +reluctantly; then she spoke a low word to the sorrel. He sniffed her +garments and moved his nostrils in silent token of recognition. This was +the woman Bayard had put on his back, the only person besides his master +who had ever straddled him, so it must be all right. He turned and +followed her from the corral while Lytton swore under his breath. + +Ten minutes later, the woman mounted on the stallion, they rode through +the gate. Ann was silent, scarcely comprehending what happened. + +They did not turn to the left and take the road toward Yavapai; instead, +Ned followed a course that held straight eastward, gradually taking them +away from the wagon tracks, out into the great expanse of valley. + +"Where are you taking me, Ned?" Ann finally rallied her wits enough to +ask. + +"Back to my castle!" he mocked. "Back to the mine, where nobody'll come +to get you!" + +On that, Bayard's unexplained warning occurred to the girl and she felt +her heart leap. + +"Not that!" she said, dully. "Oh, Ned, not that. Something awful ... +will happen if you go back there." + +He looked at her, suspecting that this was a ruse. + +"What makes you think that?" + +"I was warned never to let you go back there." + +"Did Bayard warn you?"--leaning low in his saddle that he might see her +face better. She answered with a nod. "And why didn't he want me to go +back there?" + +"I don't know, Ned. But--Take my word, I beg of you!" + +He rose in his stirrups and shook his fist at her. + +"He steals my wife and tries to frighten me away from my property, does +he? What's his interest in the Sunset mine? Do you know? No? Well, we'll +find out by to-morrow night, damn him!" + +He slapped his coat pocket where the automatic rested and lifted his +quirt to cut the hindquarters of the slow moving stallion. + + * * * * * + +It was late night when they halted at a ranch, and the house was in +darkness. + +"We'll put up here," Ned growled. "We'll make on before daylight ... if +we can get this damned horse to move!" + +He drew back a fist as though he would strike the stallion, for the +sorrel had retarded them, insisting on turning and trying to start back +toward the Circle A ranch, refusing to increase his pace beyond a +crawling walk, held to that only by Ann's coaxing, for she knew that if +she gave the animal his head and let him turn back, her husband would +be angered to a point where he might abuse the beast. + +She feared no special thing now. She wanted to reach some destination, +some place where she could rest and think. This being led away seemed as +only some process of transition; it was unpleasant, but great happiness +was not far off. Of that she was certain. + +But she could not let Ned go on to his mine. Danger of some sort waited +there and it was impossible for her to allow him to walk into it. She +had planned while they rode that afternoon just how she would make the +first move to prevent his reaching the Sunset and as her husband +hammered on the door of the house to rouse the occupants she drew a pin +from her hat, shoved herself back in the saddle, and, while he was +parleying with the roused rancher, scratched swiftly and nervously on +the smooth leather. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE MESSAGE ON THE SADDLE + + +The hours he spent in Yavapai that night were memorable ones for Bruce +Bayard. He rode the distance to town at a slow walk and arrived after +the sun had set. He had no appetite for food but, nevertheless, after +washing in the kitchen, he went into the hotel dining room and talked +absently to Nora. + +It did not occur to him to mention what had happened that afternoon to +the girl. That had been a matter too purely personal to permit its +discussion with another. While he talked to her, his mind was wholly +occupied with thoughts other than those of which he spoke and he did not +see that the waitress was studying him carefully, reading what was +written on his face. Nora knew that Ann was gone; she knew that she had +taken with her a new conviction, a new courage, and the fact that Bayard +had left her at his ranch, probably with Ned Lytton, puzzled the girl. + +Bruce was not certain that he had acted wisely. Many circumstances might +arise in which his presence at the ranch could be a determining factor. +At times he wondered vaguely if Lytton might not attempt to do his wife +violence, but always he comforted himself by assurance of her strength +of character, of her moral fiber, contrasting it with Ned's vacillating +nature. + +"She'd take care of herself anywhere," he thought time after time. + +When he had gone through with the formal routine of feeding himself he +went out to stroll about. He watched the train arrive and depart, he +talked absently with an Indian he knew and jested with the red man's +squaw. He bought a Los Angeles paper and could not center his mind on a +line of its printed pages. He walked aimlessly, finally entering the +saloon where a dozen were congregated. + +"That piano of yours has got powerful lungs, ain't it?" he asked the +bartender, wincing, as the mechanical instrument banged out its measure. + +"This here beer's so hot it tastes like medicine," he complained, +putting down his glass after his first swallow, and picking up the +bottle to look at it with a wry face. + +"It's right off th' ice," the other assured. + +"You can have th' rest of it for th' deservin' poor," he said and strode +out, while the others laughed after him. + +Up and down the street, into the general store to exchange absent-minded +pleasantries with the proprietor's wife, across to the hotel where he +tried to sit quietly in a chair, back to the saloon; up and down, up and +down. + +[Illustration: Down the main street of Yavapai] + +A hundred yards from the Manzanita House was a corral and in it a score +of young horses were being held to await shipment. In the course of +his ambling, Bruce came to this bunch of animals and leaned against the +bars, poking a hand through and snapping his thumb encouragingly as the +ponies crowded against the far side and eyed him with suspicion. He +talked to them a time, then climbed the fence and perched on the top +pole, snapping his fingers and making coaxing sounds in futile effort to +tempt the horses to come to him; and all the time his mind was back at +the Circle A, wondering what had transpired under his roof, in his room, +that day. + +Nora's voice startled him when it sounded so close behind, for he had +not heard her approach. + +"Why, you scart me bad!" he said, with a laugh, letting himself down +beside her. "What you doin' out to-night?" + +He pinched her cheek with his old familiarity, but under the duress of +his own thinking did not notice that she failed to respond in any way to +his pretended mood. + +"I thought I'd like to walk a little an' get th' air," she said. +"An' ... tell you that I'm goin' away." + +"Away, Nora?" + +"Yes, I'm goin' to Prescott, Bruce." + +He lifted his hat and scratched his ear and moved beside her as she +started walking along the road, now a dim tape under the mountain stars. + +"Why, Nora, I thought you was a fixture here; what'll we do without +you?" + +He did not know how that hurt her, how the thought that he _could_ do +without her hung about her heart like a sodden weight. She covered it +well, holding her voice steady, restraining the discouragement that +wanted to break into words, and the night kept secret with her the +pallor of her face. + +"I guess you'll get along, Bruce; you done it before I come an' I guess +th' town'll keep on prosperin' after I leave. I ... I got a chance to go +into business." + +"Why, that's fine, Sister." + +"A lunch counter that I can get for two hundred; I've saved more 'n that +since ... since I come here. That'll be better than workin' for somebody +else an' I figure I'll make as much and maybe considerable more." + +"That's fine!" he repeated. "Fine, Nora!" + +In spite of the complexity of his thinking he found an interval of +respite and was truly glad for her. + +"I ... I wanted to tell you before anybody else knew, 'cause I ... Well, +you made it possible. If you hadn't done this for me ... this here in +Yavapai ... I'd never been ..." + +He laughed at her. + +"Oh, yes you would, Nora. You had it in you. If I hadn't happened along +some one else would. What we're goin' to be, we're goin' to be, I +figure. I was only a lucky chance." + +"Lucky," she repeated. "Lucky! God, Bruce, lucky for me!" + +"Naw, lucky for me, Nora. Why, don't you know that every man likes to +have some woman dependin' on him? It's in us to want some female woman +lookin' to us for protection an' help. It tickled me to death to think I +was helpin' you, when, all the time, I knew down in my heart, I was only +an accident.'' + +"You can say that, Bruce, but you can't make me believe it." + +They walked far, talking of the past, of her future, but not once did +the conversation touch on Ann Lytton. Bayard kept away from it because +of that privacy with which he had come to look on the affair, and the +girl knew that his presence there in town after Ann's departure for the +ranch could mean only that a crisis had been reached. With her woman's +heart, her intuition, she was confident of what the outcome would be. +And though she had given her all to help bring it about, she knew that +the sound of it in speech would precipitate that self-revelation which +she had avoided so long, at such cost. + +"I'll see you again," she said, when they stood before the hotel and she +was ready to enter for the night. "I'll see you again before I go, +Bruce. And--I ... thank you ... thank you...." + +She gripped his hand convulsively and lowered her head; then turned and +ran quickly up the steps, for she would not let him see the emotion, nor +let him hear uncertain words form on her lips. + +In her last speech with him, Nora had lied; she had lied because she +knew that to tell him she had packed her trunk and would leave on the +morning train would bring thanks from him for what she had done for Ann +Lytton; and Nora could not have stood this. From the man downstairs she +had learned kindness, had learned that not all mistakes are sins, had +learned that there is a judgment above that which denounces or commends +by rule of thumb. He had set in her heart a desire to be possessed by +him, had fed it unconsciously, had led her on and on to dream and plan; +then, had unwittingly wrecked it. But he had made her too big, too fine, +too gentle, to let jealousy control her for long. She had weakened just +once, and that had served to set in Nora's heart a new resolve, a finer +purpose than had ever found a place there before. And, as she stumbled +up the narrow stairway, the tears scalding her cheeks, her soul was +glad, was light, was happy, for she knew true greatness. + +Bayard roamed until after midnight; then went to his room in the hotel +and slept brokenly until dawn. In those hours he chilled with fear and +experienced flushes of temper, but behind it all he was resigned, +willing to wait. He had done his all, he had held himself strictly +within the bounds of justice as he conceived it, and beyond that he +could do no more. + +The east had only commenced to silver when he rode out of town at a +brisk gallop. He did not realize what going back to his ranch meant +until he was actually on his way and then with every length of the road +traveled, his apprehensions rose. It was no business of his he argued, +what had transpired the day before; it was Ann's affair ... and her +husband's. Yet, if he had left her alone, unprotected, and Lytton had +done her harm, he knew that he could never escape reproaching himself, +and his suffering would be in proportion to hers. Then, of the many, +there was another disturbing possibility. Perhaps a complete +reconciliation had followed. Perhaps he would ride into his dooryard to +find Ann Lytton cooking breakfast for her husband, smiling and happy, +refusing to meet his gaze, ashamed of what had been between them. + +He prodded his pony to greater speed with that thought. + +The sun was not yet up when he pulled his swift-breathing horse to a +stop. The outer gate stood open, and, as he rode through, his face +clouded slightly with annoyance over the unusual occurrence, but when he +looked to the horse corral and saw that it, too, was open, and empty, +that Abe was gone, his annoyance became fear. He spurred the tired pony +across the yard and flung off before the house with eyes on that portion +of the kitchen which was visible through the door. Then, stopped, stood +still, and listened. + +Not a sound except the breathing of his horse. The breeze had not yet +come up, no animal life was moving. An uncanny sense of desertion was +upon the place and for a moment Bayard knew real panic. What if some +violence.... + +"Lytton!" he called, cutting his half-formed, horrible thought short, +and stepped into the room. + +No answer greeted him and, after listening a moment, he again shouted. +Then walked swiftly to the room where Ned Lytton had lived through those +weeks. He knocked, waited, flung open the door and grunted at the +emptiness which he found. One more room remained to be inspected--his +room--and he turned to the door which was almost closed. He rapped +lightly on the casing; louder, called for Lytton, grasped the knob and +entered. + +The overturned table, broken lamp, the spreading stain of its oil, the +rumpled rugs yielded their mute suggestion, and he moved slowly about, +eyeing them, searching for other evidence, searching for something more +than the fact that a struggle had taken place, hoping to find it, +fearing to know. + +He stopped suddenly, holding his head to one side as though listening to +catch a distant sound. + +"Both saddle horses gone ... they're gone," he muttered to himself and +started from the room on a run. + +He inspected the saddle rack under his wagonshed and saw that the third +saddle was missing, and then, with expert eyes, studied the ground for +evidence. + +A trail, barely discernible in the multitude of hoof-marks, led through +to the outer gate, crossed the road and struck straight east across the +valley. + +"That's Abe," he said excitedly to himself. "That was made late +yesterday." + +He stood erect and looked into the far reaches of the lower valley +where the wreaths of mists in the hollows were turning to silver and +those without shelter becoming dispelled as the sun spread its first +warmth over the country. + +"You've stolen my horse!" he said aloud, and evenly, as though he were +dispassionately charging some one before him with the misdeed. "You +stole my horse, but she ... was your woman!" + +He straightened and lifted his head, moving it quickly from side to side +as he strove to identify a moving object far below him that had risen +suddenly into sight on one of the valley swells and disappeared again in +a wash. It was a horse, he knew, but whether it was a roamer of the +range or a beast bearing a rider, he could not tell. He waited anxiously +for its reappearance, again hoping and fearing. + +"Huh! You're carryin' nobody," he muttered aloud as the speck again came +into view. "An' you sure are goin' some particular place!" + +The animal was too far distant to be readily identified but about its +swing was a familiar something and, inspired by an idea, Bayard returned +to the house, emerged with a field glass and focused it on the +approaching horse. The animal was his sorrel stallion. + +"Come on, Abe," he said aloud, putting down the binoculars with a hand +that trembled. "They've sent you on home, or you've got away.... But how +about th' party you carried off?" + +He walked to the gate and stood uneasily awaiting the arrival of the +animal. As the sorrel came into sight from the nearest wash into which +he had disappeared he was moving at a deliberate trot, but when he made +out the figure of his waiting master he strode swifter, finally breaking +into a gallop and approaching at great speed, whinnering from time to +time. + +The bridle reins were knotted securely about the horn. He had not +escaped; Abe had been sent home. He stopped before Bruce and nuzzled the +man's hands as they caressed his hot, soft nose. + +"It looks as if they had trouble before they left, from th' way my room +is," the man said to the horse as he stroked his nose, "but I know right +well he'd never got you out of that corral alone an' never got you off +in that direction unless somebody'd helped him; she might make you mind +'cause she rode you once. If it wasn't for that ... I'd think she'd been +forced ... 'cause they must have had a racket...." + +He led the horse through the gate and into the corral. There, he slipped +the bridle off, uncinched and dragged the saddle toward him. As the +polished, darkened seat turned to the bright sunlight, he saw that the +leather had been defaced and, indignation mounting, he leaned over to +inspect it. The resentment departed, a mingling of fear and triumph and +rage rose within him, for on the saddle had been scratched in hasty, +crude characters: + + BOUND FOR MI + NE + HELP + +No need to speculate as to the author of that message on the saddle. +That Ann had been forced by circumstances to do the work furtively was +as evident. And the combination of facts which rode uppermost in his +confused mentality was this. Ann Lytton was being taken to the Sunset +mine against her will; she had appealed to him for aid and, because of +that, he knew that she had chosen between the two, between her husband +and her honorable lover! + +For a moment, mad, hot triumph filled him. He had done his best with the +ruin of a man he had set out to reconstruct; he had groomed him well, +conscientiously, giving him thorough care, great consideration, just to +satisfy his own moral sense; he had given him back to Ann at the cost of +intense suffering ... and it had not been enough for her; she was not +satisfied. Beside her husband, bound for her husband's mountain home, +she had found herself in her hour of need and had cried out to him for +help! + +Bruce calculated swiftly as he stood there. Lytton's trail from the +ranch led straight eastward, toward the Sunset group. They had not +ridden the whole forty-five miles at one stretch. He was satisfied of +that. Obviously, they had stopped for the night and out in that country +toward which they had started was only one ranch that would not take +them miles out of their course. That was the home of Hi Boyd, a dozen +miles straight east, six miles south and east from Yavapai, thirty-three +miles from the Sunset group. By now they were making on, they could +finish their journey before night.... + +And then recurred a thought that Bruce had overlooked in those moments +of speculation, of quick thinking: + +"Good God, Benny Lynch's waitin' for him ... with murder in his heart!" +he cried aloud, the horror at the remembrance so sharp, the meaning of +this new factor in the situation so portentous, that the words came from +his lips unconsciously. He stood beside the horse, staring down at the +message on the saddle again, bewildered, a feeling of helplessness +coming over him. + +"I can't let that happen, Abe, I can't!" he said. "I drove him there.... +He must have gone because ... He's found out she was here all along ... +he's blamed it on me.... He's crazy mad an' he's ridin' straight to his +end!... It would free her, but I can't let it happen ... not that +way ... + +"It's up to you to get me to town," he cried as he reached for the +bridle. "Just to Yavapai ... that's all.... You're th' best horse in th' +southwest, but they've got too much of a start on you. We'll try +automobiles this once, Pardner!" + +In an incredibly short time the saddle was on, cinch tight. He gathered +the reins, called to the sorrel and Abe, infected with his excitement, +wheeled for the gate, the man running by his side. As the animal rounded +into the road, Bruce vaulted into the saddle, pawed with his right foot +for the flopping stirrup and leaning low on Abe's neck, shouted into his +ears for speed. + +Merely minutes transpired in that eight-mile race to Yavapai. Bayard's +idea was to hire the one automobile of which the town boasted, start +down the valley road that Lytton and Ann must follow to reach the mine, +overtake and turn them back, somehow, on some pretext. He could arrange +the device later; he could think of the significance of Ann's appeal to +him when the man between them was free from the danger of which Bayard +was aware; his whole thought now was to beat time, to reach town with +the least possible waste of seconds. The steel sinews, the leather +lungs, the great heart of the beast under him responded nobly to this +need. They stormed along the wagon tracks when they held straight, +thundered through the unmarked grass and over rocks when the highway +turned and twisted. Once, when they ran through a shallow wash and Abe +climbed the far side with a scramble, fire shot from his shoes and Bruce +cried, + +"You're th' stallion shod with fire, boy!" + +It was a splendid, unfaltering run, and, when the rider swung down +before the little corrugated iron building that housed Yavapai's motor +car, the stallion was black with water and his breath came and went with +the gasps of fatigue and nervous tension. + +Bruce turned from his horse and stepped toward the open door of the +garage. A man was there, behind the car, looking dolefully down at an +array of grease covered parts that littered the floor. + +"Jimmy, I want you to take me out on th' Valley road this mornin'. How +soon can we get away?" + +"It won't be this mornin' or this afternoon, Bruce," the man said, with +a shake of his head. "I've got a busted differential." + +"Can't it be fixed?"--misgiving in his voice. + +"Not here. I have to send to Prescott for a new one. I'll be laid up a +couple of days anyhow." + +Bayard did not answer. Just stood trying to face the situation calmly, +trying to figure his handicap. + +"Is it awful important, Bruce?" the man asked, struck by the cowman's +attitude. + +"I guess th' end of th' world's more important,"--as he turned away, +"but to me, an' compared to this, it's a small sized accident." + +He walked slowly out into the street and paused to look calculatingly at +Abe. Then, turning abruptly, struck by a new possibility, he ran across +to the Manzanita House, entered the door, strode into the office, took +down the telephone receiver and rattled the hook impatiently. + +"I want Hi Boyd's ranch," he said to the operator. Then, after a wait in +which he shifted from foot to foot and swore under his breath: "Hello +... Boyd's? Is this Hi Boyd? It is? ... Well Hi, this is Bruce Bayard +an' I've got to have a horse from you this mornin'...." + +"A horse!" came the thin, distant exclamation over the wire. "Everybody +wants horses off me today...." + +"But I've _got_ to have one, Hi! It's mighty important. Yours is th' +only ranch that's on my way--" + +"... an' we let one get away this mornin'," the voice went on, not +pausing for Bruce's insistence, "'fore daylight an' left a lady who +spent th' night with us a foot. We had to go catch up another for 'em +an' Lytton--Ned Lytton, was th' man--only got on two hours ago ... three +hours late! No, they ain't a horse on th' place that'll ride." + +"Can't you catch one for me?" Bruce persisted. + +"How? Run him down on foot? If I was a young man like you, I might, but +now...." + +Bayard slammed up the receiver and turned away, staring at the floor. He +walked into the street again, looking about almost wildly. One by one +the agencies that might prevent the impending catastrophe out yonder had +been rendered helpless. The automobile, the chance of getting a change +horse, his haste in riding to Yavapai and its consequent inroads made +upon Abe's strength. + +"I'm playin' with a stacked deck!" he muttered, as he approached the +stallion. "There ain't another horse in this country equal to you even +after your mornin's work," he said, looking at the breathing, sweat +darkened creature. "I wouldn't ask you to do it for anybody else, Boy. +But ... won't you do it for her? She sent for me. Will you take me back? +It'll mean a lot to her, let alone what it means to me ... if I don't +stop him. + +"It's thirty-five miles for us to make while they're doin' little more +'n twenty, for they've been traveling since dawn. Maybe it'll be your +last run ... It may break your heart.... How about it?" + +In his desperation, something boyish came into his tone, his manner, and +he appealed to his horse as he would have pleaded with another human +being. The sorrel looked at him inquiringly, great intelligent eyes +unblinking, ears forward with attentiveness and, after a moment, the +white patch on his nose twitched and he moved closer against his master +as he gave a low little nicker. + +"Is that your answer, Abe? Are you sayin' yes?" Bayard asked, and +unbuckled his chap belt. "Is it, old timer? You're ... it's all up to +you!" He kicked out of his chaps, flung them to the hotel porch, +mounted, reined the stallion about and high in the stirrups, a live, +flexible weight, rode out of town at a slow trot, holding the horse to +the gait that the wind which blew in from the big expanse of country +might cool him. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE END OF THE VIGIL + + +Benny Lynch was at work in the face of the Sunset's lower tunnel. He +swung his singlejack swiftly, surely, regularly, and each time it struck +the drill, his breath whistled through his lips in the manner of mine +workers. His candle, its stick secure in a crack above him, lighted the +small chamber and under its uncertain, inefficient rays, his face seemed +drawn and hard and old. + +A fortnight ago, when he rode to the Circle A ranch to share with Bayard +the secret that harassed him his countenance had been merely sober, +troubled; but now it gave evidence of a severe strain that had endured +long enough to wear down his stolidity--the tension that would naturally +come to a man who is normally kind and gentle and who, by those same +qualities, is driven to hunt a fellow human as he would plot to take the +life of a dangerous animal. Through those two weeks he had been waiting +alone in the mining camp, working eight hours each day, doing his +cooking and housework methodically, regularly, telling himself that he +had settled down to the routine of industriously developing property +that was rightfully his, when that occupation was only a ruse, a blind, +when he was waiting there solely for the opportunity to kill! His +watching had not been patient; it was outwardly deliberate, true, but +inwardly it kept him in a continual state of ferment; witness the lines +about his mouth, the pallor of his skin, the feverish, expectant look in +his eyes. + +On a spike in the timbering hung an alarm clock ... and a gun belt, +weighted with revolver and ammunition. At regular, frequent intervals, +the blows of his jack were checked and he sat crouched there, head +forward and a trifle to one side, as though he were listening. When no +sound save the singing of his candle wick reached his ears, he went on, +regularly, evenly, purposeful. Possibly the tension that showed about +his mouth became more noticeable after each of these brief periods when +he strained to catch sounds. + +With a final blow Benny left off the rhythmic swing, wiped his forehead +with a wrist, poured water from a small tin bucket into the hole on +which he was at work and picked up his jack to resume the swinging. He +glanced at the clock. + +"It's time," he said aloud, his voice reverberating hollowly in the +place. + +He put down his hammer quickly and rose from his squatting position as +though he had neglected to perform some important duty. He took down the +gun belt, slung it about his waist, and, making a reflector of his +hollowed hand for the candle, started out along the tunnel, walking +swiftly, intent on a definite end. When he reached the point where the +darkness of the drift was dissipated by the white sunlight, he +extinguished his feeble torch, jabbed the candlestick into the +hanging-wall and reached for a pair of binoculars that, in their worn +and battered case, hung from the timbering. + +"This is 'n elegant day," he said aloud, as he walked out on to the +dump, manipulating the focusing screw of the glass and looking +cautiously around at the pine clad mountains which stretched away to +right, left and behind him. + +Evidently his mind was not on his words or on the idea; he was merely +keeping up his game of pretense, while beneath the surface he was alert, +expectant. Near the foot of the pile of waste rock was the log cabin +with its red, iron roof and protruding stove pipe. Far below him and +running outward like a great tinted carpet spread Manzanita Valley. +Close in to the base of the hills on which he stood a range of bald, +flat-topped, miniature buttes made, from his eminence, a low welt in its +contour, but beyond that and except for an occasional island of +knee-high oak brush it seemed to be without mar or blemish. Here and +there patches of deeper color showed and the experienced eye knew that +there the country swelled or was cut by washes, but, otherwise, it all +seemed to be flat, unbroken. + +On this immense stretch of country Benny trained the glass. His manner +was intent, resolute. Each hour during daylight he had been making that +observation for a fortnight; every time he had anticipated reward, +action. Aided by the lenses he picked out the low buttes, saw a spot +that he knew was a grazing horse, a distant shimmering blotch of mellow +white canopied by a golden aura that meant sheep, turned his body from +left to right in swift, sweeping inspection. + +And stopped all movement with a jerk, while an inarticulate exclamation +came from him. + +For the first time his sight had encountered that for which he had been +seeking. He was motionless an instant, then lowered the glass to his +chest-level and stared hard with naked eyes. He wet his lips with his +tongue and strained forward, used the glasses again, shifted his +footing, looking about with a show of bright nervousness, and rubbed the +lenses on his shirt briskly. + +"He ain't even waitin' to take th' road," he said aloud. "He's in a +powerful hurry!" + +Once more the instrument picked out the moving dot under that vast dome +of brilliant blue sky and, for a lengthy interval Benny held his aided +gaze upon it, watching it disappear and come into sight again, ever +holding toward him through wash and over swells, maintaining its steady +crawling. He moved further out on the dump to obtain a better view and +leaned against the rusty ore car on its track that he might be steadier; +for sight of that purposeful life down yonder had started ever so slight +tremors through his stalwart limbs. + +He muttered to himself, and again looked alertly about, right and left +and behind. His eye was brighter, harder. When he looked into the +valley again, sweeping its expanse to find the horseman who had +momentarily disappeared, he stood with gaze fixed in quite another +direction and, when he had suppressed his breath an instant to make +absolutely certain, he cried excitedly: + +"In bunches! They're comin' in droves!" + +He put down the binocular, took the six-gun from its holster, twirled +the cylinder briskly and caressed the trigger with an eager finger. His +mouth had become a tight, straight line and his brows were gathered +slightly, as in perplexity. He breathed audibly as he watched those +indications of human life on the valley. He knew then the greatest +torment of suspense.... + +Ten minutes later, when the near dot had become easily discernible to +the naked eye, when the figure of horse and rider was in sharp detail +through the glass, the ominous quality about the man gave way to frank +mystification. He flung one leg over the corner of the ore car, and his +face ceased to reflect his great determination, became puzzled, half +alarmed. + +"That's Bruce's stallion, if I ever seen him!" he thought, "An' he's +been run to th' last breath." + +The horse went out of sight, entered the timber below Benny and the +clicking of stones, the sounds of shod hoofs floundering over bare rocks +gave evidence that he would be at the mine level in another five +minutes. The man hitched his gun belt about, took one more anxious, +puzzled look down into the valley where other figures moved, and walked +down the trail toward the cabin slowly, watching through the pines for +sight of the climbing animal. + +A man came first, bent over that he might climb faster up the steep +trail. He was leading a horse that was drenched from ear to ankle, +lathered about neck and shoulder and flank, who breathed in short, low +sobs, and stepped with the uneven awkwardness of utter fatigue. Benny +stopped as he recognized Bayard and Abe and his right hand which had +rested lightly on the gun butt at his hip dropped to his thigh. He stood +still, waiting for them to come nearer, wondering anxiously what this +might mean, for he knew that the owner of the sorrel stallion would +never have ridden him to that condition without cause. + +Bayard looked up, saw the man waiting for him and halted between +strides, the one foot far advanced before the other. His face was white +and he stared hard at the miner, studying him closely, dreading to ask +the question that was at his lips. But after that momentary pause he +blurted out, + +"Is everything all right, Benny?" + +And Lynch, shaken by Bruce's appearance, the manner of his arrival, +countered: + +"What's wrong? What is it?"--walking swiftly down the trail toward the +newcomer. + +"Has anybody been here before me, to-day?" + +"Nobody, Bruce. What is it?"--anxiously, feeling somehow that they were +both in danger. + +"Thank God for that!" Bayard muttered, some of the intensity going from +him, and turned to loose the cinch. "We weren't too late, Abe, we +weren't." He dragged the saddle from the stallion's dripping back, flung +it on the rocks behind him, pulled off the bridle and with hands that +were not steady, stroked the lathered withers as the horse stood with +head hung and let the breath sob and wheeze down his long throat while +his limbs trembled under his weight. "We've come from town in th' most +awful ride a horse ever made on this valley, Benny. Look at him! I had +to ask him, I had to ask him to do this, to run his heart out for me; I +had to do it!" + +He stood looking at his horse and for the moment seemed to be wholly +absorbed in contemplating the animal's condition; his voice had been +uncertain as he pleaded the vague necessity for such a run. + +"What is it, Bruce? Why was you in such a hurry?" Lynch asked, taking +the cowman gently by the arm, turning him so that they confronted one +another, an uneasy connection forming in his mind between his friend's +dramatic arrival and his own purpose at the mine. + +"Ned Lytton an' his wife are comin' here to-day, Benny,"--bluntly. "I +had to get here before them to stop you ... doin' what you've come here +an' waited to do." + +The other's hand dropped from Bruce's arm; in Benny's face the look of +fear, of doubt, gave way to a return of the strained, tense expression +with its dogged determination. That was it! The woman, identified as +such through his glass, was Lytton's wife! He felt the nerves tightening +at the back of his neck. + +"What do you mean by that ... to stop me?" he asked, spreading his feet, +arms akimbo, a growing defiance about him. + +"What I said, Benny. I've come to stop a killin' here to-day. I thank +God I was in time!" + +His old assurance, his poise, which had been missing on his arrival, had +returned and he stepped forward, reaching out a hand to rest on Benny's +shoulder, gripping through the flannel shirt with his long, stout +fingers. + +"You told me your trouble with Lytton in confidence. I thought once this +mornin' maybe I'd have to break that confidence. I thought when I +started up this trail that I must be too late to do any good, but now +I'm here I know you'll understand, old timer, I know you'll understand!" + +He shook Lynch gently with his hand and smiled, but no responsive light +came from the miner's eyes in return; hostility was there, along with +the fever of waiting. + +"No, I don't understand," he said, sharply. "I don't understand why +you're throwin' in with that scum." + +"Don't think that! It's not for him I'm doin' this. I wouldn't ask my +Abe to run himself sick for _him_! It's for my own peace of mind an' +yours, Benny." + +"My mind'll be at peace when I've squared my dad's account with Lytton +an' not before!"--with a significant gesture toward his gun. + +"But mine won't, an' neither will yours when you know that by comin' to +me with your story you tied me hand an' foot! Hand an' foot, Benny, +that's what! I've never been helpless before, but I am this time; if +Lytton comes to any harm from you here to-day, his blood'll be on my +hands. I know he's a snake, I know he knifed your daddy in th' +back,"--growing more intense, talking faster, "But he's wrong, Benny, +wrong in th' head. A man can't get so lowdown as he is an' not be wrong. + +"Oh, I know him. I know him better than you or anybody else does! I've +been nursin' him for weeks. He's been at my ranch--" + +"At your--" + +"Yes, at my ranch. I took him there a month ago, Benny, to make a man of +him for his wife, the sweetest woman that God ever made live to make us +men better. I've been groomin' him up for her, workin' with him, hatin' +him, but doin' my best to make a man of him. Now, he's bringin' her here +by force because of me, an' she sent back for me ... asked me to help +her. She knows there's danger here. I didn't tell her why, but I told +her that much, told her never to let him come back. Now he's forcin' her +to come with him an' she sent for me. + +"Don't you see? I can't let you shoot him down! Can't you see that, +Benny?" + +He shook him again and leaned forward, face close to face. + +"No, I don't see that it makes any difference," Lynch said slowly, a +hard calm covering his roused emotions. + +Bayard drew back a step and a quick flush swept into his cheeks. + +"But I sent him here, Benny; knowin' you were waitin'. It's my fault if +he--" + +"You sent him?" + +"Yes, I drove him out here! He might never have come back, if it hadn't +been for me. I ... Nobody else knows this, Benny; maybe nobody ever will +but you, but I've got to make you understand. He ... She ... His wife's +been in town a month. She come out here to throw herself away on that +rat, when she don't ... when she hates him. + +"I can't tell you all of it, but yesterday he saw her for th' first +time. + +"He must have raised hell with her ... because of me, because I've known +she was out here and didn't tell him. He took her away an' she ... sent +for me.... + +"Don't you see that I'm to blame? Hell, it's no use hidin' it; he took +her off to get her away from me! He's bringin' her here, th' nearest +place to a home he's got. If 't wasn't for me, he wouldn't have started +for this place; he'd stayed there. Don't you see, Benny, that I'm +drivin' him into your hands. You may be justified in killin', but I +ain't justified ... in helpin' you!" + +"If it's that way ... between she an' you ... you'd ought to be +glad....' + +"Not that way!" Bayard exclaimed. "Not that, Benny! He's everything +you've called him, but I can't foul him. I've got to be more'n square +with him because he is ... her husband an' because she did ... send for +me!" + +For a moment the miner seemed to waver; a different look appeared in his +eyes, an appreciation for the absolute openness of this man before him, +his great sense of fair play, his honesty, his sincerity. Then, he +remembered that minutes had been consumed, that his game was drawing to +a climax. + +"I can't help it," he said, doggedly, drawing back, "We understand each +other now, Bruce, an' my advice to you is to clear out. Things'll happen +right soon." + +"What do you mean?" slowly, with incredulity. + +"Don't you know they wasn't a mile behind you, on th' other side of them +low bluffs?" + +Bayard half turned, sharply, as though he expected to find Ann and +Lytton directly behind him on the trail. + +"God, no!" he answered in a hushed tone. "Rough country, that's why I +didn't see 'em." + +"Well, that's them ... a man an' woman. They ought to be here any +minute." + +Lynch's voice sank to a whisper on the last and he drew the gun from its +scabbard, peering down the trail, listening. On sight of the colt, a +flicker came into Bayard's eyes, his jaw tightened, his shoulders +squared themselves. + +"I'll go down an' meet him," the miner said quite calmly, though the +color had gone even from his lips. "It's ..." + +With a drive of his hand, Bayard's fingers fastened on the gun and the +jerk he gave the weapon tore Lynch from his footing. + +"You'll not, Benny!"--in a whisper, securing the gun, and flinging it +into the brush behind him, gripping the other man by his shirt front, +"You won't, by God, if I have to choke you black in the face!" + +Lynch drew back against the cabin wall, struggling to free himself. + +"It's my fight, Bruce!" ... breathing in gasps, eyes wide, voice +strained almost to the point of sobbing. + +"I'll let go when you promise me to go into your house an' sit there an' +keep quiet until I finish my work ... or, until you're molested." + +"Not after two years! Not after my dad...." + +Tears stood in the miner's eyes and he struck out viciously with his +fists; then Bayard, thrusting his head forward, flung out his arms in a +clinging, binding embrace and they went down on the trail, a tangle of +limbs. Benny was no match in such a combat and in a trice he was on his +face, arms held behind him and Bayard was lashing his wrists together +with his bridle reins. + +"Stand up!" he said, sharply, when he had finished. + +He picked up the revolver and, with a hand under one of the bound arms, +helped Benny to his feet. + +"I'll apologize later. I'll do anything. I came out here to prevent a +killin', Benny, an' my work ain't done yet." + +The miner cursed him in a strained voice and the come and go of his +breath was swift and irregular. He trembled violently. All the brooding +he had experienced in the last months, all the strain of waiting he had +known in the recent days, the conviction that his hour of accomplishment +was at hand, and the sudden, overwhelming sense of physical helplessness +that was now on him combined to render his anger that of a child. He +attempted to hold back, but Bayard jerked him forward and, half dragged, +half carried, he entered the kitchen of the cabin he had helped build, +which had been stolen from him and which was now to be his prison at the +moment when he had planned to make his title to the property good by +killing.... + +Bayard, too, trembled, and his gray eyes glittered. He breathed through +his lips and was conscious that his mouth was very dry. His movements +were feverish and he handled Lynch as though he were so much insensate +matter. + +Benny protested volubly, shouting and screaming and kicking, trying to +resist with all his bodily force, but Bruce did not seem to hear him. He +handled his captive with a peculiar abstraction in spite of the fact +that they struggled constantly. + +Bayard kicked a chair away from the table, forced Lynch into it and +holding him fast with one arm, drew the dangling bridle reins through +the spindles of the back and lashed the miner's bound wrists there +securely. + +"I can't help it, Benny," he said, hurriedly and earnestly, as he +straightened. "You and I ... we'll have this out afterwards.... Your +gun ... I'll leave it here,"--putting the weapon on top of a battered +cupboard that stood against the wall behind Benny. + +"I'm goin' down to turn him back towards town, Benny.... I won't give +you away; he won't know you're here, but I've got to do it myself. I +can't let you kill him to-day.... I can't, because I'm to blame for his +comin' here!" + +He was gone then, with a thudding of boots and a ringing of spurs as he +ran from the room, struck into the trail and went down among the pines +at a pace which threatened a nasty fall at every stride. And Benny, left +alone, whimpered aloud and tugged ineffectually at the knots which held +him captive in his chair. After a short interval, he stopped the +struggling and strained forward to listen. No sound reached his ears +except the low, sweet, throaty tweeting of quail as they ran swiftly +over the rocks, under a clump of brush and disappeared. The world was +very quiet and peaceful ... only in the man's heart was storm.... + +Bayard ran on down the trail toward the edge of the timber where he +might look out on the valley and see those two riders he had followed +and passed without seeing. He had no plan. He would tell Lytton to go +back, would _make_ him go back, with nothing but his will and his naked +hands. He wanted to laugh as he ran, for his relief was great; there was +to be no killing that day, no blood was to be on his conscience, no +tragedy was to stand between him and the woman who had called for aid. + +His pace became reckless, for the descent was steep and, when he emerged +from the timber, his whole attention was centered on keeping himself +upright and overcoming his momentum. When he could stop, he lifted his +eyes to the country below him, searched quickly for the figures of Ned +and his wife and swore in perplexity. He did not see sign of a moving +creature. He knew that there was no depression in that part of the +valley deep enough to hide them from him as he stood on that vantage +point. Had Lynch been mistaken? Had he deceived him artfully? + +He looked about bewildered, wholly at a loss to explain the situation. +Then ran on, searching the trail for indication of passing horses. They +could not have turned back and ridden from sight in the short time that +had elapsed since Benny saw them ... if he had seen them. Where could +they go, but on to the mine? + +The worn trail still led him down grade, though the pitch was not so +severe as it had been higher up; however, he did not realize the +distance he was from timber when he came upon fresh horse tracks. They +had ridden up to that point at a walk; they had stopped there, and when +they went on they had swerved to the right and ridden for the hills with +horses at a gallop. + +Bayard read the tell-tale signs in an instant, wheeled, looked up at the +abrupt slopes above him and cried, + +"He's gone around for some reason ... in a hurry.... To come into camp +from behind!" + +And trembling at thought of what might be happening back there in the +cabin, he started up the trail, running laboriously against the steep +rise of the hill. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE FIGHT + + +Bayard had guessed rightly. After miles of silent riding Lytton had +pulled his horse up with a jerk, had laid a hand on Ann's bridle and +checked her pony with another wrench. + +"Who's that?" he growled, staring at Bayard. + +She had looked at the distant horse, floundering up the slope beyond +them, recognized both Abe and his rider and had turned to stare at her +husband with fear in her eyes. + +"Who is it?" he demanded again, and she dropped her gaze. + +"So that's it!" he jeered. "Your lover is trying to play two games. He's +come to beat us to it, has he?"--he licked his lips nervously. "Well, +we'll see!" + +He hung his spurs in and fanned her horse with his quirt and, still +clinging to her bridle, led his wife at a high lope off to the right, +swinging behind a shoulder of the hill and climbing up a sharp, wooded +draw. + +"I'll fool your friend!" he laughed, twenty minutes later when they had +climbed a steep ridge and the winded horses had dropped into a walk. +"I'll fool him!" + +He drew Bayard's automatic, which he had taken from Ann, and looked it +over in crafty anticipation. + +Ann, after her night and her day of hardship, of ceaseless anxiety, +could not cry out. A sound started but went dry and dead in her throat. +She sat lax in her saddle, worn and confused and suddenly indifferent. +She had been defiant yesterday afternoon for a time; she had been +frightened later; with cunning she had scratched her warning on Abe's +saddle and with like strategy she had managed to set the great horse +free when they were preparing for their early morning start from the +Boyd ranch. She had withstood her husband's taunts flung at her through +their sleepless night, she had taken in silence his abuse when it became +necessary to secure another horse; beside him she had ridden in silence +down the valley, knowing him for a crazed man. And now sight of Bayard, +the sense of relief that his nearness brought, the sudden fear for his +safety at seeing the pistol, reduced her to helplessness. + +"You wait here," she heard her husband say. + +He followed the order with a threat of some sort, a threat against her +life she afterward remembered, dismounted and walked away. At the time +his departure left no impression on her. She sat limp in her saddle a +long interval, then leaned forward and, face in her horse's mane, gave +way to sobbing. The vent for that emotion was relief; how long she cried +she did not know, but suddenly she found herself on the ground, looking +about, alive to the fact that the silence seemed like that of death. + + * * * * * + +Cautiously, Lytton crept up over the rocks after he left Ann. His +movements gave no hint of his recent weakness; they were quick and +jerky, but certain. His lids were narrowed and between them his eyes +showed balefully. He held his weapon in his right hand, slightly +elevated, ready to shoot. Moisture formed on his forehead and ran down +over his cheeks. Now and then his gun hand trembled spasmodically and +then he halted until it was firm again. + +He knew these rocks well and took no chances of exposing himself. He +slunk from tree to boulder and from boulder to brush, always making +nearer camp, always ready for an emergency. He attained a point where he +could look down on the cabin below him and stood there a long time, half +crouched, poised, scanning every corner, every shadow. The corral was +hidden from him and Abe, lying under a spreading juniper tree, was out +of his range of vision. He listened as he watched but no sound came to +him. Then he went on, down the ragged way. + +At intervals of every few feet he halted and listened, repressing even +his own breath that he might hear the slightest sound. But no movement, +no vibration disturbed that crystal noontime until he had gone halfway +to the red-roofed house below the dump. Then a bird fluttered from close +beside him: a soft, abrupt, diminishing whirr of wings and the man +shrank back against the rock, lifting his gun hand high, breath hissing +as it slipped out between his teeth, the craven in him shaking his +limbs, gripping his throat. Discovery of what had startled him brought +only slow relief, and minutes elapsed before he straightened and laughed +silently to shame his nerves to steadiness. + +A stone, loosened by his foot, rolled down before him to the next ledge, +rattling as it went, and he squatted quickly, again afraid, yet alert. +For he felt that noise emanating from his movements would precipitate +developments. But nothing moved, no new sounds came to him. + +He was not certain that Bayard had seen them out on the valley. He did +not know of his wife's message for help; in his confused consciousness +he had supposed that the cowman had ridden to the mine on some covetous +errand and that Bruce was ignorant of the fact that he and Ann had left +the Circle A. He did not even stop to remember that Bayard had come into +sight and disappeared through the timber on Abe, and that the stallion +had slipped away from them before dawn. He had leaped to the conclusion +that Bruce would be in the log house down yonder or somewhere about the +property. So he stalked on, lips dry and hot with the desire to kill.... + +Lytton approached to within ten yards of the cabin without hearing more +sounds. There he straightened to his toes and stretched his neck to look +about, peering over the tops of oak brush that flourished in the scant +soil, and, as he reached his full height, the sharp sound of a chair +scraping on the floor sent him to a wilting, quivering squat, caused his +breath to come in gasps, made his hands sweat until the pistol he held +was slippery with their moisture. His head roared with excitement, but +through it he thought he heard the sound of a man's voice lifted in +speech. + +No window was visible to him from his position. The back door of the +kitchen stood open, he could see, but his view of the room through it +was negligible. At the other end of the room was a door and a window, +but he dared not risk advance from that direction. He crouched there, +panting, fearing, yet planning quickly, driven to desperation by the +urge of the hate which rankled in him. Bruce Bayard had attempted to +steal his wife, he repeated to himself, he had attempted to frighten him +away from his other property, his mine, and he was roused to a pitch of +nervous excitement that carried him beyond the caution of mental balance +and yet did not stimulate him to the abandon of actual madness. He +wanted Bayard's life with all the lust that can be stirred in men by an +outraging of the sense of possession and the passion of jealousy ... +beyond which there can be no destroying desire. + +No other sounds came from the house, but he was satisfied that the man +waiting within was his man and he skulked from the brush, choosing his +footing with care, treading on the balls of his feet, preventing the +stiff branches from slapping noisily together by his cautious left hand. +Slow, cat-like in his movements, he covered the distance to the cabin, +flinging out an arm on the last step as though he were falling and with +it steadying himself against the log wall of the building, where he +balanced a moment, becoming steady. + +He strained to listen and caught sounds of a man's breath expelled in +grunts. The doorway was not six feet from the place where he had halted +and he eyed it calculatingly, noting the footing he must cross, licking +his lips, eyes strained wide open. He took the first step forward and +halted, hand against the wall still to maintain his balance; then on +again, lifting the foot slowly, setting it down with great pains, +putting his weight on it carefully.... + +And then nervous tension snapped. He could no longer hold himself back +and with a lunge he reached the door, gripped the casing with his left +hand and, crouching, swung himself into the doorway, pistol extended +before him, coming to a halt with an inarticulate, sobbing cry that +might have been hate or chagrin or only fright.... For the man he +covered with that weapon was a stranger, an individual he had never seen +before, sitting in a chair, back to him, his pale, startled face turned +over the near shoulder, giving the intruder frightened gaze for +frightened gaze. + +For a moment Lytton remained swaying in the doorway, bewildered, unable +to think. Then, he saw that the other man was bound to his chair, his +hands behind him, and he let go his hold on the casing, straightened +and put one foot over the threshold. He spoke the first words, + +"Who are you?"--in a tone just above a whisper, leaning forward, sensing +in a measure an explanation of this situation. And because of this +intuitive flash of comprehension, he did not give the other opportunity +to answer his first question, but said quickly, lowly, "What are you +doing here?" + +Benny looked at him, studying, a covered craftiness coming into his face +to obliterate the anxiety, the rebelliousness that had been there. His +semi-hysteria was gone, his cold, hard determination to carry his +mission to its conclusion had reasserted itself but covered, this time, +by cunning. He realized what had happened, knew that Lytton had expected +to find another there, he saw that he was ready to kill on sight, and in +the situation the miner read a way out for himself, a method of +attaining his own ends. So he said, + +"I'm takin' a little rest; can't you see?"--ironical in his answer to +Lytton's question, impatient when he put his own counter query. + +He wrenched at the bonds angrily and, partly from the exertion, partly +from the rage that rose within him, his face colored darkly. + +Lytton stepped further into the room, approaching Lynch's chair, looking +closely into his face, gun hand half lowered. + +"Who tied you up?" he asked in a whisper, for his mind was centered +about a single idea; the probable presence of Bayard and his relation to +this man who was some one's prisoner. + +Benny looked down at the floor and leaned over and again tugged at the +knots for he dared not reveal his face as he growled, + +"A damn dirty cowpunch!" + +The other man said nothing; waited, obviously for more information. + +"His name's Bayard," Benny muttered. + +He rendered the impression that he regarded that specific information as +of no consequence, but he heard the catch of a sound in Lytton's throat +and saw him shift his footing nervously. + +"How long ago?" he asked. + +"Too damn long to sit here like this!"--in anger that was not simulated, +for with every word that passed between them, Benny felt his reason +slipping, felt that if this situation continued long enough he must rise +with the chair bound fast to him and try to do harm to this other man. + +"Where'd he go?" + +Lytton bent low as he whispered excitedly and his gun hand hung loosely +at his side. + +Benny shook his head. + +"I dunno," he said. "He went off some'res, but he won't be gone long, +that's a good bet! He was up to somethin'--God knows what. Guess he +thought I'd spoil it." + +He looked up and saw the glitter of Lytton's eyes. + +"Up to something is he?" Lytton laughed, dryly, repeating Lynch's words. +"Up to something! He's always up to something. He's been up to something +for weeks, the wife stealing whelp ... and now if I know what I'm +talking about, he's up _against_ something!" + +"Wife stealer, is he?" Benny laughed as he put that question and was +satisfied when he saw Ned's jaw muscles bulge. "That's his latest, is +it?" + +Lytton looked at him pointedly. + +"You know him pretty well, too?" he asked. + +"Know him! Do I know him? Look at this!"--with a slight lift of his +bound hands. "That's how much I know him.... I seem to have a fair +enough acquaintance, don't I? + +"Say, _hombre_, you turn me loose an' set here an' I'll pack him in to +you ... on my back ... if you're lookin' for him that way!" + +Lytton looked quickly about; then stood still to listen; the silence was +not broken and he stared back at the bound man, a new interest in his +face, as he framed his hasty diplomacy. + +"Do you mean you've ... got a fight with this man? With Bayard?" + +Benny moved from side to side in his chair and forced a laugh. + +"Have I?" he scoffed. "Have I? You just wait until I get loose an' get +my fingers on _him_. You'll think it's a fight, party.... But I'm in a +fine way to do anythin' now!" + +He looked through the front doorway, out down the sharp draw that the +trail to the valley followed. Lytton stepped nearer to him and as he +spoke his voice became eager and rapid, + +"I've a quarrel with him, too!" The craven in him drove him forward to +this newly offered hope, the hope of finding an ally, some one to share +his burden of responsibility, some one he could hide behind, some one, +perhaps, who might be inveigled into doing his fighting for him. "I came +here to hunt him down. When I came down that hill there,"--gesturing--"I +thought he was in here because I heard your chair move on the floor. +When I jumped through that door and covered you, I expected he'd be here +and that I'd ... Well, that I'd square accounts with him for good.... + +"I don't know what your fight with him is, but he's abused you; he's got +you hogtied now. That you've a fight of some sort with him is enough for +me.... Aren't two heads better than one?"--insinuatingly. + +The miner forced himself to meet that inquiring gaze steadily, but his +expression of delight, of triumph, which came into his face was not +forced, was not counterfeit, and he growled quickly: + +"I don't need any man's help in my fight ... when I got an even chance. +My troubles are my own an' I'll tend to 'em, but, if you want to do me a +favor, you'll cut these damn straps ... you'll give me a chance to +fight, man to man!" + +He did not lie with those words; his inference might have been deception +but that chance to fight man to man was the dearest privilege he could +have been offered. + +No primitive urge to punish with his own hands a man who had crossed him +made itself paramount with Lytton; he wanted Bayard to suffer, but the +means did not matter. If he could cause him injury and avoid the +consequence of personal accountability, so much the better, and it was +with a grunt of relief and triumph that he shoved the automatic into the +waist band of his pants, drew a knife from his pocket and grasped the +tightly knotted straps. + +"You bet, I'll help anybody against that dirty-- + +"Sit still!" he broke off, as Benny, quivering with excitement, strained +forward. "I'm likely to cut you if--" + +The blade slashed through the leather. Lynch floundered to his feet, +free, alone in the room with the man he had deliberately planned to +kill, and the overwhelming sense of impending achievement swept all +caution from him. + +He stumbled a step or two forward after the suddenly parting of the +straps set him free and then turned about to face Lytton, who stood +beside the chair closing his knife. Behind the Easterner was the +cupboard on which Bayard had placed Benny's gun, and the miner's first +idea should have been to restrain himself, to keep on playing a +strategic game, to move carefully, deliberately until he was armed and +could safely show his hand. + +But such control was an impossibility. He faced Ned Lytton who stood +there with an evil smile on his lips, and all the love for his dead +father, all the outraged sense of property rights, all the brooding, the +waiting, the accumulated tension caused something in him to swell until +he felt a choking sensation, until the hate came into his face, until he +drew his clenched fists upward and shook his head and bellowed and +charged, madly, blindly, wanting only to have his hands on his enemy, to +take his life as the first men took the lives of those who had done them +wrong! The feel of perishing flesh in his palms ... that was what he +wanted! + +With a shrill cry of fright, Lytton saw what happened. He saw the change +come over the face, the body, the manner of this man before him, saw +Lynch gather himself for the rush and, whipping his hand down to his +stomach as he backed and tried to run, he clutched for the weapon that +would defend him from this new foe. + +But the hand did not close on the pistol butt then. His wrist was caught +in the clamp of incredibly powerful fingers that bound about it and +wrenched it backward; the other hand was pinned to his side by an +encircling arm and the breath was beaten from him as Lynch's impact +sent them crashing into the wall. + +"You will, will you?" Benny snarled thickly. "Cheat an' steal an' ... +lie." + +They strained so for a moment, faces close together, the eyes of the +miner glittering hate, those of Lytton reflecting the mounting fear, +that possessed him. + +"Who are you?" he screamed. "You ... you snake!" + +"I'm Lynch ... Lynch! Son of an old man you cheated an' killed!" Benny +shouted. "I've waited for years for this.... 'T was Bayard, th' man you +hunted, tied me up so I couldn't ... kill you. But you ... walked into +your own trap...." + +"You sna--" + +Lytton's word was cut off by the jerk the miner gave him, dragging him +to the center of the floor, bending him backward, struggling to hold him +with one hand and secure the pistol with the other. Ned screamed again +and drew his knee up with a vigorous snap, jamming it into Benny's +stomach, sending the breath moaning from him. For the following moment +Lytton held the upper hand but Lynch clung to him instinctively, +unthinkingly, wrapping his arms and legs about Ned's body with a +determination to save himself until he could beat down the sickness that +threatened to overwhelm him. He did hold on, but his grip had lost some +of its strength and, when his vision cleared and his mind became agile +again, he felt Lytton's hand between their bodies, knew that it had +fastened on the weapon it had been seeking. He rallied his every force +to overcome that handicap. + +Ned's gun hand came free and he flung himself sideways in an effort to +turn and yank himself from Lynch, but the miner closed on him, caught +the forearm again in a mighty clamp of fingers and swept him smashing +against the one window of the room. The glass went out with a crash and +a jingle and the tough, dry wood of the frame snapped with a succession +of sharp reports. Blood gushed down Lytton's cheek where a jagged pane +had scratched the flesh as it fell and Lynch was conscious that warm +moisture spread over his own upper left arm. + +The Easterner braced against the window sill and grunted and squirmed +until he forced his adversary back a body's breadth.... Then he kicked +sharply, viciously and his boot toe crunched on Lynch's shin, sending a +paralyzing pain through the limb. They swirled and staggered to the far +end of the room in their struggles, the one bent on holding the other's +body close to his to controvert its ceaseless efforts to worm away; and +above their heads was the gun, gripped by fingers that were in turn +clinched in a huge, calloused palm and rendered helpless. + +"You snake!" Lytton cried again, and flung his head up sharply, catching +Lynch under the chin with a sharp click of bone on bone. + +They poised an instant at that, lurched clumsily against the stove and +sent it toppling from its legs while the pipe sections rattled hollowly +down about them, and a cloud of soot rose to fill their eyes. They +lunged into the wall again and hung against it a long, straining moment, +breathless in their efforts; then, grunting as Lytton wriggled violently +to escape, Benny steadily tightened his hold on him. + +Intervals of dogged waiting followed, after which came frantic +contortions as they lost and gathered strength again. Lytton's face was +covered with blood and some of it smeared on Lynch's cheek. Sweat made +their flesh glisten and then became mud as the soot mantled them. +Occasionally one called out in a curse, or in an exclamation of pain, +but much of the time their jaws were set, their lips tight, for both +knew that this fight was to the end; that their battle could finish in +but one of two ways. + +Each time they faced the cupboard Benny shot a glance at its top. His +gun was there; to reach it was his first hope, but he dared not +relinquish for a fractional second his dogged grip on the other man's +hand. + +Lytton renewed his efforts, kicking and bunting. They waltzed awkwardly +across the floor on a diagonal and Benny, backing swiftly on to the +overturned chair to which he had been bound, tripped and lost his +balance again. They went down with mingled cries, Lytton on top. For an +instant he retained the position and threatened to break away, but Benny +rolled over, hooking the other's limbs to helplessness with his own. He +withdrew his right arm from about Lytton's waist and grappled for the +man's throat while Ned writhed and kicked, flung his head from side to +side and struck desperately with his own free fist against the +throttling fingers. He loosed one leg and threshed it frantically, found +a bearing point against the wrecked stove, bowed his body with a +wracking effort and for an instant was out from under, restrained only +by the hot, hard fingers about his gun hand. He strove to reach up and +transfer the pistol to his left, but Benny was the quicker and they rose +to their feet, scrambling and snarling as they sought fresh holds. + +Lynch had the advantage of weight but Lytton's agility offset the +handicap. His muscles might not be able to endure so long a strain, but +they responded more quickly to his thoughts, took lightninglike +advantage of any opportunity offered. The fact enraged Benny and, giving +way to it, he called on his precious reserve of energy for a super +effort, lifted Ned from his feet and spun about as though he would dash +his body against the wall. But Ned met this new move with the strength +of the frenzied, and, when they had made three-quarters of the turn, +Lynch was overbalanced; he stumbled, lurched and with a crash and a rip +they went against the battered old cupboard. + +The jolt steadied the men, but the big fixture, rocking slowly, went +over sideways with a smash of breaking dishes and a rattling, banging of +pans. And from its top, spinning and sliding across the cluttered floor, +went Benny's big blue Colt gun. + +Both men saw at once and on sight of that other weapon their battle +became reversed. Lynch, glassy eyed, struggled to extricate himself now, +to retain his hold on Lytton's hand that held the automatic, but to free +his other, to stoop and recover his own revolver. Ned understood fully +on the first move. He wrenched repeatedly to gain use of the automatic, +but he clung with arms and legs and teeth to Lynch ... wherever he could +find purchase. He succeeded at first in working the fight back into a +corner away from the revolver, but his strength was not lasting. + +Benny redoubled his efforts and slowly they shifted again toward the +center of the room where the reflected sunlight made the blue metal of +the Colt glisten as it lay in the wreckage. They both breathed aloud now +and Lytton moaned at each acute effort he made to meet and check his +enemy's moves. With painful slowness, with ominous steadiness, they made +back toward Lynch's objective, inch by inch, zigzagging across the +floor, hesitating, swaying backward, but always keeping on. The violence +of their earlier struggle had departed; they were more deliberate, more +cautious, but the equality of their ability had gone. Lytton was +yielding. + +Benny got to within four feet of the revolver, gained another hand's +breadth by a strain that set the veins of his forehead into purple +welts. He bent sideways, forcing Ned's right hand with its pistol slowly +down toward the floor. Then, with a slip and a scramble, Lytton left +off his restraining hold, flung himself backward, spun his body about +and with a cry of desperation put every iota of energy into an attempt +to wrest his right hand from Benny's clutch. + +Lynch let him go, but with a motive; for as he released his grip, he +swung his right fist mightily, following it with the whole weight of his +falling body. The blow caught Lytton on the back of the neck, staggered +him, sent him pitching sideways toward the doorway and as Lynch, +pouncing to the floor on hands and knees, fastened his fingers on his +gun, Ned flashed a look over his shoulder, saw, knew that he could never +turn and fire in time, and plunged on through the doorway, falling face +downward into the dust, rolling over and fronting about ... out of the +miner's sight ... pistol covering the door and broken window where Benny +must appear ... if he were to appear. + +And the miner, within the ruined room, knees bent, torso doubled +forward, gun in his hand, cocked, uplifted, waited for some sound, some +indication from out there. None came and he straightened slowly, backing +against the wall, wiping the sweat from his eyes one at a time that his +vigilance might not be relaxed, gun ready to belch the instant Lytton +should show himself ... if he were to show himself. + +So they watched, hidden from one another, each knowing that his enemy +waited only for him to make a move, each aware that he could not bring +the other into range without exposing himself. After the bang and +clatter of their hand to hand struggle, the silence was oppressive, and +Benny, head turned to catch the slightest sound, thought that he could +hear the quick come and go of Lytton's breath. + +The man inside quivered with impatience; the one who waited in that +white sunlight cowered and paled as the flush of exertion ebbed from his +daubed face. Benny, whose whole purpose in life centered about squaring +his account, as he saw it, with the man outside yearned to show himself, +but held back, not through fear of harm, but because he knew that the +fulfillment of his mission depended wholly upon his own bodily welfare. +Lytton, quailing before the actual presence of great danger, of meeting +a foe on equal footing, of fighting without resort to surprise or +fouling, wanted to be away, to be quit of the place at any cost. He +would have run for it, but he knew that the sounds of his movements +would bring Lynch on his heels. He would have attempted to get away by +stealth but he feared that he might encounter Bayard in any direction. +He did not stop to think that he had no reason for fearing the cowman; +his very guilt, his subconscious disrespect of self, made him regard an +open meeting with Bruce as one of danger. + +So for many minutes, the tension of the situation becoming greater, more +unbearable with each pulse beat. + +Then sounds--faint at first. The rattle of a stone rolling over rock, +the distant swish of brush. A silent interval, followed by the sound of +a gasping cough; then, the faint, clear ring of a spur as the boot to +which it was strapped set itself firmly on solid footing. + +Within the house Lynch could not hear, but Lytton, alert to every +possibility, dreading even the sound of his own breathing, turned his +head sharply.... + +There, below, making up the trail as fast as his exhausted limbs could +carry him, came Bruce Bayard, hat in one hand, arms swinging widely as +he strained to climb faster. He turned an angle of the trail and for the +space of thirty yards the way led across a ledge of smooth, flat rock, +screened by no trees and bearing no vegetation whatever. + +Fear again retreated from Lytton's heart before a fresh rush of wrath +that blinded him and made him heedless. He whirled, leaving off his +watching of the cabin door and window. His gun hand came up, slowly, +carefully, while he gritted his teeth to steady his muscles. He sighted +with care, bringing all his knowledge of marksmanship to bear that there +should be no error, that no possible luck of Bayard's should avail him +anything.... + +And from above and behind the cabin rose a woman's voice: + +"Look out, Bruce!" + +Just those words, but the bell-like quality of the voice itself, the +horror in its shrill tone carrying sharply to them, echoing and +re-echoing down the gulch, struck a chill to the hearts of three men. + +The words had not left Ann's lips before the automatic in Ned's hand +leaped and flashed and the echo of the woman's warning cry was followed +by the smashing reverberations of the shot. But her scream had availed; +it had sent a tremor through Lytton's body even as he fired, and, as +Bayard halted abruptly in the center of the open space without barrier +before him or weapon with which to answer, absolutely at Lytton's mercy, +his hat was torn from his left hand. + +"You whelp!" Ned cried, and on the word took one more step forward, +halted, dropped the weapon on its mark again and paused for the merest +fraction of time. His muscles became plastic, as steady as stone under +the strain of this crisis. He did not hear the quick step on the kitchen +floor, he could not see Benny Lynch half fall through the doorway, but +when the miner's gun, held stiffly out from his hip, roared and belched +and remained steady, ready to shoot again, Ned lowered the weapon just a +trifle. + +A queer, strained grin came over his face and, standing erect, he turned +his head stiffly, jerkily toward Benny who stood crouched and waiting. +Then, very slowly, almost languidly, his gun hand lowered itself. When +it was almost beside his thigh, the fingers opened and the pistol +dropped with a light thud to the earth. Ned lifted the other hand to his +chest and still grinning, as if a joke had been made at his expense +which quite embarrassed him, he let his knees bend as though he would +kneel. He did not follow out the movement. He wilted and fell. He tried +to sit up, feebly, impotently. Then, he lay back with a quick sigh. + +The other two men stood fixed for a moment. Then, with a cry, Bayard +started up the slope at a run. He did not look again at Benny, did not +know that the miner walked slowly forward to where Lytton had fallen. +All he saw was the figure of a hatless woman, face covered with her +hands, leaning against a great boulder twenty yards above the cabin, and +he did not take his eyes from her during one step of the floundering +run. + +"Ann!" he called, as he drew near. "Ann!" + +She turned with a quick, terrified movement and looked at him. He saw +that her face was a mask, her eyes feverishly dry. + +"He didn't--" + +"No, Ann, he didn't," he answered, taking her hands in his, his voice +unsteady. "Benny ... he fired last ... an' there'll be no more +shootin'...." + +She swayed toward him. + +"I sent for you," she began, brushing the hair out of her eyes with the +back of one hand. + +"An' I came, Ann." + +"I ... It was only chance ... that I saw him and ... screamed...." + +"But you did; an' it saved me." + +"I sent for you, Bruce.... To take me away ... from Ned.... To take me +away from him ... with you...." + +She stepped closer and with a quivering sigh lifted her arms wearily and +clasped them about his neck, while Bayard, heart pounding, gathered her +body close against his as the tears came and great convulsions of grief +shook her. + +He leaned back against the rock, holding her entire weight in his arms, +and they were there for minutes, his lips caressing her hair, her +temples, her cheeks. Her crying quieted, and, when she no longer sobbed +aloud, he turned his head to look downward. + +Benny Lynch was just then straightening from a stooping posture beside +Lytton. He turned away, took a cartridge from his belt, slipped it into +the chamber from which the empty piece of smoky brass had been removed +and shoved the gun back into his holster. As it went home, he looked +down at it curiously, stared a moment, drew it out again and examined it +slowly, first one side, then the other. He shook his head and threw the +weapon down the gulch, where it clattered on the rocks. After that, he +walked toward the house, and about his movements was an indication of +the sense of finality, of accomplishment, that filled him. + +"I'll take you away, Sweetheart," Bayard whispered, gently. "But it +won't be necessary to take you ... away from Ned...." + +She shrank closer against him. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE TRAILS UNITE + + +So it was that Ned Lytton ceased to be and with his going went all +barriers that had existed between Ann and Bruce. Each had played a part +in the grim drama which ended with violence, yet to neither could any +echo of blame for Ned's death be attached. Their hands and hearts were +clean. + +Ann's appeal to Bruce for help when Ned led her away from the ranch had +been made because she knew that real danger of some sort awaited Ned at +the Sunset mine; she had not considered herself or her own safety at +all. + +Bruce, for his part, had concentrated his last energy on averting the +tragedy. He had looked for the moment on his love of Ann only as a +factor which had helped bring about the crisis, thereby making him +accountable. To play the game as he saw it, to be squared with his own +conscience, he had risked everything, even his life, in his attempt to +save Lytton. + +Ned's true self had come to the surface just long enough to answer all +questions that might have been raised after his death. In that last +experience of his life he had risen above his cowardice. After hearing +Ann's warning scream, he must have known that to fire on Bayard the +second time meant his own death. Yet he was not dissuaded, just kept on +attempting to satiate his lust for the rancher's life. So, utterly +revealed, he died. + +The fourth individual was to be considered--Benny Lynch. Through the +months that he had brooded over the injustice which sent his father to a +quick end, through the weeks that he had planned to administer his own +justice, through the straining days that he had waited to kill, a part +of him had been stifled. That part was the kindly, deliberate, peace +loving Benny, and so surely as he was slow to anger he would have lived +to find himself tortured by regret had he slain for revenge. As it was, +he shot to save the life of a friend ... and only that. He lived to +thank the scheme of things that had called on him to untangle the skein +which events had snarled about Bruce and the woman he loved ... for it +took from him the stain of killing for revenge. + +Somehow, Bruce got Ann away from the Sunset mine that day. She was brave +and struggled to bear up, but after the strain of those last weeks the +fatigue of the ride Ned had forced her to take unnerved her and she was +like a child when they gained the Boyd ranch where she was taken to the +maternal arms of the mistress of that house, to be petted and cried over +and comforted. + +In his rattling, jingling buckboard Judson Weyl drove out to the mining +camp and beside a rock-covered grave murmured a prayer for the soul +which had gone out from the body buried there; when he drove away, his +chin was higher, his face brighter, reflecting the thought within him +that an ugly past must be forgotten, that the future assured those +qualities which would make it forgettable. + +News of the killing roused Yavapai. In the first hour the community's +attention was wholly absorbed in the actual affair at the mine, but, as +the story lost its first edge of interest, inquisitive minds commenced +to follow it backward, to trace out the steps which had led to the +tragedy. + +Ann's true identity became known. The fact that Bayard had sheltered +Lytton was revealed. After that the gossip mongers insinuated and +speculated. No one had known what was going on; when men hide their +relationships with others and with women it must be necessary to hide +something, they argued. + +And then the clergyman, waiting for this, came forward with his story. +He had known; his wife had known. Nora, the girl who had gone, had +known. No, there had been no deception in Bayard's attitude; merely +discretion. With that the talk ceased, for Yavapai looked up to its +clergy. + +Within the fortnight Ann boarded a train bound for the East. Her face +had not regained its color, but the haunted look was gone from her eyes, +the tensity from about her lips. She was in a state of mental and +spiritual convalescence, with hope and happiness in sight to hasten the +process of healing. Going East for the purpose of explaining, of making +what amends she could for Ned's misdeeds, was an ordeal, but she +welcomed it for it was the last condition she deemed necessary to set +her free. + +"It won't be long," she said, assuringly, when Bruce stood before her to +say farewell, forlorn and lonely looking already. + +"It can't be too quick," he answered. + +"Impatient?" + +"I'd wait till 'th' stars grow old an' th' sun grows cold'" he quoted +with his slow smile, "but ... it wouldn't be a pleasant occupation." + +She looked at him earnestly. + +"You might; you could," she whispered, "but _I_ wouldn't wait ... that +long...." + + * * * * * + +Weeks had passed and October was offering its last glorious days. Not +with madly colored leaves and lazy hazes of Indian summer that are gifts +to men in the hardwood belt, but with the golden light, the infinite +distances, the super silence which comes alone to Northern Arizona. The +green was gone from grasses and those trees which drop their foliage +were clothed only in the withered remains of leaves, but color of +incredible variety was there--the mauves, the lavendars, the blues and +purples and ochres of rock and soil, changing with the swinging sun, +becoming bold and vivid or only a tint and modest as the light rays +played across the valley from various angles. The air, made crystal by +the crisp nights, brought within the eyes' register ranges and peaks +that were of astonishing distance. The wind was most gentle, coming in +leisurely breaths and between its sighs the silence was immaculate, +ravished by no jar or hum; even the birds were subdued before it. + +On a typical October morning, before the sun had shoved itself above the +eastern reaches of the valley, two men awoke in the new bunkhouse that +had been erected at the Circle A ranch. They were in opposite beds, and, +as they lifted their heads and stared hard at one another with that +momentary bewilderment which follows the sleep of virile, active men, +the shorter flung back his blankets and swung his feet to the floor. He +rubbed his tousled hair and yawned and stretched. + +"Awake!" he said, sleepily, and shook himself, "... +awake,"--brightening. "Awake, for 'tis thy weddin' morn!" + +The speaker was Tommy Clary and on his words Bruce Bayard grinned +happily from his pillow. + +"... weddin' morn ..." he murmured, as he sat up and reached for his +boots at the head of his bunk. + +"Yes, you wake up this mornin', frisky an' young an' full of th' love of +life an' liberty, just like them pictures of th' New Year comin' in! An' +by sundown you'll be roped an' tied for-good-an'-for-all-by-God, an' t' +won't be long before you look like th' old year goin' out!" + +He grinned, as he drew on his shirt, then dodged, as Bayard's heavy hat +sailed at him. + +"It's goin' to be th' other way round, Tommy," the big fellow cried. +"We're going to turn time backward to-day!" + +"Yes, I guess _you_ are, all right," deliberated Tommy. "Marriage has +always seemed to me like payin' taxes for somethin' you owned or goin' +to jail for havin' too much fun; always like payin' for somethin'. But +yourn ain't. Not much." + +Bruce laughed. They talked in a desultory way until they had dressed. +Then Bayard walked to the other side of the room where a sheet had been +tacked and hung down over bulky objects. He pulled it aside and stood +back that Tommy might see the clothing that hung against the wall. + +"How's that for raiment?" he demanded. + +Tommy approached and lifted the skirt of the black sack coat gingerly, +critically. He turned it back, inspected the lining and then put his +hand to his lips to signify shock. + +"Oh, my gosh, Bruce! Silk linin'! You'll be curlin' your hair next!" + +"Nothing too good for this fracus, Tommy. Best suit of clothes I could +get made in Prescott. Those shoes--patent leather!" He picked up one and +blew a fleck of dust from it carefully. "Cost th' price of a pair of +boots an' don't look like they'd wear a mile." He reached into the +pocket of the coat and drew out a small package, unrolling it to +display a necktie. "Pearl gray, they call it, Tommy. An' swell as a city +bartender's!" He waved it in triumph before the sparkling eyes of his +pug-nosed friend. + +"Gosh, Bruce, you're goin' to be done out like a buck peacock, clean +from your toes up. You-- + +"Say, what are you goin' to wear on your head?" + +Bayard's hand dropped to his side and a crestfallen look crossed his +features. + +"I'm a sheepherder, if I didn't forget," he muttered. + +"Holy Smoke, Bruce, you can't wear an ordinary cowpuncher hat with them +varnished shoes an' that there necktie an' that dude suit!" + +"I guess I'll have to, or go bareheaded." + +Tommy looked at him earnestly for he thought that this oversight +mattered, and his simple, loyal heart was touched. + +"Never mind, Bruce," he consoled. "It'll be all right, prob'ly. She +won't--" + +"You go out and make me a crown of mistletoe, Tommy. Why, she wouldn't +like me not to be somethin' of my regular, everyday self. She'll like +these clothes, but she'll like my old hat, too!" + +Tommy seemed to be relieved. + +"Yes, maybe she will," he agreed. "She's kinda sensible, Bruce. She +ain't th' kind of a woman to jump her weddin' 'cause of a hat." + +Bayard, in a sudden ecstasy of animal spirits, picked the small cowboy +up in his arms and tossed him toward the ceiling, as if he were a child, +and stopped only when Tommy wound his arms about his neck in a +strangling clasp. + +"Le'me down, an' le'me show you my outfit!" he cried. "Don't get stuck +on yourself an' think you're goin' to be th' only city feller at this +party!" + +Breathlessly Bayard laughed as he put him down and followed him to the +bunk where he had slept with his war-bag for a pillow. Tommy seated +himself, lifted the sack to his lap and, with fingers to his lips for +silence, untied the strings. + +"Levi's!" he whispered, hoarsely, as he drew out a pair of brand new +overalls and shook them out proudly. "I ain't a reg'lar swell like you +are," he exclaimed, "but even if I am poor I wear clean pants at +weddin's!" + +He groped in the bag again and drew out a scarf of gorgeous pink silk. + +"Ain't that a eligent piece of goods?" he demanded, holding it out in +the early sunlight. + +"It is that, Tommy!" + +"But that ain't all. Hist!" + +He shifted about, hiding the bag behind his body that the surprise might +be complete. Then, with a swift movement he held aloft proudly a +stiff-bosomed shirt. + +"Ah!" he breathed as it was revealed entirely. "How's that for tony?" + +"That's great!" + +"Reg'lar armor plate, Bruce! I've gentled th' damn thing, too! Worked +with him 'n hour yesterday. He bucked an' rared an' tried to fall over +backwards with me, but I showed him reason after a while! Just proves +that if a man sets his mind on anythin' he can do it ... even if it's +bein' swell!" + +Bruce laughed his assent and remarked to himself that the array of +smudgy thumb prints about the collar band was eloquent evidence of the +struggle poor Tommy had experienced. + +"But this!" the other breathed, plunging again into the bag. "This here +is--" + +He broke short. "Why, you pore son-of-a-gun!" he whispered as he +produced his collar. + +Originally it had been a three-inch poke collar, but it was bent and +broken and smeared on one side with a broad patch of dirty brown. + +"Gosh a'mighty, Tommy, you've gone an' crippled your collar!" Bruce said +in rebuke. + +"Crippled is right, an' that ain't all! Kind of a sick lookin' pinto, he +is, with that bay spot on him." He looked up foolishly. "I ought to put +that plug in my pocket. You see, I rode out fast, an' this collar an' my +eatin' tobacco was in th' bottom of th' bag tied on behind my saddle. +Nig sweat an' it soaked through an' wet th' tobacco an' ... desecrated +my damn collar!" + +He rose resolutely. + +"A li'l thing like that can't make me quit!" he cried. "I rode this here +thing with its team-mate yesterday. I won't be stampeded by no change +in color. I've done my family wash in every stream between th' Spanish +Peaks an' California. I won't stop at this!" + +He strode from the bunk house and Bruce, looking through the window, saw +him lift a bucket of water from the well and commence to scrub his +daubed collar vigorously. + +Smoke rose from the chimney of the ranch house and through the kitchen +doorway Bayard saw a woman pass with quick, intent stride. It was Mrs. +Boyd. She and Mrs. Weyl had arrived the day before to set the house +aright and to deck the rooms in mountain greenery--mistletoe, juniper +berries and other decorative growth. + +The new bunkhouse, erected when plans for the wedding were first made, +had been occupied for the first time by Bruce and Tommy that night. +Tommy was to return in the spring and put his war-bag under the bunk for +good, because Bruce was going in for more cattle and would be unable to +handle the work alone. + +A half hour later the men presented themselves for breakfast, to be +utterly ignored by the bustling women. They were given coffee and steak +and made to sit on the kitchen steps while they ate, that they might not +be in the way. Bruce was amused and rebuked the women gently for the +seriousness with which they went about their work, but for Tommy the +whole procedure was a grave matter. He ate distractedly, hurriedly, +covering his embarrassment by astonishing gastronomic feats, glancing +sidelong at Bayard whenever the rancher spoke to the others, as though +those scarcely heeded remarks were something which made heavy demands +upon human courage. + +The interior of the house had been changed greatly. The kitchen range +was new, the walls were papered instead of covered with whitewash. The +room in which Ned Lytton had slept and fretted and come back toward +health was no longer a bed chamber. Its windows had been increased to +four that the light might be of the best. Its floor was painted and +carpeted with new Navajo blankets and a bear skin. A piano stood against +one wall and on either side of the new fireplace were shelves weighted +with books that were to be opened and read and discussed by the light of +the new reading lamp which stood on the heavy library table. + +Tommy was obviously relieved when his meal was finished. He drew a long +sigh when, wiping his mouth on a jumper sleeve, he stepped from the +house and followed Bruce toward the corral where the saddle horses ate +hay. + +"It's a wonder you ain't ruined that horse, th' way you baby him," Clary +remarked, when Bayard, brush in hand, commenced grooming Abe's sleek +coat. "Now, with my Nig horse there, I figure that if he's full inside, +he's had his share. I'm afraid that if I brushed him every day he'd get +dudish an' unreliable, like me.... I'm ready to do a lot of rarin' an' +runnin' every time I get good an' clean!" + +"I guess th' care Abe's had hasn't hurt him much," Bruce replied. "He +was ready when the pinch came; th' groomin' I'd been givin' him didn't +have much to do with it, I know, but th' fact that we were pals ... that +counted." + +His companion sobered and answered. + +"You're right, there, Bruce, he sure done some tall travelin' that day." + +"If he hadn't been ready ... we wouldn't be plannin' a weddin' this +noon. That's how much it counted!" + +Tommy moved closer and twined his fingers in the sorrel's mane. Neither +spoke for a moment; then Clary blurted: + +"She's got th' same kind of stuff, Bruce, or she wouldn't come through +neither. Abe made th' run of his life and wasn't hurt by it; she went +through about four sections of hell an'.... She looked like a Texas rose +when she got off th' train last week!" + +Bayard rapped the dust from his brush and answered: + +"You're right; they're alike, Tommy. It takes heart, courage, to go +through things that Ann an' Abe went through ... different kinds. It +wasn't so much what happened at th' mine. It was th' years she'd put in, +abused, fearin', tryin' not to hate. That was what took th' sand, th' +nerve. If she hadn't been th' right sort, she'd have crumpled up under +it." + +Clary said nothing for a time but eyed Bruce carefully, undisguised +affection in his scrutiny. Then he spoke, + +"My guess is that you two'll set a new pace on this here trail to +happiness!" + + * * * * * + +The forenoon dragged. Bruce completed the small tasks of morning and +hunted for more duties to occupy his hands. The women would not allow +him in the house, and beneath his controlled exterior he was in a fury +of impatience. From time to time he glanced speculatively at the sun; +then referred to his watch to affirm his judgment of the day's growth. + +Ann was still at the Boyd ranch and old Hi was to drive her to her new +home before noon. Judson Weyl, who was to marry them, had been called +away the day before but had given his word that he would leave Yavapai +in time to reach the ranch with an ample margin, for Bruce insisted that +there be no hitch in the plans. Long before either was due the big +rancher frequently scanned the country to the north and east for signs +of travelers. + +"You're about as contented as a hen with a lost chicken," Tommy +observed. + +Bruce smiled slightly and scratched his chin. + +"Well, I'd hate to have anything delay this round-up." + +Another hour dragged out before his repeated gazing was rewarded. Then, +off in the east, a smudge of dust resolved itself into a team and wagon. + +"That's Hi with Ann!" he said excitedly. "Our sky pilot ought to be here +soon." + +"Lots of time yet," Tommy assured. "He won't be leavin' town for a +couple of hours." + +"Maybe not, Tommy, but I don't trust that chariot of fire. I'm afraid +it'll give its death rattle almost any time, dump our parson in th' road +an' stop our weddin'. That'd be bad!" + +Tommy roused to the dire possibilities of the situation. + +"It would," he agreed. "It takes a preacher, a fool or a brave man to +trust himself in a ve-hicle like that. He ought to come horseback. He-- + +"Say, Bruce, why can't I saddle up an' lead a horse in after him? I can +make it easy. That'd keep you from worryin'. Matter of fact, between th' +women in th' house an' you with your fussin' outdoors I'm afraid my +nerves won't stand it all! I've been through stampedes on th' Pecos, an' +blizzards in Nebraska; I've been lost in Death Valley an' I've had a +silver tip try to box my ears, but I just naturally can't break myself +to p'lite society!" + +"I don't believe you, but your idea wins," Bayard laughed. "Go on after +him. Take ... Say, you take Abe for him to ride back! That's th' thing +to do. You put th' parson on Abe an' we'll be as certain to start this +fracas on time as I am that his 'bus is apt to secede from itself on th' +road any minute!" + +Bruce sent Abe away with Tommy. Ann arrived. Twenty minutes before the +time set for the simple ceremony Abe brought the clergyman through the +big gate of the Circle A with his swinging trot, ears up, head alert, as +though with conscious pride. + +"The fact is, Bruce, I'd have been late, if Tommy hadn't come after me," +Weyl confessed as he dismounted. + +"So? I've been expectin' somethin' would happen to you. What was it?" + +"Why, Nicodemus, my off horse, kicked four spokes out of a front wheel +and, when we were putting on another, we found that the axle was +hopelessly cracked." + +"I knew that chariot would quit sometime, but this horse, th' stallion +shod with fire ... he don't know what quittin' is!" + + * * * * * + +The sun was slipping toward the western horizon when the last of the few +who had attended the ceremony passed from sight. For a long time Bruce +and Ann stood under the ash tree, watching them depart, hearing the last +sounds of wheel and hoof and voice break in on the evening quiet. + +The girl was wonderfully happy. The strained look about her eyes, the +quick, nervous gestures that had characterized her after the tragedy of +Ned Lytton's death and before her return to the East, were gone. A +splendid look of peace was upon her; one life was gone, thrown away as a +piece of botched work; another was opening. + +Far away to the north and eastward snow-covered peaks, triplets, rose +against the bright blue of the sky. As Bruce and Ann looked they lost +the silver whiteness and became flushed with the pink of dying day. The +distant, pine-covered heights had become blue, the far draws were +gathering their purple mists of evening. The lilac of the valley's +coloring grew fainter, more delicate, while the deep mauves of a range +of hills to the southward deepened towards a dead brown. Over all, that +incomparable silence, the inexplicable peace that comes with evening in +those big places. No need to dwell further on this for you who have +watched and felt and become lost in it; useless to attempt more for the +uninitiate. + +Ann's arm slipped into her husband's and she whispered: + +"Evening on Manzanita! Is there anything more beautiful?" + +Bayard smiled. + +"Not unless it's daytime," he said. "You know, Ann, for a long, long +time it's seemed to me as though there's been a shadow on that valley. +Even on the brightest days it ain't looked like it should. But now.... +Why, even with the sun goin' down, it seems to me as if that shadow's +lifted! + +"I feel freer, too. This fenced-in feelin' that I've had is gone. I ... +Why, I feel like life, the world, was all open to me, smilin' at me, +waitin' for me, just like that old valley out there. + +"What do you s'pose makes it so?" + +"Must I tell you?" she asked, reaching her arms upward for his neck. + +"Tell me," he said. "With your lips, but without words. That's a kind of +riddle, I guess! Do you know the answer?" + +Indeed, she did! + + +THE END + + * * * * * + +The Beacon Biographies + +_Edited by M. A. DeWOLFE HOWE_ + + +A Series of short biographies of eminent Americans, the aim of which is +to furnish brief, readable, and authentic accounts by competent writers +of the lives of those Americans whose personalities have impressed +themselves most deeply on the character and history of their country. + + Louis Agassiz, by Alice Bache Gould + John James Audubon, by John Burroughs + Edwin Booth, by Charles Townsend Copeland + Phillips Brooks, by M. A. DeWolfe Howe + John Brown, by Joseph Edgar Chamberlin + Aaron Burr, by Henry Childs Merwin + James Fenimore Cooper, by W. B. Shubrick Clymer + Stephen Decatur, by Cyrus Townsend Brady + Frederick Douglass, by Charles W. Chesnutt + Ralph Waldo Emerson, by Frank B. Sanborn + David G. Farragut, by James Barnes + John Fiske, by Thomas Sergeant Perry + Benjamin Franklin, by Lindsay Swift + Ulysses S. Grant, by Owen Wister + Alexander Hamilton, by James Schouler + James Russell Lowell, by Edward E. Hale, Jr. + Samuel Finley Breese Morse By John Trowbridge + Thomas Paine, by Ellery Sedgwick + Edgar Allan Poe, by John Macy + George Washington, by Worthington C. Ford + Daniel Webster, by Norman Hapgood + Walt Whitman, by Isaac Hull Platt + John Greenleaf Whittier, by Richard Burton + Nathaniel Hawthorne, by Mrs. James T. Fields + Father Hecker, by Henry D. Sedgwick, Jr. + Sam Houston, by Sarah Barnwell Elliott + Stonewall Jackson, by Carl Hovey + Thomas Jefferson, by Thomas E. Watson + Robert E. Lee, by William P. Trent + Abraham Lincoln, by Brand Whitlock + Henry Wadsworth Longfellow By George Rice Carpenter + + +With a photogravure frontispiece. Each volume has a chronology of the +salient features of the life of its subject, and a critical bibliography +giving the student the best references for further research. Sold +separately. + + * * * * * + +Business + +The Psychology of Advertising + +The Theory and Practice of Advertising + +By WALTER DILL SCOTT + + +Practical books based on facts, painstakingly ascertained and +suggestively compared. "The Psychology of Advertising" and "The Theory +and Practice of Advertising" together form a well-rounded treatment of +the whole subject, a standard set for every man with anything to make +known to the public. The author is Director of the Bureau of +Salesmanship Research, Carnegie Institute of Technology, Director of the +psychological laboratory of Northwestern University, and President of +the National Association of Advertising Teachers. He has written many +other important books, including "The Psychology of Public Speaking," +"Influencing Men in Business," and "Increasing Human Efficiency in +Business." + +Professor Scott's books "will be found of value both by the psychologist +and the advertiser, and of unique interest to the general public that +reads advertisements."--_Forum_. + +"Ought to be in the hands of everyone who cares whether or not his +advertising brings returns."--_Bankers' Magazine._ + + * * * * * + +Cookery + +Over 2000 Recipes Completely Indexed Illustrated + +[Illustration] + +OFFICIAL LECTURER United States Food Administration + + +_The_ LITERARY DIGEST _says_: + +Of all the books that have been published which treat of the culinary +art, few have came so near to presenting a complete survey of the +subject as Mrs. Allen's. If evidence were needed to prove that cookery +is so much of a practical art as to have become a noble science, Mrs. +Allen has supplied it. There are more than two thousand recipes in this +book! No reader need be an epicure to enjoy the practical information +that is garnered here. The burden of the author's message is, "Let every +mother realize that she holds in her hands the health of the family and +the welfare and the progress of her husband ... and she will lay a +foundation ... that will make possible glorious home partnership and +splendid health for the generations that are to be." + +In times of Hooverized economy, such a volume will find a welcome, +because the author strips from her subject all the camouflage with which +scientists and pseudoscientists have invested in. The mystery of the +calory, that causes the average housewife to throw up her hands, is +tersely solved. The tyro may learn how to prepare the simplest dish or +the most elaborate. The woman who wants to know what to do and how to do +it will find the book a master-key to the subject of which it treats. + + * * * * * + +Drama + +Play-Making + +A Manual of Craftsmanship + +By WILLIAM ARCHER + + +"I make bold to say," says Brander Matthews, Professor of Dramatic +Literature in Columbia University, "that Mr. Archer's is the best book +that has yet been written in our language, or in any other, on the art +and science of play-making. A score of serried tomes on this scheme +stand side by side on my shelves, French and German, American and +British; and in no one of them do I discern the clearness, the +comprehensiveness, the insight, and the understanding that I find in Mr. +Archer's illuminating pages. + +"He tells the ardent aspirant how to choose his themes; how to master +the difficult art of exposition--that is, how to make his first act +clear; how to arouse curiosity for what is to follow; how to hang up the +interrogation mark of expectancy; how to combine, as he goes on, tension +and suspension; how to preserve probability and to achieve logic for +construction; how to attain climax and to avoid anti-climax; and how to +bring his play to a close." + + * * * * * + +Educational + +The Land We Live In + +_The Book of Conservation_ + +By OVERTON W. PRICE + +_With an Introduction by_ + +GIFFORD PINCHOT + + +"This book will have a very wide distribution, not only in libraries, +but also in the schools." ROBERT P. BASS + +(Former Governor of New Hampshire, and President of the American +Forestry Association) + +"It is the best primer on general conservation for older people that I +have ever seen, and the good it will do will be measured only by the +circulation it receives." + +J. B. WHITE + +(President of the National Conservation Congress) + +"I wish it were possible to have the volume made a text book for every +public school." + +WILLIAM EDWARD COFFIN + +(Vice-President and Chairman of the Committee on Game Protective +Legislation and Preserves, Camp Fire Club of America) + +_With 136 illustrations selected from 50,000 photographs_ + +BOY SCOUT EDITION--JACKET IN COLORS + + * * * * * + +Fiction + +The Best Short Stories of 1915, 1916, 1917 + +Edited by EDWARD J. O'BRIEN + +From every point of view--from that of the actual probabilities of +reading enjoyment to be derived from it by all sorts of readers; from +that of the vivid and varied, but always valid, concernment with life +that it maintains; from that of technical literary interest in American +letters, and from that of sheer esthetic response to artistic +quality--THE BEST SHORT STORIES warrants an emphatic and unconditional +recommendation to all.--_Life._ + +Indispensable to every student of American fiction, and will furnish +each successive year a critical and historical survey of the art such as +does not exist in any other form.--_Boston Transcript._ + + * * * * * + +War + +Beyond the Marne + +By HENRIETTE CUVRU-MAGOT + +Mademoiselle Henriette is the little friend and neighbor of Miss Mildred +Aldrich (author of "A Hilltop on the Marne," "On the Edge of the War +Zone," etc.), who came to Miss Aldrich the day after the Germans were +driven away on the other side of the Marne to suggest that they visit +the battlefield. Her book might be called truly a companion volume to "A +Hilltop on the Marne." + + * * * * * + +War + +Covered With Mud and Glory + +_A Machine Gun Company in Action_ + +By GEORGES LAFOND + +Sergeant-Major, Territorial Hussars, French Army; Intelligence Officer, +Machine Gun Sections, French Colonial Infantry. + +_Translated by_ EDWIN GILE RICH + +_With an Introduction by_ MAURICE BARRÈS of the French Academy + +The Book with GEORGES CLEMENCEAU'S Famous "Tribute to the Soldiers of +France" + + +_Illustrated_ + + * * * * * + +War + +On the Edge of the War Zone + +From the Battle of the Marne to the Entrance of the Stars and Stripes + +By MILDRED ALDRICH + + +The long-awaited continuation of "A Hilltop on the Marne." + +Portrait frontispiece in photogravure and other illustrations. Cloth, +bound uniformly with the same author's "A Hilltop on the Marne" and +"Told in a French Garden." + +Miss Aldrich tells what has happened from the day when the Germans were +turned back almost at her very door, to the never-to-be-forgotten moment +when the news reached France that the United States had entered the war. + + * * * * * + +Told in a French Garden: August, 1914 + +By MILDRED ALDRICH + + +With a portrait frontispiece in photogravure from a sketch of the author +by Pierre-Emile Cornillier. + +Unlike Miss Aldrich's other books, "Told in a French Garden" is a +venture in fiction. + + * * * * * + +War + +The White Flame of France + +By MAUDE RADFORD WARREN + +Author of "Peter Peter," "Barbara's Marriages," etc. + + +The front-line trenches at Rheims during a bombardment when the shells +were whistling over, two Zeppelin raids in London, the heroic services +of devoted actors and actresses when they played for the soldiers of +Verdun, the irony of the mad slaughter, the indestructibility of human +courage and ideals, the spirit and soul of suffering France, the real +meaning of the war--all these things are interpreted in this remarkable +book by a novelist with a brilliant record in the art of writing, who +spent more than half a year "over there." + + +You Who Can Help + +Paris Letters of an American Army Officer's Wife, from August, 1916, to +January, 1918 + +By MARY SMITH CHURCHILL + + +The writer of these letters is the wife of Lieutenant-Colonel +Marlborough Churchill, who, the year before the entrance of the United +States into the war, was an American military observer in France, and +later became a member of General Pershing's staff. Mrs. Churchill +volunteered her services in Paris in connection with the American Fund +for the French Wounded--"the A. F. F. W."--and these are her letters +home, written with no thought of publication, but simply to tell her +family of the work in which she was engaged. + + * * * * * + +War Camps + +Camp Devens + +Described and Photographed by + +ROGER BATCHELDER + +_Author of "Watching and Waiting on the Border"_ + +"An accurate and complete description by pen and lens of Camp +Devens."--Roger Merrill, Major, A. G. R. C., 151st Infantry Brigade. + +With 77 illustrations. + + +Camp Upton + +Described and Photographed by + +ROGER BATCHELDER + +A companion volume to "Camp Devens," and like it, a book that fills a +long-felt want. + +Illustrated with photographs + + +_Other volumes in the AMERICAN CAMPS SERIES in preparation_ + + * * * * * + +War Poetry + +Buddy's Blighty and other Verses from the Trenches + +By LIEUTENANT JACK TURNER, M. C. + + +Here is a volume of poems that move the spirit to genuine emotion, +because every line pictures reality as the author knows it. The range of +subjects covers the many-sided life of the men who are fighting in the +Great War,--the happenings, the emotions, the give and take, the tragedy +and the comedy of soldiering. + + "I have read Robert Service's 'Rhymes of a Red Cross Man'--and + _all_ the verses written on the war--but in my opinion 'Buddy's + Blighty,' by Jack Turner, is the best thing yet written--because + it's the truth." + + _Private Harold R. Peat_ + + * * * * * + +The Welfare Series + +The Field of Social Service + +Edited by PHILIP DAVIS, in collaboration with Maida Herman + +An invaluable text-book for those who ask, "Just what can I do in social +work and how shall I go about it?" + + +Street-Land + +By PHILIP DAVIS, assisted by Grace Kroll + +What shall we do with the 11,000,000 children of the city streets? A +question of great national significance answered by an expert. + + +Consumption + +By JOHN B. HAWES, 2d, M.D. + +A book for laymen, by an eminent specialist, with particular +consideration of the fact that the problem of tuberculosis is first of +all a human problem. + + +One More Chance + +An Experiment in Human Salvage + +By LEWIS E. MacBRAYNE and JAMES P. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Bruce of the Circle A + +Author: Harold Titus + +Release Date: March 4, 2012 [EBook #39056] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BRUCE OF THE CIRCLE A *** + + + + +Produced by Darleen Dove, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h1>BRUCE</h1> + +<h1>OF THE CIRCLE A</h1> + +<h2>BY HAROLD TITUS</h2> + +<h3>Author of "—I Conquered"</h3> + + +<p class="center">ILLUSTRATED</p> + +<p class="center">BOSTON<br /> +SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY<br /> +PUBLISHERS</p> + +<p class="center">Copyright, 1918<br /> +<span class="smcap">By</span> SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY<br /> +(INCORPORATED)</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/frontis.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3>Except for the animal's breathing, the world was very quiet.</h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + + +<table summary="contents"> +<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER</td><td> </td><td align="right">PAGE</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">I </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_I"><span class="smcap">The Woman</span> </a></td><td align="right">1</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">II </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_II"><span class="smcap">Some Men</span> </a></td><td align="right">7</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">III </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_III"><span class="smcap">The Lodger Next Door</span> </a></td><td align="right">17</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">IV </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><span class="smcap">A Revelation</span> </a></td><td align="right">31</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">V </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_V"><span class="smcap">The Clergy of Yavapai</span> </a></td><td align="right">46</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">VI </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><span class="smcap">At the Circle A</span> </a></td><td align="right">56</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">VII </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><span class="smcap">Tongues Wag</span> </a></td><td align="right">68</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">VIII </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><span class="smcap">A Heart Speaks</span> </a></td><td align="right">84</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">IX </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><span class="smcap">Lytton's Nemesis</span> </a></td><td align="right">102</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">X </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_X"><span class="smcap">Whom God Hath Joined</span> </a></td><td align="right">119</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XI </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XI"><span class="smcap">The Story of Abe</span> </a></td><td align="right">131</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XII </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XII"><span class="smcap">The Runaway</span> </a></td><td align="right">147</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XIII </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII"><span class="smcap">The Scourging</span> </a></td><td align="right">163</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XIV </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV"><span class="smcap">The Woman on Horseback</span> </a></td><td align="right">187</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XV </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XV"><span class="smcap">Her Lord and Master</span> </a></td><td align="right">204</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XVI </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI"><span class="smcap">The Message on the Saddle</span> </a></td><td align="right">223</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XVII </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII"><span class="smcap">The End of the Vigil</span> </a></td><td align="right">239</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XVIII </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII"><span class="smcap">The Fight</span> </a></td><td align="right">255</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XIX </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX"><span class="smcap">The Trails Unite</span> </a></td><td align="right">278</td></tr> +</table> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>BRUCE OF THE CIRCLE A</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>THE WOMAN</h3> + + +<p>Daylight and the Prescott-Ph[oe]nix train were going from Yavapai. Fifty +paces from the box of a station a woman stood alone beside the track, +bag in hand, watching the three red lights of the observation platform +dwindle to a ruby unit far down the clicking ribbons of steel. As she +watched, she felt herself becoming lost in the spaciousness, the silence +of an Arizona evening.</p> + +<p>Ann Lytton was a stranger in that strange land. Impressions pelted in +upon her—the silhouetted range against the cerise flush of western sky; +the valley sweeping outward in all other directions to lose itself in +the creeping blue-grays of night; droning voices of men from the +station; a sense of her own physical inconsequence; her loneliness ... +and, as a background, the insistent vastness of the place.</p> + +<p>Then, out of the silence from somewhere not far off, came a flat, dead +crash, the report of a firearm. The woman was acutely conscious that the +voices in the station had broken short with an abruptness which alarmed +her. The other sound—the shot—had touched fear in her, too, and the +knowledge that it had nipped the attention of the talking men sent a +cool thrill down her limbs.</p> + +<p>A man emerged from the depot and his voice broke in,</p> + +<p>"Wonder where that—"</p> + +<p>He stopped short and the woman divined the reason. She strained to catch +the thrum of running hoofs, knowing intuitively that the man, also, had +ceased speaking to listen. She was conscious that she trembled.</p> + +<p>Another man stepped into the open and spoke, hurriedly, but so low that +Ann could not hear; the first replied in the same manner, giving a sense +of stealth, of furtiveness that seemed to the woman portentous. She took +a step forward, frightened at she knew not what, wanting to run to the +men just because she was afraid and they were human beings. She checked +herself, though, and forced reason.</p> + +<p>This was nonsense! She laid it on her nerves. They were ragged after the +suspense and the long journey, the dread and hopes. A shot, a galloping +horse, a suspected anxiety in the talk of the two men had combined to +play upon them in their overwrought condition.</p> + +<p>Then, the first speaker's voice again, in normal tone,</p> + +<p>"Trunk here, but I didn't see anybody get off."</p> + +<p>Ann wanted to laugh with relief. Just that one sentence linked her up +with everyday life again, took the shake from her knees and the accented +leap from her heart. She was impelled to run to him, and held herself +to a walk by effort.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon. Can you tell me the name of the best hotel?" she +asked.</p> + +<p>The man who had seized the trunk stopped rolling it toward the doorway +and turned quickly to look at the woman who stood there in the pallid +glow from the one oil lamp. He saw a blue straw toque fitting tightly +over a compact mass of black hair; he saw blue eyes, earnest and +troubled; red lips, with the fullness of youth; flushed cheeks, a trim, +small body clothed in a close fitting, dark suit.</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am; it's th' Manzanita House. It's th' two-story buildin' up +th' street. Is this your trunk?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. May I leave it here until morning?"</p> + +<p>The man nodded. "Sure," he answered.</p> + +<p>"Thank you. Is there a carriage here?"</p> + +<p>He set the trunk on end, wiped his palms on his hips and smiled +slightly.</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am. Yavapai ain't quite up to hacks an' things yet. We're young. +You can walk it in two minutes."</p> + +<p>Ann hesitated.</p> + +<p>"It's ... all right, is it?"</p> + +<p>He did not comprehend.</p> + +<p>"For me to walk, I mean. Just now.... It sounded as if some one shot, I +thought."</p> + +<p>He laughed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Yavapai's a safe place! Somebody just shot at somethin', I guess. +But it's all right. We ain't got no hacks, but we don't have no killin's +either."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad of the one anyhow," Ann smiled, and started away from him not, +however, wholly reassured.</p> + +<p>She walked toward the array of yellow lighted windows that showed +through the deepening darkness, making her way over the hard ground, +hurriedly, skirt lifted in the free hand. She had not inspected the +shadowy town beyond glancing casually to register the ill-defined +impressions of scattered stock pens, sprawling buildings, a short string +of box-cars, a water-tank. The country, the location of the settlement, +was the thing which had demanded her first attention, for it was all +strange, new, a bit terrifying in the twilight. Two men passed her, +talking; their voices ceased and she knew that they turned to stare; +then one spoke in a lowered tone ... and the night had them. A man on +horseback rode down the street at a slow trot. She wondered uneasily if +that was the horse which had raced away at the sound of the shot. From +the most brilliantly lighted building the sound of a mechanical piano +suddenly burst, hammering out a blatant melody.</p> + +<p>A thick sprinkling of stars had pricked through the darkening sky and +Ann, as she walked along, scanned the outline that each structure made +against them. Once she laughed shortly to herself and thought,</p> + +<p>"<i>The</i> two-story building!"</p> + +<p>And, almost with that thought, she stood before it. An oil lamp on an +uncertain post was set close against the veranda and through an open +window she saw a woman, bearing a tray, pause beside a table and deposit +steaming dishes. She walked up the steps, opened the screen door, and +entered an unlighted hall, barren, also, to judge from the sounds. On +one side was the dining room; on the other, a cramped office.</p> + +<p>"This is the Manzanita House?" she asked a youth who, hat on the back of +his head, read a newspaper which was spread over the top of a small +glass cigar case on the end of a narrow counter.</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am"—evidently surprised.</p> + +<p>He saw her bag, looked at her face again, took off his hat shyly and +opened a ruled copybook to which a pencil was attached by a length of +grimy cotton twine. He pushed it toward her, and the woman, as she drew +off her glove, saw that this was the hotel register.</p> + +<p>In a bold, large hand she wrote:</p> + +<p>"Ann Lytton, Portland, Maine."</p> + +<p>"I'd like a room for to-night," she said, "and to-morrow I'd like to get +to the Sunset mine. Can you direct me?"</p> + +<p>A faint suggestion of anxiety was in her query and on the question the +youth looked at her sharply, met her gaze and let his waver off. He +turned to put the register on the shelf behind him.</p> + +<p>"Why, I can find out," he answered, evasively. "It's over thirty miles +out there and th' road ain't so very good yet. You can get th' +automobile to take you. It's out now—took the doctor out this +afternoon—and won't be back till late, prob'ly."</p> + +<p>He took the register from the shelf again and, on pretext of noting her +room number on the margin of the leaf, re-read her name and address, +moving his lips in the soundless syllables.</p> + +<p>"I'd ... I'd like to go to my room, if I may," the woman said, and, +picking up one of the two lighted lamps, the other led her into the hall +and up the narrow flight of stairs.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later, the young man stood in the hotel kitchen, the house +register in his hands. Over his right shoulder the waitress peered and +over his left, the cook breathed heavily, as became her weight.</p> + +<p>"Just Ann. It don't say Miss or Missus," the waitress said.</p> + +<p>"I know, Nora, but somehow she don't look like <i>his</i> Missus," the boy +said, with a shake of his head.</p> + +<p>"From what you say about her, she sure don't. Are you goin' to tell her +anythin'? Are you goin' to try to find out?"</p> + +<p>"Not me. I wouldn't tell her nothin'! Gee, I wouldn't have th' nerve. +Not after knowin' him and then takin' a real good look at a face like +hers."</p> + +<p>"If she is his, it's a dirty shame!" the girl declared, picking up her +tray. She kicked open the swinging door and passed into the dining +room.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>SOME MEN</h3> + + +<p>Ann Lytton ate alone—ate alone, but did not sit alone. She was the last +patron of the dining room that evening, and, after Nora Brewster, the +waitress, had surrounded her plate with an odd assortment of heavy +side-dishes, she drew out a chair at the end of the table, seated +herself, elbows on the limp, light linen, and, black eyes fast on the +face of the other woman, pushed conversation.</p> + +<p>"From the East, ain't you?" she began, and Ann smiled assent.</p> + +<p>"New York?"</p> + +<p>"No, not New York," and the blue eyes met the black ones, running +quickly over the pretty, dark-skinned face, the thick coils of chestnut +hair, noting the big, kindly mouth, the peculiarly weak chin. Obviously, +the girl was striving to pump the newcomer and on the realization some +of the trouble retreated far into the blue eyes and Ann smiled in +kindliness at Nora, as she parried the girl's direct questions.</p> + +<p>In another mood a part of her might have resented this blunt curiosity, +but just now it came as a relief from a line of thought which had been +too long sustained. And, after they had talked a few moments, the +eastern woman found herself interested in the simplicity, the patent +sincerity, of the other. The conversation flourished throughout the meal +and by the time Ann had tasted and put aside the canned plums she had +discovered much about Nora Brewster, while Nora, returning to the +kitchen to tell the cook and the boy from the office all she had +learned, awakened to the fact that she had found out nothing at all!</p> + +<p>Ann walked slowly from the dining room into the office to leave +instructions about her trunk, but the room was empty and she went back +to the door which stood open and looked out into the street. From across +the way the mechanical piano continued its racket, and an occasional +voice was lifted in song or laughter. She thought again of the shot, the +running horse. She watched the shadowy figures passing to and fro behind +the glazed windows of the saloon and between her brows came a frown. She +drew a deep breath, held it a long instant, then let it slip quickly +out, ending in a little catch of a cough. She closed one hand and let it +fall into the other palm.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow at this time, I may know," she muttered.</p> + +<p>She would have turned away and climbed the stairs, then, but on her last +glance into the street a moving blotch attracted her attention. She +looked at it again, closer; it was approaching the hotel and, after a +moment she discerned the outlines of a man walking, leading a horse. A +peculiar quality about his movements, an undistinguished part of the +picture, held her in the doorway an instant longer.</p> + +<p>Then, she saw that the man was carrying the limp figure of another and +that he was coming directly toward her, striding into the circle of +feeble light cast from the lamp on the post, growing more and more +distinct with each step. A thrill ran through the woman, making her +shudder as she drew back; the arms and legs of the figure that was being +borne toward her swung so helplessly, as though they were boneless; the +head, too, swayed from side to side. Yet these appearances, suggestive +as they were of tragedy, did not form the influence which caused Ann's +throat to tighten and her pulse to speed. She heard voices and footsteps +as other men ran up. She drew back into the shadows of the hall.</p> + +<p>"What you got, Bruce?" one asked, in a tone of concern.</p> + +<p>"O, a small parcel of man meat," she heard the tall one explain +casually, with something like amusement in his voice.</p> + +<p>"Who is it?"</p> + +<p>An answer was made, but the woman could not understand.</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>him</i>!" Disdain was in the voice, as though there were no longer +cause for apprehension, as if the potential consequence of the situation +had been dissipated by identification of the unconscious figure.</p> + +<p>Other arrivals, fresh voices; out under the light a dozen men were +clustered about the tall fellow and his burden.</p> + +<p>"Where'd you find him?" one asked.</p> + +<p>"Out at th' edge of town—in th' ditch. Abe, here,"—with a jerk of his +head to indicate the sleek sorrel horse he led—"found him. He acted so +damned funny he made me get off to see what it was, an', sure enough, +here was Yavapai's most enthusiastic drinker, sleepin' in th' ditch!</p> + +<p>"Here, let me put him down on th' porch, there,"—elbowing his way +through the knot about him. "He ain't much more man in pounds than he is +in principle, but he weighs up considerable after packin' him all this +way."</p> + +<p>The watching woman saw that his burden was a slight figure, short and +slender, dressed roughly, with his clothing worn and torn and stained.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you let Abe pack him?" a man asked, as the big cowboy, +stooping gently, put the inert head and shoulders to the boards and +slowly lowered the limp legs. He straightened, and, with a red +handkerchief, whipped the dust from his shirt. Then, he hitched up his +white goatskin chaps and looked into the face of his questioner and +smiled.</p> + +<p>"Well, Tommy, Abe here ain't never had to carry a souse yet, an' I guess +he won't have to so long as I'm around an' healthy. That right, Abe?"</p> + +<p>He reached out a hand and the sorrel, intelligent ears forward in +inquiry, moved closer by a step to smell the fingers; then, allowed them +to scratch the white patch on his nose.</p> + +<p>A chuckle of surprise greeted the man's remark.</p> + +<p>"Why, Bruce, to hear you talk anybody'd think that you close-herded your +morals continual; that you was a 'Aid S'city' wagon boss; that lips that +touch liquor should never—"</p> + +<p>"I ain't said nothin' to make you think that, Tommy Clary," the other +replied, laughing at the upturned face of his challenger, who was short +and pug-nosed and possessed of a mouth that refused to do anything but +smile; who was completely over-shadowed and rendered top-heavy by a hat +of astonishing proportions. "I drink," he went on, "like th' rest of us +damn fools, but I don't think it's smart to do it. I think it is pretty +much all nonsense, an' I think that when you drink you ought to +associate with drinkin' folks an' let th' ones who have better sense +alone.</p> + +<p>"That's why I never ride Abe to town when I figure I'm goin' to be doin' +any hellin' around; that's why, if I have got drunk by mistake when I +had him here, I've slept in town instead of goin' home. Abe, you see, +Tommy, has got a good deal of white man in him for a horse. He'd carry +me all right if I was drunk, if I asked him to; but I won't, because +he's such a <i>good</i> horse that he ought to always have a mighty good man +on his middle. When a man's drunk, he ain't good ... for nothin'. Like +this here"—with a contemptuous movement of one booted foot to indicate +the huddle of a figure which lay in the lamplight.</p> + +<p>"No, I don't make no claim to bein' a saint, Tommy. Good Lord, <i>hombre</i>, +do you think, if I thought I was right decent all th' time, all through, +I'd ever be seen swapping lies with any such ugly outcast as you are?"</p> + +<p>The others laughed again at that, and the tall man removed his hat to +wipe the moisture from his forehead.</p> + +<p>Ann, watching from the shadows, lips pressed together, heart on a +rampage from a fear that was at once groundless and natural, saw his +fine profile against the lamp, as he laughed good-naturedly at the man +he had jibed. His head was flung back boyishly, but about its poise, its +lines, the way it was set on his sturdy neck, was an indication of +superb strength, a fine mettle. His hair fell backward from the brow. It +tended toward waviness and was dry and light in texture as well as in +color, for the rays of the light were scattered and diffused as they +shot through it. He was incredibly tall in his high-heeled riding boots, +but his breadth was in proportion. The movements of his long arms, his +finely moulded shoulders, his whole lithe torso were well measured, +splendidly balanced, of that natural grace and assurance which marks the +inherent leadership born in individuals. His voice went well with the +rest of him, for it was smooth and deep and filled with capabilities of +expression.</p> + +<p>"Well, if you think all us drunkards are such buzzard fodder, what are +you packin' this around with you for?" Clary asked, after the laughter +had subsided.</p> + +<p>The cowman looked down thoughtfully a moment and his face grew serious. +He shook his head soberly.</p> + +<p>"This fellow's a cripple, boys; that's all. Just a cripple," he +explained.</p> + +<p>"Cripple! He's about th' liveliest, most cantankerous, trouble-maker +this country has had to watch since Bill Williams named his mountain!" a +man in the group scoffed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know. His legs ain't broke or deformed; he can use both arms; +his fool tongue has made us all pretty hot since we've knowed him. But +he ain't right up here, in his head, boys. He's crippled there. There +ain't no reason for a human bein' gettin' to be so nasty as he's got to +be. It ain't natural. It's th' booze, Tommy, th' booze that's crippled +him. He ought to be kept away from it until he's had a chance, but +nobody's took enough interest in him or th' good of th' town to tend to +that. We've just locked him up when he got too drunk an' turned him +loose to hell some more when he was halfway sober. He ain't had nobody +to look out for him, when he's needed it more 'n anything else.</p> + +<p>"I ain't blamin' nobody. Don't know as I'd looked out for him myself, if +he hadn't looked so helpless, there 'n th' ditch, Gosh, any one of you'd +take in a dog with a busted leg an' try to fix him up; if he bit at you +an' scratched and tried to fight, you'd only feel sorrier for him. This +feller ... he's kind of a dog, too. Maybe it'd be a good investment for +us to look after him a little an' see if we can't set him on his feet. +We've tried makin' an example of him; now let's try to treat him like +any of you'd treat me, if I was down an' out."</p> + +<p>He looked down upon the figure on the porch; in his voice had been a +fine humane quality that set the muscles of the listening woman's throat +contracting.</p> + +<p>"Say, Bruce, he's bleedin'!"</p> + +<p>On the man's announced discovery the group outside again became compact +about the unconscious man and the tall cowboy squatted beside him +quickly.</p> + +<p>"Get back out of th' light, boys," he said, quietly, and the curious men +moved. "Hum ... I'm a sheepherder, if somebody ain't nicked him in th' +arm, boys! I'll be—</p> + +<p>"Say, he must of laid on that arm an' stopped th' blood. It's +clotted.... Oh, damn! It's bleedin' worse. Say, I'll have to get him +inside where we can have him fixed up before that breaks open again. +Wonder how much he's bled—"</p> + +<p>He rose and moved to the door, pulled open the screen quickly. He made +one step across the threshold and then paused between strides, for +before him in the darkness of the hallway a woman's face stood out like +a cameo. It was white, made whiter by the few feeble rays of the light +outside that struggled into the entry; the eyes were great, dark +splotches, the lips were parted; one hand was at the chin and about the +whole suggested posture of her body was a tensity, an anxiety, a +helplessness that startled the man ... that, and her beauty. For a +moment they stood so, face to face, the one in silhouette, the other in +black and white; the one surprised, only, but the other shrinking in +terror.</p> + +<p>"I ... he ..."</p> + +<p>Then, giving no articulate coherence to the idea that was in his mind, +Bruce Bayard stepped through the doorway to his left and entered the +office, as though he had not seen the woman at all. He looked about, +returned to the hallway, gazed almost absently at the stairway where he +had seen that troubled countenance and which was now a blank, hesitated +a moment and stepped out to join the others.</p> + +<p>"I heard somebody shoot, when we was comin' up from th' depot," someone +was saying when Bayard broke in:</p> + +<p>"Nobody here. Anybody seen Charley?"</p> + +<p>"Here's his dad," Clary said, as a fat, wheezing man made his way +importantly into the group.</p> + +<p>"Uncle, I want to get a room," Bayard said, "to take this here man to so +I can wash him up an' look after his arm. He's been shot. I passed Doc +on th' road goin' out when I come in, so I'll just try my hand as a +veterinary myself. Can you fix me up?"</p> + +<p>"All right! Right here! Bring him in. I've got a room; a nice dollar +room," the man wheezed as he stumped into the building. "No disturbance, +mind, but I've got a room ... dollar room ..."—and the screen door +slapped shut behind him.</p> + +<p>"He won't die on you, Bruce," the man with a moustache said, +straightening, after inspecting the ragged, dirt-filled wound, and +laughing lightly. "It just stung him a little. There's a lot of +disorderly conduct left in him yet, an' it's a wonder he ain't been +ventilated before."</p> + +<p>"Yeah.... Well, we'll take him up and look him over," Bayard said, his +face serious, and stooped to gather the burden in his arms.</p> + +<p>"Want any help, Bruce?" Tommy asked.</p> + +<p>"Not on this trip, thanks. A good sleep and a stiff cussin' out'll help +a little I guess. Mebbe he's learnt a lesson an' he may go back home an' +behave himself."</p> + +<p>He shouldered open the screen door and, led by the wheezing landlord who +carried a lamp at a reckless angle in his trembling hand, started +clumping up the resounding stairway, while the group that had been about +the lamp-post drifted off into the darkness. Only the sorrel horse, Abe, +remained, bridle-reins down, one hip slumped, great, intelligent eyes +watching occasional figures that passed, ears moving to catch the +scattered sounds that went up toward the Arizona stars.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>THE LODGER NEXT DOOR</h3> + + +<p>"Now, this is fine, Uncle," Bayard said, as he stood erect and surveyed +the lax body he had deposited on the bed.</p> + +<p>His great height made the low, tiny room seem lower, smaller, and in the +pale lamplight the fat hotel proprietor peered up into his face with +little greedy green eyes, chewing briskly with his front teeth, +scratching the fringe of red whiskers speculatively.</p> + +<p>"Well, Bayard, you're all right," he blurted out, huskily, as if he had +reached that decision only after lengthy debate. "Th' room's a dollar, +but I'll wait till mornin' as a favor to you. I wouldn't trust most +cowboys, but your reputation's gild-edged, fine!"</p> + +<p>"Thanks! Seein' nobody's around to overhear, I'll take a chance an' +return th' compliment."</p> + +<p>And as the other, turning in the doorway, looked back to determine, if +he could, the meaning of that last remark, Bayard stooped and gingerly +lifted the wounded forearm from which the sleeve had been rolled back.</p> + +<p>"What a lookin' human bein'!" he whispered slowly, a moment later, +shaking his head and letting his whole-hearted disgust find expression +in deep lines about his mouth, as he scanned the bloated, bruised, +muddied face below him. "You've got just about as low down, Pardner, as +anybody can get! Lord, that face of yourn would scare the Devil +himself ... even if it is his own work!"</p> + +<p>He kicked out of his chaps, flung off jumper and vest, rolled up his +sleeves and, turning to the rickety washstand, sloshed water into the +bowl from the cracked pitcher and vigorously applied lather to his hands +and forearms. From the next room came the sounds of a person moving; the +creak of a board, the tinkle of a glass, even the low brushing of a +garment being hung on a hook, for the partitions were of inch boards +covered only by wallpaper.</p> + +<p>"Th' privacies of this here establishment ain't exactly perfect, are +they?" the man asked, raising his voice and smiling. "I've got a friend +here who needs to have things done for him an' he may wake up and +object, but it ain't nothin' serious so don't let us disturb your sleep +any more'n you can help," he added and paused, stooped over, to listen +for an answer.</p> + +<p>None came; no further sound either; the person in the other room seemed +to be listening, too. Bayard, after the interval of silence, shrugged +his shoulders, filled the bowl with clean water, placed it on a +wooden-bottomed chair which held the lamp and sat down on the edge of +the bed with soap and towels beside him.</p> + +<p>"I'll wash out this here nick, first," he muttered. "Then, I'll scrub +up that ugly mug.... Ugh!" He made a wry face as he again looked at the +distorted, smeared countenance.</p> + +<p>He bathed the forearm carefully, then centered his attention on the +wound.</p> + +<p>"Ho-ho! Went deeper than I thought.... Full of dirt an' ... clot ... +an'...."</p> + +<p>He stopped his muttering and left off his bathing of the wound suddenly +and clamped his fingers above the gash, for, as he had washed away the +clotted blood and caked dirt, a thin, sharp stream of blood had spurted +out from the ragged tear in the flesh.</p> + +<p>"He got an artery, did he? Huh! When you dropped, you laid on that arm +or you'd be eatin' breakfast to-morrow in a place considerable hotter +than Arizona," Bayard muttered.</p> + +<p>He looked about him calculatingly as though wondering what was best to +do first, and the man on the bed stirred uneasily.</p> + +<p>"Lay still, you!"</p> + +<p>The other moaned and squirmed and threatened to jerk his arm free.</p> + +<p>"You don't amount to much, Pardner, but I can't hold you still and play +doctor by myself if ...</p> + +<p>"Say, friend,"—raising his voice. "You, in th' next room; would you +mind comin' in here a minute? I've took down more rope than I handle +right easy."</p> + +<p>He turned his head to listen better and through the thin partition came +again the sound of movements. Feet stepped quickly, lightly, on the +noisy floor; a chair was shoved from one place to another, a door +opened, the feet came down the hall, the door of the room in which +Bayard waited swung back ... and Ann Lytton stood in the doorway.</p> + +<p>For a moment their eyes held on one another. The woman's lips were +compressed, her nostrils dilated in excitement, her blue eyes wide and +apprehensive, although she struggled to repress all these evidences of +emotional disturbance. The man's jaw slacked in astonishment, then +tightened, and his chest swelled with a deep breath of pleased surprise; +he experienced a strange tremor and subconsciously he told himself that +she was as rare looking as he had thought she must be from the +impression he had received down in the dark hallway.</p> + +<p>"Why ... why, I didn't think you ... it might be a lady in there, Miss," +he said in slow astonishment. "I thought it was a man ... because ladies +don't often get in here. I ... this is a nasty mess an' maybe you better +not tackle it ... if ... if you could call somebody to help me.... Nora, +th' girl downstairs, would come, Miss—"</p> + +<p>"I can help you," she said, and a flush rushed into her cheeks, which at +once relieved and accentuated their pallor. It was as though he had +accused her of a weakness that she resented.</p> + +<p>Bayard looked her over through a silent moment; then moved one foot +quickly and, eyes still holding her gaze, his left hand groped for a +towel, found it, shook it out and spread it over the face of the +drunken, wounded man he had called her to help him tend.</p> + +<p>"He ain't a beauty, Miss," he explained, relieved that the countenance +was concealed from her. "I hate to look at him myself an' I'd hate to +have a girl ... like you have to look at him ... I'm sure he would, +too,"—as though he did not actually mean the last.</p> + +<p>The woman moved to his side then, eyes held on the wound by evident +effort. It was as if she were impelled to turn her gaze to that covered +face and fought against the desire with all the will she could muster.</p> + +<p>"You see, Miss, this artery's been cut an' I've got my thumb shut down +on it here," he indicated. "This gent got shot up a trifle to-night an' +we—you an' me—have got to fix him up. I can't do it alone because he's +bleedin' an' he's lost more than's healthy for him now.</p> + +<p>"It sure is fine of you to come, Miss."</p> + +<p>He looked at her curiously and steadily yet without giving offense. It +was as though he had characterized this woman for himself, was thinking +more about the effect on her of the work they were to do than of that +work itself. He was interested in this newcomer; he wanted to know about +her. That was obvious. He watched her as he talked and his manner made +her know that he was very gentle, very considerate of her peace of mind, +in spite of the quality about him which she could not understand, which +was his desire to know how she would act in this unfamiliar, trying +situation.</p> + +<p>"Now, you take that towel and roll it up," he was saying. "Yes, th' long +way.... Then, bring that stick they use to prop up th' window—"</p> + +<p>"It's a tourniquet you want," she broke in.</p> + +<p>He looked up at her again.</p> + +<p>"Tourniquet.... Tourniquet," he repeated, to fix the new word in his +mind. "Yes, that's what I want: to shut off the blood."</p> + +<p>She folded the towel and brought the stick. From her audible breathing +Bayard knew that she was excited, but, otherwise, she had ceased to give +indication of the fact.</p> + +<p>"Loop it around and tie a knot," he said.</p> + +<p>"Is that right?" she asked, in a voice that was too calm, too well +controlled for the circumstances.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's all right, Miss. How about you?"—a twinkle in his eye. "If +this ... if you don't think you can stand it to fuss with him—" he +began, but she cut him off with a look that contained something of a +quality of reassurance, but which was more obviously a rebuff.</p> + +<p>"I said I could help you. Why do you keep doubting me?"</p> + +<p>"I don't; I'm tryin' to be careful of your feelings,"—averting his eyes +that she might not see the quick fire of appreciation in them. "Will you +tighten it with that stick, now, Miss?"</p> + +<p>The man on the bed breathed loudly, uncouthly, with now and then a +short, sharp moan. The sour smell of stale liquor was about him; the arm +and hand that had been washed were the only clean parts of his body.</p> + +<p>"Now you twist it," Bayard said, when she was ready, although he could +have done it easily with his free hand.</p> + +<p>She grasped the stick with determination and, as she turned it quickly +to take up the slack in the loop, Bayard leaned back, part of his weight +on the elbow which kept the legs of the unconscious man from threshing +too violently as the contrivance shut down on his arm. His attention, +however, was not for their patient; it was centered on the girl's hands +as they manipulated stick and towel. They were the smallest hands, the +trimmest, he had ever seen. The fingers were incredibly fine-boned and +about them was a nicety, a finish, that was beyond his experience; yet, +they were not weak hands; rather, competent looking. He watched their +quick play, the spring of the tendons in her white wrist and, with a new +interest, detected a smooth white mark about the third finger of her +left hand where a ring had been. He looked into her intent face again, +wondering what sort of ring that had been and why it was no longer +there; then, forgot all about it in seeing the tight line of her mouth +and finding delight in the splendid curve of her chin.</p> + +<p>"You hate to do it," he thought, "but you're goin' to see it through!"</p> + +<p>"There!" she said, under her breath. "Is that tight enough?"</p> + +<p>He looked quickly away from her face to the wound and released the +pressure of his thumb.</p> + +<p>"Not quite. It oozes a little."</p> + +<p>He liked the manner in which she moved her head forward to indicate her +resolve, when she forced the cloth even more tightly about the arm. The +injured man cried aloud and sought to roll over, and Bayard saw the +girl's mouth set in a firmer cast, but in other ways she bore herself as +if there had been no sound or movement to frighten or disturb her.</p> + +<p>"That'll do," he told her, watching the result of the pressure +carefully. "Now, would you tear that pillow slip into strips wide enough +for a bandage?" She shook the pillow from the casing. "That'll tickle +Uncle, downstairs," he added. "It's worth two bits, but he can charge me +a dollar for it."</p> + +<p>She did not appear to hear this last; just went on tearing strips with +hands that trembled ever so little and his gray eyes lighted with a +peculiar fire. Weakness was present in her, the weakness of +inexperience, brought on by the sight of blood, the presence of a +strange man of a strange type, the proximity of that muttering, filthy +figure with his face shrouded from her; but, behind that weakness, was +an inherent strength, a determination that made her struggle with all +her faculties to hide its evidences; and that courage was the quality +which Bayard had sought in her. Only, he could not then appreciate its +true proportions.</p> + +<p>"Is this enough?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Plenty. I can manage alone now, if—"</p> + +<p>"But I might as well help you through with this!"</p> + +<p>She had again detected his doubt of her, discerned his motive in giving +her an avenue of graceful escape from the unpleasant situation; she +thought that he still mistrusted her stamina and her stubborn refusal to +give way to any weakness set the words on her lips to cut him short.</p> + +<p>"Well, if you want to," he said, soberly, "you can keep this thing +tight, while I wash this hole out an' bind it up.... I wouldn't look at +it, if I was you; you ain't used to it, you know."</p> + +<p>He looked her in the eye, on that last advice, for a moment. She +understood fully and, as she took the stick in her hand to keep the +blood flow checked, she averted her face. For a breath he looked at the +stray little hairs about the depression at the back of her neck. Then, +to his work.</p> + +<p>He was gentle in cleansing the wound, but he could not touch the raw +flesh without giving pain and still accomplish his end, and, on the +first pressure of his fingers, the man writhed and twitched and jerked +at the arm, drawing his knees up spasmodically.</p> + +<p>"I'll have to set on him, Miss," Bayard said.</p> + +<p>He did so, straddling the man's thighs and leaning to the right, close +against the woman's stooping body. He grasped the cold wrist with one +hand and washed the jagged hurt quickly, thoroughly. The man he held +protested inarticulately and struggled to move about. Once, the towel +that hid his face was thrown off and Bayard replaced it, glad that the +girl's back had been turned so she did not see.</p> + +<p>It was the crude, cruel surgery of the frontier and once, towards the +end, the tortured man lifted his thick, scarcely human voice in a +cursing phrase and Bayard, glancing sharply at the woman, murmured,</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Miss ... for him."</p> + +<p>"That's not necessary," she answered, and her whisper was thin, weak.</p> + +<p>"You ain't goin' to faint, are you?" he asked, in quick apprehension, +ceasing his work to peer anxiously at her.</p> + +<p>"No.... No, but hurry, please; it is very unpleasant."</p> + +<p>He nodded his head in assent and began the bandaging, hurriedly. He made +the strips of cloth secure with deft movements and then said,</p> + +<p>"There, Miss, it's all over!"</p> + +<p>She straightened and turned from him and put a hand quickly to her +forehead, drew a deep breath as of exasperation and moved an uncertain +step or two toward the door.</p> + +<p>"All right," she said, with a half laugh, stopping and turning about. +"I was afraid ... you see! I'm not accustomed...."</p> + +<p>Bayard removed his weight from the other man and sat again on the edge +of the bed.</p> + +<p>"Lots of men, men out here in this country, would have felt the same way +... only worse," he said, reassuringly. "It takes lots of sand to fuss +with blood an' man meat until you get used to it. You've got the sand, +Miss, an' I sure appreciate what you've done. He will, too."</p> + +<p>She turned to meet his gaze and he saw that her face was colorless and +strained, but she smiled and asked,</p> + +<p>"I couldn't do less, could I?"</p> + +<p>"You couldn't do more," he said, staring hard at her, giving the +impression that his mind was not on what he was saying. "More for me or +more for ... a carcass like that." A tremor of anger was in his voice, +and resentment showed in his expression as he turned to look at the +covered face of the heavily breathing man. "It's a shame, Miss, to make +your kind come under the same roof with a ... a thing like he is!"</p> + +<p>After a moment she asked,</p> + +<p>"Is he so very bad, then?"</p> + +<p>"As bad as men get ... and the best of us are awful sinful."</p> + +<p>"Do you ... do you think men ever get so bad that anyone can be hurt by +being ... by coming under the same roof with them?"</p> + +<p>He shook his head and smiled again.</p> + +<p>"I'd say yes, if it wasn't that I'd picked this <i>hombre</i> out of th' +ditch an' brought him here an' played doctor to-night. You never can +tell what you'll believe until the time comes when you've got to believe +something."</p> + +<p>A silent interval, which the woman broke.</p> + +<p>"Is there anything else I can do for you now?"</p> + +<p>He knew that she wanted to go, yet some quality about her made him +suspect that she wanted to stay on, too.</p> + +<p>"No, Miss, nothin' ..." he answered. "I've got to go tend to my horse. +He's such a baby that he won't leave his tracks for anybody so long's he +knows I'm here, so I can't send anybody else to look after him. But +you've done enough. I'll wait a while till somebody else comes along to +watch—"</p> + +<p>"No, no! let me stay here ... with him."</p> + +<p>"But—"</p> + +<p>"I came here to help you. Won't you let me go through with it?"</p> + +<p>He thought again that it was her pride forcing her on; he could not know +that the prompting in her was something far deeper, something tragic. He +said:</p> + +<p>"Why if you want to, of course you can. I won't be gone but a minute. +I've let up on this pressure a little; we'll keep letting up on it +gradual ... I've done this thing before. He's got to be watched, though, +so he don't pull the bandages off and start her bleeding again."</p> + +<p>The woman seated herself on the chair as he turned to go.</p> + +<p>"It'll only be a minute," he assured her again, hesitating in the +doorway. "I wouldn't go at all, only, when my horse is the kind of a pal +he is, I can't let him go hungry. See?"</p> + +<p>"I see," she said, but her tone implied that she did not, that such +devotion between man and beast was quite incomprehensible ... or else +that she had given his word no heed at all, had only waited impatiently +for him to go.</p> + +<p>He strode down the hallway and she marked his every footfall, heard him +go stumping and ringing down the stairs two at a time, heard him leave +the porch and held her breath to hear him say,</p> + +<p>"Well, Old Timer, I didn't plan to be so long."</p> + +<p>Then, the sound of shod hoofs crossing the street at a gallop.</p> + +<p>She closed her eyes and let her head bow slowly and whispered,</p> + +<p>"Oh, God ... there <i>is</i> manhood left!"</p> + +<p>She sat so a long interval, suffering stamped on her fine forehead, +indicated in the pink and white knots formed from her clenched hands. +Then, her lips partly opened and she lifted her head and looked long at +the covered face of the man on the bed. Her breath was swift and shallow +and her attitude that of one who nerves herself for an ordeal. Once, she +looked down at the hand on the bed near her and touched with her own +the hardened, soiled fingers, then gave a shake to her head that was +almost a shudder, straightened in her chair and muttered aloud,</p> + +<p>"He said ... I had the sand...."</p> + +<p>She leaned forward, stretched a hand to the towel which covered the +man's face, hesitated just an instant, caught her breath, lifted the +shrouding cloth and gave a long, shivering sigh as she sat back in her +chair.</p> + +<p>At that moment Bruce Bayard in the corral across the street, pulled the +bridle over his sorrel's ears. He slung the contrivance on one arm and +held the animal's hot, white muzzle in his hands a moment. He squeezed +so tightly that the horse shook his head and lifted a fore foot in +protest and then, alarmed, backed quickly away.</p> + +<p>"... I didn't intend it, Abe," the man muttered. "... I was thinkin' +about somethin' else."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>A REVELATION</h3> + + +<p>When Bayard returned to the Manzanita House, he ran up the stairs with +an eagerness that was not in the least inspired by a desire to return to +his watching over the man he had chosen to succor. He strode down the +hallway and into the room with his keen anticipation thinly disguised by +a sham concern. And within the doorway he halted abruptly, for the woman +who had helped him, whose presence there had brought him back from his +horse on a run, sat at the bedside with her hands limp in her lap and +about her bearing an air that quite staggered him. Her face was as +nearly expressionless as a human countenance can become. It was as if +something had occurred which had taken from her all emotion, all ability +to respond to any mental or sensory influence. For the moment, she was +crushed, and so completely that even her reflexes did not react to the +horror of the revelation. She did not look at Bayard, did not move; she +might have been without the sense of sight or hearing; she did not even +breathe perceptibly; just sat there with a fixity that frightened him.</p> + +<p>"Why, Miss!" he cried in confused alarm. "I ... I wouldn't left you—"</p> + +<p>She roused on his cry and shook her head, and he thought she wanted him +to stop, so he stood there through an awkward moment, waiting for her to +say more.</p> + +<p>"Course, it was too much for you!" he concluded aloud, +self-reproachfully, when she did not speak. "You're tired; this ... this +takin' care of this booze-soaked carcass was too much to ask of you. +I—"</p> + +<p>"Don't," she said, in a dry, flat voice, looking up at him appealingly, +mastering her voice with a heroic effort. "Don't, please! This.... This +booze-soaked ... carcass ...</p> + +<p>"He is my husband."</p> + +<p>The words with which she ended came in a listless whisper; she made no +further sound, and the hissing of Bayard's breath, as it slipped out +between his teeth, was audible.</p> + +<p>All that he had said against that other man came back to him, all the +epithets he had used, all the pains he had taken to impress on this +woman, his wife, a sense of the utter degradation, the vileness, of Ned +Lytton. For the instant, he was filled with regret because of his rash +speech; the next, he was overwhelmed by realizing that all he had said +was true and that he had been justified in saying those things of this +woman's husband. The thought unpoised him.</p> + +<p>"I didn't think you was married," he said, slowly, distinctly, his +voice unsteady, scarcely conscious of the fact that he was putting what +transpired in his mind into words. "Especially ... to a thing like +that!"</p> + +<p>The gesture of his one arm which indicated the prostrate figure was +eloquent of the contempt he felt and the posture of his body, bent +forward from his hips, was indication of his sincerity. He was so +intense emotionally that he could not realize that his last words might +lash the suffering woman cruelly. The thought was in him, so strong, so +revolting, that it had to come out. He could not have restrained it had +he consciously appreciated the hurt that its expression would give the +woman.</p> + +<p>She stared up at him, her numb brain wondering clumsily at the storm +indicated in his eyes, about his mouth, and they held so a moment before +she sat back in her chair, weakly, one wrist against her forehead.</p> + +<p>"Here, come over by the window ... never mind him," he said, almost +roughly, stepping to her side, grasping her arm and shaking it.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes before the careful watching of that unconscious man had been +the one important thing of the night, but now it was an inconsequential +affair, a bother. Ten minutes before his interest in the woman had been +a light, transient fancy; now he was more deeply concerned with her +trouble than he ever had been with an affair of his own. He lifted the +bandaged arm and placed a pillow beneath it, almost carelessly; then +closed the door. He turned about and looked at Ann Lytton, who had gone +to stand by the window, her back to him, face in her hands.</p> + +<p>He walked across and halted, towering over her, looking helplessly down +at the back of her bowed head. His arms were limp at his sides, until +she swayed as though she would fall, and, then, he reached out to +support her, grasping her shoulders gently with his big palms; when she +steadied, he left his hands so, lifting the right one awkwardly to +stroke her shivering shoulder. They stood silent many minutes, the man +suffering with the woman, suffering largely because of his inability to +bear a portion of her grief. After a time, he forced her about with his +hands and, when she had turned halfway around, she lifted her face to +look into his. She blinked and strained her eyes open and laughed +mirthlessly, then was silent, with the knuckles of her fist pressed +tightly against her mouth.</p> + +<p>"I am so glad ... so glad that it was you ..." she said, huskily, after +a wait in which she mastered herself, the thought that was uppermost in +her mind finding the first expression. "I heard you say, down there, +that he was a cripple and that ... that's what he is ... what I thought. +You ... you understand, don't you? A woman in my place <i>has</i> to think +something like that!"—in unconscious confession to a weakness. "I heard +you say he was a cripple ... the man you were carrying ... and I thought +it must be Ned, because I've had to think that, too. You understand? +Don't you?"</p> + +<p>She looked into his eyes with the directness of a pleading child and, +gripping her shoulders, he nodded.</p> + +<p>"I think I understand, ma'am. I ... and I hope you can forget all th' +mean things I've said about him to-night. I—"</p> + +<p>"And when you called me in here," she interrupted, heedless of his +attempt at apology, "I was afraid at first, because something told me it +was he. I had come all the way from Maine to see him; to find out about +him, and I didn't want to blind myself after that. I wanted to know ... +the worst."</p> + +<p>"You have, ma'am," he said, grimly, and took his hands from her +shoulders and turned away.</p> + +<p>"I was afraid it was Ned from the very first, but out there, with those +other men around, I ... couldn't make myself look at him. And after that +the suspense was horrible. I was glad when you called me to help you +because that made me face it ... and even knowing what I know now is +better in some ways than uncertainty. I ... I might have dodged, anyhow, +if you hadn't made me feel you were trying to find out how far I would +go ... what I would do. Your doubting me made me doubt myself and +that ... that drove me on.</p> + +<p>"It took a lot of courage to look at his ... face. But I had to know. I +had to; I'd come all this way to know."</p> + +<p>She hesitated, staring absently, and Bayard waited in silence for her to +go on.</p> + +<p>"It seemed quite natural to hear those men talking about him the way +they did, swearing at him and laughing.... And then to hear someone +protecting him because he is weak,"—with a brave effort at a smile. +"That's what people in the East, his own people, even, have done; and +I ... I had to stand up for him when everything, even he, was against +me....</p> + +<p>"I'd hoped that out here, at the mine, he'd be different, that he'd +behave, that people would come to respect and like him. I'd hoped for +that right up to the time I saw you coming across the street with him. I +felt it must be he. I hadn't heard from him in months, not a line. +That's why I came out here. And I guess that in my heart I'd expected to +find him like that. The uncertainty, that was the worst....</p> + +<p>"Peculiar, isn't it, why I should have been uncertain? I should have +admitted what I felt intuitively, but I always have hoped, I always will +hope that he'll come through it sometime. That hope has kept me from +telling myself that it must be the same with him out here as it was back +there; that's why I fooled myself until I saw you ... with him.</p> + +<p>"And I'm so glad it happened to be you who picked him up. You +understand, you—"</p> + +<p>Emotion choked off her words.</p> + +<p>Bayard walked from her, returned to the bedside and stared down at the +inert figure there. He was in a tumult. The contrast between this man +and wife was too dreadful to be comprehended in calm. Lytton was the +lowest human being he had ever known, degenerated to an organism that +lived solely to satiate its most unworthy appetites. Ann, the woman +crying yonder, was quite the most beautiful creature on whom he had ever +looked and, though he had seen her for the first time no more than an +hour before, her charm had touched every masculine instinct, had gripped +him with that urge which draws the sexes one to another ... yet, he was +not conscious of it. She was, in his eyes, so wonderful, so removed from +his world, that he could not presume to recognize her attraction as for +himself. She was a distant, unattainable creature, one to serve, to +admire; perhaps, sometime, to worship reverently and that was the fact +which set the blood congesting in his head when he looked down at the +waster for whom she had traveled across a continent that she might +suffer like this. Lytton was attainable, was comprehensible, and Bayard +was urged to make him suffer in atonement for the wretchedness he had +brought to this woman who loved him.... Who.... <i>loved</i> him?</p> + +<p>The man turned to look at Ann again, his lower lip caught speculatively +between his thumb and forefinger.</p> + +<p>"Now, I suppose the thing to do is to plan, to make some sort of +arrangements ... now that I have found him," she said in a strained +voice, bracing her shoulders, lifting a hand to brush a lock of hair +back from her white, blue-veined temple.</p> + +<p>She smiled courageously at the cowboy who approached her diffidently.</p> + +<p>"I came out here to find out what was going on, to help him if he were +succeeding, to ... help him if ... as I have found him."</p> + +<p>Her directness had returned and, as she spoke, she looked Bayard in the +eye, steadily.</p> + +<p>"Well, whatever I can do, ma'am, I'm anxious to do," he said, repressing +himself that he might not give ground to the suspicion that he was +forcing himself on her, though his first impulse was to take her affairs +in hand and shield her from the trying circumstances which were bound to +follow. "I can't do much to help you, but all I can do—"</p> + +<p>"I don't think I could do anything without you," she said, simply, +letting her gaze travel over his big frame. "It's so far away, out here, +from anyone I know or the things I am accustomed to. It's ... it's too +wonderful, finding someone out here who understands Ned, when even his +own people back home didn't. I wonder ... is it asking too much to ask +you to help me plan? You know people and conditions. I don't."</p> + +<p>She made the request almost timidly, but he leaped at the opportunity +and cried:</p> + +<p>"If I can help you, if I could be of use to you, I'd think it was th' +finest thing that ever happened to me, ma'am. I've never been of much +use to anybody but myself. I ... I'd like to help you!" His manner was +so wholly boyish that she impulsively put out her hand to him.</p> + +<p>"You're kind to me, so...."</p> + +<p>She lost the rest of the sentence because of the fierceness with which +he grasped her proffered hand and for a moment his gray eyes burned into +hers with confusing intensity. Then he straightened and looked away with +an inarticulate word.</p> + +<p>"Well, what do you want to do?" he asked, stepping to one side to bring +a chair for her.</p> + +<p>"I don't know; he's in a frightful ... I've never seen him as bad as +this,"—her voice threatening to break.</p> + +<p>"An' he'll be that way so long as he's near that!"</p> + +<p>He held his hand up in a gesture that impelled her to listen as the +notes from the saloon piano drifted into the little room.</p> + +<p>"He's pretty far gone, ma'am, your husband. He ain't got a whole lot of +strength, an' it takes strength to show will power. We might keep him +away from drinkin' by watching him all the time, but that wouldn't do +much good; that wouldn't be a cure; it would only be delay, and wasting +our time and foolin' ourselves. He'd ought to be took away from it, a +long ways away from it."</p> + +<p>"That's what I've thought. Couldn't I take him out to the mine—"</p> + +<p>"His mine is most forty miles from here, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"So much the better, isn't it? We'd be away from all this. I could keep +him there, I know."</p> + +<p>Bayard regarded her critically until her eyes fell before his.</p> + +<p>"You might keep him there, and you might not. I judge you didn't have +much control over him in th' East. You didn't seem to have a great deal +of influence with him by letter,"—gently, very kindly, yet +impressively. "If you got out in camp all alone with him, livin' a life +that's new to you, you might not make good there. See what I mean? You'd +be all alone, cause the mine's abandoned." She started at that. "There'd +be nobody to help you if he got crazy wild like he'll sure get before he +comes through. You—"</p> + +<p>"You don't think I'm up to it? Is that it?" she interrupted.</p> + +<p>He looked closely at her before he answered.</p> + +<p>"Ma'am, if a woman like you can't keep a man straight by just lovin' +him,"—with a curious flatness in his voice—"you can't do it no way, +can you?"</p> + +<p>She sat silent, and he continued to question her with his gaze.</p> + +<p>"I judge you've tried that way, from what you've told me. You've been +pretty faithful on the job. You ... you <i>do</i> love him yet, don't you?" +he asked, and she looked up with a catch of her breath.</p> + +<p>"I do,"—dropping her eyes quickly.</p> + +<p>The man paced the length of the room and back again as though this +confession had altered the case and presented another factor for his +consideration. But, when he stopped before her, he only said:</p> + +<p>"You can't leave him in town; you can't take him to his mine. There +ain't any place away from town I know of where they'd want to be +bothered with a sick man," he explained, gravely, evading an expression +of the community's attitude toward Lytton. "I might take him to my +place. I'm only eight miles out west. I could look after him there, +cause there ain't much press of work right now an'—"</p> + +<p>"But I would go with him, too, of course," she said. "It's awfully kind +of you to offer...."</p> + +<p>In a flash the picture of this woman and that ruin of manhood together +in his house came before Bayard and, again, he realized the tragedy in +their contrast. He saw himself watching them, hearing their talk, seeing +the woman make love to her debauched husband, perhaps, in an effort to +strengthen him; he felt his wrath warm at thought of that girl's +devotion and loyalty wasting itself so, and a sudden, alarming distrust +of his own patience, his ability to remain a disinterested neutral, +arose.</p> + +<p>"Do you think he better know you're here?" he asked, inspired, and +turned on her quickly.</p> + +<p>"Why, why not?"—in surprise.</p> + +<p>"It would sure stir him up, ma'am. He ain't even wrote to you, you say, +so it would be a surprise for him to see you here. He's goin' to need +all the nerve he's got left, ma'am, 'specially right at first,"—his +mind working swiftly to invent an excuse—"Your husband's goin' to have +the hardest fight he's ever had to make when he comes out of this. He's +on the ragged edge of goin' <i>loco</i> from booze now; if he had somethin' +more to worry him, he might....</p> + +<p>"Besides, my outfit ain't a place for a woman. He can get along because +he's lived like we do, but you couldn't. All I got is one +room,"—hesitating as if he were embarrassed—"and no comforts for ... a +lady like you, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"But my place is with him! That's why I've come here."</p> + +<p>"Would your bein' with him help? Could you do anything but stir him up?"</p> + +<p>"Why of—"</p> + +<p>"Have you ever been able to, ma'am?"</p> + +<p>She stopped, unable to get beyond that fact.</p> + +<p>"If you ain't, just remember that he's a hundred times worse than he was +when you had your last try at him."</p> + +<p>She squeezed the fingers of one hand with the other. Her chin trembled +sharply but she mastered the threatened breakdown.</p> + +<p>"What would you have me do?" she asked, weakly, and at that Bayard swung +his arms slightly and smiled at her in relief.</p> + +<p>"Can't you stay right here in Yavapai and wait until the worst is over? +It won't be so very long."</p> + +<p>"I might. I'll try. If you think best ... I will, of course."</p> + +<p>"I'll come in town every time I get a chance and tell you about him," he +promised, eagerly. "I'll ... I'll be glad to," he hastened to add, with +a drop in his voice that made her look at him. "Then, when he's better, +when he's able to make it around the place on foot, when you think you +can manage him, I s'pose you can go off to his mine, then."</p> + +<p>He ceased to smile and smote one hip in a manner that told of his sudden +feeling of hopelessness. He walked toward the bed again and Ann watched +him. As he passed the lamp on the chair, she saw the fine ripple of his +thigh muscles under the close-fitting overalls, saw with eyes that did +not comprehend at first but which focused suddenly and then scrutinized +the detail of his big frame with an odd uneasiness.</p> + +<p>He turned on her and said irrelevantly, as if they had discussed the +idea at length,</p> + +<p>"I'm glad to do it for you, ma'am."</p> + +<p>He stared at her steadily, seeming absorbed by the thought of service to +her, and the woman, after a moment, removed her gaze from his.</p> + +<p>"It's so good of you!" she said, and became silent when he gave her no +heed.</p> + +<p>So it was arranged that Bayard should take Ned Lytton to his home to +nurse and bring him back to bodily health and moral strength, if such +accomplishments were possible. The hours passed until night had ceased +to age and day was young before the cowman deemed it wise to move the +still sleeping Easterner. He chose to make the drive to his ranch in +darkness, rather than wait for daylight when his going would attract +attention and set minds speculating and tongues wagging.</p> + +<p>Until his departure, the three remained in the room where they had met, +Ann much of the time sitting beside her husband, staring before her, +Bayard moving restlessly about in the shadows, watching her face and her +movements, questioning her occasionally, growing more absorbed in +studying the woman, until, during their last hour together, he was in a +fever to be away from her where he could think straight of all that had +happened since night came to Yavapai.</p> + +<p>Before he left he said:</p> + +<p>"Probably nobody will ask you questions, but if they do just say that +your husband went away before daylight an' that I left after I washed +his arm out. That'll be the truth an' what folks don't know won't hurt +'em ... nor make you uncomfortable by havin' 'em watch you an' do a lot +of unnecessary talkin'."</p> + +<p>From her window Ann watched Bayard emerge from the doorway below and +place the limp figure of his burden on the seat of the buckboard he had +secured for the trip home. In the starlight she saw him knot the bridle +reins of his sorrel over the saddle horn, heard him say, "Go home, Abe," +and saw the splendid beast stride swiftly off into the night alone. +Then, the creak of springs as he, too, mounted the wagon, his word to +the horses, the sounds of wheels, and she thought she saw him turn his +face toward her window as he rounded the corner of the hotel.</p> + +<p>The woman stood a moment in the cold draught of the wind that heralded +dawn. It was as though something horrible had gone out of her life and, +at the same time, as if something wonderful had come in; only, while the +one left the heaviness, the other brought with it a sweet sorrow. Half +aloud she told herself that; then cried:</p> + +<p>"No, it can't be! Nothing has gone; nothing has come. Things are as they +were ... or worse...."</p> + +<p>Then, she turned to her hard, lumpy bed.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>THE CLERGY OF YAVAPAI</h3> + + +<p>Hours passed before Ann could sleep, and then her slumber was broken, +her rest harried by weird dreams, her half-waking periods crammed with +disturbing fantasies. When broad daylight came, she rose and drew down +the shades of her window and after she had listened to the birds, to the +sounds of the awakening town, to the passing of a train, rest came and +until nearly noon she slept heavily.</p> + +<p>She came to herself possessed by a queer sense of unreality and it was +moments before she could determine its source. Then the events of the +evening and night swept back to her intelligence and she closed her +eyes, feeling sick and worn.</p> + +<p>Restlessness came upon her finally and she arose, dressed, went +downstairs and forced herself to eat. Several others were in the dining +room and two men sat with her at table. She was conscious that the talk, +which had been loud, diminished when she entered and that those nearest +her were evidently uncomfortable, embarrassed, glad to be through and +gone.</p> + +<p>When Nora, the waitress, took her order, Ann saw that the girl eyed her +curiously, possibly sympathetically, and, while that quality could not +help but rouse an appreciation in her, she shrank from the thought that +this whole strange little town was eying her, wondering about her, +dissecting her as she suffered in its midst and even through her loyalty +to her husband crept a hope that her true identity might remain secret.</p> + +<p>She left the table and started for the stairway, when the boy who had +given her her room the night before came out of the office. He had not +expected to see her. He stopped and flushed and stammered.</p> + +<p>"You ... last night ... you said you might ... that is, do you want th' +automobile, ma'am?"</p> + +<p>"I shan't want to go out to-day," Ann answered him, forcing her voice to +steadiness. "I have changed my mind."</p> + +<p>Then, she went swiftly up the stairs.</p> + +<p>She knew that the youth knew at least a part of her reason for altering +her plans. She knew that within the hour all Yavapai would know that she +was not going to the Sunset mine because Ned Lytton was drunk and hurt, +and she felt like crying aloud to relieve the distress in her heart.</p> + +<p>Her room was hot, its smallness was unbearable and, putting on her hat, +she went down the stairs, out of the hotel and, looking up and down the +main street, struck off to the left, for that direction seemed to offer +the quickest exit from the town.</p> + +<p>Ann walked swiftly along the hard highway, head down until she had left +the last buildings behind. Then she lifted her chin and drew a deep +breath of the fine mountain air and for the first time realized the +immensity of the surrounding country. Sight of it brought a little gasp +of wonder from her and she halted and turned slowly to look about.</p> + +<p>The town was set in the northern edge of a huge valley which appeared to +head in abruptly rising hills not so far to the westward. But to the +south and eastward it swept on and out, astonishing in its apparent +smoothness, its lavish colorings. Northward, its rise was more decided +and not far from the town clumps of brush and scant low timber dotted +the country, but out yonder there appeared to be no growth except the +grass which, where it grew in rank patches, bowed before the breeze and +flashed silver under the brilliant sun. The distances were blue and +inviting. She felt as though she would like to start walking and walk +and walk, alone under that high blue sky.</p> + +<p>She strolled on after that and followed the wagon track an hour. Then, +bodily weariness asserted itself and she rested in the shade of a low +oak scrub, twining grass stalks with nervous fingers.</p> + +<p>"I would have said that a country like this would have inspired +anybody," she said aloud after a time. "But he's the same. He's small, +he's small!"</p> + +<p>Vindictiveness was about her and her tone was bitter.</p> + +<p>"Still," she thought, "it may not be too late. That other man ... is as +big as this...."</p> + +<p>When she had rested and risen and gone a half mile back toward Yavapai, +she repeated aloud:</p> + +<p>"As big as this...."</p> + +<p>A great contrast that had been! Bruce Bayard, big, strong, controlled, +clean and thinking largely and clearly; Ned Lytton, little, weak, victim +of his appetites, foul and selfish. She wondered rather vaguely about +Bayard. Was he of that country? Was he the lover of some mountain girl? +Was he, possibly, the husband? No, she recalled that he had said that he +lived alone.... Well, so did she, for that matter!</p> + +<p>Scraps of Bayard's talk the night before came back to her and she +pondered over them, twisting their meanings, wondering if she had been +justified in the relief his assurances gave her. There, alone in the +daylight, they all seemed very incredible that she should have opened +her heart, given her dearest confidences to that man. As she thought +back through the hour, she became a trifle panicky, for she did not +realize then that to have remained silent, to have bottled her emotions +within herself longer would have been disastrous; she had reached +Yavapai and the breaking point at the same hour, and, had not Bayard +opportunely encountered her, she would have been forced to talk to the +wheezing hotel proprietor or Nora, the waitress, or the first human +being she met on the street ... someone, anyone! Then, abruptly changing +her course of thought, she reminded herself of the strangeness of the +truth that not once had it occurred to her to worry over the fact that +her husband, in an unconscious condition, had been taken away, she knew +not where, by this stranger. The faith she had felt in Bayard from the +first prevailed. She faced the future with forebodings; about the +present condition of Ned Lytton she did not dare think. A comforting +factor was the conviction that everything was being done for him that +she could do and more ... for she always had been helpless.</p> + +<p>She breathed in nervous exasperation at the idea that everything she +saw, talked about, thought or experienced came back to impress her +further with the hopelessness of the situation, then told herself that +fretting would not help; that she must do her all to make matters over, +that she must make good her purpose in coming to this new place.</p> + +<p>As she neared the town again, she saw the figure of a man approaching. +He walked slowly, with head down, and his face was wholly shaded by the +broad brim of his felt hat. His hands were behind his back and the +aimlessness of his carriage gave evidence of deep thought.</p> + +<p>When the woman was about to pass him, he turned back toward town without +looking up and it was the scuffing of her shoe that attracted him. He +faced about quickly at the sound and stared hard at Ann. The stare was +not offensive. She saw first his eyes, black and large and wonderfully +kind; his hair was white; his shaven lips gentle. Then she observed +that he wore the clothing of a clergyman.</p> + +<p>His hand went to his hat band, after his first gaze at her, and he +smiled.</p> + +<p>"How-do-you-do?" he said, with friendly confidence.</p> + +<p>Ann murmured a greeting.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know anyone was on the road. I was thinking rather fiercely, I +guess."</p> + +<p>He started to walk beside her and Ann was glad, for he was of that type +whose first appearance attracts by its promise of friendship.</p> + +<p>"I've been thinking, too," she answered. "Thinking, among other things +what a wonderful country this is. I'm from the East, I suppose it is not +necessary to say, and this is my first look at your valley."</p> + +<p>"Manzanita is a great old sweep of country!" he exclaimed, looking out +over it. "That valley is a good thing to look at when we think that +human anxieties are mighty matters."</p> + +<p>He smiled, and Ann looked into his face with a new interest and said:</p> + +<p>"I should think that such an influence as this is would tend to lessen +those anxieties; that it would tend to make the people who live near it +big, as it is big."</p> + +<p>He looked away and shook his head slowly.</p> + +<p>"I hold that theory, too, sometimes ... in my most optimistic hours. But +the more I see of the places in which men live, the closer I watch the +way we humans react to our physical environments, the less faith I have +in it. Some of the biggest, rarest souls I know have developed in the +meanest localities and, on the other hand, some of the worst culls of +the species I've ever seen have been products of countries so big that +they would inspire most men. Perhaps, though, the big men of the small +places would have been bigger in a country like this; possibly, those +who are found wanting out here would fall even shorter of what we expect +of them if they were in less wonderful surroundings."</p> + +<p>He paused a moment and then continued: "It may be a myth, this tradition +of the bigness of mountain men; or the impression may thrive because, +out here, we are so few and so widely scattered that we are the only +people who get a proper perspective on one another. That would be a +comfortable thing to believe, wouldn't it? It would mean, possibly, that +if we could only remove ourselves far enough from any community we would +appreciate its virtues and be able to overlook its vices. I'd like to +believe without qualification that a magnificent creation like this +valley would lift us all to a higher level; but I can't. Some of your +enthusiastic young men who come out from the East and write books about +the West would have it that these specimens of humanity which thrive in +the mountains and deserts are all supermen, with only enough rascals +sprinkled about to serve the purposes of their plots. That, of course, +is a fallacy and it may be due to the surprising point of view which we +find ourselves able to adopt when we are removed far enough by distance +or tradition from other people. We have some splendid men here, but the +average man in the mountains won't measure up to where he will +overshadow the average man of any other region ... I believe. We haven't +so many opportunities, perhaps, to show our qualities of goodness and +badness ... although some of us can be downright nasty on occasion!"</p> + +<p>He ended with an inflection which caused Ann to believe that he was +thinking of some specific case of misconduct; she felt herself flush +quickly and became suddenly fearful that he might refer directly to Ned. +Last night she had poured her misery into a stranger's ears; to-day she +could not bear the thought of further discussing her husband's life or +condition; she shrank, even, from the idea of being associated with him +in the minds of other people and in desperation she veered the subject +by asking,</p> + +<p>"Is it populated much, the valley, I mean?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet. Cattle and horse and some sheep ranches are scattered about. +One outfit will use up a lot of that country for grazing purposes, you +know. Someday there'll be water and more people ... and less bigness!"</p> + +<p>He told her more of the valley, stopping now and then to indicate +directions.</p> + +<p>"I came from over there yesterday," he said, facing about and pointing +into the westward. "Had a funeral beyond those hills. Stopped for +dinner with a young friend of mine whose ranch is just beyond that swell +yonder.... Fine boy; Bayard, Bruce Bayard."</p> + +<p>Ann wanted to ask him more about the rancher, but somehow she could not +trust herself; she felt that her voice would be uncertain, for one +thing. Some unnamed shyness, too, held her from questioning him now.</p> + +<p>They stopped before the hotel and the man said:</p> + +<p>"My name is Weyl. I am the clergy of Yavapai. If you are to be here +long, I'm sure Mrs. Weyl would like to see you. She is in Prescott for a +week or two now."</p> + +<p>He put out his hand, and, as she clasped it, Ann said, scarcely +thinking:</p> + +<p>"I am Ann Lytton. I arrived last night and may be here some time."</p> + +<p>She saw a quick look of pain come into his readable eyes and felt his +finger tighten on hers.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!" he said, in a manner that made her catch her breath. "I +know.... Your brother, isn't it, the young miner?"</p> + +<p>At that the woman started and merely to escape further painful +discussion, unthinkingly clouding her own identity, replied,</p> + +<p>"Ned, you mean ... yes...."</p> + +<p>"Well, if you're to be here long we will see you, surely. And if there's +anything I can do for you, please ask it."</p> + +<p>"You're very kind," she said, as she turned from him.</p> + +<p>In her room she stood silent a moment, palms against her cheeks. +Bayard's words came back to her:</p> + +<p>"I didn't think you was married ... especially to a thing like that...."</p> + +<p>And now this other man concluded that she could not be Ned's wife!</p> + +<p>"I must be his wife ... his <i>good</i> wife!" she said, with a stamp of her +foot. "If he ever needed one ... it's now...."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>AT THE CIRCLE A</h3> + + +<p>Ned Lytton swam back to consciousness through painful half dreams. Light +hurt his inflamed eyes; a horrible throbbing, originating in the center +of his head, proceeded outward and seemed to threaten the solidity of +his skull; his body was as though it had been mauled and banged about +until no inch of flesh remained unbruised; his left forearm burned and +stung fiendishly. He was in bed, undressed, he realized, and covered to +the chin with clean smelling bedding. He moved his tortured head from +side to side and marveled dully because it rested on a pillow.</p> + +<p>It was some time before he appreciated more. Then he saw that the fine +sunlight which hurt his eyes streamed into the room from open windows +and door, that it was flung back at him by whitewashed walls and +scrubbed floor. He was in someone's house, cared for without his +knowing. He moved stiffly on the thought. Someone had taken him in, +someone had shown him a kindness, and, even in his semi-stupor, he +wondered, because, for an incalculable period, he had been hating and +hated.</p> + +<p>He did not know how Bayard had dragged a bed from another room and set +it up in his kitchen that he might better nurse his patient; did not +know how the rancher had slept in his chair, and then but briefly, that +he might not be tardy in attending to any need during the early morning +hours; did not realize that the whole program of life in that +comfortable ranch house had been altered that it might center about him. +He did comprehend, though, that someone cared, that he was experiencing +kindness.</p> + +<p>The sound of moving feet and the ring of spurs reached him; then a boot +was set on the threshold and Bruce Bayard stepped into the room. He was +rubbing his face with a towel and in the other hand was a razor and +shaving brush. He had been scraping his chin in the shade of the ash +tree that waved lazily in the warm breeze and tossed fantastically +changing shadows through the far window. He looked up as he entered and +encountered the gaze from these swollen, inflamed eyes set in the +bruised face of Ned Lytton.</p> + +<p>"Hello!" he cried in surprise. "You're awake?"</p> + +<p>He put down the things he carried and crossed the room to the bedside.</p> + +<p>"Yes.... For God's sake, haven't you got a drink?"—in a painful rasp.</p> + +<p>"I have; one; just one, for you," the other replied, left the room and +came back with a tumbler a third filled with whiskey. He propped +Lytton's head with one hand and held the glass to his misshapen lips, +while he guzzled greedily.</p> + +<p>"More ... another ..." Lytton muttered a moment after he was back on his +pillow.</p> + +<p>"Seems to me you'd ought to know you've punished enough of this by now," +the rancher said, standing with his hands on his hips and looking at the +distorted expression of suffering on Lytton's face.</p> + +<p>The sick man moved his head slightly in negation. Then, after a moment:</p> + +<p>"How'd I get here? Who are you ... anyhow?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you know me?"</p> + +<p>The fevered eyes held on him, studying laboriously, and a smile +struggled to bend the puffed lips.</p> + +<p>"Sure ... you're the fellow, Nora's fellow ... the girl in the hotel. I +tried to ... and she said you'd beat me up...." Something intended for a +laugh sounded from his throat. The face of the man above him flushed +slightly and the jaw muscles bulged under his cheek. "Where in hell am +I? How'd I get here?"</p> + +<p>"I brought you here last night. You'd gone the limit in town. Somebody +tried to shoot you an' got as far's your arm. I brought you here to try +to make somethin' like a man of you,"—ending with a hint of bitterness +in spite of the whimsical smile with which he watched the effect of his +last words.</p> + +<p>Lytton stirred.</p> + +<p>"Damned arm!" he muttered, thickly, evidently conscious of only physical +things. "I thought something was wrong. It hurts like.... Say, whatever +your name is, haven't you got another drink?"</p> + +<p>"My name is Bayard; you know me when you're sober. You're at my ranch, +th' Circle A. You've had your drink for to-day."</p> + +<p>"May—Bayard. Say, for God's sake, Bayard, you ain't going to let +me.... Why, like one gentleman to another, when your girl Nora, the +waitress ... said you'd knock me ... keep away. I wasn't afraid.... +Didn't know she was yours.... I quit when I knew.... Treated you like a +gentleman. Now why ... don't you treat me like a gentle ... give me a +drink. I kept away from your wo—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, shut up!"</p> + +<p>The ominous quality of the carelessly spoken, half laughing demand +carried even to Lytton's confused understanding and he checked himself +between syllables, staring upward into the countenance of the other.</p> + +<p>"In the first place, she's not my woman, in th' way you mean; if she +was, I wouldn't stand here an' only tell you to shut your mouth when you +talked about her like that. Sick as you are, I'd choke you, maybe. In +th' second place, I'm no gentleman, I guess,"—with a smile breaking +through into a laugh. "I'm just a kind of he-man an' I don't know much +about th' way you gentlemen have dealin's with each other.</p> + +<p>"No more booze for you to-day. Get that in your head, if you can. I've +got coffee for you now an' some soup."</p> + +<p>He turned and walked to the stove in the far corner, kicked open the +draft and took a cup from the shelf above. All the while the bleared, +scarce understanding gaze of the man in bed followed him as though he +were trying to comprehend, trying to get the meaning of Bayard's simple, +direct sentences.</p> + +<p>After he had been helped in drinking a quantity of hot coffee and had +swallowed a few spoonfuls of soup, Lytton dropped back on the pillow, +sighed and, with his puffed eyes half open, slipped back into a state +that was half slumber, half stupor.</p> + +<p>Bayard took the wounded arm from beneath the cover, unwrapped the +bandages, eyed the clotted tear critically and bound it up again. Then +he walked to the doorway and, with hands hooked in his belt, scowled out +across the lavendar floor of the treeless valley which spread before and +below him, rising to blue heights in the far, far distance. He stood +there a long, silent interval, staring vacantly at that vast panorama, +then, moved slowly across the fenced dooryard, let himself into a big +enclosure and approached a round corral, through the bars of which the +sorrel horse watched his progress with alert ears. For a half hour he +busied himself with currycomb and brush, rubbing the fine hair until the +sunlight was shot back from it in points of golden light and all the +time the frown between his brows grew deeper, more perplexed. Finally, +he straightened, tapped the comb against a post to free it of dust, +flung an arm affectionately about the horse's neck, caressed one of the +great, flat cheeks, idly, and, after a moment, began to laugh.</p> + +<p>"Because we set our fool eyes on beauty in distress we cross a jag-cure +with a reform school an' set up to herd th' cussed thing!" he chuckled. +"Abe, was there ever two bigger fools 'n you an' me? Because she's a +beauty, she'll draw attention like honey draws bees; because she's in +trouble an' can't hide it, she'll have everybody prospectin' round to +locate her misery an' when they do, we'll be in th' middle of it all, +keepin' th' worthless husband of a pretty young woman away from her. All +out of th' goodness of our hearts. It won't sound good when they talk +about it an' giggle, Abe. It won't sound good!" And then, very +seriously,</p> + +<p>"How 'n hell could she marry a ... thing like that?"</p> + +<p>During the day Lytton roused several times and begged for whiskey, +incoherently, scarce consciously, but only once again did Bayard respond +with stimulants. That was late evening and, after the drink, the man +dropped off into profound slumber, not to rouse from it until the sun +again rose above the hills and once more flooded the room with its +glorious light. Then, he looked up to see Bayard smiling seriously at +him, a basin and towel in his hands.</p> + +<p>"You're a good sleeper," he said. "I took a look at your pinked arm an' +you didn't even move; just cussed me a little."</p> + +<p>The other smiled, this time in a more human manner, for the swelling had +partly gone from his lips and his eyes were nearer those of his species.</p> + +<p>"Now, sit up," the cowman went on, "an' get your face washed, like a +good boy."</p> + +<p>Gently, swiftly, thoroughly, he washed Lytton's face and neck in water +fresh from the well under the ash tree, and, when he had finished, he +took the sick man in the crook of his big, steady arm, lifted him +without much effort and placed him halfway erect against the re-arranged +pillows.</p> + +<p>"Would you eat somethin'?" he asked, and for the first time that day his +patient spoke.</p> + +<p>"Lord, yes! I'm starved,"—feebly.</p> + +<p>Bayard brought coffee again and eggs and stood by while Lytton consumed +them with a weak show of relish. During this breakfast only a few words +were exchanged, but when the dishes were removed and Bayard returned to +the bed with a glass of water the other stared into his face for the +space of many breaths.</p> + +<p>"Old chap, you're mighty white to do all this," he said, and his voice +trembled with earnestness. "I ... I don't believe I've ever spoken to +you a dozen times when I was sober and yet you.... How long have you +been doing all this for me?"</p> + +<p>"Only since night before last," Bayard answered, with a depreciating +laugh. "It's no more 'n any man would do for another ... if he needed +it."</p> + +<p>Lytton searched his face seriously again.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, it is," he muttered, with a painful shake of his head. "No one +has ever done for me like this, never since I was a little kid....</p> + +<p>"I ... I don't blame 'em; especially the ones out here. I've been a +rotter all right; no excuse for it. I ... I've gone the limit and I +guess whoever tried to shoot me was justified ... I don't know,"—with a +slow sigh—"how much hell I've raised.</p> + +<p>"But ... but why did you do this for me? You've never seen me much; +never had any reason to like me."</p> + +<p>The smile went from Bayard's eyes. He thought "I'm doing this not for +you, but for a woman I've seen only once...." What he said aloud was: +"Why, I reckoned if somebody didn't take care of you, you'd get killed +up. I might just as well do it as anybody an' save Yavapai th' trouble +of a funeral."</p> + +<p>They looked at one another silently.</p> + +<p>"A while ago ... yesterday, maybe ... I said something to you about a, +about a woman," the man said, and an uneasiness marked his expression. +"I apologize, Old Man. I don't know just what I said, but I was nasty, +and I'm sorry. A ... a man's woman is his own affair; nobody's else."</p> + +<p>"You think so?" The question came with a surprising bluntness.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes; always."</p> + +<p>Bayard turned from the bedside abruptly and strode across the floor to +the table where a pan waited for the dirty dishes, rolling up his +sleeves as he went, face troubled. Lytton's eyes followed him, a trifle +sadly at first, but slowly, as the other worked, a cunning came into +them, a shiftiness, a crafty glitter. He moistened his lips with his +tongue and stirred uneasily on his pillow. Once, he opened his mouth as +though to speak but checked the impulse. When the dishpan was hung away +and Bayard stood rolling down his sleeves, Lytton said:</p> + +<p>"Old man, yesterday you gave me a drink or two. Can't ... haven't you +any left this morning?"</p> + +<p>"I have," the rancher said slowly, "but you don't need it to-day. You +did yesterday, but this mornin' you've got some grub in you, you got +somethin' more like a clear head, an' I don't guess any snake juice +would help matters along very fast. There's more coffee here an' you can +fill up on that any old time you get shaky."</p> + +<p>"Coffee!" scoffed the other, a sudden weak rage asserting itself. "What +th' hell do I want of coffee? What I need's whiskey! Don't you think I +know what I want? Lord, Bayard, I'm a man, ain't I? I can judge for +myself what I want, can't I?"</p> + +<p>"Yesterday, you said you was a gentleman," Bayard replied, +reminiscently, his tone lightly chaffing, "an' I guess that about states +your case. As for you knowin' what you want ... I don't agree with you; +judgin' from your past, anyhow."</p> + +<p>The man in the bed bared his teeth in an unpleasant smile; two of the +front teeth were missing, another broken, result of some recent fight, +and with his swollen eyes he was a revolting sight. As he looked at him, +Bayard's face reflected his deep disgust.</p> + +<p>"What's your game?" Lytton challenged. "I didn't ask you to bring me +here, did I? I haven't asked any favors of you, have I? You ... You +shanghaied me out to your damned ranch; you keep me here, and then won't +even give me a drink out of your bottle. Hell, any sheepherder'd do that +for me!</p> + +<p>"If you think I'm ungrateful for what you've done—sobered me up, I +mean—just say so and I'll get out. That was all right. But what was +your object?"</p> + +<p>"I thought by bringing you out here you might get straightened up. I did +it for your own good. You don't understand right now, but you may ... +sometime."</p> + +<p>"My own good! Well, I've had enough for my own good, now, so I guess I +won't wait any longer to understand!"</p> + +<p>He kicked off the covers and stood erect, swaying dizzily. Bayard +stepped across to him.</p> + +<p>"Get back into bed," he said, evenly, with no display of temper. "You +couldn't walk to water an' you couldn't set on a horse five minutes. +You're here an' you're goin' to stay a while whether you like it or +not."</p> + +<p>The cords of his neck stood out, giving the only evidence of the anger +he felt. He gently forced the other man back into bed and covered him, +breathing a trifle swiftly but offering no further protest for +explanation.</p> + +<p>"You keep me here by force, and then you prate about doing it for my own +good!" Lytton panted. "You damned hypocrite; you.... It's on account of +a woman, I know! She tried to get coy with me; she tried to make me +think she was all yours when I followed her up. She told you about it +and ... damn you, you're afraid to let me go back to town!"—lifting +himself on an elbow. "Come, Bayard, be frank with me: the thing between +us is a woman, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>The rancher eyed him a long time, almost absently. Then he walked slowly +to the far corner of the room and moved a chair back against the wall +with great pains; it was as though he were deciding something, something +of great importance, something on which an immediate decision was +gravely necessary. He faced about and walked slowly back to the bedside +without speaking. His lips were shut and the one hand held behind him +was clenched into a knot.</p> + +<p>"Not now ... a woman," he said, as though he were uncertain himself. +"Not now ... but it may be, sometime...."</p> + +<p>The other laughed and fell back into his pillows. Bayard looked down at +him, eyes speculative beneath slightly drawn brows.</p> + +<p>"And then," he added, "if it ever comes to that...."</p> + +<p>He snapped his fingers and turned away abruptly, as if the thought +brought a great uneasiness.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>TONGUES WAG</h3> + + +<p>It was afternoon the next day that Bruce Bayard, swinging down from his +horse, whipped the dust from his clothing with his hat and walked +through the kitchen door of the Manzanita House.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Nora," he said to the girl who approached him. "Got a little +clean water for a dirty cow puncher?"</p> + +<p>He kicked out of his chaps and, dropping his hat to the floor, reached +for the dipper. The girl, after a brief greeting, stood looking at him +in perplexed speculation.</p> + +<p>"What's wrong, Sister? You look mighty mournful this afternoon!"</p> + +<p>"Bruce, what do you know about Ned Lytton?" she asked, cautiously, +looking about to see that no one could overhear.</p> + +<p>"Why? What do <i>you</i> know about him?"</p> + +<p>"Well, his wife's here; you took him upstairs with you that night dead +drunk, you went home and he was gone before any of us was up. She ... +she's worried to fits about him. Everybody's tryin' to put her off his +track, 'cause they feel sorry for her; they think he's probably gone +back to his mine to sober up, but nobody wants to see her follow and +find out what he is. Nobody thinks she knows how he's been actin'.</p> + +<p>"You know, they think that she's his sister. I don't."</p> + +<p>He scooped water from the shallow basin and buried his face in the +cupped hands that held it, rubbing and blowing furiously.</p> + +<p>"That's what I come to town for, Nora, because I suspected she'd be +worryin'." To himself he thought, "Sister! That helps!"</p> + +<p>"You mean, you know where he is?"</p> + +<p>"Yeah,"—nodding his head as he wiped his hands—"I took him home. I got +him there in bed an' I come to town th' first chance I got to tell her +he's gettin' along fine."</p> + +<p>"That was swell of you, Bruce," she said, with an admiring smile.</p> + +<p>He shrugged his shoulders deprecatingly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it was!" she insisted. "To do it for her. She's th' sweetest thing +ever come into this town, an' he's...."</p> + +<p>She ended by making a wry face.</p> + +<p>"You had a run-in with him, didn't you?" he asked, as if casually, and +the girl looked at him sharply.</p> + +<p>"How'd you know?"</p> + +<p>"He's been kind of nutty an' said somethin' about it."</p> + +<p>A pause.</p> + +<p>"He come in here last week, Bruce, drunk. He made a grab for me an' said +somethin' fresh an' he was so crazy, so awful lookin', that it scart me +for a minute. I told him to keep away or you'd knock all th' poison out +of him. He ... You see,"—apologetically—"I was scart an' I knew that +was th' easiest way out—to tell him you'd get after him. You ... Th' +worst of 'em back up when they think you're likely to land on 'em."</p> + +<p>He reached out and pinched her cheek, smiled and shook his head with +mock seriousness.</p> + +<p>"Lordy, Sister, you'd make me out a hell-winder of a bad man, wouldn't +you?"</p> + +<p>"Not much! 'N awful good man, Bruce. That's what puts a crimp in +'em—your goodness!"</p> + +<p>He flushed at that.</p> + +<p>"Tryin' to josh me now, ain't you?" he laughed. "Well, josh away, but if +any of 'em get fresh with you an' I'll ... I'll have th' sheriff on +'em!"—with a twinkle in his gray eyes. Then he sobered.</p> + +<p>"I s'pose I'd better go up to her room now," he said, an uneasy manner +coming over him. "She'll be glad to know he's gettin' along so well....</p> + +<p>"So everybody thinks she's his sister, do they?"—with an effort to make +his question sound casual and as an afterthought.</p> + +<p>"Yes, they do. I'm th' only one who's guessed she's his wife an' I kept +my mouth shut. Rest of 'em all swear she couldn't be, that's she's his +sister, 'cause she ... well, she ain't th' kind that would marry a +thing like that. I didn't say nothin'. I let 'em think as they do; but I +know! No sister would worry th' way she does!"</p> + +<p>"You're a wise gal," he said, "an' when you said she was th' sweetest +thing that ever come to this town you wasn't so awful wrong."</p> + +<p>He opened the door and closed it behind him.</p> + +<p>In the middle of the kitchen floor the girl stood alone, motionless, her +eyes glowing, pulses quickened. Then, the keen light went from her face; +its expression became doggedly patient, as if she were confronted by a +long, almost hopeless undertaking, and with a sigh she turned to her +tasks.</p> + +<p>Patient Nora! As Bayard had closed the door behind him unthinkingly, so +had he closed the door to his heart against the girl. All her crude, +timid advances had failed to impress him, so detached from response to +sex attraction was his interest in her. And for months she had +waited ... waited, finding solace in the fact that no other woman stood +closer to him; but now ... she feared an unnamed influence.</p> + +<p>Ann Lytton, staring at the page of a book, heard his boots on the stair. +He mounted slowly, spurs ringing lightly with each step, and, when he +was halfway up, she rose to her feet, walked to the door of her room and +stood watching him come down the narrow, dark hallway, filling it with +his splendid height, his unusual breadth.</p> + +<p>They spoke no greeting. She merely backed into the room and Bruce +followed with a show of slight embarrassment. Yet his gaze was full on +her, steady, searching, intent. Only when she stopped and held out her +hand did his manner of looking at her change. Then, he smiled and met +her firm grasp with a hand that was cold and which trembled ever so +slightly.</p> + +<p>"He ... is he ..." she began in an uncertain voice.</p> + +<p>"He's doin' fine, ma'am," he said, and her fingers tightened on his, +sending a thrill up his arm and making its muscles contract to draw her +a bit closer to him. "He's doin' fine," he repeated, relinquishing his +grasp. "He's feelin' better an' lookin' better an' he'll begin to gain +strength right off."</p> + +<p>An inarticulate exclamation of gladness broke from her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's been an age!" she said, smiling wanly and shaking her head +slowly as she looked up into his face. "Every hour has seemed a day, +every day a week. I didn't dare, didn't dare think; and I've hoped so +long, with so little result that I didn't dare hope!"</p> + +<p>She bowed her head and held her folded hands against her mouth. For a +moment they were so, the cowboy looking down at her with a restless, +covetous light in his eyes and it was the impulsive lifting of one hand +as though he would stroke the blue-black braids that roused her.</p> + +<p>"Come, sit down," she said, indicating a chair opposite hers by the +open window. "I want you to tell me everything and I want to ask you if +it isn't best that I go to him now.</p> + +<p>"Now, from the beginning, please!"</p> + +<p>He looked into her eyes as though he did not hear her words. Her +expression of eager anticipation changed; her look wavered, she left off +meeting his gaze and Bayard, with a start, moved in his chair.</p> + +<p>"There ain't much to tell," he mumbled. "I got him home easy enough an' +sent th' team back that day by a friend of mine who happened along...."</p> + +<p>Her eyes returned to his face, riveting there with an impersonal +earnestness that would not be challenged. Her red lips were parted as +she sat with elbows on knees in the low rocker before him. It was his +gaze, now, that wavered, but he hastened on with his recital of what he +thought best to tell about what had occurred at his ranch in the last +two days.</p> + +<p>From time to time he glanced at her and on every occasion the mounting +appreciation of her beauty, the unfaltering earnestness of her desire to +learn every detail about her husband, the wonder that her sort could +remain devoted to Ned Lytton's kind, combined to enrage him, to make him +rebel hotly, even as he talked, at thought of such impossible human +relations, and he was on the point of giving vent to his indignation +when he remembered with a decided shock that on their first meeting she +had told him that she loved her husband. Beyond that, he reasoned, +nothing could be said.</p> + +<p>"He's awful weak, of course, but he was quiet," he concluded. "I left +him sleepin' an' I'll get back before he rouses up, it's likely."</p> + +<p>"Well, don't you think I might go back with you?" she asked, eagerly. +"Don't you think he's strong enough now, so I might be with him?"</p> + +<p>He had expected this and was steeled against it.</p> + +<p>"Why, you might, ma'am, if things was different," he said. "It's sort of +rough out there; just a shack, understand, an' you've never lived that +kind of life. There's only one room, an' I...."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I hadn't thought of crowding you out! Please don't think I'd +overlook your own comfort."</p> + +<p>Her regret was so spontaneous, that he stirred uneasily, for he was not +accustomed to lying.</p> + +<p>"Not at all, ma'am. Why, I'd move out an' sleep in th' hills for you, if +I knew it was best ... for you!"</p> + +<p>The heart that was in his voice startled her. She sat back in her chair.</p> + +<p>"You've been very kind ... so kind!" she said, after a pause.</p> + +<p>He fidgetted in his chair and rose.</p> + +<p>"Nobody could help bein' kind ... to you, ma'am," he stammered. "If +anybody was anything but kind to you they deserve...."</p> + +<p>He realized of a sudden that the man for whose sake she was undergoing +this ordeal had been cruel to her, and checked himself. Because +bitterness surged up within him and he felt that to follow his first +impulses would place him between Ann Lytton and her husband, aligned +against the man in the rôle of protector.</p> + +<p>She divined the reason for his silence and said very gently,</p> + +<p>"Remember the cripples!"</p> + +<p>He turned toward her so fiercely that she started back, having risen.</p> + +<p>"I'm tryin' to!" he cried, with a surprising sharpness. "Tryin' to, +ma'am, every minute; tryin' to remember th' cripples."</p> + +<p>He looked about in flushed confusion. Ann stared at him.</p> + +<p>His intensity frightened her. The men of her experience would not have +presumed to show such direct interest in her affairs on brief +acquaintance. A deal of conventional sparring and shamming would have +been required for any of them to evince a degree of passion in the +discussion of her predicament; but this man, on their second meeting, +was obviously forced to hold himself firmly, restraining a natural +prompting to step in and adjust matters to accord with his own sense of +right. The girl felt instinctively that his motives were most high, but +his manner was rough and new; she was accustomed to the usual, the +familiar, and, while her confidence in Bayard had been profoundly +aroused, her inherent distrust of strangeness caused her to suspect, to +be reluctant to accept his attitude without reserve. Looking up at her +he read the conflict in her face.</p> + +<p>"I'd better go now," he added in a voice from which the vigor had gone. +"I..."</p> + +<p>"But you'll let me know about Ned?" she asked, trying to rally her +composure.</p> + +<p>"I'll come to-morrow, ma'am," he promised.</p> + +<p>"That'll be so kind of you!"</p> + +<p>"You don't understand, maybe, that it's no kindness to you," he said. +"It might be somethin' else. Have you thought of that? Have you thought, +ma'am, that maybe I ain't th' kind of man I'm pretendin' to be?"</p> + +<p>Then, he walked out before she could answer and she stood alone, his +words augmenting the disquiet his manner had aroused. She moved to the +window, anxiously waiting to see him ride past. He did, a few minutes +later, his head down in thought, his fine, flat shoulders braced +backward, body poised splendidly, light, masterly in the saddle, the +wonderful creature under him moving with long, sure strides. The woman +drew a deep breath and turned back into the room.</p> + +<p>"I mustn't ... I mustn't," she whispered.</p> + +<p>Then wheeled quickly, snatched back the curtains and pressed her cheek +against the upper panes to catch a last glimpse of him.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Next day Bayard was back and found that the hours Ann had spent alone +had taken their toll and she controlled herself only by continual +repression. He urged her to talk, hoping to start her thinking fresh +thoughts, but she could think, then, only of the present hour. Her +loneliness had again broken down all barriers. Bayard was her confessor, +her talk with him the only outlet for the emotional pressure that +threatened her self-control; that relief was imperative, overriding her +distrust of the day before. For an hour the man listened while she gave +him the dreary details of her married life with that eagerness of the +individual who, for too long a period, has hidden and nursed +heart-breaking troubles. She was only twenty-four and had married at +twenty. A year later Ned's father had died, the boy came into sudden +command of considerable property, lost his head, frittered away the +fortune, drank, could not face the condemnation of his family and fled +West on the pretext of developing the Sunset mine, the last tangible +asset that remained. She tried to cover the entire truth there, but +Bayard knew that Lytton's move was only desertion, for she told of going +to work to support herself, of standing between Ned and his relatives, +of shielding him from the consequences of the misadministration of his +father's estate, of waiting weeks and months for word of him, of denying +herself actual necessities that she might come West on this mission.</p> + +<p>At the end she cried and Bayard felt an unholy desire to ride to his +Circle A ranch and do violence to the man who had functioned in this +woman's life as a maker of misery. But he merely sat there and put his +hands under his thighs to keep them from reaching out for the woman, to +comfort her, to claim a place as her protector....</p> + +<p>The talk and tears relieved Ann and she smiled bravely at him when he +left; a tenderness was in her face that disturbed him.</p> + +<p>Day after day the rancher appeared in Yavapai, each time going directly +to the hotel and to Ann. Many times he talked to her in her room; often, +they were seen together on the veranda; occasionally, they walked short +distances. The eyes of the community were on Ann anyhow, because, being +new, she was intrinsically interesting, but this regularity on the part +of Bayard could not help but attract curious attention and cause gossip, +for in the years people had watched him grow from a child to manhood one +of the accepted facts about him had been his evident lack of interest in +women. To Nora, the waitress, he had given frank, companionable +attention and regarding them was a whispered tradition arising when the +unknown girl arrived in Yavapai and Bruce appeared to be on intimate +terms with her from the first.</p> + +<p>But now Nora received little enough of his time. She watched his comings +and goings with a growing concern which she kept in close secret and no +one, unless they had watched ever so closely, would have seen the slow +change that came over the brown haired girl. Her amiable bearing toward +the people she served became slightly forced, her laughter grew a trifle +hard, and, when Bruce was in sight, she kept her eyes on him with steady +inquiry, as one who reads eagerly and yet dreads to know what is +written.</p> + +<p>One day the cattleman came from the hotel and crossed the street to the +Yavapai saloon where a dozen men were assembled. Tommy Clary was there +among others and, when they lined up before the bar on Bruce's arrival, +feet on the piece of railroad steel that did service as footrail, Tommy, +with a wink to the man at his right said:</p> + +<p>"Now, Bruce, you're just in time to settle 'n argument. All these here +other <i>hombres</i> are sayin' you've lost your head an' are clean skirt +crazy, an' I've been tellin' 'em that you're only tryin' to be a brother +to her. Ain't that right, now? Just back me up, Bruce!"</p> + +<p>He stood back and gestured in mock appeal, while the others leaned +forward over the bar at varying degrees that they might see and grinned +in silence. Bayard looked straight before him and the corners of his +mouth twitched in a half smile.</p> + +<p>"Who is this lady you're honorin' by hitchin' me up with?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Ho, that's good! I s'pose you don't quite comprehend our meanin'! Well, +I'll help you out. This Lytton girl, sister to our hydrophobia skunk! +They think you're in love, Bruce, but I stick up for you like a friend +ought to. I think you're only brotherly!"</p> + +<p>"Why, Tommy, they ought to take your word on anythin' like that," Bayard +countered, turning slowly to face the other. "Th' reason th' <i>Yavapai +Argus</i> perished was 'cause Tom Clary beat th' editor to all th' news, +wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>The laugh was on the short cowboy and he joined it heartily.</p> + +<p>"But if that's true—that brother stuff—," he said, when he could be +heard, "seems to me you're throwin' in with a fine sample of stalwart +manhood!"</p> + +<p>Then they were off on a concerted damnation of Ned Lytton and under its +cover Bayard thanked his stars that Nora had been right, that Yavapai +had been satisfied with jumping at the conclusion that Ann could not be +her husband's wife.</p> + +<p>"But I'll tell you, Bruce," went on Tommy, as Bayard started to leave, +"if I was as pretty a fellow as you are, I'd make a play for that gal +myself! If she'd only get to know me an' know 'bout my brains, it'd all +be downhill an' shady. But she won't. You got th' looks; I've got th' +horse power in my head. Can't we form a combination?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sort of again' combinations ... where women are concerned," Bruce +answered, and walked out before they could see the seriousness that +possessed him.</p> + +<p>On his way out of town Bayard passed two friends but did not look at +them nor appear to hear their salutations. He was a mile up the road +before his absorption gave way to a shake of the head and the following +summing up, spoken to the jogging Abe:</p> + +<p>"Gosh, Pardner, back there they've all got me in love with her. I had a +hard time keepin' my head, when they tried to josh me about it. I ain't +ever admitted it to myself, even, but has that—not admittin' it—got +anything to do with it, I wonder? Does it keep it from bein' so? Why +should I get hot, if it ain't true?"</p> + +<p>When they were in sight of the ranch, he spoke again,</p> + +<p>"How 'n th' name of God can a man help lovin' a woman like that?"</p> + +<p>And in answer to the assertion that popped up in his mind, he cried +aloud: "He ain't no man; <i>he</i> ain't ... an' she loves him!"</p> + +<p>He put the stallion into a high lope then, partly to relieve the stress +of his thinking, partly because he suddenly realized that he had been +away from the ranch many hours. This was the first time that Lytton had +been up and about when he departed and he wondered if, in the interval, +the man had left the ranch, had stolen a march on him, and escaped to +Yavapai or elsewhere to find stimulant.</p> + +<p>Lytton's improvement seemed to have been marked in the last two days. +That forenoon, when Bayard told him he was to go to town, the man had +insisted on helping with the work, though his body was still weak. He +had been pleasant, almost jovial, and it was with pride that the +rancher had told Ann of the results he had obtained by his care and his +patience; had spoken with satisfaction in spite of the knowledge that +ultimate success meant a snuffing out of the fire that burned in his +heart ... the fire that he would not yet admit existed.</p> + +<p>Arrived at the ranch, Bruce forced the sorrel against his gate, leaned +low to release the fastening and went on through. He was grave of face +and silent and he walked toward the house after dismounting, deep in +thought, struggling with the problem of conduct which was evolving from +the circumstance in which he found himself.</p> + +<p>On the threshold, after looking into the kitchen, he stood poised a +moment. Then, with a cry of anger he strode into the room, halted and +looked about him.</p> + +<p>"You damned liar!" he cried into the silence.</p> + +<p>Ned Lytton lay across the bed, face downward, breathing muffled by the +tumbled blankets, and on the floor beside him was an empty whiskey +bottle.</p> + +<p>"You liar!" Bayard said again. "You strung me this mornin', didn't you? +This was why you was so crazy to help me get an early start! You +coyote!"</p> + +<p>He moved noisily across the room and halted again to survey the scene. A +cupboard had been roughly emptied and the clock had been overturned when +Lytton searched its shelf; in another room an old dresser stood gaping, +the things it had contained in a pile on the floor, its drawers flung in +a corner. Everywhere was evidence of a hurried search for a hidden +thing. And that sought object was the bottle, the contents of which had +sent the prostrate figure into its present state.</p> + +<p>"You're just ... carrion!" he said, disgustedly, staring at Lytton.</p> + +<p>Then, with set face, he undressed the man, laid him gently on the +pillows and covered him well.</p> + +<p>"God help me to remember that you're a cripple!" he muttered, and turned +to straighten the disorder of his house.</p> + +<p>An hour later Bayard drew a chair to the bedside, seated himself and +frowned steadily at the sleeping man.</p> + +<p>"I've got to remember you're a cripple ... got to," he said, over and +over. "For her sake, I must. An' I can't ... trust myself near her ... I +can't!"</p> + +<p>The drunken man roused himself with a start and stared blearily, +unintelligently into the other's face.</p> + +<p>"Tha's righ', Ole Man," he mumbled. "Tha's ri'...."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>A HEART SPEAKS</h3> + + +<p>With forebodings Bruce Bayard went to Ann Lytton the next day. She saw +trouble on his face as he entered her room.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" she asked, quietly, steadying herself, for she was ever +ready for the worst.</p> + +<p>He only continued to look gravely at her.</p> + +<p>"Don't be afraid to tell me, Mr. Bayard. I can stand it; you can't hide +it."</p> + +<p>He looked at her, until he made sure that she was not speculating, that +she was certain that he brought her bad news.</p> + +<p>"Yesterday, while I was here, your husband ransacked my house an' found a +quart of whiskey I had...."</p> + +<p>"Oh! After he sent you away, making you feel..."</p> + +<p>"You know him right well, ma'am," he interrupted. "Yes, I guess all his +show of bein' himself in th' mornin' was to get me to move out so he +could look for th' booze. He knew it was there; he'd been waitin' this +chance, I expect."</p> + +<p>"How awful! What a way to treat you."</p> + +<p>He smiled. "Don't mind me, ma'am; I'm thinkin' about you."</p> + +<p>She looked back at him bravely.</p> + +<p>"And the other day ... when you left, you tried to make me stop thinking +these kind things about you," she challenged. "You suggested that your +interest in Ned and in me might not be fine."</p> + +<p>It did not occur to either of them that at such a moment, under those +conditions which they told themselves prevailed, talk and thought of +their own special relations was out of place.</p> + +<p>"I'm only doin' what I can ... for you," he assured her. "An' I guess it +ain't much I can do. I'm kind of a failure at reformin' men, I guess. I +want to keep on tryin', though. I,"—he moistened his lips—"I don't +like to think of givin' up an' I don't like to think of turnin' him over +to you like he is."</p> + +<p>She smiled appreciatively, downing her misery for the moment, and +hastened to say:</p> + +<p>"Don't you think it would be better, if I were there now? You see, I +could be with him all the time, watch him, help him over the worst days. +It surely wouldn't set him back to see me now."</p> + +<p>"And might it not be that living alone with you, away from the things he +needs: good care, the comforts he's been brought up to know, the right +food...."</p> + +<p>So confused was Bayard before the conviction that he must meet this +argument, that he proceeded without caution, without thought of the +foundation of lies on which his separation of husband and wife rested, +he burst out:</p> + +<p>"But he has them there! Here, ma'am, he'd been seein' an' hearin' folks, +he'd be tempted continually. Out there ... why, ma'am, he don't see +nobody, hear nothin'. He couldn't be more comfortable. There ain't a +house in Yavapai, not one this side o' Prescott, that's better fixed up. +I brought out a bed for him into th' kitchen so 't would be lighter, +easier for him to be watched. He ... I have sheets for him an' good +beddin'. I got eggs an' fruit an' ..."</p> + +<p>The perplexity on her face stopped him.</p> + +<p>"But you said, you said it was too rough for a woman, that it wasn't +much of a house, that it only had one room, that it ..."</p> + +<p>One hand extended, leaning toward him, brows raised, accusing, she +sought for explanation and she saw his face flood with flush, saw his +chest fill.</p> + +<p>"Well, I lied to you," he said, the lines of his body going suddenly lax +as he half turned from her. "It ain't rough. It's a pretty fair outfit."</p> + +<p>She dropped her hands until they met before her and a look of offended +trust, came into her face, settling the lines about her mouth into an +expression of determination.</p> + +<p>"But why?" she asked him. "Why should you lie to me and keep me from +Ned, my husband? I trusted you; I believed what you said. Why was it, +Mr. Bayard?"</p> + +<p>He turned on her, eyes burning, color running from his face.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you why, ma'am," he said, chokingly, as though his lungs were +too full of air. "I'll tell you: It's because I didn't dare trust myself +under th' same roof with you, that's why; it's because I know that if +you're around me you'll be ... you'll be in danger."</p> + +<p>"No man should tempt himself too far an' 'twould be temptin', if I was +to let you come there. You don't know this country. You don't know us +men ... men like I am. I don't know your kind of men myself; but we're +rough, we're not nice when we want a thing. We haven't got nice manners. +I tell you, ma'am, I want to help you all I can, but I've got to look +out for myself, you see! Do you see that, ma'am? I thought I could see +you now an' then safe enough, but I can't I guess.... This had to come +out; it had to!"</p> + +<p>A forearm half raised she stepped back from him, settling her weight to +one foot. He breathed heavily twice to relieve the congestion that +strained his voice.</p> + +<p>"When I stood down there th' other night,"—gesturing toward the +entrance of the hotel—"an' looked into the darkness an' saw your face +there, it was like an angel ... or somethin'. It caught me in th' +throat, it made my knees shake—an' they've never shook from fear or +anythin' else in my life. When we set in that next room washin' out that +wound, bindin' it up, I didn't give a damn if that man lived or died—"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she cried, and drew away another step, but he followed close, +bound that she should hear, should understand.</p> + +<p>"—If he lived or died," he repeated. "I wanted to be near you, to watch +your fingers, to see th' move of your shoulders, to look at th'—th' +pink of your neck through your waist, to see your lips an' your eyes an' +your hair ... ma'am. I didn't give a damn about that man. It was you; +your strangeness, your nerve, your sand, I wanted to see, to know +about ... an' your looks. Then you said, you said he was your husband +an' for a minute I wanted him to die, I did! That was a black minute, +ma'am; things went round, I didn't know what was happenin'. Then, I come +out of it and I realized; realized what kind of a woman you are, if +you'd come clear from th' East on th' trail of a ... a ... your husband, +an' speak of him as a cripple an' be as ... as wrought up over him as +you was—</p> + +<p>"I thought then, like a fool I was, that I'd be doin' somethin' fine if +I took that ... that ... your husband an' made a man of him an' sent him +back to you, a man!"</p> + +<p>He gulped and breathed and his hands fell to his sides. He moved back an +awkward pace.</p> + +<p>"Well, it would,"—averting his face. The resonance had gone from his +voice. "It would have been fine. It ... it <i>will</i> be fine,"—in a +whisper.</p> + +<p>"But I can't stand you around," he muttered, the tone rallying some of +its strength. "I can't; I can't! I couldn't have you in th' same room +in my sight. I'd keep thinkin' what he is an' what you are; comparin' +you. It'd tear my heart out!</p> + +<p>"Ma'am don't think I ain't tried to fight against this!" extending his +palms pleadingly. "I've thought about you every minute since I first saw +you down there 'n th' hallway. I've lied to myself, I've tried to make +myself think different but I can't! I can't help it, ma'am ... an' I +don't know as I would if I could, 'cause it's somethin' I never knew +could be before!"</p> + +<p>He was talking through clenched teeth now, swiftly, words running +together, and the woman, a hand on her lips, gave evidence of a queer, +fascinating fright.</p> + +<p>He had said that she did not know his sort of man. He had spoken truth +there. And because she did not know his breed, she did not know how to +judge him now. Would he really harm her? Was he possessed of desires and +urgings of which he had no control? She put those questions to herself +and yet she could not make her own heart believe the very things he had +told her about himself. She feared, yes; but about the quality she +feared was a strong fascination. He caused her to sense his own uncurbed +vitality, yet about the danger of which he talked was a compelling +quality that urged her on, that made her want to know that danger +intimately ... to suffer, perhaps, but to know!</p> + +<p>"You'll let me alone, won't you, ma'am?" he continued. "You'll stay +away? You'll stay right here an' give me a chance to play my hand? I'll +make him or break him, ma'am! I'll send him back to you, if there's a +spark of man left in him, I will; I promise you that! I will because +you're th' only woman—"</p> + +<p>"Don't!" She threw up a hand as she cried sharply, "Don't say it!"</p> + +<p>"I will say it!" he declared, moving to her again. "I will!</p> + +<p>"I love you, I love you! I love that lock of hair blowin' across your +cheek; I love that scared look in your eyes now; I love th' way th' +blood's pumpin' in your veins; I love you ... all of you. But you told +me th' other night, you loved your husband. I asked you. You said you +did. 'I do,' that's what you said. I know how you looked, how it +sounded, when you said it, 'I do.' That's why I'm workin' with him; +that's why I want to make him a man. You can't waste your lovin', ma'am; +you can't!"</p> + +<p>He stepped even closer.</p> + +<p>"That's why you've got to keep away from me! You can't handle him alone. +You can't come to my ranch to handle him because of <i>me</i>. Nobody else +will take him in around here. It's me or nobody. It's my way or th' old +way he's been goin' until he comes to th' end.</p> + +<p>"I promise you this. I'll watch over him an' care for him an' guard him +in every way. I'll put the best I've got into bringin' him back.... An' +all th' time I'll be wishin'—prayin', if I could—that a thunderbolt +'uld strike him dead! He ain't fit for you, ma'am! He's no more fit for +you than ... than ...</p> + +<p>"Hell, ma'am, there's no use talkin'! He's your husband, you've said you +loved him, that's enough. But if he, if he wasn't your husband, if he +..."</p> + +<p>He jerked open the front of his shirt, reached in and drew out his flat, +blue automatic pistol.</p> + +<p>She started back with a cry.</p> + +<p>"Don't you be afraid of me," he cried fiercely, grasping her wrist. +"Don't you ever!</p> + +<p>"You take this gun; you keep it. It's mine. I don't want to be able to +hurt him, if I should ever lose my head. Sometimes when I set there an' +look at him an' hear him cussin' me, I get hot in th' head; hot an' +heavy an' it buzzes. I ... I thought maybe sometime I might go crazy an' +shoot him,"—with deadly seriousness. "An' I wouldn't do that, ma'am, +not to yours, no matter what he might do or say to me. I brought my +rifle in to-day to have th' sights fixed; they needed it an' 't would +get it out of th' house. You'll keep this gun, won't you, please, +ma'am?"</p> + +<p>His pleading was as direct as that of a child and, eyes on his with a +mingling of emotions, Ann Lytton reached a groping hand for the weapon. +She was stunned. Her nervous weakness, his strength, the putting into +words of that great love he bore for her, the suggested picture of +contrast with the man between them, the conflict it all aroused in her +conscience, the reasonless surging of her deepest emotions, combined to +bewilder the woman. She reached out slowly to take his weapon and do his +bidding, moved by a subconscious desire to obey, and all the while her +eyes grew wider, her breath faster in its slipping between her parted +lips.</p> + +<p>Her fingers touched the metal, warmed by his body heat, closed on it and +her hand, holding the pistol, fell back to her side. She turned her face +from him and, with a palm hard against one cheek, whispered,</p> + +<p>"Oh, this is horrible!"</p> + +<p>The man made a wry smile.</p> + +<p>"I presume it is, ma'am,"—drearily, "but I can't help it, lovin' you."</p> + +<p>"No, no, not that!" she cried. "I didn't mean <i>that</i> was horrible. +It ... it isn't. The horrible thing is the rest, the whole situation."</p> + +<p>"I know it is," he went on, heedless of her explanation, moving toward +the window and looking into the street as he talked, his back to her. "I +know it is, but it had to be. If I had kept from talkin' it would sort +of festered in me. When a horse runs somethin' in his foot, you've got +to cut th' hoof away, got to hurt him for a while, or it'll go bad with +him. Let what's in there out an' gettin' along will be simple.</p> + +<p>"That's how it was with me, you see. If I'd kept still, I'd 'a' gone +sort of <i>loco</i>, I might have hurt him. But now ...</p> + +<p>"Why, now, I can just remember that you know how I feel, that you +wouldn't want a man who's said he loves you to be anythin' but kind to +your ... to Ned Lytton."</p> + +<p>When he finished, the woman took just one step forward. It was an +impulsive movement, as if she would run to him, throw herself on him; +and her lips were parted, her throat ready to cry out and ask him to +take her and forget all else but that love he had declared for her. In a +flash the madness was past; she remembered that she must not forget +anything because of his confession of love, rather that she must keep +more firmly than ever in mind those other factors of her life, that she +must stifle and throttle this yearning for the man before her which had +been latent, the existence of which she had denied to herself until this +hour, and which was consuming her strength now with its desire for +expression.</p> + +<p>She walked slowly to the dresser and laid his gun there, as though even +its slight weight were a burden.</p> + +<p>"I'm so sorry," she said, as though physically weak, "I'm so sorry." He +turned away from the window with a helpless smile. "I don't feel right, +now, in letting you do this for me. I feel ..."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you feel right?"</p> + +<p>"Because ... because it means that you are giving me everything and I'm +giving nothing in return."</p> + +<p>"Don't think that, ma'am," with a slow, convinced shaking of his head, +"I'm doin' little enough for what I get."</p> + +<p>"For what <i>you</i> get!"</p> + +<p>"What I get, ma'am, is this. I can come to see you. I can look at your +face, I can see your hair, I can watch you move an' hear you talk an' be +near you now an' then, even if I ain't any right, even if ..."</p> + +<p>He threw out his arms and let them fall back to his thighs as he turned +from her again.</p> + +<p>"That's what I get in exchange," he continued a moment later. "That's my +pay, an' for it, I'd go through anything, thirst or hunger or cold ... +anythin', ma'am. That's how much I think of you: that's why carin' +for ... for that man out home ain't any job even if he is ... if you are +his!"</p> + +<p>On that, doubt, desire, again overrode her training, her traditional +manner of thought. She struggled to find words, but she could not even +clarify her ideas. Impressions came to her in hot, passing flashes. A +dozen times she was on the point of crying out, of telling him one thing +or another, but each time the thought was gone before she could seize +upon and crystallize it. All she fully realized was that this thing was +love, big, clean, sanctified; that this man was a natural lover of +women, with a body as great, as fine as the heart which could so reveal +itself to her; and that in spite of that love's quality she was +helpless, bound, gagged even, by the circumstances that life had thrown +about her. She would have cried out against them, denouncing it all ...</p> + +<p>Only for the fact that that thing, conscience, handed down to her +through strict-living generations, kept her still, binding her to +silence, to passivity.</p> + +<p>"I won't bother you again this way," she heard him saying, his voice +sounding unreal as it forced its way through the roaring in her head. "I +had to get it out of my system, or it'd have gone in some other +direction; reaction, they call it, I guess. Then, somebody'd have been +hurt or somethin' broken, maybe your heart,"—looking at her with his +patient smile.</p> + +<p>"I'll go back home; I'll work with him. Sometimes, I'll come to see you, +if you don't mind, to tell you about ... him. You don't mind, do you?"</p> + +<p>With an obvious effort, she shook her head. "No, I don't mind. I'll be +glad to see you," she muttered, holding her self-possession doggedly.</p> + +<p>An awkward pause followed in which Bayard fussed with the ends of the +gay silk scarf that hung about his neck and shoulders.</p> + +<p>"I guess I'd better go now," he mumbled, and picked up his hat.</p> + +<p>"You see, I don't know what to say to you," Ann confessed, drawing a +hand across her eyes. "It has all overwhelmed me so. I ... perhaps +another time I can talk it over with you."</p> + +<p>"If you think it's best to mention it again, ma'am," he said.</p> + +<p>She extended her hand to him and he clasped it. On the contact, his arm +trembled as though he would crush the small fingers in his, but the +grasp went no further than a formal shake.</p> + +<p>"In a day or two ... Ann," he said, using her given name for the first +time.</p> + +<p>He bowed low, turned quickly and half stumbled into the hall, closing +the door behind him as he went.</p> + +<p>The woman sat down on the edge of the bed weakly.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>In the dining room Nora Brewster was dusting and she looked up quickly +at Bayard's entrance.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Bruce," she said, eyes fastening on him eagerly. "You're gettin' +to be a frequent caller, ain't you?"</p> + +<p>He tried to smile when he answered,</p> + +<p>"Hardly a caller; kind of an errand boy, between bein' a nurse an' +jailer."</p> + +<p>He could not deceive the girl. She dropped her dustcloth to a chair, +scanning his face intently.</p> + +<p>"What's wrong, Bruce? You look all frazzled out."</p> + +<p>He could not know how she feared his answer.</p> + +<p>"Nothin'," he evaded. "He's been pretty bad an' I've missed sleep +lately; that's all."</p> + +<p>But that explanation did not satisfy Nora. She knew it was not the whole +truth. She searched his face suspiciously.</p> + +<p>"She ... his wife," he went on, steadying his voice. "It's hard on her, +Nora."</p> + +<p>"I know it is, poor thing," she replied, almost mechanically. "I talk +to her every time I can, but she, she ain't my kind, Bruce. You know +that. The' ain't much I can say to her. Besides, I dasn't let on that I +know who she is or that you've got her husband."</p> + +<p>Her eyes still held on his inquiringly.</p> + +<p>"You might get her outdoors," he ventured. "Keepin' in that room day an' +night, worryin' as she does, is worse 'n jail. You ... You ride a lot. +Why don't you get her some ridin' clothes an' take her along? I'll tell +Nate to give you an extra horse. You see...."</p> + +<p>The girl did see. She saw his anxiety for the woman upstairs. She knew +the truth then, and the thing which she had feared through those days +rang in her head like a sullen tocsin. She had felt an uneasiness come +into her heart with the arrival of this eastern woman, this product of +another civilization with her sweetness, her charm for both her own sex +and for men. And that uneasiness had grown to apprehension, had mounted +as she watched the change in Bayard under Ann's influence until now, +when she realized that the thing which she had hoped against for months, +which she had felt impending for days, had become reality; and that she, +Bayard, Ned Lytton, Ann, were fast in the meshes of circumstances that +bound and shut down upon them like a net, forecasting tragedy and the +destruction of hopes. Nora feared, she feared with that groundless, +intuitive fear peculiar to her kind; almost an animal instinct, and she +felt her heart leaping, her head becoming giddy as that warning note +struck and reverberated through her consciousness. Her gaze left the +man's face slowly, her shoulders slackened and almost impatiently she +turned back to her work that he might not see the foreboding about her.</p> + +<p>"You see, th' open air would help her, an' bein' with you, another +woman, even if you an' she don't talk th' same language, would help +too," he ended.</p> + +<p>"I see," Nora answered after a moment, as she tilted a chair to one leg +and stooped low to rub the dust from its spindles. "I understand, Bruce. +I'll take her to ride ... every day, if you think it's best."</p> + +<p>Something about her made Bayard pause, and the moment of silence which +followed was an uneasy one for him. The girl kept on with her task, eyes +averted, and he did not notice that she next commenced working on a +chair that she had already dusted.</p> + +<p>"That's a good girl, Nora," he said. "That'll help her."</p> + +<p>He left then and, when the ring of his spurs had been lost in the lazy +afternoon, the girl sat suddenly in the chair on which she had busied +herself and pressed the dustcloth hard against her eyes. She drew a +long, sharp breath. Then, she stood erect and muttered,</p> + +<p>"Oh, God, has it come?"</p> + +<p>Then, stolidly, with set mouth, she went on with her work, movements a +little slower, perhaps, a bit lethargic, surely, bungling now and then. +Something had gone from her ... a hope, a sustaining spark, a leaven +that had lightened the drudgery.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Upstairs in her room Ann Lytton lay face down on her bed, hands gripping +the coarse coverlet, eyes pressed shut, breath swift and irregular, +heart racing. What had gone from the girl below—the hope, the spark, +the leaven which makes life itself palatable—had come to her after +those years of nightmare, and Ann was resisting, driving it back, +telling herself that it must not be, that it could not be, not in the +face of all that had happened; not now, when ethical, moral, legal ties +bound her to another! Oh, she was bound, no mistaking that; but it was +not Ann's heart that wrenched at the bonds. It was her conscience, her +trained sense of right and wrong, the traditions that had moulded her. +No, her heart was gone, utterly, to the man who crossed the hard, beaten +street of Yavapai, head down, dejection in the swing of his shoulders, +for her heart knew no right, no wrong ... only beauty and ugliness.</p> + +<p>Bayard, too, fought his bitter fight. The urge in him was to take her, +to bear her away, to defy the laws that men had made to hurt her and to +devil him; but something behind, something deep in him, forbade. He must +go on, nursing back to strength that mockery of manhood who could lift +his fuddled, obscene head and, with the blessing of society, claim Ann +Lytton as his—her body, her soul! He must go on, though he wanted to +strangle all life from the drunken ruin, because in him was the same +rigid adherence to things that have been which held the woman there on +her bed, face down, even though her limbs twitched to race after him and +her arms yearned to twine about his neck, to pull herself close to his +good chest, within which the great heart pumped.</p> + +<p>And Nora? Was she conscienceless? Indeed, not. She had promised to +befriend this strange woman because Bruce Bayard had asked it. It was +not for Ann's sake she dully planned diversion; it was because of her +love for the owner of the Circle A that she stifled her sorrow, her +natural jealousy. She knew that to refuse him, to follow her first +impulses, would hurt him; and that would react, would hurt her, for her +devotion was that sort which would go to any length to make the man of +her heart happier.</p> + +<p>To Ann's ears came Bruce's sharp little whistle, and she could no longer +lie still. She rose, half staggered to the window and stood holding the +curtains the least bit apart, watching him stand motionless in the +middle of the thoroughfare. Again, his whistle sounded and from a +distance she heard the high call of the sorrel horse who had moved along +the strip of grass that grew close beside the buildings, nibbling here +and there. The animal approached his master at a swinging trot, holding +his head far to the right, nose high in the air, that the trailing reins +might not dangle under his feet. All the time he nickered his +reassurance and, when he drew to a halt beside his master, Abe's voice +retreated down into his long throat until it was only a guttural murmur +of affection.</p> + +<p>"Old Timer, if I was as good a man as you are horse, I'd find a way," +Bruce said half aloud as he gathered the reins.</p> + +<p>He mounted with a rhythmical swing of shoulder and limb, and gave the +stallion his head, trotting out of town with never a look about.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>LYTTON'S NEMESIS</h3> + + +<p>That which followed was a hard night for both Bayard and Lytton. The +wounded arm was doing nicely, but the shattered nervous system could not +be repaired so simply. Since the incident of the ransacked house and the +pilfered whiskey, Lytton had not had so much as one drink of stimulant +and, because of that indulgence of his appetite, his suffering was made +manifold. Denial of further liquor was the penalty Ned was forced to pay +for the abuse of Bayard's trust. Much of the time the sick man kept +himself well in hand, was able to cover up outward evidence of the +torture which he underwent, and in that fact rested some indication of +the determination that had once been in him. But this night the effects +of his excesses were tearing at his will persistently and sleep would +not come.</p> + +<p>He walked the floor of the room into which his bed had been moved from +the kitchen after the first few days at the ranch; his strength gave out +and for a time he lay on the bed, muttering wildly,—then walked again +with trembling stride.</p> + +<p>Bayard heard. He, too, was suffering; sleep would not come to ease him. +He did not talk, did not yearn for action; just lay very quiet and +thought and thought until his mind refused to function further with +coherence. After that, he forced himself to give heed to other matters +for the sake of distraction and became conscious of the sounds from the +next room. When they increased with the hours rather than subsiding, he +got up, partly dressed, made a light and went to Lytton.</p> + +<p>Quarrelling followed. The sick man raved and cursed. He blamed Bayard +for all his suffering, denounced him as a meddler, whining and storming +in turn. He declared that to fight against his weakness was futile; the +next moment vowed that he would return to town, and face temptation +there and beat it; and within a breath was explaining that he could +easily cure himself, if he could only be allowed to taper off, to take +one less drink each day. Before it all, Bayard remained quietly firm and +the incident ended by Lytton screaming that at daylight he would leave +the ranch and die on the Yavapai road before he would submit to another +day of life there.</p> + +<p>But when dawn came he was sleeping and the rancher, after covering him +carefully, retired to his room for two hours' rest before rousing for a +morning's ride through the hills.</p> + +<p>He was back at noon and found Lytton white faced, contrite. Together +they prepared a meal.</p> + +<p>"I was pretty much of an ass last night," Lytton said after they had +eaten a few moments in silence. It was one of those rare intervals in +which a bearing of normal civility struggled through his despicability +and Bayard looked up quickly to meet his indecisive gaze, feeling +somehow that with every flash of this strength he was rewarded for all +the work he had done, the unpleasantness he had undergone. Rewarded, +though it only made Lytton a stronger, more enduring obstacle between +him and a consummation of his love.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," the man confessed. "It wasn't I. It was the booze that's +still in me."</p> + +<p>"I understand," the cowman said, with a nod. A moment of silence +followed.</p> + +<p>"There's something else, I'm sorry about," Lytton continued. "The other +day I tried to get nasty about a girl, the girl Nora at the Manzanita +House, didn't I?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you didn't know what you said."</p> + +<p>"Well, if I didn't, that's no excuse." He was growing clearer, obtaining +a better poise, assuming a more decided personality. "I apologize to you +for what I said, and, if you think best, I'll go see her and apologize +for the advances I made to her."</p> + +<p>"No, no,"—with a quick gesture. "That wouldn't do any good; she'll +never know."</p> + +<p>"As you say, then. I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry; that's all. I +know how a fellow feels when his girl's name is dragged into a brawl +that way. I've noticed you sort of dolling up lately when you've started +for town,"—with a faint twinkle in his eyes and a smile that +approximated good nature. "I know how it is with you fellows who still +have the woman bug,"—a hint of bitterness. "I know how touchy you'll +all get. You ... you seem to be rather interested in that Nora girl."</p> + +<p>Bayard made no answer. He was uneasy, apprehensive.</p> + +<p>"I've heard 'em talk about it in town. Funny that she's the only woman +you've fallen for, Bayard. They tell me you won't look at another, that +you brought her to Yavapai yourself several years ago. You're so +particular that you have to import one; is that it?"</p> + +<p>He laughed aloud and a hint of nastiness was again in the tone. The +other man did not answer with more than a quickly passing smile.</p> + +<p>"Well, you fellows have all got to have your whirl at it, I suppose," +Lytton went on, the good nature entirely gone. "You'll never learn +except from your own experience. Rush around with the girls, have a gay +time; then, it's some one girl, next, it's marriage and she's got +you,"—holding up his gripped fist for emphasis. "She's got you hard and +fast!"</p> + +<p>He stirred in his chair and broke another biscuit in half.</p> + +<p>"Believe me, I know, Bayard! I've been there. I.... Hell, I married a +girl with a conscience,"—drawling the words, "That's the kind that +hangs on when they get you ... that <i>good</i> kind! She's too damn fine for +human use, she and her kind. You know," ... laughing bitterly—"she +started out to reform me. One of that kind; get me? A damned +straight-laced Puritan! She snivelled and prayed and, instead of helping +me, she just drove me on and on. She's got me. See? I can't get away +from her and the only good thing about being here is that there are +miles between us and I don't hear her cant and prating!"</p> + +<p>"Seems to me that a woman who sticks by a man when he goes clean to hell +must amount to something," observed Bayard, gazing at him pointedly.</p> + +<p>Lytton shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Maybe ... in some ways, but who the devil wants that kind hanging +around his neck?" He pushed his plate away and stared surlily out +through the door. Bayard tilted back in his chair and looked the +Easterner in the face critically.</p> + +<p>"Suppose somebody was to come along an' tell you they was goin' to take +her off your hands. What'd you say then?"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" disgruntled at the challenge in Bayard's query.</p> + +<p>"Just what I say. You've been tellin' me what a bad mess mixin' with +women is. I'm askin' you what you'd do if somebody tried to take your +woman. You say it's bad, bein' tied up. How about it, if somebody was to +step in an' relieve you?"</p> + +<p>The other moved in his chair.</p> + +<p>"That's different," he said. "To want to be away from a woman until she +got some common sense, and to have another man <i>take</i> your wife are two +different things. To have a man take your wife would make anybody want +to kill, no matter what trouble you might have had with her. Breaking up +marriages, taking something that belongs to another man, has nothing to +do with what I was talking about."</p> + +<p>"You don't want her yourself. You don't want anybody else to have her. +Is that it?"</p> + +<p>"Didn't I say that those were two different—"</p> + +<p>"You want to look out, Neighbor!" Bayard said, with a smile, dropping +the forelegs of his chair to the floor and leaning his elbows on the +table. "You're talking one thing and meaning another. You want to keep +your head, if you want to keep your wife. Don't make out you want to let +go when you really want to hang on. Women are funny things. They'll +stick to men like a burr, they'll take abuse an' suffer and give no sign +of quittin', because they want love, gentleness, and they hate to give +up thinkin' they'll get it from the man they'd planned would give it to +'em.</p> + +<p>"But some day, while they're stickin' to a man who don't appreciate 'em, +they'll see happiness goin' by ... then, they're likely to get it. And +sometime that's goin' to happen to your wife; she'll see happiness +somewhere else an' she'll go after it; then, she won't be around your +neck, but somebody else'll have her!</p> + +<p>"Oh, they're queer things ... funny things! You can't tell where th' +man's comin' from that'll meet 'em an' take their heart an' their head. +He may be right near 'em all th' time an' they never wake up to it for +years; he may come along casual-like, not lookin' for anything, an' see +'em just by chance an' open his heart an' take 'em....</p> + +<p>"Once I was in th' Club in Prescott an' I heard a mining engineer from +th' East sing a song about some man who lived on th' desert.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'From th' desert I come to thee,'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"it went,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'On a stallion shod with fire....'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"An' then he goes on with th' finest love song you ever heard, endin' +up:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"... 'a love that shall not die<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till th' sun grows cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' th' stars are old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' th' leaves of th' Judgment Book unfold!'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"... That's the sort of guy that upsets a woman who's hungry for +happiness. It's that kind of love they want. They'll stand most anything +a long, long time; seems like some of 'em loved abuse. But if a real +<i>hombre</i> ever comes along ... Look out!</p> + +<p>"You can't tell, Lytton. This thing love comes like a storm sometimes. A +man's interest in a woman may be easy an' not amount to much at first. +It's like this breeze comin' in here now; warm an' soft an' gentle, th' +mildest, meekest little breeze you've ever felt, ain't it? Well, you +can't tell what it'll be by night!</p> + +<p>"I've seen it just like this, without a dust devil on th' valley or a +cloud in th' sky. Then she'd get puffy an' dust would commence to rise +up, an' th' sky off there south an' west would begin to look dirty, +rusty. Then, away off, you'd hear a whisper, a kind of mutter, growin' +louder every minute, an' you'd see trees bend down to one another like +they was hidin' their faces from somethin' that scared 'em. Dust would +come before it like a wall an' then th' grass would flatten out an' look +a funny white under that black and then ... Zwoop! She'd be on you, +blowin' an' howlin' an' thunderin' and lightnin' like hell itself.... +When an hour before it'd been a breeze just like this."</p> + +<p>He paused an instant.</p> + +<p>"So you want to look out ... if you want to keep her. Some man on a +'stallion shod with fire' may ride past an' look into your house an' see +her an' crawl down an' commence to sing a love song that'll make her +forget all about tryin' to straighten you up.... Some feller who's never +counted with her may wake up and go after her as strong as a summer +storm.</p> + +<p>"She's young; she's sweet; she's beau ..."</p> + +<p>"Say, who told you about my wife?" Lytton demanded, drawing himself up.</p> + +<p>Bayard stopped with a show of surprise. His earnestness had swept his +caution, his sense of the necessity for deception, quite away, but he +rallied himself as he answered:</p> + +<p>"Why, I judge she is. She's stickin' by you like a sweet woman would."</p> + +<p>"Well, what if she is?" Lytton countered, the surprise in his face +giving way to sullenness. "We've discussed me and my wife enough for one +day. You're inexperienced. You don't know her kind. You don't know +women, Bayard. Why, damn their dirty skins, they—"</p> + +<p>"You drop that!" Bruce cried, rising and leaning across the table. "You +keep your lying, dirty mouth shut or I'll..."</p> + +<p>He drew his great fists upward slowly as though they lifted their limit +in weight. Then suddenly went limp and smiled down at the face of the +other man. He turned away slowly and Lytton drawled.</p> + +<p>"Well, what's got into you?"</p> + +<p>"Excuse me," said the rancher, with a short laugh. "I'm ... I'm only +worked up about a woman myself," reaching out a hand for the casing of +the doorway to steady himself. "I'm only wondering what th' best thing +to do is.... You said yourself that ... experience was th' only way to +learn...."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>That afternoon Lytton slept deeply. Of this fact Bayard made sure when, +from his work in the little blacksmith shop, he saw a horseman riding +toward the ranch from a wash that gouged down into Manzanita Valley. +When he saw the man slumbering heavily on his bed, worn from the +struggle and the sleeplessness of last night, he closed the door softly +and returned to resume the shoeing of the pinto horse that stood dozing +in the sunlight.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you is it, Benny Lynch?" Bayard called, as the horseman leaned low +to open the gate and rode in.</p> + +<p>"Right again, Bruce. How's things?"</p> + +<p>"Fine, Benny. Ain't saw you in a long time. Get down. Feed your horse?"</p> + +<p>"No, thanks, we've both et."</p> + +<p>The newcomer dismounted and, undoing his tie rope, made his pony fast to +a post. He was a short, thick set young chap, dressed in rough clothing, +wearing hobnailed shoes. His clothes, his saddle, the horse itself +belied the impression of a stock man and his shoes gave conclusive +evidence that he was a miner. He turned to face Bayard and pushed his +hat far back on his head, letting the sun beat down on his honest, +bronzed face, peculiarly boyish, yet lined as that of a man who has +known the rough edges of life.</p> + +<p>"Mind if I talk to you a while, Bruce?" he asked, serious, preoccupied +in his manner.</p> + +<p>"Tickled to death, Benny; your conversation generally is enlightenin' +an' interestin'."</p> + +<p>This provoked only a faint flash of a smile from the other. Bayard +kicked a wooden box along beside the building and both seated themselves +on it. An interval of silence, which the miner broke by saying abruptly:</p> + +<p>"I've done somethin', Bruce, that I don't like to keep to myself. I'm +planning on doin' somethin' more that I want somebody to know so that if +anything happens, folks'll understand.</p> + +<p>"I come to you,"—marking the ground with the edge of his shoe sole, +"because you're th' only man I know in this country—an' I know most of +'em—I'd trust."</p> + +<p>"Them bouquets are elegant, Benny." Bayard laughed, trying to relieve +the tension of the other. "Go ahead, I love 'em!"</p> + +<p>"You know what I mean, Bruce. You've always played square with everybody +'round here, not mindin' a great deal about what other folks done so +long as they was open an' honest about it. You've never stole calves, +you've never been in trouble with your neighbors—"</p> + +<p>"Hold on, Benny! You don't know how many calves I've stole."</p> + +<p>The other smiled and put aside Bayard's attempt at levity with a gesture +of one hand.</p> + +<p>"You understand how it is, when a fellar's just got to talk?"</p> + +<p>"I understand," said Bayard. "I've been in that fix myself, recent."</p> + +<p>"I knew you would; that's why I come."</p> + +<p>He shifted on the box and pulled his hat down over his eyes and said:</p> + +<p>"I tried to kill a feller th' other night. I didn't make good. I'm +likely to make another try some time, an' go through with it."</p> + +<p>Bayard waited for more, with a queer thrill of realization.</p> + +<p>"You know this pup Lytton, don't you, Bruce? Yes, everybody does, +th' ——! I tried to get him th' other night in Yavapai. I thought I'd +done it an' lit out, but I heard later I only nicked his arm. That means +I've got to do it later."</p> + +<p>"It's that necessary to kill him, is it, Benny?" Bayard asked. "I know +he was hit.... Fact is, I found him an' took him into th' Hotel an' +fixed him up."</p> + +<p>Their gazes met. Benny Lynch's was peculiarly devoid of anger, steady +and frank.</p> + +<p>"That was like you, Bruce. You'd take care of a sick wolf, I guess. Next +time, though, I'll give somebody a job as a gravedigger, 'stead of a +good Samaritan....</p> + +<p>"But what I stopped in to-day for was to tell you th' whole story, so +you'd know it all."</p> + +<p>"Let her fly, Benny!"</p> + +<p>"Prob'ly you know, Bruce, that I come out here from Tennessee, when I +was only a spindly kid, with th' old man an' my mammy. We was th' last +of our family. They'd feuded our folks down to 'n old man 'n old woman +and a kid—me. We come 'cause th' old man got religion and moved west so +he wouldn't have to kill nobody. I s'pose some back there claims to have +druv him out, but they either didn't know him or they're lyin'. He'd +never be druv out by fear, Bruce; he wasn't that kind.</p> + +<p>"Well, we drifted through Colorado an' New Mex an' finally over here. We +landed out yonder on th' Sunset group which th' old man located an' +commenced to work. I growed up there, Bruce. I helped my mammy an' my +pap cut down trees an' pick up stone to make our house. I built my +mammy's coffin myself when I was seventeen. Me an' pap buried her; me +shovelin' in dirt an' rocks, him prayin' an' readin' out of th' Bible."</p> + +<p>He paused to overcome the shaking of his voice.</p> + +<p>"We hung on there an' was doin' right well with th' mine, workin' out a +spell now an' then, goin' back an' developin' as long as our grub an' +powder lasted. We got her right to where we thought she was ready to +boom, when hard times come along, an' made us slow up. I started out, +leavin' th' old man home, 'cause he was gettin' so old he wasn't much +use anywhere an' it ain't right that old folks should work that way +anyhow.</p> + +<p>"I landed over in California and was in an' 'round th' Funeral Range for +over two years, writin' to pap occasional an' hearin' from him every few +months. I didn't make it very well an' our mine just had to wait on my +luck, let alone th' hard times. We wouldn't sell out, then, 'cause we'd +had to take little or nothin' for th' property. It worried me; my old +man was gettin' old fast, he'd never had nothin' but hard knocks, if he +was ever goin' to have any rest an' any fun it'd have to come out of +that mine....</p> + +<p>"Well, while I was away along come this here Eastern outfit, promised to +do all sorts of things, formed a corporation, roped th' old man in with +their slick lies, an' give him 'bout a quarter value for what we had. +They beat him out of all he'd ever earnt, when he was past workin' for +more! Now, Bruce, a gang of skunks that'd do that to as fine an old man +as my dad was, ought to be burnt, hadn't they?"</p> + +<p>"They had. Everybody sure loved your daddy, Ben."</p> + +<p>"Well, the' was nothin' we could do. Them Eastern pups just set down an' +waited for us to get tired an' let 'em have a clear field. So we moved +out, left our house an' all, went to Prescott an' went to work, both of +us, keepin' an eye on th' mine to see they didn't commence to operate on +th' sly. After a while I got what looked like a good thing down on th' +desert in a new town an' I went there.</p> + +<p>"While I was gone, along comes this here Lytton an' finishes th' job. +His dad had owned most of th' stock, an' he'd come here to start +somethin'. He begun with my pappy. He lied to him, took advantage of an +old man who was trustful an' an easy mark. He crooked it every way he +could, he got everythin' we had; all th' work of my hands,"—holding +their honest, calloused palms out—"all th' hopes of a good old man. It +done him no good; he couldn't get enough backin' to do business.... But +it killed my dad."</p> + +<p>He stared vacantly ahead before saying:</p> + +<p>"You know th' rest. Dad died. That killed him, Bruce, an' Lytton was to +blame. Ain't that murder? Ain't it?"</p> + +<p>"It's murder, Benny, but they won't call it that."</p> + +<p>"No, but what they call it don't make no difference in th' right or th' +wrong of it, does it? An' it don't matter to me. I've got a law all my +own, Bruce, an' it's a damn sight more just 'n theirs!" He had become +suddenly alert, intent. "Th' last thing that my old man said was that +th' wickedest of th' world had killed him. He wouldn't blame no one man +but I will ... I do!"</p> + +<p>He moved quickly on the box, bringing himself to face Bayard.</p> + +<p>"I come back to this country an' waited. I've been thinkin' it over most +two years, Bruce, an' I don't see no way out but to fix my old man's +case myself. Maybe if things was different, I'd feel some other way +about it, but this here Lytton is worse 'n scum, Bruce. You know an' +everybody knows what he is. He's a drunken, lyin' ——! That's what he +is!</p> + +<p>"I've been watchin' him close for weeks, seein' him drink every cent of +my dad's money, seein' him get to be less 'n less of a man.</p> + +<p>"One day I was in town. I'd been drinkin' myself to keep from goin' +crazy thinkin' 'bout this thing. Just at dusk, just when th' train come +in an' everybody was down to th' station, I walked down th' street +toward Nate's corral to get my horse. I seen him comin' towards me, +Bruce. He was drunk, he could just about make it. He didn't know me, +never has knowed who I was, but he looks up at me an' commences to cuss, +an' I ... Well, I draws an' fires."</p> + +<p>He leaned back against the building.</p> + +<p>"He dropped an' I thought things was squared, so I lit out. But I found +out I shot too quick ... or maybe I was drunker 'n I thought.</p> + +<p>"Where was he hit, Bruce?"</p> + +<p>"Left forearm, Benny ... right there."</p> + +<p>"Hum ... I thought so. I had a notion that gun was shootin' to th' +right."</p> + +<p>They sat silent a moment, then he resumed:</p> + +<p>"When I got to thinkin' it over I was glad I hadn't killed him. I made +up my mind that wasn't the best way. That's a little too much like +killin' just 'cause you're mad, so I made up my mind I'd go on about my +business until I was meddled with.</p> + +<p>"I'm livin' at my home, now, Bruce. I'm back at th' Sunset, livin' in +th' cabin me an' my folks built with our hands, workin' alone in our +mine, waitin' for good times to come again. I'm goin' to stay there ... +right along. It's goin' to be my mine 'cause it rightfully belongs to +me, no matter what Lytton's damn corporation papers may say.</p> + +<p>"Some day, when he sobers up, he'll start back there, Bruce. I'll be +waitin' for him. I won't harm a hair, I won't say a word until he steps +on to them claims. Then, by God, I'll shoot him down like he was a +coyote tryin' to get my chickens!"</p> + +<p>Bayard got up and thoughtfully stroked the hip of the pinto horse.</p> + +<p>"I guess I understand, Benny," he said, after a moment. "I'm pretty sure +I do."</p> + +<p>"He's ... He's as low as a snake's belly, ain't he, Bruce?"—as if for +reassurance.</p> + +<p>"Yes, an' he'd be lower, Benny, if there was anythin' lower," he +remarked, grimly.</p> + +<p>"He can shoot though; watch him, Benny! I've seen him beat th' best of +us at a turkey shootin'."</p> + +<p>"That's what makes me feel easy about it. I wouldn't want to kill a man +that couldn't shoot as good as I can, anyhow."</p> + +<p>Benny Lynch departed, still unsmiling, very serious, and, as Bayard +watched him ride away, he shook his head in perplexity.</p> + +<p>"I wish I was as free to act as you are," he thought. "But I ain't; an' +your tellin' me has dug my hole just that much deeper!"</p> + +<p>He looked out over the valley a long moment. It was bright under the +afternoon sun but somehow it seemed, for him, to be queerly shadowed.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>WHOM GOD HATH JOINED</h3> + + +<p>The next day the puzzled cowman rode the trail to Yavapai to find that +Ann was out. He was told that Nora had taken her riding, so he waited +for their return, restless, finding no solace in the companionship that +the saloon, the town's one gathering place for men, afforded.</p> + +<p>He stood leaning against the front of the general store, deep in +thought, when a distant rattle attracted his attention. He glanced down +the street to his right and beyond the limits of the town saw a rapidly +moving dust cloud approach. As it drew near, the rattling increased, +became more distinct, gave evidence that it was a combination of many +sounds, and Bayard smiled broadly, stirring himself in anticipation.</p> + +<p>A moment more and the dust cloud dissolved itself into a speeding mantle +for a team of ponies and a buckboard, on the seat of which sat the Rev. +Judson A. Weyl. The horses came down the hard street, ears back, +straining away from one another until they ran far outside the wheel +tracks. The harnesses, too large for the beasts, dangled and flopped and +jingled, the clatter and clank of the vehicle's progress became +manifold as every bolt, every brace, every bar and slat and spoke +vibrated, seeming to shake in protest at that which held it to the rest, +and, above it all, came the regular grating slap of the tire of a dished +hindwheel, as in the course of its revolutions it met the metal brake +shoe, as if to beat time for the ensemble.</p> + +<p>The man on the seat sat very still, the reins lax in his hands. The +spring under him sagged with his weight and his long legs were doubled +oddly between the seat and broken dash. He appeared to give no heed to +his team's progress; just sat and thought while they raced along, the +off horse breaking into a gallop at intervals to keep pace with its long +stepping mate.</p> + +<p>Across from where Bayard stood, the team swung sharply to the right, +shot under a pinyon tree, just grazing the trunk with both hubs of the +wheels, and rounded the corner of a low little house, stopping abruptly +when out of sight; and the rancher laughed aloud in the sudden silence +that followed.</p> + +<p>He went across the thoroughfare, followed the tracks of the buckboard +and came upon the tall, thin, dust covered driver, who had descended, +unfastened the tugs and was turning his wild-eyed, malevolent-nosed team +of half broken horses into a corral which was shaded by a tall pine +tree. He looked up as Bayard approached.</p> + +<p>"Hel-<i>lo</i>, Bruce!" he cried, flinging the harness up on a post, and +extending a hearty hand. "I haven't seen you in an age!"</p> + +<p>"How are you, Parson?" the other responded, gripping the offered hand +and smiling good-naturedly into the alert gaze from the black eyes. "I +ain't saw you for a long time, either, but every now and then, when I'm +ridin' along after my old cows, I hear a most awful noise comin' from +miles away, an' I say to myself, 'There goes th' parson tryin' to beat +th' devil to another soul!'"</p> + +<p>The other laughed and cast a half shameful look at his buckboard, which +Bayard was inspecting critically. It was held together with rope and +wire; bolts hung loosely in their sockets; not a tight spoke remained in +the wheels; the pole was warped and cracked and the hair stuffing of the +seat cushion was held there only by its tendency to mat and become +compact, for the cover was three-quarters gone.</p> + +<p>"It's deplorable, ain't it," Bayard chuckled, "how th' Lord outfits his +servants in this here country?"</p> + +<p>The clergyman laughed.</p> + +<p>"That's a chariot of fire, Bruce!" he cried. "Don't you understand?"</p> + +<p>"It'd be on fire, if I had it, all right! It ain't fit for nothin' else. +Why, Parson, I should think th' devil'd get you sure some of these +nights when you're riskin' your neck in this here contraption an' +trustin' to your Employer to restrainin' th' wickedness in that pair of +unlovely males you call horses!"</p> + +<p>"Well, maybe I should get a new rig," the other admitted, still +laughing. "But somehow, I'm so busy looking after His strays in this +country that I don't get time to think about my own comfort. Maybe +that's the best way. If I took time to worry about material discomforts, +I suppose I'd feel dirty and worn and hot now, for I've had a long, long +drive."</p> + +<p>"A drink'd do you a lot of good, Parson," said Bruce, with a twinkle in +his eye. "I don't mind drinkin' with you, even if you are a preacher."</p> + +<p>"And <i>because</i> I'm a member of the clergy I have to drink with you +whether I like it or not, Bruce!"—with a crack of his big hand on +Bayard's shoulder. "A bottle of pop would taste fine about now, son!"</p> + +<p>"Well, you wait here an' I'll get that brand of sham liquor," said +Bruce, turning to start for the saloon.</p> + +<p>"Hold on, Bruce. I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I don't feel +that I want to let you buy anything for me out of that place. Get me +some at the drug store."</p> + +<p>The younger man hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Well, I got a few convictions myself, Parson. Maybe there ain't much to +be said for s'loon men, but your friend who runs that pill foundry sells +booze to Indians, I suspect, which ain't right an' which no +self-respectin' s'loon man would do."</p> + +<p>"Son, all life is a compromise," laughed Weyl. "You go buy what you like +to drink; I'll buy mine. How's that?"</p> + +<p>"That's about as fair as a proposition can be, I guess."</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later they were seated in the shade of the pine tree, backs +against the corral where the sweat-crusted horses munched alfalfa. +Bayard drank from a foaming bottle of beer, Weyl from a pop container. +Both had removed their hats, and their physical comfort approached the +absolute.</p> + +<p>The cowman, though, was not wholly at ease. He listened attentively to +the rector's discourse on the condition of his parish, but all the while +he seemed to be bothered by some idea that lurked deep in his mind. +During a pause, in which the brown pop gurgled its way through Weyl's +thin lips, Bruce squinted through the beer that remained in his bottle +and said,</p> + +<p>"Somethin's been botherin' me th' last day or so, Parson, an' I sure was +glad when I seen you comin' up in this here ... chariot of fire."</p> + +<p>"What is it, Bruce?"</p> + +<p>"Well, here's th' case. If a jasper comes to you an' tells you somethin' +in confidence, are you bound to keep your mouth shut even if somebody's +likely to get hurt by this here first party's plan? I know your outfit +don't have no confession—'tain't confession I want.... It's advice ... +what'd you do if you was in that fix?"</p> + +<p>The other straightened his long limbs and smiled gravely.</p> + +<p>"I can tell you what I would do, Bruce; but, if it's a matter of +consequence, I can't advise you what to do.</p> + +<p>"That's one of the hardest things I have to meet—honest men, such as +you, coming to me with honest questions. I'm only a man like you are; I +have the same problems, the same perplexities; it's necessary for me to +meet them in the way you do. Because I button my collar behind is of no +significance. Because I'm trying to help men to know their own souls +gives me no superiority over them. That's as far as I can go—helping +men to know themselves. Once that is accomplished, I can't guide their +actions or influence their decisions. So far as I can determine, that's +all God wants of us. He wants us to see ourselves in the light of truth; +then, be honest with ourselves.</p> + +<p>"In your particular matter, I couldn't stand by and see a man walk into +danger unaware and yet it would mean a lot for me to betray another +man's confidence. I suppose I'd do as I do in so many matters, and that +is to compromise. I would consider it my duty to keep a confidence, if +it was made in the spirit of honesty and, just as surely, it is my duty +to save men from harm. My word of honor means much ... yes. But my +brother's safety, if I am his keeper, is of as much consequence, surely. +If I couldn't compromise—if taking a middle course wouldn't be +practical—then I think I would choose the cause which I considered most +just and throw all my influence and energy into it.</p> + +<p>"That's what I would do, my friend. Perhaps, it is not what you would +do, but so long as you are honest in your perplexity then, basically, +whatever action you decide on, must be right."</p> + +<p>Bayard drank again, slowly.</p> + +<p>"I've never been inside your church," he said at length. "I'm like a lot +of men. I don't care much about churches. Do you preach like that on +Sunday?"—turning his face to Weyl.</p> + +<p>The other laughed heartily.</p> + +<p>"I don't preach, Bruce! I just talk and try to think out loud and make +my people think. Yes ... I try to be before my people just as I am +before you, or any other friend."</p> + +<p>"Some day, then, I'm likely to come along and ask to throw in with your +outfit ... your church. I'll bet that after I've let a little more hell +out of my system, I could get to be a top deacon in no time ... in your +church!"</p> + +<p>The clergyman smiled and rested his hand affectionately on Bayard's +knee.</p> + +<p>"We're always glad to have stoppers come along," he replied. "Every now +and then one drops in to see what we're like. Some have stayed and gone +to work with us and turned out to be good hands."</p> + +<p>Bruce made no response and the other was not the sort to urge. So they +sat a time in companionable silence until the younger man asked,</p> + +<p>"Had you come far to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Wolf Basin. I went over there yesterday and married old Tom Nelson's +girl to a newcomer over there."</p> + +<p>Bayard looked at him keenly. He had wanted to bring up another +question, but had been unable to decide upon a device for the +manipulation of the conversation. This was a fortunate opening.</p> + +<p>"Did you hear the yarn they was tellin' 'bout old Newt Hagadorn, when +they 'lected him justice of th' peace in Bumble Bee? At his first +weddin' Newt got tangled up in his rope an' says,</p> + +<p>"'Who me 'nd God has j'ined together let no man put apart!'"</p> + +<p>Weyl threw back his head and laughed heartily. Bruce shook with mirth +but watched his friend's face, and, when the clergyman had sobered +again, he asked,</p> + +<p>"How about this who-God-hath-joined-together idea anyhow, Parson? Does +it always work out?"</p> + +<p>"Not always, Bruce,"—with a shake of his head—"You should know that."</p> + +<p>"Well, when it don't, what've you parsons got to say about it? You've +hogtied 'em in th' name of all that's holy; what if it don't turn out +right? They're married in th' name of God, ain't they?"</p> + +<p>Weyl drained the last of his pop and tossed the bottle away.</p> + +<p>"I used to think they were ... they all were, Bruce. That was when I was +as young in years, as I try to be young in heart now. But the more +couples I marry, the stronger is my conviction that God isn't a party to +all those transactions, not by a long sight!</p> + +<p>"If my bishop were to hear me say that, he'd have me up for a lecture, +because he is bothered with a lot of traditions and precedent, but many +men are calling on Him to bless the unions of young men and women when +He only refuses to answer. Men don't know; somehow they can't see that +God turns his face from marriage at times; they keep on thinking that +all that is necessary is to have some ordained minister warn society to +keep hands off, that it is the Father's business ... when it is not, +when love, when God, isn't there."</p> + +<p>"How are young goin' to tell when He's missin' from those present?"</p> + +<p>Weyl shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"The individuals, the parties concerned, are the only ones who know +that."</p> + +<p>"When they do know, when they don't give up even then? What are you +goin' to do 'bout that?"</p> + +<p>The other man shook his head sadly.</p> + +<p>"There are many things that you and I—that society—must do, Bruce, my +son. It's up to us to change our attitude, to change our way of looking +at human relations, to pull off the bandages that are blinding our eyes +and see the true God. Other things besides marriage demand that unerring +sight, too....'</p> + +<p>"But what I'm gettin' at," broke in the other, pulling him back to the +question of matrimony, "is, what are you goin' to do, when you know God +ain't ridin' with a couple, when it's a sin for 'em to be together, but +when th' man holds to his wife like I'd hold to a cow with my brand on +her, an' when th' woman—maybe—hangs to him 'cause she thinks th' Lord +<i>has</i> had somethin' to do with it."</p> + +<p>"In that case, if she thinks of the Father's connection as an affair of +the past, she must know it is no longer holy; someone should open her +eyes, someone who is unselfish, who has a perspective, who is willing to +be patient and help her, to suffer with her, if need be."</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't recommend that a party who sort of hankered to wring th' +husband's neck an' who thought the wife was 'bout th' finest thing God +ever put breath into, start out to tackle th' job, would you?"</p> + +<p>Weyl rubbed his chin in thoughtful consideration; then replied slowly:</p> + +<p>"No, it is our duty to give the blind sight; we can only do that by +knowing that our motives are holy when we undertake the job. That is the +first and only matter to consider. Beyond motives, we cannot judge men +and women....</p> + +<p>"My bishop would drop dead before me, Bruce, if he heard that."</p> + +<p>The other was silent a moment; then he said, slowly, "I wish some of us +miser'ble sinners could be so open minded as some of you God fearin', +hell-preachin' church goers!"</p> + +<p>After a long interval, in which their discussion rambled over a score of +topics, Bayard left.</p> + +<p>"If you ever get near th' Circle A in that chariot of fire, I hope she +goes up in smoke, so you'll have to stay a while!" he said. "An' I hope +M's. Weyl's with you when it happens."</p> + +<p>"Your wishes for bad luck are only offset by the hope that sometime we +can come and spend some days with you, my friend!" laughed the minister +as they shook hands.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Ann and Nora had returned when Bruce reached the Manzanita House and in +the former's room a few moments later, after he had reported on Lytton's +slow gaining of strength, Bayard said to her,</p> + +<p>"Do you believe what I tell you, ma'am?"</p> + +<p>She looked at him as though she did not get his meaning, but saw he was +in earnest and replied,</p> + +<p>"I've never doubted a thing you've told me."</p> + +<p>"Then I want you to believe one more thing I'm goin' to tell you, an' I +don't want you to ask me any questions about it, cause I'm so +hogtied—that is, situated, ma'am—that I can't answer any. I just want +to tell you never to let your husband go back to th' Sunset mine."</p> + +<p>"Never to <i>let</i> him? Why, when he's himself again that's where his work +will be—"</p> + +<p>"I can't help that, ma'am. All I can say is, not to let him. It means +more to you than anybody can think who don't know th' ways of men in a +country like this. Just remember that, an' believe that, will you?"</p> + +<p>"You want him to give up everything?"</p> + +<p>"All I want, ma'am, is for you to say you'll never let him go there."</p> + +<p>Finally, she unwillingly, uncomprehendingly, agreed to do all she could +to prevent Ned's return to the mining camp.</p> + +<p>"Then, that's all, for now," Bayard announced, dryly, and went from the +room.</p> + +<p>Their hands had not touched; there had been no word, no glance +suggestive of the emotional outburst which characterized their last +meeting, and, when he was gone, the woman, with all her conscience, felt +a keen disappointment.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>THE STORY OF ABE</h3> + + +<p>True to her promise to Bruce, Nora had taken Ann in hand. She proposed +that they ride together the day after the man had suggested such a +kindness and the step was met most enthusiastically by the eastern +woman, for it promised her relief from the anxiety provoked by mere +waiting.</p> + +<p>"I know nothing about this, so you'll have to tell me everything, Nora," +she said as, in a new riding skirt, she settled herself in the saddle +and felt her horse move under her.</p> + +<p>"I don't know much either," the girl replied, fussing with her blouse +front. "I was learnt to ride by a fine teacher, but I was so busy +learnin' 'bout him that I didn't pay much attention to what he said."</p> + +<p>She looked up shyly, yet her mouth was set in determination and she +forced herself to meet Ann Lytton's gaze, to will to be kind to her ... +because Bruce had asked it. Her thinly veiled declaration of interest in +Bayard was not made without guile. It was a timid expression of her +claim to a free field. Perhaps, beneath all her sense of having failed +in the big ambition of her life, was a hope. This eastern woman was +married. Nora knew Bruce, knew his close adherence to his own code of +morals, and she believed that something possibly might come to pass, +some circumstance might arise which would take Ann out of their lives +before the control that Bayard had built about his natural impulses +could be broken down. That would leave her alone with the rancher, to +worship him from a distance, to find a great solace in the fact that +though he refused to be her lover no other woman was more intimately in +his life. That hope prompted her mild insinuation of a right of +priority.</p> + +<p>Ann caught something of the subtle enmity which Nora could not wholly +cover by her outward kindness. She had heard Nora's and Bruce's names +associated about the hotel, and when, on speaking of Bayard, she saw her +companion become more shy, felt her unconscious hostility increase +perceptibly, she deduced the reason. With her conclusion came a feeling +of resentment and with a decided shock Ann realized that she was +prompted to be somewhat jealous of this daughter of the west. Indignant +at herself for what she believed was a mean weakness she resolved to +refrain from talking of Bruce to Nora for the sake of the girl's peace +of mind, although she could not help wondering just how far the affair +between the waitress and her own extraordinary lover had gone.</p> + +<p>Keeping off the subject was difficult, for the two were so far apart, +their viewpoints so widely removed, that they had little or no matter on +which to converse, aside from Yavapai and its people; and of the +community Bayard was the outstanding feature for them both.</p> + +<p>"How long have you been here, Nora?" Ann asked.</p> + +<p>"Three years; ever since Bruce got me my job."</p> + +<p>There you were!</p> + +<p>"Do you like it here?"</p> + +<p>"Well, folks have showed me a good time; Bruce especially."</p> + +<p>Again the talk was stalled.</p> + +<p>"Were you born out here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; that's why I ain't got much education ... except what Bruce gave +me."</p> + +<p>Once more; everything on which they could converse went directly back to +Bayard and, finally, Ann abandoned the attempt to avoid the embarrassing +subject and plunged resolutely into it, hoping to dissipate the +intangible barrier that was between them.</p> + +<p>"Tell me about Bruce," she said. "He brought you here, he educated you; +he must have been very kind to you. He must be unusual,"—looking at the +other girl to detect, if she could, any misgiving sign.</p> + +<p>Nora stared straight ahead.</p> + +<p>"He's been good to me," she said slowly. "He's good to everybody, as I +guess you know. The' ain't much to know about him. His name ain't +Bayard; nobody knows what it is. He was picked up out of a railroad +wreck a long time ago an' old Tim Bayard took him an' raised him. They +never got track of his folks; th' wreck burnt.</p> + +<p>"Tim died four years ago an' Bruce's runnin' th' outfit. He's got a fine +ranch!"—voice rising in unconscious enthusiasm. "He ain't rich, but +he'll be well fixed some day. He don't care much about gettin' rich; +says it takes too much time. He'd rather read an' fuss with horses an' +things."</p> + +<p>"Isn't it unusual to find a man out here or anywhere who feels like +that? Are there more like him in this country, Nora?"</p> + +<p>"God, no!"—with a roughness that startled her companion. "None of 'em +are like him. He was born different; you can tell that by lookin' at +him. He ain't their kind, but they all like him, you bet! <i>He's</i> +smarter'n they are. Feller from th' East, a perfesser, come out here +with th' consumption once when Tim was alive an' stayed there; he taught +Bruce lots. My!"—with a sigh of mingled pride and hopelessness—"he +sure knows a lot. Just as if he was raised an' educated in th' East, +only with none of th' frills you folks get."</p> + +<p>Then she was silent and refused to respond readily to Ann's advances, +but rode looking at her pony's ears, her lips in a straight line.</p> + +<p>That was the beginning. Each day the two women rode together, Nora +teaching Ann all she knew of horses and showing her, in her own way, the +mighty beauty of that country.</p> + +<p>After the first time, they said little about Bruce; with a better +acquaintance, more matters could be talked about and for that each was +thankful.</p> + +<p>Removed as they were from one another by birth and training, each of +these two women, strangers until within a few days, found that a great +part of her life was identical with that of the other. Yet, at the very +point where they came closest to one another, divergence began again. +Their common interest was their feeling for Bruce Bayard, and their +greatest difference was the manner in which each reacted to the emotion. +The waitress, more elemental, more direct and child-like, wanted the man +with an unequivocal desire. She would have gone through any ordeal, +subjected herself to any ignominious circumstances, for his pleasure. +But she did not want him as a possession, as something which belonged to +her; she wanted him for a master, longed with every fiber of her sensory +system to belong to him. She would have slaved for him, drudged for him, +received any brutal outburst he might have turned on her, gratefully, +just so long as she knew she was his.</p> + +<p>Ann Lytton, complicated in her manner of thought by the life she had +lived, hampered by conventions, by preconceived standards of conduct, +would not let herself be whiffed about so wholly by emotion. It was as +though she braced backward and moved reluctantly before a high wind, +urged to flight, resisting the tugging by all the strength of her limbs, +yet losing control with every reluctant step. For her, also, Bruce +Bayard was the most wonderful human being that she had ever experienced. +His roughness, his little uncouth touches, did not jar on her highly +sensitized appreciation of proprieties. With another individual of a +weaker or less cleanly type, the slips in grammar, even, would have been +annoying; but his virility and his unsmirched manner of thought, his +robust, clean body, overbalanced those shortcomings and, deep in her +heart, she idolized him. And yet she would not go further, would not +willingly let that emotion come into the light where it could thrive and +grow with the days; she tried to repress it, keeping it from its natural +sources of nourishment and thereby its growth—for it would grow in +spite of her—became a disrupting progress. One part of her, the real, +natural, unhampered Ann, told her that for his embraces, for his +companionship, she would sell her chances of eternity; she had no desire +to own him, no urge to subject herself to him; the status she wanted was +equal footing, a shoulder-to-shoulder relationship that would be a +joyous thing. And yet that other part, that Puritanical Ann, resisted, +fought down this urge, told her that she must not, could not want Bayard +because, at the Circle A ranch, waited another man who, in the eyes of +the law, of other people, of her God, even, was the one who owned her +loyalty and devotion even though he could not claim her love. Strange +the ways of women who will guard so zealously their bodies but who will +struggle against every natural, holy influence to give so recklessly, so +uselessly, so hopelessly, of their souls!</p> + +<p>Nora was the quicker to analyze her companion-rival. Her subjection to +Bayard's every whim was so complete that, when he told her to be kind to +this other woman, she obeyed with all the heart she could muster, in +spite of what she read in his face and in Ann's blue eyes when that +latter-day part of the eastern woman dreamed through them. She went +about her task doggedly, methodically, forcing herself to nurse the bond +between these two, thinking not of the future, of what it meant to her +own relationships with the cattleman, of nothing but the fact that +Bayard, the lover of her dreams, had willed it. The girl was a religious +fanatic; her religion was that of service to Bayard and she tortured +herself in the name of that belief.</p> + +<p>And in that she was only reflecting the spirit of the man she loved. +Back at the ranch, Bayard underwent the same ordeal of repressing his +natural desires, only, in his case, he could not at all times control +his revulsion for Lytton, while Nora kept her jealousy well in hand. As +at first, he centered his whole activity about bringing Lytton back to +some semblance of manhood. He nursed him, humored him as much as he +could, watched him constantly to see that the man did not slip away, go +to Yavapai and there, in an hour, undo all that Bruce had accomplished.</p> + +<p>Lytton regained strength slowly. His nervous system, racked and torn by +his relentless dissipation, would not allow his body to mend rapidly. He +had been on the verge of acute alcoholism; another day or two of +continued debauchery would have left him a bundle of uncontrollable +nerves, and remedying the condition was no one day task. A fortnight +passed before Lytton was able to sit up through the entire day and, even +then, a walk of a hundred yards would bring him back pale and panting.</p> + +<p>Meager as his daily improvement was, nevertheless it was progress, and +the rehabilitation of his strength meant only one thing for Bruce +Bayard. It meant that Lytton, within a short time, must know of Ann's +presence, must go to her, and that, thereafter, Bayard would be excluded +from the woman's presence, for he still felt that to see them together +would strip him of self-restraint, would make him a primitive man, +battling blindly for the woman he desired.</p> + +<p>As the days passed and Bruce saw Lytton steadying, gaining physical and +mental force, his composure, already disturbed, was badly shaken. He +tried to tell himself that what must be, must be; that brooding would +help matters not at all, that he must keep up his courage and surrender +gracefully for the sake of the woman he loved, keeping her peace of mind +sacred. At other times, he went over the doctrine of unimpeachable +motive, of individual duty that the clergyman had expounded, but some +inherent reluctance to adopt the new, some latent conservatism in him +rebelled at thought of man's crossing man where a woman was at stake. He +did not know, but he formed the third being who was held to a rigid +course by conscience! Of the four entangled by this situation, Ned +Lytton alone was without scruples, without a code of ethics.</p> + +<p>Between the two men was the same attitude that had prevailed from the +first. Bayard kept Lytton in restraint by his physical and mental +dominance. He gave up attempting to persuade, attempting to appeal to +the spark of manhood left in his patient, after that day when Lytton +stole and drank the whiskey. He relied entirely on his superiority and +frankly kept his charge in subjection. When strength came back to the +debauched body, Bayard told himself, he could begin to plead, to argue +for his results; not before.</p> + +<p>For the greater portion of the time Lytton was morose, quarrelsome. Now +and again came flashes of a better nature, but invariably they were +followed by spiteful, reasonless outbursts and remonstrances. To these +Bayard listened with tolerance, accepting the other man's curses and +insults as he would the reasonless pet of a child, and each time that +Ned showed a desire to act as a normal human being, to interest himself +in life or the things about him, the big rancher was on the alert to +give information, to encourage thought that would take the sick man's +mind from his own difficulties.</p> + +<p>One factor of the life at the ranch evidently worried Lytton, but of it +he did not speak. This was the manner with which Bayard kept one room, +the room in which he slept, to himself. The door through which he +entered never stood open, Lytton was never asked to cross the sill. +Bayard never referred to it in conversation. A secret chamber, it was, +rendered mysterious by the fact that its occupant took pains that it +should never be mentioned. Lytton instinctively respected this attitude +and never asked a question touching on it, though at times his annoyance +at being so completely excluded from a portion of the house was evident.</p> + +<p>Once Lytton, sitting in the shade of the ash tree, watched Bayard riding +in from the valley on his sorrel horse. The animal nickered as his +master let him head for the well beside the house.</p> + +<p>"He likes to drink here," Bruce laughed, dropping off and wiping the +dust from his face. "He thinks that because this well's beside the +house, it's better than drinkin' out yonder in th' corral. Kind of a +stuck up old pup, ain't you, Abe?" slapping the horse's belly until he +lifted one hind foot high in a meaningless threat of destruction. "Put +down that foot you four-flusher!" setting his boot over the hoof and +forcing it back to earth.</p> + +<p>He pulled off the saddle, dropped it, drew the bridle over the sleek, +finely proportioned ears and let the big beast shake himself mightily, +roll in the dooryard dust and drink again.</p> + +<p>"Where'd he come from?" Lytton asked, after staring at the splendid +lines of the animal for several minutes.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Abe run hog-wild out on th' valley," Bayard answered, with a +laugh, waving his hand out toward the expanse of country, now a fine +lilac tinted with green under the brilliant sunlight, purple and +uncertain away out where the heat waves distorted the horizon. "He was a +hell bender of a horse for a while....</p> + +<p>"You see, he come from some stock that wasn't intended to get out. +Probably, an army stallion got away from some officer at Whipple +Barracks and fell in with a range mare. That kind of a sire accounts for +his weight and that head and neck, an' his mammy must have been a +leather-lunged, steel-legged little cuss—'cause he's that, too. He's +got the lines of a fine bred horse, with the insides of a first class +bronc."</p> + +<p>"He attracted attention when he was a two year old and some of th' boys +tried to get him, but couldn't. They kept after him until he was four +and then sort of give up. He was a good horse gone bad. He drove off +gentle mares and caused all kind of trouble and would 'a been shot, if +he hadn't been so well put up. He was no use at all that way; he was a +peace disturber an' he was fast an' wise. That's a bad combination to +beat in a country like ours,"—with another gesture toward the valley.</p> + +<p>"But his fifth summer was th' dry year—no rain—creeks dryin' up—hell +on horses; Tim and I went to get him.</p> + +<p>"There was just three waterin' places left on that range. One on Lynch +Creek, one under Bald Mountain, other way over by Sugar Block. We fenced +the first two in tight so nothin' but birds could get to 'em, built a +corral around th' third, that was clean across th' valley +there,"—indicating as he talked-"an' left th' gate open."</p> + +<p>"Well, first day all th' horses on th' valley collected over other side +by those fenced holes, wonderin' what was up,"—he scratched his head +and grinned at the memory, "an' Tim and I set out by Sugar Block in th' +sun waitin'.... Lord, it was hot, an' there wasn't no shade to be had. +That night, some of the old mares come trailin' across th' valley +leadin' their colts, whinnerin' when they smelled water. We was sleepin' +nearby and could kind 'a' see 'em by th' starlight. They nosed around +th' corral and finally went in and drunk. Next day, th' others was +hangin' in sight, suspicious, an' too thirsty to graze. All of 'em stood +head toward th' water, lookin' an' lookin' hours at a time. 'Long toward +night in they come, one at a time, finally, with a rush; unbranded +mares, a few big young colts, all drove to it by thirst.</p> + +<p>"Old Abe, though, he stood up on th' far rim of a wash an' watched an' +hollered an' trotted back an' forth. He wouldn't come; not much! We had +a glass an' could see him switch his tail an' run back a little ways +with his ears flat down. Then, he'd stop an' turn his head an' stick up +his ears stiff as starch; then he'd turn 'round an' walk towards us, +slow for a few steps. Never got within pistol shot, though. All next day +he hung there alone, watchin' us, dryin' up to his bones under that +sun. Antelope come up, a dozen in a bunch, an' hung near him all +afternoon. Next mornin' come th' sun an' there was Mr. Abe, standin' +with his neck straight in th' air, ears peekin' at our camp to see if we +was there yet. Gosh, how hot it got that day!" He rose, drew a bucket of +water from the well and lifting it in his big hands, drank deeply from +the rim at the memory.</p> + +<p>"I thought it was goin' to burn th' valley up.</p> + +<p>"'This'll bring him,' says Tim.</p> + +<p>"'Not him,' I says! 'He'll die first.'</p> + +<p>"'He's too damn good a sport to die,' Tim said. 'He'll quit when he's +licked.'</p> + +<p>"An' he did."</p> + +<p>The man walked to the sorrel, who stood still idly switching at flies. +He threw his arm about the great head and the horse, swaying forward, +pushed against his body with playful affection until Bayard was shoved +from his footing.</p> + +<p>"You did, didn't you, Abe? He didn't wait for dark. It was still light +an' after waitin' all that time on us, you'd thought he'd stuck it out +until we couldn't see so well. But it seemed as if Tim was right, as if +he quit when he saw he was licked, like a good sport. He just +disappeared into that wash an' come up on th' near side an' walked slow +toward us, stoppin' now an' then, sidesteppin' like he was goin' to turn +back, but always comin' on an' on. He made a big circle toward the +corral an', when he got close, 'bout fifty yards off, he started to +trot an' he went through that gate on a high lope, comin' to stop plumb +in th' middle of that hole, spatterin' water an' mud all over himself +an' half th' country.</p> + +<p>"'Twasn't much then. We made it to th' gate on our horses. He could see +us, but we knew after bein' dried out that long he'd just naturally have +to fill up. When I reached for th' gate, he made one move like he tried +to get away but 'twas too late. We had him trapped. He was licked. He +looked us over an' then went to lay down in th' water."</p> + +<p>He stroked the long, fine neck slowly.</p> + +<p>"After that 'twas easy. I knew he was more or less man even if he was +horse. We put th' first rope on him he'd ever felt next mornin'. Of +course, 'twas kind of a tournament for a while, but, finally we both +tied on an' started home with him between us. He played around some, but +finally let up; not licked, not discouraged, understand, but just as if +he admitted we had one on him an' he was goin' to see our game through +for curiosity.</p> + +<p>"We put him in th' round corral an' left him there for a straight month, +foolin' with him every day, of course. Then I got up an' rode him. +That's all there is to it.</p> + +<p>"He was my best friend th' minute I tied on to him; he is yet. We never +had no trouble. I treat him square an' white. He's never tried to pitch +with me, never has quit runnin' until I told him to, an', for my part, +I've never abused him or asked him to go th' limit."</p> + +<p>He walked out to the corral then, horse following at his heels like a +dog, nosing the big brown hand that swung against Bayard's thigh.</p> + +<p>"That's always been a lesson to me," Bruce said, on his return as he +prepared to wash in the tin basin beside the wall. "Runnin' hog-wild +never got him nothin' but enemies, never did him no good. He found out +that it didn't pay, that men was too much for him, an' he's a lot +happier, lot better off, lot more comfortable than he was when he was +hellin' round with no restraint on him. He knows that. I can tell.</p> + +<p>"So,"—as he lathered his hands with soap—"I've always figured that +when us men got runnin' too loose we was makin' mistakes, losin' a lot. +It may seem a little hard on us to stop doin' what we've had a good time +doin' for a while, but, when you stop to consider all sides, I guess +there's about as much pleasure for us when we think of others as there +is when we're so selfish that we don't see nothin' but our own desires."</p> + +<p>Lytton stirred uneasily in his chair and tossed his chin scornfully.</p> + +<p>"Don't you ever get tired playing the hero?" he taunted. "That's what +you are, you know. You're the hero; I'm the villain. You're the one +who's always saying the things heroes say in books. You're the one who's +always right, while I'm always wrong.</p> + +<p>"You know, Bayard, when a man gets to be so damn heroic it's time he +watched himself. I've never seen one yet whose foot didn't slip sooner +or later. The higher you fly, understand, the harder you fall. You're +pretty high; mighty superior to most of us. Look out!"</p> + +<p>The other regarded him a moment, cheeks flushing slowly under the taunt.</p> + +<p>"Lytton, if I was to ask a favor of you, would you consider it?"</p> + +<p>"Fire away! The devil alone knows what I could do for anybody."</p> + +<p>"Just this. Be careful of me, please. I might, sometime, sort of choke +you or something!"</p> + +<p>He turned back to the wash basin at that and soused his face and head in +the cold water.</p> + +<p>A moment before he had looked through that red film which makes killers +of gentle men. He had mastered himself at the cost of a mighty effort, +but in the wake of his rage came a fresh loathing for that other man ... +the man he was grooming, rehabilitating, only to blot out the +possibility of having a bit of Ann's life for himself. He was putting +his best heart, his best mind, his best strength into that discouraging +task, hoping against hope that he might lift Lytton to a level where Ann +would find something to attract and hold her, something to safeguard her +against the true lover who might ride past on his fire-shod stallion. +And it was bitter work.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>THE RUNAWAY</h3> + + +<p>During these days Bayard saw Ann regularly. He would be up before dawn +that he might do the necessary riding after his cattle and reach Yavapai +before sunset, because, somehow, he felt that to see another man's wife +by daylight was less of a transgression than though he went under cover +of darkness. Perhaps it was also because he feared that in spite of his +caution to keep Ann's identity secret, in spite of the community's +accepted first conclusion, Yavapai might learn that she was wife and not +sister, and wished to fortify her against the sting of comment that +might be passed should the revelation occur and his affection for her be +guessed.</p> + +<p>He was punctilious about his appearance. Invariably he changed shirts +and overalls before riding to the town, and he had reserved one gorgeous +green silk scarf for those occasions. He never appeared before the woman +unshaven and, since his one confessional outburst, he was as careful of +his speech, his manner, as he was of his person.</p> + +<p>Ann had taken to Arizona whole heartedly and dressed suitably for the +new life she was leading—divided skirts, simple blouses, a brimmed hat +that would shade her eyes. Her cheeks bronzed from sun and wind, the +blood pumped closer to her skin from the outdoor life and her eyes, +above the latent pain in their depths, took on the brilliance of health. +Her new manner of dress, the better color that came to her face and +accentuated her beauty, the growing indications of vitality about her, +served only to fan the flame in Bayard's heart, for as it made her more +attractive to him, it also made her more understandable, brought her +nearer to his virile kind.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus1.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3>Ann had taken to Arizona whole-heartedly and dressed +suitably for the new life she was leading.</h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>"I've come to tell you about him, ma'am," he always said, by way of +opening their conversations.</p> + +<p>Not once again did he call her by her given name, but, though he was +always formal, stiffly polite, never allowing an intimation of personal +regard to pass his lips, he could not hide the adoration in his eyes. It +came through his dogged resolution to hold it back, for he could not +keep his gaze from following her every move, every bend of her neck, +change of her lips, lift of her arms and shoulders or free, rhythmic +movement as she walked.</p> + +<p>Ann saw and read that light and, though something in her kept demanding +that she blind herself to its significance, that, if necessary to +accomplish this, she refuse to give Bayard gaze for gaze, she could no +more have hidden the fact of that evidence of his love from her +understanding than she could have stopped the quickening of her pulse +when he approached.</p> + +<p>Nora saw that light, too. She saw the trouble with it in his face; +and the realization of what it all meant was like a stab in the breast. +He had ceased entirely to laugh and banter with her as he had done +before Ann Lytton came to Yavapai; in other days he had always eaten at +the Manzanita House when in town, and his humorous chiding had been one +of the things in which the girl found simple delight. Now, he came and +went without eating; his words to her were few, almost without exception +they were of the other woman and, always, his speech was sober.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Weyl returned to Yavapai and with her coming Ann found another +outlet for the trouble that she fought vainly to repress. To Bayard she +had given the fullest detail of her confidence; through Nora she had +found a method of forgetting for short successions of hours. But Bayard +was a man, and between them was the peculiar barrier which his love had +erected; Nora was not the type to which Ann would go for comfort and +there, anyhow, was again a dividing circumstance which could not wholly +be overcome. It was the emotional receptiveness of an understanding +woman that Ann Lytton needed; she wanted to be mothered, to be pitied, +to be assured in the terms of her kind and all that she found in the +clergyman's wife.</p> + +<p>"Why, the poor child!" that good woman had cried when, on her arrival +home, her husband had told her of Ann's presence. "And you say her +brother has disappeared?"</p> + +<p>"From Yavapai, yes; I suspect, though, that Bruce Bayard knows +something of where he is and I guess the girl could find him. Something +peculiar about it, though. Bruce is worried. And I think he's quite +desperately in love."</p> + +<p>Forthwith, his wife dropped all other duties and went to Ann. In fifteen +minutes the novelty of acquaintance had worn off and in an hour Ann was +crying in the motherly arms, while she poured her whole wretched story +into the sympathetic ears; that is, all of the story up to the day when +Bruce Bayard told her why she must not help him nurse Ned Lytton back to +physical and moral health.</p> + +<p>To the accompaniment of many there-there's and dear-child's and caresses +Ann's outburst of grief spent itself and the distress that had reflected +on the countenance of the older woman gave way to an expression of sweet +understanding.</p> + +<p>"And because of everything, we—Mr. Bayard and I—had thought it best to +let people go on thinking that I am ... Ned's sister.... You see, it +might be embarrassing to have them talk."</p> + +<p>Her look wavered and the face of Mrs. Weyl showed a sudden +comprehension. For a breath she sat gazing at the profile of the girl +beside her. Then she leaned forward, kissed her on the cheek and said,</p> + +<p>"I know, daughter, I know."</p> + +<p>That meeting led to daily visits and soon Bruce and Ann were invited to +eat their evening meal at the Weyls'. It was a peculiar event, with the +self-consciousness of Ann and the rancher putting an effective damper on +the conversation. Afterward, when the men sat outside in the twilight, +Bruce smoking a cigarette and the minister drawing temperately on an +aged cob pipe, the cowman broke a lengthy silence with:</p> + +<p>"I'm glad she told your wife ... about bein' his wife.... It relieves +me. A thing like that is considerable of a secret to pack around."</p> + +<p>The other blew ashes gently from the bowl of his pipe, exposing the ruby +coal before he spoke.</p> + +<p>"If you ever think there's anything any man can do to help—from +listening on up—just let me try, will you, my boy?"</p> + +<p>"If any man could help, you'd be the one," was the answer. "But th' +other day we sifted this thing down; it's up to th' man himself to be +sure that he's ridin' th' open trail an' ain't got anything to cover up.</p> + +<p>"But lately so much has happened that I don't feel free, even when I'm +out on the valley. I feel, somehow, like I was under fence ... fenced +in."</p> + +<p>Nora and Ann continued their rides together and one afternoon they had +gone to the westward in the direction of Bayard's ranch. It was at +Nora's suggestion, after they had agreed that Bruce might be on his way +to Yavapai that day. In the distance, they had sighted a rider and after +watching him a time saw him wave his hat.</p> + +<p>"That's him," the waitress said. "Here's some fine grass; let's give th' +horses a bite an' let 'em cool till he comes up."</p> + +<p>They waited there then, slouched in their saddles. Ann wanted to talk +about something other than Bruce, because, at the mention of his name, +that old chill was bound to assert itself in Nora.</p> + +<p>"This is a better horse than the one I've had," she commented, stroking +the pony's withers and hoping to start talk that would make the interval +of waiting one of ease between them.</p> + +<p>"Yes," agreed Nora, "but he's got a bad eye. I was afraid of him when we +first started out, but he seems to be all right. Bruce had one that +looked like him once an' he tried to pitch me off."</p> + +<p>"Hold up your head, pony," Ann said, "You'll get us into trouble—"</p> + +<p>Her horse, searching grass, had thrust his head under the pony Nora rode +and, as Ann pulled on the reins, he responded with the alacrity of a +nervous animal, striking the stirrup as he threw up his head. He +crouched, backed, half turned and Nora's spur caught under the headstall +of his bridle. It was a bridle without a throat-latch, and, at the first +jerk, it slipped over his ears, the bit slid from his mouth and +clattered on the rocks. Ann's first laugh changed to a cry of fright. +Nora, with a jab of her spurs, started to send her pony close against +the other, reaching out at the same time with her arms to encircle his +head. But she was too late, too slow. The freed horse trotted off a few +steps, throwing his nose to one side in curiosity, felt no restraint, +broke into a lope, struck back along the road toward town and, +surprised, frightened by his unexpected liberty, increased his pace to a +panicky run.</p> + +<p>Behind, Nora pulled her horse up sharply, knowing that to pursue would +only set the runaway at a greater speed.</p> + +<p>"Hang on!" she shouted, in a voice shrill with excitement. "Hang on!"</p> + +<p>Ann was hanging on with all her strength. She was riding, too, with all +the skill at her command; for greater safety she clung to the horn with +both hands. She tried to speak to the horse under her, thinking that she +might quiet him by words, but the rush of wind whipped the feeble sounds +from her lips and their remnants were drowned in the staccatoed drumming +of hoofs as the crazed beast, breathing in excited gulps, breasted the +hill that led them back toward town, gathering speed with every leap +that carried them forward.</p> + +<p>Nora, seeing that a runaway was inevitable, cried to her mount and the +pony, keyed to flight, sped along behind the other, losing with every +length traveled. Tears of fright spilled from the girl's eyes, chilling +her cheeks. What might happen was incalculable, she knew.</p> + +<p>Then new sounds, above the beat of her horse's hoofs, above the wind in +her ears; the sweeping, measured, rolling batter of other hoofs, and +Nora turned her head to see Bruce Bayard, mouth set, eyes glowing, brim +of his hat plastered back against the crown by his rush, urge his big +sorrel horse toward her. He hung low over the fork of his saddle, clear +of his seat, tense, yet lithe, and responding to every undulation of the +beast that carried him.</p> + +<p>From a distance Bayard had seen. He thought at first that Ann had +started her pony purposely, but when the animal raced away toward town +at such frantic speed, when Ann's hat was whipped from her head, when he +heard a distant, faint scream, he knew that no prompting of the woman's +had been behind the break. He stretched himself low over Abe's neck and +cried aloud, hung in his spurs and fanned the great beast's flanks with +his quirt. Never before had the sorrel been called upon so sharply; +never before had he felt such a prodding of rowels or lashing of +rawhide. Ears back, nose out, limbs flexing and straightening, spurning +the roadway with his drumming hoofs, the great animal started in +pursuit.</p> + +<p>For a mile the road held up hill, following closely the rim of a rise +that hung high above the valley to the right. As it rose, the wagon +track bent to the left, with the trend of the rim. At the crest of the +hill Yavapai would be visible; from there the road, too, could be seen, +swinging in a big arc toward the town, which might be reached by travel +over a straight line; but that way would lead down an abrupt drop and +over footing that was atrocious, strewn with <i>malpais</i> boulders and +rutted by many washes.</p> + +<p>It was to overtake Ann's runaway before he topped this rise that Bayard +whipped his sorrel. He knew what might happen there. The animal that +bore the woman was crazed beyond control, beyond his own horse judgment. +He was running, and his sole objective was home. Now, he was taking the +quickest possible route and the moment he struck the higher country he +might leave the road and go straight for Yavapai, plunging down the +sharp point that stood three hundred feet above the valley, and making +over the rocks with the abandon of a beast that is bred and reared among +them. Well enough to run over rough ground at most times, but in this +insane going the horse would be heedless of his instinctive caution, +sacrificing everything for speed. He might fall before he reached the +valley floor, he might lose his footing at any yard between there and +town, and a fall in that ragged, volcanic rock, would be a terrible +thing for a woman.</p> + +<p>Abe responded superbly to the urging. He passed Nora's pony in a shower +of gravel. His belly seemed to hang unbelievably close to the ground, +his stride lengthened, his tail stood rippling behind him, his feet +smote the road as though spitefully and he stretched his white patched +nose far out as if he would force his tendons to a performance beyond +their actual power. But he could not make it; the task of overcoming +that handicap in that distance was beyond the ability of blood and +bone.</p> + +<p>As he went on, leap by leap, and saw that his gaining was not bringing +him beside Ann in time, Bayard commenced to call aloud to the horse +under him, and his eyes grew wide with dread.</p> + +<p>His fears were well grounded. As though he had planned it long before, +as if the whole route of his flight had been preconceived, the black +pony swung to the right as he came up on level ground. He cut across the +intervening flat and, ears back, hindquarters scrooching far under his +body as he changed his gait for the steep drop, he disappeared over the +rim.</p> + +<p>Bayard cried aloud, the sorrel swung unbidden on the trail of the +runaway and twenty yards behind stuck his fore feet stiffly out for the +first leap down the rock-littered point. Unspeakable footing, that. +<i>Malpais</i> lumps, ranging from the size of an egg to some that weighed +tons, were everywhere. Between them sparse grass grew, but in no place +was there bare ground the size of a horse's hoof, and for every four +lengths they traveled forward, they dropped toward the valley by one!</p> + +<p>Ears up now, the sorrel watched his footing anxiously, but the black +pony, eyes rolling, put his whole vigor into the running, urged on to +even greater efforts by the nearness of the pursuing animal. The fortune +that goes with flying bronchos alone kept his feet beneath his body.</p> + +<p>Bayard's mouth was open and each time the shock of being thrown forward +and down racked his body, the breath was beaten from him. He looked +ahead, watching the footing at the bottom, leaving that over which they +then passed to his horse, for the most critical moment in a run such as +they took is when the horses strike level ground. Then they are apt to +go end over end, tripped by the impetus that their rush downhill gives +them. He knew that he could not overtake and turn Ann's pony with safety +before they reached the bottom. He feared that to come abreast of him +might drive the frantic beast to that last effort which would result in +an immediate fall. Every instant was precious; every leap filled with +potential disaster.</p> + +<p>The stallion left off pretense at clean running. He slipped and +floundered and scrambled down the point; at times almost sitting on his +haunches to keep the rush of his descent within safety and retain +control of his balance. Slowly he drew closer to the other animal, +crowding a bit to the left to be nearer, grunting with his straining, +dividing his attention between preserving caution and making progress.</p> + +<p>Ann's hair came down, tumbling about her shoulders, then down her back, +and finally brushed the sweated coat of her runaway with its ends. The +horrible sensation of falling, of pitching forward helplessly, swept +through her vitals each time the animal under her leaped outward and +down. It grew to an acute physical pain by its constant repetition. Her +face was very white, but almost expressionless. Only her eyes betrayed +the fear in her by their darkness, by their strained lids. Her mouth was +fixed in determination to play the game to its end. She heard the other +horse coming; Bayard's voice had called out to her. That was all she +knew. This flight was horrible, tragic; with each move of her horse she +feared that it must be the last, that she would be flung into those +rocks, yet, somehow, she felt that it would end well. For Bayard was +near her.</p> + +<p>Not so with the man. As they slid down halfway to the valley, he cried +aloud to his horse again, for he saw that along the base of the drop, +right at the place toward which they were floundering, a recent storm +had gouged a fresh wash. Deep and narrow and rock filled, and, if her +horse, unable to stop, unable to turn with any degree of safety whatever +went into that ...</p> + +<p>Behind them, loosened rocks clattered along, the dust rose, their trail +was marked by black blotches where the scant red soil had been turned +up. The sorrel's nose reached the black's reeling rump; it stretched to +his flank, to the saddle, to his shoulder.... And Ann turned her head +quickly, appealingly.</p> + +<p>"Careful ... Abe! Once more ... easy ..."</p> + +<p>Bayard dropped his reins; he leaned to the left. He scratched with his +spurs. His horse leaped powerfully twice, thrice, caution abandoned, +risking everything now. The man swung down, his arm encircled Ann's +waist, he brought the pressure of his right knee to bear against the +saddle, and lifted her clear, a warm, limp weight against his body.</p> + +<p>Staggering under the added burden, the stallion gathered himself for a +try at the wash which he must either clear or in which he and those he +carried were to fall in a tangle. Bayard, lifting the woman high, +balanced in his saddle and gathered her closer.</p> + +<p>The black floundered in uncertain jumps, throwing his head down in an +effort to check his progress, was overcome by his own momentum and +leaped recklessly. He misjudged, fell short and with a grunt and a thud +and a threshing went down into the bald rocks that floods had piled in +the gully.</p> + +<p>Abe did not try to stop, to overcome the added impetus that this new +weight gave him. He lowered his head in a show of determination, took +the last three strides with a swift scramble and leaped.</p> + +<p>Bayard thought that they were in the air for seconds. They seemed to +float over that wash. Seemed to hang suspended a deliberate instant. +Then they came down with a sob wrenched from the horse as his forefeet +clawed the far footing for a retaining hold and his hindquarters, the +bank crumbling under them, slipped down into the gully. He strained an +instant against sliding further back, gathering himself in an agony of +effort and floundered safely up!</p> + +<p>Bruce became conscious that Ann's arms were about his neck, that her +body was close against his. He knew that his limbs quivered, partly from +the recent fright, partly from contact with the woman.</p> + +<p>Abe staggered forward a few steps, halted and turned to look at his +unfortunate brother galloping lamely toward Yavapai.</p> + +<p>Except for the animal's breathing, the world was very quiet. For a +moment Ann lay in Bayard's embrace; his one arm was about her shoulders, +the other hooked behind her knees; then, convulsively, her arms +tightened about his neck; she pressed her cheek against his and clung so +while their hearts throbbed, one against the other. He had not moved, he +refrained from crushing her, from taking her lips with his. It cost him +dearly and the effort to resist shot another tremor through his frame. +On that she roused.</p> + +<p>"I wasn't afraid ... after I knew it was you," she said, raising her +head.</p> + +<p>"I was, ma'am," he said, soberly, lifting and seating her on Abe's +withers.</p> + +<p>"I was mighty scared. See what happened to your horse? That ... You'd +have been with him in those rocks."</p> + +<p>He dismounted, still supporting her in her position.</p> + +<p>"You sit in th' saddle, ma'am; I'll walk an' lead Abe. You're ... you're +not scared now?"</p> + +<p>"A little,"—breathing deeply as he helped her, and, laughing in a +strained tone. "I'll ... I'll be frightened later I expect, but I'm not +now ... much ... It's you, you keep me from it," she said. "I'm not +frightened with you."</p> + +<p>"I tried to keep things so you won't have to be, ma'am."</p> + +<p>Probably because she was weak, perhaps wholly because of the hot +yearning that contact with him had roused in her, Ann swayed down toward +him. It was as though she would fall into his arms, as though she +herself would stir his repressed desire for her until it overcame his +own judgment, and yield to his will there in the brilliant afternoon; as +though she were going to him, then, for all time, regardless of +everything, caring only for the instant that her lips should be on his. +He started forward, flung up one arm as though to catch her; then drew +back.</p> + +<p>"Don't, ma'am," he begged. "Don't! For the sake ... for your sake, +don't."</p> + +<p>The woman swallowed and straightened her back as though just coming to +the complete realization of what had happened.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me," she whispered.</p> + +<p>They had not heard Nora riding down to them, so great was their +absorption in one another, but at that moment when Ann's head drooped +and Bayard's shoulders flexed as from a great fatigue the waitress +halted her horse beside them.</p> + +<p>"God! I didn't think...."</p> + +<p>She had looked at them with the fear that had struck her as she watched +the last phase of their descent still gripping her. But in their faces +she read that which they both struggled to hide from one another and the +light that had been in her eyes went out. She turned her face away from +them, looking out at the long afternoon shadows.</p> + +<p>"I'll have to be gettin' back," she said, dully, as though unconscious +of the words.</p> + +<p>"We'll go with you, Nora," the man said, very quietly. "Mrs. Lytton," he +pronounced the words distinctly as if to impress himself with their +significance—"is the first person who has ever been on Abe but me.... +He seems to like it."</p> + +<p>Leading the horse by the reins, he began to climb the point back toward +the road. In the east the runaway had dwindled to a bobbing fleck.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>THE SCOURGING</h3> + + +<p>In the last moments of twilight Ann sat alone in her room, cheeks still +flushed, limbs still trembling at intervals, pulses retaining their +swift measure. She was unstrung, aquiver with strange emotions.</p> + +<p>It was not wholly the fright of the afternoon that had provoked her +nerves to this state; it was not alone the emotional surging loosed by +her moment in Bayard's arms, her cheek against his cheek; nor was it +entirely inspired by the fact, growing in portent with each passing +hour, that Bruce had told her his work with Ned Lytton was all but +ended, that within a day or two he was sending her husband to her. It +was a combination of all this, with possibly her husband's impending +return forming a background.</p> + +<p>Again and again she saw Bruce as he delivered his message, heard his +even, dogged voice uttering the words. He had waited until they reached +the hotel, he had let Nora leave them and, then, in the sunset quiet, +standing on the steps where she had first seen him, he had refused to +hear her thanks for saving her from bodily hurt, and had broken in:</p> + +<p>"It ain't likely I'll be in again for a while, ma'am. Your husband's +about ready to move. I've done all I can; it'd only hurt him to stay on +against his will. Sometime this week, ma'am, he'll be comin'."</p> + +<p>And that was Wednesday! She had been struck stupid by his words. She had +heard him no further, though he did say other things; she had watched +him go, unable to call him back.</p> + +<p>It relieved Ann not at all to tell herself that it was this for which +she had waited, had worried, had restrained herself throughout these +weeks; that she had come West to find her husband and that she was about +to join him, knowing that he was strengthened, that he had been lifted +up to a physical and mental level where she might guide him, aid him in +the fight which must continue.</p> + +<p>That knowledge was no solace. It was that for which she had outwardly +waited, but it was that against which she inwardly recoiled. She +realized this truth now, and conscience cried back that it must not be +so, that she must stifle that feeling of revulsion, that she must +welcome her husband, eagerly, gladly. And it went on to accuse ... that +conscience; it shamed her because she had been held to the breast of +another man; it scorned her because she had drawn herself closer to him +with her own arms; it taunted her bitterly because she could not readily +agree with her older self that in the doing she had sinned, because to +her slowly opening eyes that moment had seemed the most beautiful +interval of her life!</p> + +<p>A peculiar difference in the vivacity of her impressions had been +asserting itself. The memory of the runaway had faded. Her picture of +the moment when she strained her body against Bayard's was not so clear +as it had been an hour before, though the thrill, the great joy of it, +still remained to mingle with those other thoughts and emotions which +confused her. The last great impression of the day, though—Bayard's +solemn announcement of his completed task—grew more sharply defined, +more outstanding, more important as the moments passed, because its +eventuality was a thing before which she felt powerless in the face of +her conscience, before which all this other must be forgotten, before +which this new rebellious Ann must give way to the old long-suffering, +submissive wife. She felt as though she had known her moment of beauty +and that it had gone, leaving her not even a sweet memory; for her +grimmer self whispered that that brief span of time had been vile, +unchaste. And yet, in the next moment, her strength had rallied and she +was fighting against the influence of tradition, against blind +precedents.</p> + +<p>A knock came on her door and Ann, wondering with a thrill if it could be +Bayard, both troubled and pleased at the possibility, stepped across the +floor to answer it.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Nora!" she said in surprise. "Come in,"—when the girl stood still +in the hall, neither offering to speak nor to enter. "Do come in," she +insisted after a pause and the other crossed the threshold, still +without speaking.</p> + +<p>"I've been sitting here in the dark thinking about what happened this +afternoon," Ann said, drawing a chair to face hers that was by the +window. "It was all very exciting, wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>Nora had followed across the room slowly and Ann felt that the girl's +gaze held on her with unusual steadfastness.</p> + +<p>"I guess it's a fortunate thing that Bruce Bayard came along when he +did. I ... I tremble every time I think of the way my horse went down!" +She broke off and laughed nervously.</p> + +<p>Nora stood before her, still silent, still eyeing her pointedly.</p> + +<p>"Well ... Won't you sit down, Nora?"—confused by the portentous silence +and the staring of the other. "Won't you sit down here?"</p> + +<p>Mechanically the girl took her seat and Ann, wondering what this strange +bearing might mean, resumed her own chair. They sat so, facing one +another in the last sunset glow, the one staring stolidly, Ann covering +her embarrassment, her wonder with a forced smile. Gradually, that smile +faded, an uncertainty appeared in Ann's eyes and she broke out:</p> + +<p>"Why, what is the matter with you, Nora?"</p> + +<p>At that question the girl averted her face and let her hands drop down +over the chair arms with careless laxity.</p> + +<p>"Don't you know what it is?" she asked, in her deep, throaty voice, +meeting Ann's inquiring gaze, shifting her eyes quickly, moving her +shoulders with a slight suggestion of defiance.</p> + +<p>"Why, no, Nora! You're so queer. Is something troubling you? Can't you +tell me?"</p> + +<p>Ann leaned forward solicitously.</p> + +<p>The waitress laughed sharply, and lifted a hand to her brow, and shook +her head.</p> + +<p>"Don't you know what it is?" she asked again, voice hardening. "Can't +you see? Are you blind? Or are you afraid?</p> + +<p>"What'd you come out here for anyhow?" she cried, abruptly accusing, one +hand out in a gesture of challenge, and Ann could see an angry flush +come into her face and her lower lids puff with the emotion.</p> + +<p>"Why, Nora...."</p> + +<p>"Don't tell me! I know what you come for! You come to look after your +worthless whelp of a man; that's why; an' you stayed to try to take +mine!"—voice weakening as she again turned her face toward the window.</p> + +<p>"Why, Nora Brewster ..."</p> + +<p>The sharp shake of the girl's arm threw off Ann's hand that had gone out +to grasp it and the rasp in Nora's voice checked the eastern woman's +protest.</p> + +<p>"Don't try to tell me anything different! I know! Can't I see? Am I as +blind as you try to make me think you are?"—with another swagger of the +shoulders as she moved in her chair. "Can't I see what's goin' on? Can't +I see you makin' up to him an' eyein' him an' leadin' him on?—You, a +married woman!"</p> + +<p>"Nora, stop it!"</p> + +<p>With set mouth Ann straightened, her breathing audible.</p> + +<p>"I <i>won't</i> stop. You're goin' to hear me through, understand? You're +goin' to know all about it; you're goin' to know what I am an' what he +is an' what's been between us ... what you've been breakin' up. Then, I +guess you won't come in here with your swell eastern ways an' try to +take him.... I guess not!"</p> + +<p>She laughed bitterly and Ann could see the baleful glow in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"I told you that he brung me here an' put me to work, I guess. Well, +that was so; he did. I'll tell you where he got me." She hitched +forward. "He brung me from th' Fork. You come through there; all you +know 'bout it is that there's a swell hotel there an' it's a junction +point. Well, the's a lot more to know about th' Fork ... or was."</p> + +<p>She paused a moment and rubbed her palms together triumphantly, as if +she had long anticipated this moment.</p> + +<p>"When I was there, the' wasn't no hotel; the' wasn't nothin' but a +junction an' ... hell itself. 'Twasn't a place with much noise about it, +not so many killin's as some places maybe, but 'twas bad, low down.</p> + +<p>"The' was a place there ... Charley Ling's.... 'Twas a Chinese place, +with white women. I was one of 'em."</p> + +<p>Ann gasped slightly and drew back, and Nora laughed.</p> + +<p>"I thought that'd hurt," she mocked. "I thought you couldn't stand it!</p> + +<p>"Charley's was a fine place. Sheep herders come there an' Mexicans an' +sometimes somebody of darker color. We wasn't particular, see? We wasn't +particular, I guess not! Men was white or black or red or yellow or +brown, but their money was all one color....</p> + +<p>"The' was dope an' booze an' ... hell.... Charley's was a reg'lar boil +on th' face of God's earth, that's what it was.... He—Bruce Bayard—got +me out of there."</p> + +<p>The girl breathed hard and swiftly. Her upper lip was drawn back and her +white teeth gleamed in the semi-darkness as she sat forward in her +chair, flushed, her accusing face thrust forward toward the bewildered, +horrified Ann Lytton.</p> + +<p>"He got me there, so you know what I was, what I am. He brung me here, +got me this job, has kept me here ever since,"—with a suggestion of +faltering purpose in her voice. "It's been him ever since; just him. +I'll say that for myself. I've been on th' level with Bruce an' ain't +had nothin' to do with others.</p> + +<p>"You see he's mine!"—her voice, which had dropped to a monotone, rose +bitingly again. "He's mine; he's all I got. If 'twasn't for him, I +wouldn't be here. If he quits me, I'll go back to that other. I don't +want to go back; so long as he sticks by me I won't go back. If I leave, +it'll be because I'm drove back....</p> + +<p>"That's what you're doin'. You're drivin' me back to Charley's ... or +some place like it...."</p> + +<p>She moved from side to side, defiantly, and leaned further forward, +resting her elbows on her knees, staring out into the darkened street +below them.</p> + +<p>"You come here, a married woman; you got one man now, an' he don't suit. +So you think you're goin' to take mine. That's big business for a ... a +respectable lady, like yourself, ain't it? Stealin' a man off a woman +like me!"</p> + +<p>She laughed shortly, and did not so much as look up as Ann tried to +reply and could not make words frame coherent sentences.</p> + +<p>"I've kept still until now, 'cause I ain't proud of my past, 'cause I +thought you, havin' one man, had enough without meddlin' with mine. But +I'm through keepin' my mouth shut now,"—menacingly. "I'm through, I +tell you,"—wiping her hands along her thighs and straightening her +body slowly as she turned a malevolent gaze on the silent Ann. "You're +tryin' to take what belongs to me an' I won't set by an' let you walk +off with him. I'll—</p> + +<p>"Why, what'd this town say, if I was to tell 'em you're Ned Lytton's +wife instead of his sister? They all know you've been havin' Bruce come +here to your room; they all think he's your lover. First thing, they'd +fire you out of th' hotel; then, they'd laugh at you as you walked along +th' street! It'd ruin him, too; what with keepin' your man out at his +ranch so's he can see you without trouble!"</p> + +<p>Her voice had mounted steadily and, at the last, she rose to her feet, +bending over the bewildered Ann and gesturing heavily with her right arm +while the other was pressed tightly across her chest.</p> + +<p>"That's what I come here to tell you to-night!" she cried. "That's what +you know, now. But I want you to know that while I've been bad, as bad +as women get, that I've been open about it; I ain't been no hypocrite; I +ain't passed as a good woman an' ... been bad—"</p> + +<p>"Nora, stop this!"</p> + +<p>Ann leaped to her feet and confronted the girl, for the moment furious, +combative. They faced one another in the faint light that came through +the windows and before her roused intensity Nora stepped backward, +yielding suddenly, frightened by this show of vigorous indignation, for +she had believed that her accusation would grind the spirit, the pride, +from Ann.</p> + +<p>"Why, you-u-u- ..."</p> + +<p>Ann's hands clenched and opened convulsively at her sides as she groped +fruitlessly for words.</p> + +<p>"You go now, Nora; go away from me! What you have said has been too +contemptible, too base for me even to answer!"</p> + +<p>She walked quickly to the door, opened it and faced about with a gesture +of command. Nora hesitated a moment, then, without a word, walked from +the room. In the hall she paused, back still toward Ann as though she +had more that she would say, as if, possibly, she considered the +advisability of going further; but, if that was true, she had no +opportunity then, for the door closed firmly and the lock clicked.</p> + +<p>It was the most confused moment in Ann's life. The identification of her +husband, her several trying scenes with Bayard, would not compare with +it. She heard Nora's slow, receding footsteps with infinite relief and, +when they were quite gone, she realized that as she stood, back to the +door, she was shaking violently. She was weakened, frightened by what +had passed, and, as she strove through those minutes to control her +thoughts, to marshal the elements of the ordeal through which she had +come, she became possessed by the terrifying conviction that she had no +defence to offer! That she could not answer the other woman's +accusations, that by telling Nora she was above replying to those +charges she was only hiding behind a front of false superiority, a +veneer of assurance that was as artificial as it was thin.</p> + +<p>She moved to her bed with lagging, uncertain steps and sat down with a +long sigh; then, drew a wrist across her eyes, propping herself erect +with the other arm.</p> + +<p>"She ... he belongs to her ..." she said aloud, trying to bring +coherence to her thinking by the uttered words. "He belongs ... to +her...."</p> + +<p>A slow warmth went through her body, into her cheeks to make them flame +fiercely. That was a sense of guilt coming over her, shaming her, +torturing her, and behind it, inspiring, urging it along, giving it +strength, was that conscience of hers.</p> + +<p>At other times she had defied that older self; only that evening she had +regained some of the ground from which it had driven her by its last +assault, lifting herself above the judgments she had been trained to +respect because, in transgressing them, she had experienced a free, holy +joy that had never been hers so long as she had remained within their +bounds. But now! That cry for escape was gone.</p> + +<p>She had been stealing another woman's man ... and such a woman!</p> + +<p>Never before had she faced such ugly truths as the girl had poured upon +her. Of the cancerous places in the social structure she had known, of +course; at times she had even gone so far as to judge herself a +wide-awake, keen-seeing woman, but now ... she shuddered as the woman's +words came back to her, "White or black or red or brown; but their money +was all th' same color." That was too horrible, too revolting; she could +not accept it with a detached point of view. Its very truth—she did not +doubt it—smirched her, for she had been stealing the man of such a +woman!</p> + +<p>Oh, that conscience was finding its revenge! That day it had been +outraged, had been all but unseated; but now it came back with a +vengeance. She, the lawful wife of Ned Lytton, had plotted to win Bruce +Bayard. No, she had not! one part of her protested, as she weakened and +sought for any escape that meant relief. You did, you did! thundered +that older self. By passively accepting, as a fact, her want of him, she +had sinned. By finding joy in his touch, at sight of him, she had +grievously wronged not only Ned and herself but all people. She was a +contaminated thing! She was as bad, worse than Nora Brewster, because, +while Nora had sinned, she admitted it, had done it openly, and frankly +while she, Ann Lytton, had covered it with a cloak of hypocrisy, had +refused to admit her transgressions even to herself and lied and +distorted happenings, even her thoughts, until they were made to appease +her craven heart!</p> + +<p>"She said it; she said it!" Ann muttered aloud. "She said that I was a +hypocrite. She said ... she did not hide!" Then, for a moment, she was +firm, drawing her body, even, to firmness to contend more effectively +against these suggestive accusations. What matter if she were married? +What if Bayard did love an abandoned woman? What mattered anything but +that she loved him?</p> + +<p>And, as though it had waited for her to go that far to show her hand, +that other self cried out: "To your God you have given your word to love +this man, your husband! To your God you have promised to love no other! +To your God you have pledged him your body, your soul, your life, come +what may!"</p> + +<p>She cowered before the thought, tearless, silent, and sat there, going +through and through the same emotional experiences, always coming +against the stone wall formed by her concepts of honor and morality.</p> + +<p>In another room of the Manzanita House another woman fought with herself +that night. Nora, too, stood backed against her locked door a long time +after she had gained its refuge, bewildered, trying to think her way to +a clear understanding of all that had happened. Its entire consequence +came to her sooner than it had come to Ann. She groped along the wall to +her matchsafe, scratched a light, removed the chimney from her lamp and +set the wick burning. She waved out the match absently, put the charred +remains in the oilcloth cover of the washstand and said to herself,</p> + +<p>"Well, I've done it."</p> + +<p>It was as though she spoke of the accomplishment of an end the +advisability of which had been debatable in her mind, and as if there +were now no remedy. What was done, was done; events of the past could +not be altered, their consequences could not be changed.</p> + +<p>She undressed listlessly, put on her nightgown and moved to the crinkled +mirror to take down her hair.</p> + +<p>"I guess that'll fix her," she muttered. "She'll get out, now...."</p> + +<p>She looked at herself in the mirror as she began to speak, but, when her +sight met its own reflection, her voice faltered, the words trailed off. +She stood motionless, scrutinizing herself closely, critically; then saw +a slow flush come up from her neck, flooding her cheeks. Uneasily her +eyes dropped from their reflection, then shot back with a rallying of +the dark defiance that had been in them; only for an instant, for the +fire disappeared, they became unsteady.</p> + +<p>Her movements grew rapid. She drew hairpins from the coils and dropped +them heedlessly. She shook out her hair and brushed it with nervous +vigor; then braided it feverishly, as if some inner emotion might find +vent in that simple task.</p> + +<p>Time after time she shot glances into the mirror, but in each instance +she felt her cheeks burn more fiercely, saw the confused humility +increasing in her expression and, finally, her rapid breathing lost its +regularity, her lips quivered and her shoulders lifted in a sob. She +covered her face with her hands, pressing finger tips tightly against +her eyes, struggling to master herself, to bring again that defiant +spirit. But she could not; it had gone and she was fighting doggedly +against the reaction, knowing that it must come, knowing what it would +be, almost terror stricken at the realization.</p> + +<p>She paced the floor, stopping now and then, and finally cried aloud:</p> + +<p>"She <i>was</i> stealin' him; he <i>is</i> mine!"—as though some presence had +accused her of a lie. Again, she repeated the words, but in a whisper; +and conviction was not with her.</p> + +<p>She sat down on the edge of her bed, but could not remain quiet, and +commenced walking, moving automatically, almost dreamlike, distressed, +flinging her arms about like a guilt-maddened Lady Macbeth. Each time +she passed the mirror she experienced a terrible desire to meet her own +gaze again, but she would not, for her own eyes accused her, bored +relentlessly into her heart.</p> + +<p>"An' I called her a hypocrite," she burst out suddenly, halted, turned +and rushed back toward the dresser, straining forward, forcing her gaze +to read the soul that was bared before her, there in the mirror.</p> + +<p>"You lied to her!" she muttered. "You told her dirty lies; you're +throwin' him down. You're killin' her... You ...</p> + +<p>"Oh, Bruce, Bruce!"</p> + +<p>She turned away and let the tears come again.</p> + +<p>"You'd hate me, Bruce, you'd hate me!"</p> + +<p>She threw herself full length on the bed. Jealousy had had its inning. +All the bitterness that it could create had been flung forth on to the +woman who had roused it and then the emotion had died. Strong as it was +in Nora, the elemental, the childish, it was not so strong as her +loyalty to Bayard's influence and the same thing in her that would have +welcomed physical abuse from him now called on her to undo her work of +the evening, to strive to prevent his love for Ann from wasting itself, +though every effort that she might make toward that end would cause her +suffering.</p> + +<p>It was midnight when Ann Lytton, still motionless, still chilling and +flushing as thought followed thought through her confused mind, found +herself in the center of her dark room. The knock that had roused her to +things outside sounded again on her door, low and cautious.</p> + +<p>"Who is it?" she asked, unsteadily.</p> + +<p>"It's me, Nora."</p> + +<p>The tone was husky, weak, contrite.</p> + +<p>"Well, what do you want, Nora?"—summoning a sternness for the query.</p> + +<p>"I ... I want to come in; I want to tell you somethin' ... if you'll let +me."</p> + +<p>Ann calculated a moment, but the quality of the other woman's voice, +supplicating, uncertain, swung the balance and she unlocked the door, +opening it wide. Nora stood in her long white gown, head hung, fingers +nervously intertwining before her.</p> + +<p>A pitiable humility was about the girl, and on sight of it Ann's manner +changed.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Nora? Won't you come in?"</p> + +<p>She stepped forward, took her by the hand and gently urged her into the +room, closing the door.</p> + +<p>"Sit on the bed, Nora, while I light the lamp."</p> + +<p>"Oh, M's. Lytton, please don't ..."—with an uneasy movement. "I'd +rather ... not have to look at you...."</p> + +<p>A pause.</p> + +<p>"Why, if you want it that way, of course, Nora. Sit down here. Aren't +you cold?"</p> + +<p>She took a shawl from its hook, threw it across the other's shoulders +and sat down on the bed, drawing Nora to her side. An awkward silence +followed, then came the sound of Nora's crying, lifted to a pitch just +above a sigh.</p> + +<p>"Don't, Nora! Please, don't! What is it, now? Tell me ... do tell me," +Ann pleaded, growing stronger, of better balance, feeling some of her +genuine assurance returning.</p> + +<p>"I ... I lied to you. I ..." Nora began and stopped.</p> + +<p>Ann uttered no word; just inhaled very slowly and squared her shoulders +with relief.</p> + +<p>"I ... was jealous of you. When I saw him with his arms around you this +afternoon, I ... couldn't stand it. I had to do somethin'. I was drove +to it."</p> + +<p>She brushed the damp hair back from her forehead and cleared her throat. +She clutched Ann's one hand in both hers and turned to talk closely into +her face.</p> + +<p>"I ... it wasn't all lies. That part about me, about Charley Ling's, was +true. It was true that Bruce took me out of there, too, but not for what +you think. I ... I was pretty bad for a young girl, but I never knew +much different until I knew Bruce ... I didn't know much.</p> + +<p>"I was at Ling's. I didn't lie about that," she repeated stoically, +baring her shame in an attempt to atone for her former behavior. "I'd +been there quite a while, when one night when the' was whiskey an' men +an' hell, he come....</p> + +<p>"I'll never forget it. I can't. He was so big that he filled th' door, +he was so ... different, so clean an' disgusted-like, that it stopped +th' noise for a minute. He stood lookin' us over; then he saw me an' +looked an' looked, an' I couldn't do nothin' but hang my head when 'twas +my business to laugh at him.</p> + +<p>"He didn't say a word at first, but he come across to to me an' set down +beside me, an' when th' piano started again an' folks quit givin' us +attention he said,</p> + +<p>"'You're only a kid.'</p> + +<p>"Just that; but it made me cry. He was so kind of accusin' an' so +gentle. Nobody'd ever been gentle with me before that I could remember +of. They'd been accusin' all right, all right ... but not gentle. He +went away that night an' I cried until it was light. In th' mornin' he +come back an' asked for me an' took me outdoors an' talked to me. He +talked.... He didn't do no preachin'; he didn't say nothin' about bein' +good or bein' bad. He just said that that place wasn't fit for coyotes +to live in, that I'd never see th' mountains or th' stars or th' +sunshine livin' there. He said that.... An' he said he'd get me a job +here in Yavapai....</p> + +<p>"He did. Got me this job, in this hotel. He stuck by me when folks +started to talk; he stopped it. He taught me to ride an' like horses an' +dogs an' th' valley an' things like that. He give me things to read an' +talked to me about 'em an' ... was good to me.</p> + +<p>"I've always been like his sister. That's straight, M's. Lytton; that's +no lie. He's been my brother; that's all. More 'n that, I'm about th' +only woman he's looked at in three years until ... you come. He ain't a +saint but he's ... an awful fine man."</p> + +<p>She was silent a moment and stroked the hand she had taken in hers.</p> + +<p>"That's all. That's all the' is to say. I've tried to get him, tried to +make him care for me ... a lot; but I ain't his kind,"—with a slow +shake of the head as she withdrew one hand. "I can never be his kind ... +in that way. I've known it all along, but I've never let myself believe +th' truth. He didn't know, didn't even guess. That's how hopeless it +was. He ain't never seen that I'd do ... anythin' for him.</p> + +<p>"When you come, I saw th' difference in him ... right off. He ... You're +his kind, M's. Lytton. You're what he's waited for, what he's lookin' +for. I was jealous. I hated you from th' first. I was nice to you +'cause he wanted it, 'cause that would make him happier. I fought +against showin' what I felt for his sake ... for him. Then, to-day, when +I seen how he looked after he'd had you in his arms where I've wanted to +be always, as I've wanted to make him look, I....</p> + +<p>"It made me kind of crazy. I felt like tellin' you what I was, lyin' +about what I was to Bruce, thinkin' it might drive you away an' I might +sometime make him love me. But, after I'd done it, after I got it into +words, I knew it was against everything he'd ever taught me, against +everything he'd ever been, an' that if you went 't would break his +heart. That's why I come back to tell you I lied, to tell you how it +is....</p> + +<p>"You go to him now; you go before it's too late. I tried to come between +you ... an' didn't. You go to him before somethin' does...."</p> + +<p>She felt Ann's arm go about her and stifling her sobs she yielded to the +pull until her head rested on the other woman's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Nora, I can't tell you how this makes me feel; I can't. I'll never +be able to. There's nothing I can say at all, nothing I can do, even!"</p> + +<p>The waitress lifted her face to peer closely at her.</p> + +<p>"Just one thing you can do," she said, lowly. "Go to him now. That's +what I come back here for—to tell you I lied, so you would go."</p> + +<p>Ann straightened and shook her head sharply.</p> + +<p>"That's impossible," she said, emphatically. "Impossible."</p> + +<p>"Impossible, M's. Lytton?"—wiping her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Nora."</p> + +<p>"But why? He loves you!"</p> + +<p>"When you were here before you gave the reason—I'm a married woman."</p> + +<p>"But that ain't.... Why, do you <i>love</i> your husband?"</p> + +<p>She grasped Ann's arm and shook it gently as she put that question in a +voice that the tears had made hoarse, and leaned forward to catch the +answer. For an interval Ann did not reply, gave no sign that she had +heard, and Nora repeated her query with impressive slowness.</p> + +<p>"It isn't a question of loving, Nora," she finally said. "I'm his wife; +I have a wife's duty to perform."</p> + +<p>"But do you love him?" the girl persisted.</p> + +<p>"No, I don't any more ..."—sadly, yet without regret.</p> + +<p>"An' you'd go back to him, M's. Lytton? You'd go back without lovin' +him?"</p> + +<p>Incredulity was in her tone.</p> + +<p>"Of course. It is my place. He is coming to me soon, stronger, wiser, I +hope, and there's a chance that we will find at least a little peace +together."</p> + +<p>"But the' won't be love,"—in a whisper.</p> + +<p>Ann gave a little shudder and braced her shoulders backward.</p> + +<p>"No, Nora. That is past. Besides, I—"</p> + +<p>"Don't be afraid to admit it!" the girl urged, speaking rapidly. "Don't +be afraid to tell me. I know what you're thinkin'. You love Bruce +Bayard! I know; you can't hide it from me, M's. Lytton."</p> + +<p>Ann's fingers twisted the coverlet.</p> + +<p>"And if I do?" she asked weakly. "What if I do?"</p> + +<p>"What if you do? Ain't lovin' a man answer enough for any woman?" cried +the other. "Is the' anything else that holds folks together? Is the' +anything else that makes men an' women happy? Does your bein' a man's +wife mean happiness? Your promisin' to love him didn't make you love, +did it? Because a preacher told you you was one didn't make it so, did +it? Nobody can make you love him, not even yourself, 'cause you said it +was duty that takes you back; that you don't love him. But you can't +help lovin' Bruce Bayard!</p> + +<p>"Oh, M's. Lytton, don't fool yourself about this duty! It's up to a man +an' a woman to take love, to take happiness, when it comes. You can't +set still an' watch it go by an' hope to have it come again; real +happiness don't happen but once in most of our lives. I know. I've been +down ... I've been happy, too ... I know!</p> + +<p>"An' duty! Why, ma'am, duty like you think you ought to do, is waste! +You're young, you're healthy, you're pretty. You'll waste your best +years, you'll waste your health, you'll waste your looks on duty! +You'll waste all your love; you'll get old an' bitter an'....</p> + +<p>"If the's anything under heaven that's a crime, it's wasted love! Oh, +M's. Lytton, I wasted my love when I was a kid, 'cause I didn't know +better. I sold mine for money. For God's sake, don't sell yours for +duty! If the's anything your God meant folks to do was to get what joy +they can out of life. He wouldn't want you to think of bein' Ned +Lytton's wife as ... as your duty. He ... God ain't that kind, M's. +Lytton; he ain't!"</p> + +<p>"Nora, Nora, don't say these things!" Ann pleaded. "You're wrong, you +must be! Don't tempt me to ... these new ways ... don't...."</p> + +<p>"New!" the girl broke in. "It ain't new, what I've been sayin'. It's as +old as men an' women. It's as old as th' world. Th' things you try to +make yourself believe are th' new ones. Love was old before folks first +thought about duty. It seems new, because you ain't ever let yourself +see straight ... you never had to until now."</p> + +<p>"Nora, stop I You must stop! You can't be right ... you can't be!"</p> + +<p>The waitress trembled against Ann and commenced to cry under the strain +of her earnestness.</p> + +<p>"But I know I'm right, M's. Lytton, I know I am! I know what you're +doin'. Do—don't you see that you wouldn't be much different from what I +was, if you went back to your husband, hatin' him an' lovin' another? +Happiness comes just once; it's a sin to let it go by!"</p> + +<p>Slowly Ann withdrew her embrace from the girl. She sat with hands limp +in her lap until Nora's sobbing had subsided to mere long-drawn breaths; +then she rose and walked to the window, looking out into the moonlit +night. And when Nora, drying her eyes, regaining control of her +emotions, started to speak again she saw that Ann was lost in thought, +that it was unnecessary to argue further, so she went quietly from the +room. The rattle of the knob, the sound of the closing door did not +rouse the woman she left behind. Ann only stared out at the far hills +which were a murky blot in the cold light; stared with eyes that did not +see, for out of the storm of that night a new creature was coming into +active life within her and the re-birth was so wonderful that it quite +deadened her physical senses.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>THE WOMAN ON HORSEBACK</h3> + + +<p>Lytton had gone for a ride in the hills, leaving Bayard alone at the +ranch, busying himself with accomplishing many odds and ends of tasks +which had been neglected in the weeks that his attention had been +divided between his cattle and the troubles of Ann. Ned was back to his +usual strength, now; also, his mending mental attitude had made him a +better companion, a less trying patient. He rode daily, he helped +somewhat with the ranch work, his sleeps were long and untroubled. The +first time a horse had carried him from sight Bayard had scarcely +expected to see him back again; he had firmly believed that Lytton would +ride directly to Yavapai and fill himself with whiskey. When he came +riding into the ranch, tired, glad to be home once more, Bruce knew that +the man was not wholly unappreciative, that his earlier remonstrances at +remaining at the Circle A had not always been genuine.</p> + +<p>"Mighty white of you, old chap," he had said, after dismounting. "Mighty +white of you to treat me like this. Some day I'll pay you back."</p> + +<p>"You'll pay me back by gettin' to be good an' strong an' goin' out an' +bein' a man," the rancher had answered, and Lytton had laughed at his +seriousness.</p> + +<p>No intimation of his wife's nearness had been given to Lytton. Isolated +as they were, far off the beaten path of travel, few people ever stopped +at the ranch and, when stray visitors had dropped in, chance or Bayard's +diplomacy had prevented their discovering the other man's presence. Not +once after their argument over the rights of a man to his wife had Ned +referred to Ann and in that Bruce found both a conscious and an +unconscious comfort: the first sort because it hurt him brutally to be +reminded of the girl as this man's mate, and the other because the fact +that while Lytton had only bitterness for Ann Bayard could wholly +justify his own attention to her, his own love.</p> + +<p>Day after day the progress continued uninterrupted, Bruce making it a +point to have his charge ride alone, unless Ned himself expressed a +desire to go in company. The rancher believed that if the other were +ever to be strong enough to resist the temptation to return to his old +haunts and ways, now was the time. Although Lytton's attitude was, +except at rare intervals, subtly resentful, his passive acceptance of +the conditions under which he lived was evidence that he saw the wisdom +in remaining at the ranch and those hours alone on horseback, out of +sight, away from any influencing contact, were the first tests. Bayard +was delighted to see that his work did not collapse the moment he +removed from it his watchful support. And yet, while he took pride in +this accomplishment, he went about his daily work with a sense of +depression constantly on him. It was as though some inevitable calamity +impended, as though, almost, hope had been removed from his future. He +tried not to allow himself to think of Ann Lytton. He knew that to let +his fancies and emotions go unrestrained for an hour would rouse in his +heart a hatred so intense, so compelling, that he would rise in all his +strength during some of Lytton's moods and do the man violence; or, if +not that, then, when talking to her, he would lose self-control and +break his word to her and to himself that not again so long as she loved +her husband would he speak of his regard for her.</p> + +<p>But the end of that phase was approaching. Within a few days Lytton +would know that his wife was in the country, would go to her, and +Bayard's interval of protectorate over them both, which at least gave +him opportunity to see the woman he loved, would come to its conclusion.</p> + +<p>Now, as he worked on a broken hinge of the corral gate his heart was +heavy and, finally, to force himself to stop brooding, he broke into +song:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"From th' desert I come to thee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On a stallion shod wi—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"No ... not that," he muttered. "I'll not be comin' ... on a stallion +shod with fire, or anythin' else." Then he began this cruder, livelier +strain:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Foot in th' stirrup an' hand on th' horn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Best damn cowboy ever was born,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Coma ti yi youpa ya, youpa ya,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Coma ti yi—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Dog-gone bolt's too short, Abe," he muttered to the sorrel who stood +within the enclosure. "Too short—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I herded an' I hollered an' I done very well,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till th' boss says, Boys, just let 'em go to hell!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Coma ti yi—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"What do you see, Boy?"</p> + +<p>As he turned to go toward the blacksmith shop, he saw the horse standing +with head up and every line of his body rigid, gazing off on the valley.</p> + +<p>"You see somebody?" he asked, and swung up on the corral for a better +view.</p> + +<p>Far out beyond and below him a lazy wisp of dust rose lightly to be +trailed away by the breath of warm breeze, and, after his eyes had +studied it a moment, he discerned a moving dot that he knew was horse +and rider.</p> + +<p>"Lytton didn't go that way," he muttered, as he dropped to the ground +again. "No use worryin' any more, though; it's time somebody knew he was +here; they will soon, an' it won't do any harm."</p> + +<p>He swept the valley with his gaze again and shook his head. "Seems like +it's in shadow all the time now," he muttered, "an' not a cloud in the +sky!"</p> + +<p>When he found a bolt of proper length and fitted it in place the horse +and rider were appreciably nearer and he watched them crawl toward him a +moment.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I went to th' wagon to get my roll,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To come back to Texas, dad-burn my soul;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I went to th' wagon to draw my roll,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Th' boss said I was nine dollars in th' hole!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Coma ti yi, youpy, youpy ya, youpy ya,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Coma ti—"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>He turned again to look at the approaching rider before he went into the +stable. Then, for twenty minutes he was busy with hammer and saw, +humming to himself, thinking of things quite other than the work at +which his hands were busy.</p> + +<p>"Is this the way you greet your visitors?"</p> + +<p>It was Ann Lytton's voice coming from the stable doorway, and Bayard +straightened slowly, turning awkwardly to look at her over his shoulder. +She was flushed, flustered, uncertain for the moment just how to comport +herself, but he did not notice for he was far off balance himself.</p> + +<p>"Good-mornin', ma'am," he said, taking off his hat and stepping out from +the stall in which he had been working. "What do you want here?"</p> + +<p>His voice was pitched almost in a tone of rebuke.</p> + +<p>"I came to see my husband," she answered, and for a moment they stared +hard at one another, Bayard, as though he did not believe her, and the +woman, as if conscious that he questioned the truth of her reply. Also, +as if she feared he might read in her the <i>whole</i> truth.</p> + +<p>"He ought to be back soon," the rancher said, replacing his hat. "He's +off for a ride. Won't you come into the house?"</p> + +<p>They stepped outside. He saw that behind her saddle a bundle was tied. +He looked from it to her inquiringly.</p> + +<p>"I have thought it all over," she said, as if he had challenged her with +words, "and I've made up my mind that my place, for the time, anyhow, is +with Ned. It's best for me to be here; it's best for Ned to know and +have it over with.... Have a complete understanding."</p> + +<p>He looked away from her, failing to mark the significance of her last +words or to see the fresh determination in her face.</p> + +<p>"It had to come sometime. I expect now's about as likely a day as any," +he said, gloomily, and untied the roll from her saddle. "I'll show you +around th' house so you'll know where things are,"—and started across +toward the shade of the ash tree.</p> + +<p>Ann walked beside him, wanting to speak, not knowing what to say. She +found no words at all, until they gained the kitchen and stood within. +Bayard placed her bundle on the table.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean that you won't be here?" she faltered.</p> + +<p>"Well, that's th' best way," he said, looking down and rubbing the back +of a chair thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"I can't...."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you can,"—divining what was in her mind and interrupting. "I'll +be glad to have you meet him here, ma'am. 'Twould offend me if you went +away, but I think, considerin' everythin', how you've been apart so long +an' all, it'd be better for me to leave you two alone. I've got business +in town anyhow," he lied. "I'd have to go in either to-night or in th' +mornin'. It's th' best way all round."</p> + +<p>He did not look at her during this, could not trust himself to. He felt +that to meet her gaze would mean that he would be tempted again to +declare his love for her, his hatred for her husband, because this hour +was another turning point for them all. For the safety of Ned Lytton to +hold himself in accord with his own sense of right, it was wise for him +to be away at the meeting of husband and wife; not fear for himself but +of himself drove him from his hearth. He knew that Ann's eyes were on +him, steady and inquiring, felt somehow that she had suddenly become +mistress of the situation. Heretofore, he had dominated all their +interviews. But now that eminence was gone. He was retreating from this +woman and not wholly in good order, for he could not remain with her nor +could he trust himself to give a true explanation of his departure.</p> + +<p>To delay longer, to just stand there and discuss the very embarrassing +situation, would be no relief, might only lead to greater discomfiture, +he knew, so he said:</p> + +<p>"All th' things to cook with are in that cupboard, ma'am,"—turning away +from her to indicate. "All th' pots an' pans an' dishes are below there, +on those shelves. He ... your husband knows, anyhow. He can show you +round.</p> + +<p>"In here.... This is his room."</p> + +<p>He paused when halfway across the floor, turned and looked at her. In +her eye he caught a troubled quality.</p> + +<p>"He's been sleepin' here," he repeated, walking on and opening the door.</p> + +<p>The woman followed and looked over his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"But I've another room; my room, in here,"—moving to another door. +"This is mine, an' as I won't be here you can use it as you ... as you +want to."</p> + +<p>Nothing in his tone or manner of speech suggested anything but the idea +contained in his words, but Ann's eyes rested on his profile with a +sudden gratitude, a warmth. Surprise came to her a moment later and she +exclaimed,</p> + +<p>"Oh, how fine!"</p> + +<p>He had thrown the door back and stood aside for her to enter. Light came +into the room from three windows and before the gentle breeze white +curtains billowed inward. Navajo blankets covered the floor. The bed, +in one corner, was spread with a gay serape and beside it was a bookcase +with shelves well filled. In the center of the room stood a table and on +it a reading lamp. About the walls were pictures, few in number but +interesting.</p> + +<p>At Ann's exclamation Bruce smiled broadly, pleased.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you like it," he said. "I do. I thought maybe you would."</p> + +<p>"Why, it's splendid!" she cried again. "It doesn't look like a room in +the house of a bachelor rancher. It doesn't look like...."</p> + +<p>She stopped and looked up at him, puzzled, questioning so eloquently +with her gaze that it was unnecessary for him to await the spoken query.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I did it myself," he said with a flushed laugh. Their +self-consciousness was relieved by the change of thought. "It's mine; +all mine. You ... You're the first person to come in here, ma'am, except +Tim.... He was my daddy, an' he's dead. I don't ask folks in here 'cause +it's so much trouble to explain to most of 'em. They'd think I'm stuck +up, with lace curtains an' all...."</p> + +<p>He waved his hands to include the setting.</p> + +<p>"I can live with th' roughest of 'em an' enjoy it; I can put up with +anything when it's necessary, but somehow I've always wanted something +different, something that'll fill a place that plenty of grub an' a hot +stove don't always satisfy.</p> + +<p>"Them curtains,"—with a chuckle—"came from th' Manzanita House. They +were th' first decorations I put up. I woke up one mornin' after I'd +been ... well, relieving my youth a little. I was in one of th' hotel +rooms. 'Twas about this time of year an' th' wind was soft an' gentle, +blowin' through th' windows like it does now, an' them curtains looked +so cool an' clean an' homelike that I... Well, I just rustled three +pair, ma'am!"</p> + +<p>He laughed again and crossed the room to free one curtain that had +caught itself on a protruding hook.</p> + +<p>"Tim an' me had a great argument, when I brought 'em home. Tim, he says +that if I was goin' to have curtains, I ought to go through with th' +whole deal an' have gilt rods to hang 'em on. I says, no, that was goin' +too far, gettin' to be too dudish, so I nailed 'em up!"</p> + +<p>He pointed to show her the six-penny nails that held them in place, and +Ann laughed heartily.</p> + +<p>"Then, I played a little game that th' boys out here call Monte. It's +played with cards, ma'am. I played with a Navajo I know—an' cards—an' +he had just one kind of luck, awful bad. That's where these blankets +come from,"—smiling in recollection.</p> + +<p>All this pleased him; he saw the humor of a man of his physique, his +pursuit, furnishing a room with all the pains of a girl.</p> + +<p>"Those are good rugs. See? They're all black an' gray an' brown: natural +colors. Red an' green are for tourists.</p> + +<p>"I bought that serape from a Mexican in Sonora when I was down there +lookin' around. That lamp, though, that's th' best thing I got."</p> + +<p>He leaned low to blow the dust from its green shade with great pains, +and Ann laughed outright at him.</p> + +<p>"I never could learn to dust proper, ma'am. It don't bother me so long's +I don't see it," he confessed. "A man who came out here to stay with us +for his health—a teacher—brought that lamp; when he went back, he left +it for me. I think a lot of it."</p> + +<p>"You read by it?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Lord, yes! Those,"—waving his hand toward the books, and she walked +across to inspect them, Bayard moving beside her. "He left 'em for me. +He keeps sendin' me more every fall. I ... I learnt all I know out of +them, an' from what he told me. It ain't much—what I know. But I got it +all myself; that makes it seem more."</p> + +<p>Ann's throat tightened at that, but she only leaned lower over the +shelves. Dickens was there, and Thackeray; one or two of Scott and a +broken set of Dumas. History and travel predominated, with a volume of +Kipling verse and a book on mythology discovered in a cursory +inspection.</p> + +<p>"I think a lot of my books. I like 'em all.... I liked that story 'bout +Oliver Twist th' best of 'em," he said, pointing to the Dickens. "Poor +kid! An' old Bill Sykes! Lord, he was a hellion—a bad one, +ma'am,"—correcting himself hastily. "An' Miss Sharpe this man +Thackeray wrote about in his book! I'd like to know a woman like her; +she sure was a slick one, wasn't she? She'd done well in th' cow +business."</p> + +<p>"Do you like these?" she asked, indicating the Scott.</p> + +<p>"Well, sometimes," he said. "I like th' history in 'em, but, unless I +got a lot of time, like winter, I don't read 'em much. I like 'Ivanhoe' +pretty well any time, but in most of 'em Walt sure rounded up a lot of +words!"</p> + +<p>She smiled at that.</p> + +<p>"This is th' best of 'em all, though," he said, drawing out Carlyle's +French Revolution. "It took me all one winter to get on to th' hang of +that book, but I stayed by her an' ... well, I'd rather read it now than +anythin'. Funny that a man writin' so long ago could say so many things +that keep right on makin' good.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to know him," he said a moment later. "I could think up a lot +of questions to ask a man like that."</p> + +<p>He stood running over the worn, soiled pages of his "French Revolution" +lost in thought and Ann, stooping before the shelves, turned her face to +watch him covertly. This was the explanation of the Bruce Bayard she +knew and loved; she now understood. This was why he had drawn her to him +so easily. He was rough of manner, of speech, but behind it all was +thought, intelligence; not that alone, but the intelligence of an +intrinsically fine mind. For an unschooled man to accomplish what he had +accomplished was beyond her experience.</p> + +<p>"I liked them," he said, touching some volumes of Owen Wister. "Lord, he +sure knows cowboys an' such. He wrote a story about 'n <i>hombre</i> called +Jones, Specimen Jones, that makes me sore from laughin' every time I +read it. It's about Arizona an' naturally hits me.</p> + +<p>"That's why I like that picture. It's my country, too." He pointed to a +print of Remington's "Fight for The Water Hole."</p> + +<p>"That's th' way it looks—heat an' color an' distance," he said. "But +when a thing's painted like that, you get more 'n th' looks. You get +taste an' smell an' th' feeling. I get thirsty an' hot an' desperate +every time I look at that picture very long....</p> + +<p>"This Cousin Jack, Kipling," he resumed, turning back to the books, "he +wrote a poem about what a man ought to be before he considers himself a +man that says all there is to say on th' subject. Nothin' new in what he +wrote, but he's corraled all th' ideas anybody's ever thought about. +It's fine—"</p> + +<p>"But who is that?" she broke in, walking closer to the photograph of a +young woman, too eager to see the whole of this room to pause long over +any one thing.</p> + +<p>He smiled in embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"My sister, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"Your sister!"</p> + +<p>"Yeah. You see, I never had any folks. Nearest thing to ancestors I know +about was a lot of bent steel an' burnin' railroad cars. Old Tim picked +me out of a wreck when I was a baby, an' we never found out nothin' +about me." He rubbed the back of one hand on his hip. "I... It ain't +nice, knowin' you don't belong to nobody, so I picked out my +family,"—smiling again.</p> + +<p>"I was in Phoenix once an' I saw that lady's picture in front of a +photograph gallery. It was early mornin' an' I was on my way to th' +train comin' north. I busted th' glass of th' show case an' took it. I +left a five-dollar gold piece there so th' photographer wouldn't mind, +an' I guess th' lady, if she knew, wouldn't care so awful much. Nobody +ever seen her here but Tim an' me. I respect her a lot, like I would my +sister. You expect she would mind, ma'am?"</p> + +<p>"I think she would be very much pleased," Ann said, soberly.</p> + +<p>"An' that up there's my mother," he said, after their gazes had clung a +moment.</p> + +<p>"Whistler's 'Mother'!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he painted it; but she's th' one I'd like to have for my mother, +if I could picked her out. She looks like a good mother, don't she? I +thought so when I got that ... with a San Francisco newspaper."</p> + +<p>Ann did not trust herself to speak or to look at him.</p> + +<p>"Your father?" she asked after a moment.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I had one. Tim. He was my daddy. He did all any father could for +me. No, ma'am, I wouldn't pick out nobody to take Tim's place. He +brought me up. But if I was to have uncles, I'd like them."</p> + +<p>He moved across the room to where prints of Lincoln and Lee were tacked +to the wall.</p> + +<p>"But, they were enemies!" Ann objected.</p> + +<p>"Sure, I know it. But they both thought somethin' an' stuck by it an' +fought it out. Lincoln believed one way, Lee another; they both stood by +their principles an' that's all that counts. Out here we have cattlemen +an' sheepmen. I'm in cattle an' lots of times I've felt like gunnin' for +th' fellers who were tryin' to sheep me, but then I'd stop an' think +that maybe there was somethin' to be said on their side.</p> + +<p>"I'd sure liked to have men for uncles who could believe in a thing as +hard as they believed!"</p> + +<p>A pause followed and he looked about the room again calculatingly; then +started as though he had forgotten something.</p> + +<p>"But what I brought you in here for was to tell you that this is yours, +to do what you want with ... you ..."</p> + +<p>His words brought them back to the situation they confronted and an +embarrassed silence followed.</p> + +<p>"I don't feel right, driving you out like this," Ann protested, at +length.</p> + +<p>"But don't you understand? Nobody's ever been in here, but Tim, who's +dead, an' you. You're th' first person I've ever asked to stay in here. +I'd like it ... to think you'd been in here ... stayin'.... It's you who +'re doin' th' favor...."</p> + +<p>He ended in a lowered tone and was so intent, so keen in his desire that +Ann looked on him with a queer little feeling of misgiving. Every now +and then she had encountered those phases of him for which she could not +account, which made her doubt and, for the instant, fear him. But, after +she had searched his face and found there nothing but the sincere +concern for her welfare, she knew that his motive was of the highest, +that he thought only of her, and she answered,</p> + +<p>"Why, I'll be glad to stay here, in your room."</p> + +<p>He turned and walked into the kitchen, swinging one hand.</p> + +<p>"I'll be driftin'," he said, when she followed, forcing himself to a +brusque manner which disarmed her.</p> + +<p>"You ask Ned to water th' horses. I'm ridin' th' pinto to town. I'll be +back to-morrow sometime."</p> + +<p>He put on his hat and started for the door resolutely. Then halted.</p> + +<p>"If anything should happen," he began, attempting a casual tone. But he +could not remain casual, nor could he finish his sentence. He stammered +and flushed and his gaze dropped. "Nothin' will ... to you," he +finished.</p> + +<p>With that he was gone, leading her borrowed horse back to town at her +request. From a point half a mile distant he looked back. She was still +in the doorway and when he halted his pony he saw a flicker of white as +she waved a handkerchief at him. He lifted his hat in salute; then rode +on, with a heart that was heavy and cold.</p> + +<p>"Th' finest woman that God ever gave a body," he said, "an' I've given +her over to th' only man that walks th' earth who wouldn't try to +appreciate her!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>HER LORD AND MASTER</h3> + + +<p>Ann watched him go, an apprehensive mood coming upon her. He shacked off +on the pinto horse while Abe, left alone in the corral, trotted about +and nickered and pawed to show his displeasure at being left behind. For +a long time the girl stood there, not moving, breathing slowly; then she +looked about her, turned and walked into Bruce's room, roamed around, +examining the books, the pictures, the furniture, touching things with +her finger tips gently, lovingly, hearing his voice again as it told her +of them. For her each article in that room now held a particular +interest. She stared at the photograph of the girl he had selected as a +sister, at Whistler's fine, capped old lady, opened the "French +Revolution" and riffled the leaves he had thumbed and soiled and torn, +and laughed deep in her throat as she saw the curtains hanging +irregularly from their six-penny nails ... laughed, though her eyes were +damp.</p> + +<p>A step sounded in the kitchen and the woman became rigid as she +listened.</p> + +<p>"... hotter ..."</p> + +<p>Just the one word of the muttered sentence was distinguishable, but she +knew it was not Bayard's voice; knew, then, whose it must be.</p> + +<p>Very quietly she walked to the doorway of the bedroom and stood there. +Ned Lytton had halted a step from the kitchen entry and was wiping his +face with a black silk kerchief. He completed the operation, removed his +hat, tossed it to a chair, unbuttoned the neck of his shirt ... and +ceased all movements.</p> + +<p>For each the wordless, soundless period that followed seemed to be an +age. The woman looked at the man with a slight feeling of giddiness, a +sensation that was at once relief and horror, for he was as her worst +fears would have it; his face, in spite of his weeks of good living, was +the color of suet, purple sacks under the eyes, lips hard and cruel, and +from chin to brow were the indelible marks of wasting, of debauchery.</p> + +<p>"Ann!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Surprise, dread, a mingling of many emotions was in the tone, and he +waited at high tension for her to answer. His wife, a woman he had not +seen in three years, standing there before him in the garb of this new +country, beautiful, desirable, come as though from thin air! He thought +this might be merely an hallucination, that it might be some uncanny +creation of his unstable mind.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Ned; it is I," she answered, with a catch in her voice.</p> + +<p>On her words he stepped quickly forward, fear gone, eagerness about him. +He took her hands in his, fondling them nervously, and had she not +swayed back from him to the slightest noticeable degree, he would have +followed out his prompting to take her lips with as much +matter-of-factness as he had clutched her hands.</p> + +<p>"Ann, where did you come from?" he cried. "Why, I thought maybe you were +a ... a ghost or something! Oh, I'm glad to see you!"</p> + +<p>"Are you, Ned?"—almost plaintively, stroking the back of one of his +hands as she looked into his lighted eyes, reading sadly the desire +behind that shallow joy at sight of her. "Are you really glad?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I'm glad! Who wouldn't be? Gad, Ann, you're in fine +shape!"—stepping back from her, still holding her hands, and looking +her up and down, greedily. "Oh, you're good to look at!"</p> + +<p>He went close to her again and reached out one arm quickly to slip it +about her waist, but she turned away from him quite casually and he +stopped, disconcerted, hurt, humiliated, but covering the fact as well +as he could.</p> + +<p>An awkward fraction of a minute followed, which he broke by asking:</p> + +<p>"But where did you come from, Ann? How did you get here? How did you +know? What brought you?"</p> + +<p>She smiled wanly.</p> + +<p>"One at a time, Ned. You brought me. You should know that. I came out +here to find you, to see what was happening, to help you if I could."</p> + +<p>She allowed him to take her hands again and looked wistfully into his +face as she talked. A change came into his expression with her words and +his gaze shifted from hers while a show of petulance appeared in his +slightly drawn brows.</p> + +<p>"Well, I've needed help in one way," he muttered.</p> + +<p>"You've been very ill, I know."</p> + +<p>"You know?"—in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I have been here through it all."</p> + +<p>He dropped her hand and tilted his head incredulously.</p> + +<p>"Through it all! What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I've been here for a month."</p> + +<p>"A month! You've been here a month and this is the first time you've +come to see me?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't think it best to come before."</p> + +<p>"You've been here while I've been passing through hell itself? You've +known about me, known how I've suffered? Have you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Ned, I have...."</p> + +<p>"And you didn't come to me when I needed help most! You've not even +taken the trouble to find out about me—"</p> + +<p>"You're wrong there," Ann broke in simply. With the return of his old, +petulant, irritating manner, the wistfulness slipped from her and a +little show of independence, of resentment, came over the woman. "I +have known about you; I've kept track of you; I've waited and prayed for +the time when it would be best for me to see you...."</p> + +<p>He folded his arms theatrically and swung one leg over the corner of the +table. Ann stopped talking on that, for his attitude was one of open +challenge.</p> + +<p>"You've come out here to spy on me! Isn't that it? You've come to help +me, you said, and yet you wouldn't even let me know you were here? Isn't +it the same old game? Isn't it?"</p> + +<p>She did not answer.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it a fact that you've been waiting to see what I'd do when I got +well? I suppose you've come out here to-day with a prayer-book and a lot +of soft words, a lot of cant, to try to reform me?" He thrust his face +close to hers as he asked the last.</p> + +<p>"Is this the way you're going to greet me?" she asked. "Haven't you +anything but the same old suspicion, the same old denunciation for me?"</p> + +<p>He looked away from her and shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"How have you known about me when you haven't been to see me?" he asked, +evasively.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Bayard has kept me informed."</p> + +<p>He looked at her through a moment of silence, and she looked back as +steadily, as intently as he.</p> + +<p>"Bayard?" he asked. "Bayard? He's been telling you ... about me?"</p> + +<p>"He's been as kind to me as he has to you, Ned,"—with a feeling of +misgiving even as she uttered the words. "He has ... ridden to Yavapai +many times just to tell me about you."</p> + +<p>He looked at her again, and she saw the puzzlement in his face. He +started as though to speak, checked himself and looked past her into +Bayard's room.</p> + +<p>"Where is he now?"</p> + +<p>"He's gone to town; he left a few moments after I came. He asked me +to—"</p> + +<p>"Did he show you into that room?"</p> + +<p>"Yes,"—turning to look. "He told me to use it."</p> + +<p>Her husband eyed her calculatingly and rested his weight on the table +once more. It was as though he had settled some important question for +himself.</p> + +<p>"Why haven't you been out before, Ann?" he asked her, eyes holding on +her face to detect its slightest change of expression.</p> + +<p>She felt herself flushing at that; her conscience again!</p> + +<p>"You were in an awful condition, Ned," she forced herself to say. "I saw +you in Yavapai, the night I arrived. I—I helped Mr. Bayard fix your +arm; I knew how ill you would be when you came to yourself. We +agreed—Mr. Bayard and I—that it would needlessly excite you, if I were +to come here, so I stayed away. I stayed as long as I could,"—with +deadly honesty—"I had to come to-day."</p> + +<p>"You and Bayard.... You both thought it best for me to stay here +without knowing my wife was in Arizona?"</p> + +<p>His attitude had become that of a cross-examiner.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Ned. You were in fearful shape. You know that for days after +you—"</p> + +<p>"And you've relied on him to give you news of me?"</p> + +<p>He stood erect and moved nearer, watching her face closely as her eyes +became less certain, her cheeks a deeper color.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Ned. Don't get worked up. It's been all right. I'm sure the weeks +you put in here have given...."</p> + +<p>"Given what?" he broke in, brows gathering, thrusting out his chin, +glaring at her and drawing back his lips to bare the gap left by the +broken and missing teeth.</p> + +<p>The woman recoiled.</p> + +<p>"Give what?" he demanded again, trembling from knee to fingers. "To give +him a chance to come and see you, that's what you've given!"</p> + +<p>"Ned Ly—"—crouching, a hand to one cheek, Ann backed into Bayard's +room quickly as her husband, fists clenched and raised, lurched toward +her.</p> + +<p>"Don't talk to me!" he cried thickly, face dark, voice unnatural. "Don't +talk to me,"—looking not at her eyes but at her heaving breast. "I +know. I know now what I should have known weeks ago! I know now why he's +been shaving his pretty face every day, why he's been dolling up every +time he left for town, putting on his gay scarfs, changing his shirts +like a gentleman, instead of a dirty hound that would steal a man's wife +as soon as he would steal a neighbor's calf! I know why he's held me +here and lied to me and played the hypocrite,"—words running together +under the intensity of his raving.</p> + +<p>"I see it now! I see why he's admitted that there was a woman bothering +him. I see why he's tried to ring in that hotel waitress to make me +think she was the one he went to see. I see it all; I see what a fool +I've been, what a lying pup Bayard is with all his smug talk about +helping me! Helping me ... when he's been helping himself to my wife!"</p> + +<p>"Ned!"</p> + +<p>"A month, eh?" he went on. "You've been here a month, have you? And he's +known it; he's kept me here, by God, through fear, that's all. I confess +it to you! I'd have been gone long ago but I was afraid of him! He's +intimidated me on the pretext of doing it for my own good while he could +steal my wife ... my wife ... you-u-u...."</p> + +<p>He advanced slowly, reasonless eyes on hers now, and Ann backed swiftly, +putting the table between them, watching him with fear stamped on her +features.</p> + +<p>"Ugh! The snake! The poison, lying, grovelling—"</p> + +<p>"Ned!"</p> + +<p>The sharpness of her cry, the way she straightened and stamped her foot +and vibrated with indignation broke through his rage, even, and he +stopped.</p> + +<p>"You don't know what you're saying." Her voice quivered. "You're +accusing the best man friend you've ever had; you're cursing one of the +best men that ever walked ground, and you're doing it without reason!"</p> + +<p>"Without reason, am I?" he parried, quieter, breathing hard, but +controlling his voice. "It's without reason when he lives with me a +month, seeing my wife day after day, knowing I've not seen her in years +and then never breathing a word about it? It's without reason when he +opens this room to you ... a room he's never let me look into, and tells +you to use it? It's no reason when he runs away to town rather than face +me here in your presence? Can you argue against that?</p> + +<p>"And it's without reason when you stand there flushed to your hair, you +guilty woman?"</p> + +<p>He thumped the table with his fist. "You guilty woman," he repeated, +just above a whisper. "You guilty—My wife, conspiring with your lover +while he keeps me here by force, by brute force. Can you argue against +that ... against that?"</p> + +<p>It was the great moment of Ann Lytton's life. It seemed as though the +inner conflict was causing congestion in her chest, stilling her heart, +clogging her breathing, making her blind and powerless to move or speak +or think. It was the last struggle against her old manner of thought, +against the old Ann, the strangling for once and for all that narrow +conscience, the wiping out of that false conception of morality, for she +emerged from her moment of doubt, of torment, a beautiful, brave +creature. Her great sacrifice had been offered; it had been repulsed +with contempt and now she stood free, ready to fight for her spiritual +honor, her self-respect, in the face of a world's disapproval, if that +should become necessary.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I can argue against that," she cried, closing her eyes and smiling +in fine confidence. "I can, Ned Lytton. I can, because he is my lover, +because the love he bears for me is pure, is good, is true holiness!"</p> + +<p>She leaned toward him across the table, still smiling and letting her +voice drop to its normal tone, yet losing none of its triumphant +resonance.</p> + +<p>"And you can say that," he jeered, "after he's been ... after you've +been letting him keep you a month!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you can't hurt me with your insults, Ned, for they won't go home. +You know that statement isn't true; you know me too well for that. I'm +your wife by law, Ned, but beyond that I'm as free as I was five years +ago, before I ever saw you. Emancipating myself wasn't easy. I came out +here hampered by tradition and terms and prejudice, but I've learned the +truth from this country, these people, from ... you. I've learned that +without love, without sympathy, without understanding or the effort, +the desire, to understand, no marriage is a marriage; that without them +it is only ugly, hideous.</p> + +<p>"I've had to fight it all out and think it all out for myself. +Circumstances and people have helped me make my decision. I owed you +something, I still thought, and I came here to-day to fulfill my duty, +to give you another chance. If you had met me with even friendliness, +I'd have shut my eyes, my ears, my heart to Bruce Bayard in spite of all +he means to me. I'd have gone with you, thinking that I might take up +the work of regeneration where he left off and give my life to making a +man of you, foregoing anything greater, better for myself, in the hope +that some day, some time you and I might approach halfway to happiness.</p> + +<p>"But what did you do; what did I find? In the first moments hate of me +came into your face; you jeered at me for coming, mocked me. That's what +happened. Then you suspect me, suspect Bayard, who has kept you alive, +who has given you another chance at everything ... including me."</p> + +<p>"Suspect him? Of course I suspect him! You've admitted your guilt, you +damned—"</p> + +<p>"Don't go on that way, Ned. It's only a waste of time. I told you what +would have happened, if you had greeted me in another way. You've had +your chance ... you've had your thousand chances in these last five +years. It's all over now. It's over between us, Ned. It's been a bitter, +dreary failure and the sooner we end it all, the better. Don't think +I'm going to transgress what you call morality," she pleaded, smiling +weakly. "You deserted me, Ned, after you'd abused me. You've refused to +support me, you've been unfaithful in every way. I don't think the law +that made me your wife will refuse to release me now—"</p> + +<p>"You're forgetting something," he broke in, rallying his assurance with +an effort. "You're forgetting that while you were conspiring to keep me +here, your lover, Bruce Bayard,"—drawling the words—"was meeting you +secretly. What do you think your law will say to that?"</p> + +<p>"I'll trust to it, Ned," she answered, in splendid composure. "I will +trust to other men to judge between us—"</p> + +<p>"Then, I won't!" he screamed, stepping quickly around the table, +grasping for her arm. She retreated quickly and he lunged for her again +and again missed.</p> + +<p>Then, with a choking oath, he threw the table aside and the lamp went +crashing to the floor.</p> + +<p>"Then, I won't, damn you! You're my wife, to do as I please with; the +law gave you to me, and it hasn't taken you from me yet!"</p> + +<p>He advanced menacingly toward her as she backed into a corner, paling +with actual fear now; his elbows stuck stiffly out from his sides, his +hands were clenched at his hips, face thrust forward, feet carrying him +to her with slow uncertainty.</p> + +<p>"Ned—" Her voice quavered. "Ned, what are you going to do?"</p> + +<p>"Maybe I'll ... strangle you!" he said.</p> + +<p>She looked quickly from side to side and one hand clutched at her breast +convulsively, clutched the cloth ... and something that was resting +within her waist. She started and with a quick movement unbuttoned the +garment at her bosom, reached in and drew out an automatic pistol.</p> + +<p>"Ned, don't force me!" she said, slowly, voice unsteady.</p> + +<p>The man halted, hesitated, backed away, both hands half raised.</p> + +<p>"Ann, you wouldn't shoot me!" he whispered.</p> + +<p>"You said ... you'd strangle me, Ned,"—leaning against the wall for +support, because weakness had swept over her.</p> + +<p>Lytton drew a hand across his eyes. He trembled visibly.</p> + +<p>"But ... I was mad, Ann," he stammered. "I was crazy; I wouldn't...."</p> + +<p>Her hands dropped to her sides and she turned her face from him, +shutting her eyes and frowning at the helplessness that came over her +with the excitement and the fear of a physical encounter. She could +brave any moral clash, but her body was a woman's body, her strength a +woman's strength, and now, when she faced disaster, her muscles failed +her.</p> + +<p>Ned comprehended. He stepped quickly to her side, reached to the hand +that held the weapon, fastened on it and with a wrench, jerked it free +from her limp grasp.</p> + +<p>"You would, would you?" he muttered, his old malevolence returning with +assurance that the woman could no longer defend herself. "This! Where +did you get it?"—surveying the weapon.</p> + +<p>"It's Bayard's."</p> + +<p>"He gave it to you to use on me?"—with a short laugh.</p> + +<p>The woman shook her head wearily.</p> + +<p>"You refuse to understand anything," she responded. "He gave it to me to +protect you from himself."</p> + +<p>He stood looking at her, revolving that assertion quickly in his mind, +feeling for the first time that his command over the situation was good +only so long as they were alone. Before his suddenly rising fear of +Bruce Bayard his bitterness retreated.</p> + +<p>"Well, we'll quit this place," he said with a swagger. "We'll clear out, +you and I.... I've had enough of this damned treachery; trying to steal +you, my wife. I might have known. I told him his foot would slip!"</p> + +<p>Ann scarcely heard. She was possessed by a queer lethargy. She wanted to +rest, to be quiet, to be left alone, yet she knew that much remained to +be endured. She had never rebelled before; she had always compromised +and she felt that after her great demonstration of self-sufficiency +nothing could matter a great deal. Ned had said that they would quit +this place. She had no idea of resisting, of even arguing. It was easier +to go, to delay a further break, for their journey would not be far, she +felt, nor would she be with her husband long. Bayard would come somehow; +he had come when she was in danger before, and now that which menaced +her was of much less consequence. Why fear?</p> + +<p>She stooped to pick up a book that had been thrown to the floor when the +table overturned.</p> + +<p>"Leave that alone!" he ordered.</p> + +<p>She straightened mechanically, the listlessness that was upon her making +it far easier to obey than to summon the show of strength necessary to +resist.</p> + +<p>"We'll quit this place," Ned repeated again. "And you'll go with me ..."</p> + +<p>He turned to face the doorway. The bent reading lamp lay at his feet, +shade and chimney wrecked, oil gurgling from it. He kicked the thing +viciously, sending it crashing against the wall.</p> + +<p>"The damned snake!" he muttered. "He brought you in here, did he? Into +this place.... Bah!"</p> + +<p>He seized a volume from the bookcase and flung it at the ruined lamp.</p> + +<p>"Ned, don't!" she pleaded.</p> + +<p>"You keep quiet; you'll have enough to think about coming with me. Come +on, now!"</p> + +<p>Mechanically she responded and with unreal, heavy movements put on her +hat as he told her to do, crossed the kitchen floor and emerged into the +afternoon sunlight. Her husband's horse, still saddled, stood in the +shade of the ash tree.</p> + +<p>"He's left only that damn stallion," she heard Ned say. "Well, we'll +take him."</p> + +<p>"What for, Ned?" she asked dully, walking after him as he strode toward +the corral and catching his sleeve, shaking it for his attention. "Why +are you taking him?"</p> + +<p>"To take you away on," he snapped.</p> + +<p>"That's stealing."</p> + +<p>"He didn't think of that when he tried to steal my wife; I'll steal two +of his horses for a while ... just like he had you ... for a while."</p> + +<p>Her strength of wit had been spent in the furious scene within the house +and she attempted no answer, just stood outside while Lytton entered the +corral, bridled the curious stallion and turned to lead him out. Abe +would not move. He would not even turn about and the man's strength was +not sufficient to do more than pull his head around.</p> + +<p>"Come along, you——"</p> + +<p>He took off his hat and swung it to strike the horse's nose sharply, but +Abe only threw up his head and blinked rapidly. The ears were flat and +he switched his tail when Lytton again tried to drag him out. He would +not respond; just braced backward and resisted.</p> + +<p>Ann forced her mind to function with some degree of alertness.</p> + +<p>"Let me take him, Ned," she said, white faced and quiet. "I can't see +you abuse him."</p> + +<p>She took the reins from her husband who relinquished his grip on them +reluctantly; then she spoke a low word to the sorrel. He sniffed her +garments and moved his nostrils in silent token of recognition. This was +the woman Bayard had put on his back, the only person besides his master +who had ever straddled him, so it must be all right. He turned and +followed her from the corral while Lytton swore under his breath.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later, the woman mounted on the stallion, they rode through +the gate. Ann was silent, scarcely comprehending what happened.</p> + +<p>They did not turn to the left and take the road toward Yavapai; instead, +Ned followed a course that held straight eastward, gradually taking them +away from the wagon tracks, out into the great expanse of valley.</p> + +<p>"Where are you taking me, Ned?" Ann finally rallied her wits enough to +ask.</p> + +<p>"Back to my castle!" he mocked. "Back to the mine, where nobody'll come +to get you!"</p> + +<p>On that, Bayard's unexplained warning occurred to the girl and she felt +her heart leap.</p> + +<p>"Not that!" she said, dully. "Oh, Ned, not that. Something awful ... +will happen if you go back there."</p> + +<p>He looked at her, suspecting that this was a ruse.</p> + +<p>"What makes you think that?"</p> + +<p>"I was warned never to let you go back there."</p> + +<p>"Did Bayard warn you?"—leaning low in his saddle that he might see her +face better. She answered with a nod. "And why didn't he want me to go +back there?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, Ned. But—Take my word, I beg of you!"</p> + +<p>He rose in his stirrups and shook his fist at her.</p> + +<p>"He steals my wife and tries to frighten me away from my property, does +he? What's his interest in the Sunset mine? Do you know? No? Well, we'll +find out by to-morrow night, damn him!"</p> + +<p>He slapped his coat pocket where the automatic rested and lifted his +quirt to cut the hindquarters of the slow moving stallion.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>It was late night when they halted at a ranch, and the house was in +darkness.</p> + +<p>"We'll put up here," Ned growled. "We'll make on before daylight ... if +we can get this damned horse to move!"</p> + +<p>He drew back a fist as though he would strike the stallion, for the +sorrel had retarded them, insisting on turning and trying to start back +toward the Circle A ranch, refusing to increase his pace beyond a +crawling walk, held to that only by Ann's coaxing, for she knew that if +she gave the animal his head and let him turn back, her husband would +be angered to a point where he might abuse the beast.</p> + +<p>She feared no special thing now. She wanted to reach some destination, +some place where she could rest and think. This being led away seemed as +only some process of transition; it was unpleasant, but great happiness +was not far off. Of that she was certain.</p> + +<p>But she could not let Ned go on to his mine. Danger of some sort waited +there and it was impossible for her to allow him to walk into it. She +had planned while they rode that afternoon just how she would make the +first move to prevent his reaching the Sunset and as her husband +hammered on the door of the house to rouse the occupants she drew a pin +from her hat, shoved herself back in the saddle, and, while he was +parleying with the roused rancher, scratched swiftly and nervously on +the smooth leather.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>THE MESSAGE ON THE SADDLE</h3> + + +<p>The hours he spent in Yavapai that night were memorable ones for Bruce +Bayard. He rode the distance to town at a slow walk and arrived after +the sun had set. He had no appetite for food but, nevertheless, after +washing in the kitchen, he went into the hotel dining room and talked +absently to Nora.</p> + +<p>It did not occur to him to mention what had happened that afternoon to +the girl. That had been a matter too purely personal to permit its +discussion with another. While he talked to her, his mind was wholly +occupied with thoughts other than those of which he spoke and he did not +see that the waitress was studying him carefully, reading what was +written on his face. Nora knew that Ann was gone; she knew that she had +taken with her a new conviction, a new courage, and the fact that Bayard +had left her at his ranch, probably with Ned Lytton, puzzled the girl.</p> + +<p>Bruce was not certain that he had acted wisely. Many circumstances might +arise in which his presence at the ranch could be a determining factor. +At times he wondered vaguely if Lytton might not attempt to do his wife +violence, but always he comforted himself by assurance of her strength +of character, of her moral fiber, contrasting it with Ned's vacillating +nature.</p> + +<p>"She'd take care of herself anywhere," he thought time after time.</p> + +<p>When he had gone through with the formal routine of feeding himself he +went out to stroll about. He watched the train arrive and depart, he +talked absently with an Indian he knew and jested with the red man's +squaw. He bought a Los Angeles paper and could not center his mind on a +line of its printed pages. He walked aimlessly, finally entering the +saloon where a dozen were congregated.</p> + +<p>"That piano of yours has got powerful lungs, ain't it?" he asked the +bartender, wincing, as the mechanical instrument banged out its measure.</p> + +<p>"This here beer's so hot it tastes like medicine," he complained, +putting down his glass after his first swallow, and picking up the +bottle to look at it with a wry face.</p> + +<p>"It's right off th' ice," the other assured.</p> + +<p>"You can have th' rest of it for th' deservin' poor," he said and strode +out, while the others laughed after him.</p> + +<p>Up and down the street, into the general store to exchange absent-minded +pleasantries with the proprietor's wife, across to the hotel where he +tried to sit quietly in a chair, back to the saloon; up and down, up and +down.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus2.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3>Down the main street of Yavapai</h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>A hundred yards from the Manzanita House was a corral and in it a score +of young horses were being held to await shipment. In the course of +his ambling, Bruce came to this bunch of animals and leaned against the +bars, poking a hand through and snapping his thumb encouragingly as the +ponies crowded against the far side and eyed him with suspicion. He +talked to them a time, then climbed the fence and perched on the top +pole, snapping his fingers and making coaxing sounds in futile effort to +tempt the horses to come to him; and all the time his mind was back at +the Circle A, wondering what had transpired under his roof, in his room, +that day.</p> + +<p>Nora's voice startled him when it sounded so close behind, for he had +not heard her approach.</p> + +<p>"Why, you scart me bad!" he said, with a laugh, letting himself down +beside her. "What you doin' out to-night?"</p> + +<p>He pinched her cheek with his old familiarity, but under the duress of +his own thinking did not notice that she failed to respond in any way to +his pretended mood.</p> + +<p>"I thought I'd like to walk a little an' get th' air," she said. +"An' ... tell you that I'm goin' away."</p> + +<p>"Away, Nora?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm goin' to Prescott, Bruce."</p> + +<p>He lifted his hat and scratched his ear and moved beside her as she +started walking along the road, now a dim tape under the mountain stars.</p> + +<p>"Why, Nora, I thought you was a fixture here; what'll we do without +you?"</p> + +<p>He did not know how that hurt her, how the thought that he <i>could</i> do +without her hung about her heart like a sodden weight. She covered it +well, holding her voice steady, restraining the discouragement that +wanted to break into words, and the night kept secret with her the +pallor of her face.</p> + +<p>"I guess you'll get along, Bruce; you done it before I come an' I guess +th' town'll keep on prosperin' after I leave. I ... I got a chance to go +into business."</p> + +<p>"Why, that's fine, Sister."</p> + +<p>"A lunch counter that I can get for two hundred; I've saved more 'n that +since ... since I come here. That'll be better than workin' for somebody +else an' I figure I'll make as much and maybe considerable more."</p> + +<p>"That's fine!" he repeated. "Fine, Nora!"</p> + +<p>In spite of the complexity of his thinking he found an interval of +respite and was truly glad for her.</p> + +<p>"I ... I wanted to tell you before anybody else knew, 'cause I ... Well, +you made it possible. If you hadn't done this for me ... this here in +Yavapai ... I'd never been ..."</p> + +<p>He laughed at her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes you would, Nora. You had it in you. If I hadn't happened along +some one else would. What we're goin' to be, we're goin' to be, I +figure. I was only a lucky chance."</p> + +<p>"Lucky," she repeated. "Lucky! God, Bruce, lucky for me!"</p> + +<p>"Naw, lucky for me, Nora. Why, don't you know that every man likes to +have some woman dependin' on him? It's in us to want some female woman +lookin' to us for protection an' help. It tickled me to death to think I +was helpin' you, when, all the time, I knew down in my heart, I was only +an accident.''</p> + +<p>"You can say that, Bruce, but you can't make me believe it."</p> + +<p>They walked far, talking of the past, of her future, but not once did +the conversation touch on Ann Lytton. Bayard kept away from it because +of that privacy with which he had come to look on the affair, and the +girl knew that his presence there in town after Ann's departure for the +ranch could mean only that a crisis had been reached. With her woman's +heart, her intuition, she was confident of what the outcome would be. +And though she had given her all to help bring it about, she knew that +the sound of it in speech would precipitate that self-revelation which +she had avoided so long, at such cost.</p> + +<p>"I'll see you again," she said, when they stood before the hotel and she +was ready to enter for the night. "I'll see you again before I go, +Bruce. And—I ... thank you ... thank you...."</p> + +<p>She gripped his hand convulsively and lowered her head; then turned and +ran quickly up the steps, for she would not let him see the emotion, nor +let him hear uncertain words form on her lips.</p> + +<p>In her last speech with him, Nora had lied; she had lied because she +knew that to tell him she had packed her trunk and would leave on the +morning train would bring thanks from him for what she had done for Ann +Lytton; and Nora could not have stood this. From the man downstairs she +had learned kindness, had learned that not all mistakes are sins, had +learned that there is a judgment above that which denounces or commends +by rule of thumb. He had set in her heart a desire to be possessed by +him, had fed it unconsciously, had led her on and on to dream and plan; +then, had unwittingly wrecked it. But he had made her too big, too fine, +too gentle, to let jealousy control her for long. She had weakened just +once, and that had served to set in Nora's heart a new resolve, a finer +purpose than had ever found a place there before. And, as she stumbled +up the narrow stairway, the tears scalding her cheeks, her soul was +glad, was light, was happy, for she knew true greatness.</p> + +<p>Bayard roamed until after midnight; then went to his room in the hotel +and slept brokenly until dawn. In those hours he chilled with fear and +experienced flushes of temper, but behind it all he was resigned, +willing to wait. He had done his all, he had held himself strictly +within the bounds of justice as he conceived it, and beyond that he +could do no more.</p> + +<p>The east had only commenced to silver when he rode out of town at a +brisk gallop. He did not realize what going back to his ranch meant +until he was actually on his way and then with every length of the road +traveled, his apprehensions rose. It was no business of his he argued, +what had transpired the day before; it was Ann's affair ... and her +husband's. Yet, if he had left her alone, unprotected, and Lytton had +done her harm, he knew that he could never escape reproaching himself, +and his suffering would be in proportion to hers. Then, of the many, +there was another disturbing possibility. Perhaps a complete +reconciliation had followed. Perhaps he would ride into his dooryard to +find Ann Lytton cooking breakfast for her husband, smiling and happy, +refusing to meet his gaze, ashamed of what had been between them.</p> + +<p>He prodded his pony to greater speed with that thought.</p> + +<p>The sun was not yet up when he pulled his swift-breathing horse to a +stop. The outer gate stood open, and, as he rode through, his face +clouded slightly with annoyance over the unusual occurrence, but when he +looked to the horse corral and saw that it, too, was open, and empty, +that Abe was gone, his annoyance became fear. He spurred the tired pony +across the yard and flung off before the house with eyes on that portion +of the kitchen which was visible through the door. Then, stopped, stood +still, and listened.</p> + +<p>Not a sound except the breathing of his horse. The breeze had not yet +come up, no animal life was moving. An uncanny sense of desertion was +upon the place and for a moment Bayard knew real panic. What if some +violence....</p> + +<p>"Lytton!" he called, cutting his half-formed, horrible thought short, +and stepped into the room.</p> + +<p>No answer greeted him and, after listening a moment, he again shouted. +Then walked swiftly to the room where Ned Lytton had lived through those +weeks. He knocked, waited, flung open the door and grunted at the +emptiness which he found. One more room remained to be inspected—his +room—and he turned to the door which was almost closed. He rapped +lightly on the casing; louder, called for Lytton, grasped the knob and +entered.</p> + +<p>The overturned table, broken lamp, the spreading stain of its oil, the +rumpled rugs yielded their mute suggestion, and he moved slowly about, +eyeing them, searching for other evidence, searching for something more +than the fact that a struggle had taken place, hoping to find it, +fearing to know.</p> + +<p>He stopped suddenly, holding his head to one side as though listening to +catch a distant sound.</p> + +<p>"Both saddle horses gone ... they're gone," he muttered to himself and +started from the room on a run.</p> + +<p>He inspected the saddle rack under his wagonshed and saw that the third +saddle was missing, and then, with expert eyes, studied the ground for +evidence.</p> + +<p>A trail, barely discernible in the multitude of hoof-marks, led through +to the outer gate, crossed the road and struck straight east across the +valley.</p> + +<p>"That's Abe," he said excitedly to himself. "That was made late +yesterday."</p> + +<p>He stood erect and looked into the far reaches of the lower valley +where the wreaths of mists in the hollows were turning to silver and +those without shelter becoming dispelled as the sun spread its first +warmth over the country.</p> + +<p>"You've stolen my horse!" he said aloud, and evenly, as though he were +dispassionately charging some one before him with the misdeed. "You +stole my horse, but she ... was your woman!"</p> + +<p>He straightened and lifted his head, moving it quickly from side to side +as he strove to identify a moving object far below him that had risen +suddenly into sight on one of the valley swells and disappeared again in +a wash. It was a horse, he knew, but whether it was a roamer of the +range or a beast bearing a rider, he could not tell. He waited anxiously +for its reappearance, again hoping and fearing.</p> + +<p>"Huh! You're carryin' nobody," he muttered aloud as the speck again came +into view. "An' you sure are goin' some particular place!"</p> + +<p>The animal was too far distant to be readily identified but about its +swing was a familiar something and, inspired by an idea, Bayard returned +to the house, emerged with a field glass and focused it on the +approaching horse. The animal was his sorrel stallion.</p> + +<p>"Come on, Abe," he said aloud, putting down the binoculars with a hand +that trembled. "They've sent you on home, or you've got away.... But how +about th' party you carried off?"</p> + +<p>He walked to the gate and stood uneasily awaiting the arrival of the +animal. As the sorrel came into sight from the nearest wash into which +he had disappeared he was moving at a deliberate trot, but when he made +out the figure of his waiting master he strode swifter, finally breaking +into a gallop and approaching at great speed, whinnering from time to +time.</p> + +<p>The bridle reins were knotted securely about the horn. He had not +escaped; Abe had been sent home. He stopped before Bruce and nuzzled the +man's hands as they caressed his hot, soft nose.</p> + +<p>"It looks as if they had trouble before they left, from th' way my room +is," the man said to the horse as he stroked his nose, "but I know right +well he'd never got you out of that corral alone an' never got you off +in that direction unless somebody'd helped him; she might make you mind +'cause she rode you once. If it wasn't for that ... I'd think she'd been +forced ... 'cause they must have had a racket...."</p> + +<p>He led the horse through the gate and into the corral. There, he slipped +the bridle off, uncinched and dragged the saddle toward him. As the +polished, darkened seat turned to the bright sunlight, he saw that the +leather had been defaced and, indignation mounting, he leaned over to +inspect it. The resentment departed, a mingling of fear and triumph and +rage rose within him, for on the saddle had been scratched in hasty, +crude characters:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">BOUND FOR MI<br /></span> +<span class="i3">NE<br /></span> +<span class="i5">HELP<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>No need to speculate as to the author of that message on the saddle. +That Ann had been forced by circumstances to do the work furtively was +as evident. And the combination of facts which rode uppermost in his +confused mentality was this. Ann Lytton was being taken to the Sunset +mine against her will; she had appealed to him for aid and, because of +that, he knew that she had chosen between the two, between her husband +and her honorable lover!</p> + +<p>For a moment, mad, hot triumph filled him. He had done his best with the +ruin of a man he had set out to reconstruct; he had groomed him well, +conscientiously, giving him thorough care, great consideration, just to +satisfy his own moral sense; he had given him back to Ann at the cost of +intense suffering ... and it had not been enough for her; she was not +satisfied. Beside her husband, bound for her husband's mountain home, +she had found herself in her hour of need and had cried out to him for +help!</p> + +<p>Bruce calculated swiftly as he stood there. Lytton's trail from the +ranch led straight eastward, toward the Sunset group. They had not +ridden the whole forty-five miles at one stretch. He was satisfied of +that. Obviously, they had stopped for the night and out in that country +toward which they had started was only one ranch that would not take +them miles out of their course. That was the home of Hi Boyd, a dozen +miles straight east, six miles south and east from Yavapai, thirty-three +miles from the Sunset group. By now they were making on, they could +finish their journey before night....</p> + +<p>And then recurred a thought that Bruce had overlooked in those moments +of speculation, of quick thinking:</p> + +<p>"Good God, Benny Lynch's waitin' for him ... with murder in his heart!" +he cried aloud, the horror at the remembrance so sharp, the meaning of +this new factor in the situation so portentous, that the words came from +his lips unconsciously. He stood beside the horse, staring down at the +message on the saddle again, bewildered, a feeling of helplessness +coming over him.</p> + +<p>"I can't let that happen, Abe, I can't!" he said. "I drove him there.... +He must have gone because ... He's found out she was here all along ... +he's blamed it on me.... He's crazy mad an' he's ridin' straight to his +end!... It would free her, but I can't let it happen ... not that +way ...</p> + +<p>"It's up to you to get me to town," he cried as he reached for the +bridle. "Just to Yavapai ... that's all.... You're th' best horse in th' +southwest, but they've got too much of a start on you. We'll try +automobiles this once, Pardner!"</p> + +<p>In an incredibly short time the saddle was on, cinch tight. He gathered +the reins, called to the sorrel and Abe, infected with his excitement, +wheeled for the gate, the man running by his side. As the animal rounded +into the road, Bruce vaulted into the saddle, pawed with his right foot +for the flopping stirrup and leaning low on Abe's neck, shouted into his +ears for speed.</p> + +<p>Merely minutes transpired in that eight-mile race to Yavapai. Bayard's +idea was to hire the one automobile of which the town boasted, start +down the valley road that Lytton and Ann must follow to reach the mine, +overtake and turn them back, somehow, on some pretext. He could arrange +the device later; he could think of the significance of Ann's appeal to +him when the man between them was free from the danger of which Bayard +was aware; his whole thought now was to beat time, to reach town with +the least possible waste of seconds. The steel sinews, the leather +lungs, the great heart of the beast under him responded nobly to this +need. They stormed along the wagon tracks when they held straight, +thundered through the unmarked grass and over rocks when the highway +turned and twisted. Once, when they ran through a shallow wash and Abe +climbed the far side with a scramble, fire shot from his shoes and Bruce +cried,</p> + +<p>"You're th' stallion shod with fire, boy!"</p> + +<p>It was a splendid, unfaltering run, and, when the rider swung down +before the little corrugated iron building that housed Yavapai's motor +car, the stallion was black with water and his breath came and went with +the gasps of fatigue and nervous tension.</p> + +<p>Bruce turned from his horse and stepped toward the open door of the +garage. A man was there, behind the car, looking dolefully down at an +array of grease covered parts that littered the floor.</p> + +<p>"Jimmy, I want you to take me out on th' Valley road this mornin'. How +soon can we get away?"</p> + +<p>"It won't be this mornin' or this afternoon, Bruce," the man said, with +a shake of his head. "I've got a busted differential."</p> + +<p>"Can't it be fixed?"—misgiving in his voice.</p> + +<p>"Not here. I have to send to Prescott for a new one. I'll be laid up a +couple of days anyhow."</p> + +<p>Bayard did not answer. Just stood trying to face the situation calmly, +trying to figure his handicap.</p> + +<p>"Is it awful important, Bruce?" the man asked, struck by the cowman's +attitude.</p> + +<p>"I guess th' end of th' world's more important,"—as he turned away, +"but to me, an' compared to this, it's a small sized accident."</p> + +<p>He walked slowly out into the street and paused to look calculatingly at +Abe. Then, turning abruptly, struck by a new possibility, he ran across +to the Manzanita House, entered the door, strode into the office, took +down the telephone receiver and rattled the hook impatiently.</p> + +<p>"I want Hi Boyd's ranch," he said to the operator. Then, after a wait in +which he shifted from foot to foot and swore under his breath: "Hello +... Boyd's? Is this Hi Boyd? It is? ... Well Hi, this is Bruce Bayard +an' I've got to have a horse from you this mornin'...."</p> + +<p>"A horse!" came the thin, distant exclamation over the wire. "Everybody +wants horses off me today...."</p> + +<p>"But I've <i>got</i> to have one, Hi! It's mighty important. Yours is th' +only ranch that's on my way—"</p> + +<p>"... an' we let one get away this mornin'," the voice went on, not +pausing for Bruce's insistence, "'fore daylight an' left a lady who +spent th' night with us a foot. We had to go catch up another for 'em +an' Lytton—Ned Lytton, was th' man—only got on two hours ago ... three +hours late! No, they ain't a horse on th' place that'll ride."</p> + +<p>"Can't you catch one for me?" Bruce persisted.</p> + +<p>"How? Run him down on foot? If I was a young man like you, I might, but +now...."</p> + +<p>Bayard slammed up the receiver and turned away, staring at the floor. He +walked into the street again, looking about almost wildly. One by one +the agencies that might prevent the impending catastrophe out yonder had +been rendered helpless. The automobile, the chance of getting a change +horse, his haste in riding to Yavapai and its consequent inroads made +upon Abe's strength.</p> + +<p>"I'm playin' with a stacked deck!" he muttered, as he approached the +stallion. "There ain't another horse in this country equal to you even +after your mornin's work," he said, looking at the breathing, sweat +darkened creature. "I wouldn't ask you to do it for anybody else, Boy. +But ... won't you do it for her? She sent for me. Will you take me back? +It'll mean a lot to her, let alone what it means to me ... if I don't +stop him.</p> + +<p>"It's thirty-five miles for us to make while they're doin' little more +'n twenty, for they've been traveling since dawn. Maybe it'll be your +last run ... It may break your heart.... How about it?"</p> + +<p>In his desperation, something boyish came into his tone, his manner, and +he appealed to his horse as he would have pleaded with another human +being. The sorrel looked at him inquiringly, great intelligent eyes +unblinking, ears forward with attentiveness and, after a moment, the +white patch on his nose twitched and he moved closer against his master +as he gave a low little nicker.</p> + +<p>"Is that your answer, Abe? Are you sayin' yes?" Bayard asked, and +unbuckled his chap belt. "Is it, old timer? You're ... it's all up to +you!" He kicked out of his chaps, flung them to the hotel porch, +mounted, reined the stallion about and high in the stirrups, a live, +flexible weight, rode out of town at a slow trot, holding the horse to +the gait that the wind which blew in from the big expanse of country +might cool him.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3>THE END OF THE VIGIL</h3> + + +<p>Benny Lynch was at work in the face of the Sunset's lower tunnel. He +swung his singlejack swiftly, surely, regularly, and each time it struck +the drill, his breath whistled through his lips in the manner of mine +workers. His candle, its stick secure in a crack above him, lighted the +small chamber and under its uncertain, inefficient rays, his face seemed +drawn and hard and old.</p> + +<p>A fortnight ago, when he rode to the Circle A ranch to share with Bayard +the secret that harassed him his countenance had been merely sober, +troubled; but now it gave evidence of a severe strain that had endured +long enough to wear down his stolidity—the tension that would naturally +come to a man who is normally kind and gentle and who, by those same +qualities, is driven to hunt a fellow human as he would plot to take the +life of a dangerous animal. Through those two weeks he had been waiting +alone in the mining camp, working eight hours each day, doing his +cooking and housework methodically, regularly, telling himself that he +had settled down to the routine of industriously developing property +that was rightfully his, when that occupation was only a ruse, a blind, +when he was waiting there solely for the opportunity to kill! His +watching had not been patient; it was outwardly deliberate, true, but +inwardly it kept him in a continual state of ferment; witness the lines +about his mouth, the pallor of his skin, the feverish, expectant look in +his eyes.</p> + +<p>On a spike in the timbering hung an alarm clock ... and a gun belt, +weighted with revolver and ammunition. At regular, frequent intervals, +the blows of his jack were checked and he sat crouched there, head +forward and a trifle to one side, as though he were listening. When no +sound save the singing of his candle wick reached his ears, he went on, +regularly, evenly, purposeful. Possibly the tension that showed about +his mouth became more noticeable after each of these brief periods when +he strained to catch sounds.</p> + +<p>With a final blow Benny left off the rhythmic swing, wiped his forehead +with a wrist, poured water from a small tin bucket into the hole on +which he was at work and picked up his jack to resume the swinging. He +glanced at the clock.</p> + +<p>"It's time," he said aloud, his voice reverberating hollowly in the +place.</p> + +<p>He put down his hammer quickly and rose from his squatting position as +though he had neglected to perform some important duty. He took down the +gun belt, slung it about his waist, and, making a reflector of his +hollowed hand for the candle, started out along the tunnel, walking +swiftly, intent on a definite end. When he reached the point where the +darkness of the drift was dissipated by the white sunlight, he +extinguished his feeble torch, jabbed the candlestick into the +hanging-wall and reached for a pair of binoculars that, in their worn +and battered case, hung from the timbering.</p> + +<p>"This is 'n elegant day," he said aloud, as he walked out on to the +dump, manipulating the focusing screw of the glass and looking +cautiously around at the pine clad mountains which stretched away to +right, left and behind him.</p> + +<p>Evidently his mind was not on his words or on the idea; he was merely +keeping up his game of pretense, while beneath the surface he was alert, +expectant. Near the foot of the pile of waste rock was the log cabin +with its red, iron roof and protruding stove pipe. Far below him and +running outward like a great tinted carpet spread Manzanita Valley. +Close in to the base of the hills on which he stood a range of bald, +flat-topped, miniature buttes made, from his eminence, a low welt in its +contour, but beyond that and except for an occasional island of +knee-high oak brush it seemed to be without mar or blemish. Here and +there patches of deeper color showed and the experienced eye knew that +there the country swelled or was cut by washes, but, otherwise, it all +seemed to be flat, unbroken.</p> + +<p>On this immense stretch of country Benny trained the glass. His manner +was intent, resolute. Each hour during daylight he had been making that +observation for a fortnight; every time he had anticipated reward, +action. Aided by the lenses he picked out the low buttes, saw a spot +that he knew was a grazing horse, a distant shimmering blotch of mellow +white canopied by a golden aura that meant sheep, turned his body from +left to right in swift, sweeping inspection.</p> + +<p>And stopped all movement with a jerk, while an inarticulate exclamation +came from him.</p> + +<p>For the first time his sight had encountered that for which he had been +seeking. He was motionless an instant, then lowered the glass to his +chest-level and stared hard with naked eyes. He wet his lips with his +tongue and strained forward, used the glasses again, shifted his +footing, looking about with a show of bright nervousness, and rubbed the +lenses on his shirt briskly.</p> + +<p>"He ain't even waitin' to take th' road," he said aloud. "He's in a +powerful hurry!"</p> + +<p>Once more the instrument picked out the moving dot under that vast dome +of brilliant blue sky and, for a lengthy interval Benny held his aided +gaze upon it, watching it disappear and come into sight again, ever +holding toward him through wash and over swells, maintaining its steady +crawling. He moved further out on the dump to obtain a better view and +leaned against the rusty ore car on its track that he might be steadier; +for sight of that purposeful life down yonder had started ever so slight +tremors through his stalwart limbs.</p> + +<p>He muttered to himself, and again looked alertly about, right and left +and behind. His eye was brighter, harder. When he looked into the +valley again, sweeping its expanse to find the horseman who had +momentarily disappeared, he stood with gaze fixed in quite another +direction and, when he had suppressed his breath an instant to make +absolutely certain, he cried excitedly:</p> + +<p>"In bunches! They're comin' in droves!"</p> + +<p>He put down the binocular, took the six-gun from its holster, twirled +the cylinder briskly and caressed the trigger with an eager finger. His +mouth had become a tight, straight line and his brows were gathered +slightly, as in perplexity. He breathed audibly as he watched those +indications of human life on the valley. He knew then the greatest +torment of suspense....</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later, when the near dot had become easily discernible to +the naked eye, when the figure of horse and rider was in sharp detail +through the glass, the ominous quality about the man gave way to frank +mystification. He flung one leg over the corner of the ore car, and his +face ceased to reflect his great determination, became puzzled, half +alarmed.</p> + +<p>"That's Bruce's stallion, if I ever seen him!" he thought, "An' he's +been run to th' last breath."</p> + +<p>The horse went out of sight, entered the timber below Benny and the +clicking of stones, the sounds of shod hoofs floundering over bare rocks +gave evidence that he would be at the mine level in another five +minutes. The man hitched his gun belt about, took one more anxious, +puzzled look down into the valley where other figures moved, and walked +down the trail toward the cabin slowly, watching through the pines for +sight of the climbing animal.</p> + +<p>A man came first, bent over that he might climb faster up the steep +trail. He was leading a horse that was drenched from ear to ankle, +lathered about neck and shoulder and flank, who breathed in short, low +sobs, and stepped with the uneven awkwardness of utter fatigue. Benny +stopped as he recognized Bayard and Abe and his right hand which had +rested lightly on the gun butt at his hip dropped to his thigh. He stood +still, waiting for them to come nearer, wondering anxiously what this +might mean, for he knew that the owner of the sorrel stallion would +never have ridden him to that condition without cause.</p> + +<p>Bayard looked up, saw the man waiting for him and halted between +strides, the one foot far advanced before the other. His face was white +and he stared hard at the miner, studying him closely, dreading to ask +the question that was at his lips. But after that momentary pause he +blurted out,</p> + +<p>"Is everything all right, Benny?"</p> + +<p>And Lynch, shaken by Bruce's appearance, the manner of his arrival, +countered:</p> + +<p>"What's wrong? What is it?"—walking swiftly down the trail toward the +newcomer.</p> + +<p>"Has anybody been here before me, to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody, Bruce. What is it?"—anxiously, feeling somehow that they were +both in danger.</p> + +<p>"Thank God for that!" Bayard muttered, some of the intensity going from +him, and turned to loose the cinch. "We weren't too late, Abe, we +weren't." He dragged the saddle from the stallion's dripping back, flung +it on the rocks behind him, pulled off the bridle and with hands that +were not steady, stroked the lathered withers as the horse stood with +head hung and let the breath sob and wheeze down his long throat while +his limbs trembled under his weight. "We've come from town in th' most +awful ride a horse ever made on this valley, Benny. Look at him! I had +to ask him, I had to ask him to do this, to run his heart out for me; I +had to do it!"</p> + +<p>He stood looking at his horse and for the moment seemed to be wholly +absorbed in contemplating the animal's condition; his voice had been +uncertain as he pleaded the vague necessity for such a run.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Bruce? Why was you in such a hurry?" Lynch asked, taking +the cowman gently by the arm, turning him so that they confronted one +another, an uneasy connection forming in his mind between his friend's +dramatic arrival and his own purpose at the mine.</p> + +<p>"Ned Lytton an' his wife are comin' here to-day, Benny,"—bluntly. "I +had to get here before them to stop you ... doin' what you've come here +an' waited to do."</p> + +<p>The other's hand dropped from Bruce's arm; in Benny's face the look of +fear, of doubt, gave way to a return of the strained, tense expression +with its dogged determination. That was it! The woman, identified as +such through his glass, was Lytton's wife! He felt the nerves tightening +at the back of his neck.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that ... to stop me?" he asked, spreading his feet, +arms akimbo, a growing defiance about him.</p> + +<p>"What I said, Benny. I've come to stop a killin' here to-day. I thank +God I was in time!"</p> + +<p>His old assurance, his poise, which had been missing on his arrival, had +returned and he stepped forward, reaching out a hand to rest on Benny's +shoulder, gripping through the flannel shirt with his long, stout +fingers.</p> + +<p>"You told me your trouble with Lytton in confidence. I thought once this +mornin' maybe I'd have to break that confidence. I thought when I +started up this trail that I must be too late to do any good, but now +I'm here I know you'll understand, old timer, I know you'll understand!"</p> + +<p>He shook Lynch gently with his hand and smiled, but no responsive light +came from the miner's eyes in return; hostility was there, along with +the fever of waiting.</p> + +<p>"No, I don't understand," he said, sharply. "I don't understand why +you're throwin' in with that scum."</p> + +<p>"Don't think that! It's not for him I'm doin' this. I wouldn't ask my +Abe to run himself sick for <i>him</i>! It's for my own peace of mind an' +yours, Benny."</p> + +<p>"My mind'll be at peace when I've squared my dad's account with Lytton +an' not before!"—with a significant gesture toward his gun.</p> + +<p>"But mine won't, an' neither will yours when you know that by comin' to +me with your story you tied me hand an' foot! Hand an' foot, Benny, +that's what! I've never been helpless before, but I am this time; if +Lytton comes to any harm from you here to-day, his blood'll be on my +hands. I know he's a snake, I know he knifed your daddy in th' +back,"—growing more intense, talking faster, "But he's wrong, Benny, +wrong in th' head. A man can't get so lowdown as he is an' not be wrong.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know him. I know him better than you or anybody else does! I've +been nursin' him for weeks. He's been at my ranch—"</p> + +<p>"At your—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, at my ranch. I took him there a month ago, Benny, to make a man of +him for his wife, the sweetest woman that God ever made live to make us +men better. I've been groomin' him up for her, workin' with him, hatin' +him, but doin' my best to make a man of him. Now, he's bringin' her here +by force because of me, an' she sent back for me ... asked me to help +her. She knows there's danger here. I didn't tell her why, but I told +her that much, told her never to let him come back. Now he's forcin' her +to come with him an' she sent for me.</p> + +<p>"Don't you see? I can't let you shoot him down! Can't you see that, +Benny?"</p> + +<p>He shook him again and leaned forward, face close to face.</p> + +<p>"No, I don't see that it makes any difference," Lynch said slowly, a +hard calm covering his roused emotions.</p> + +<p>Bayard drew back a step and a quick flush swept into his cheeks.</p> + +<p>"But I sent him here, Benny; knowin' you were waitin'. It's my fault if +he—"</p> + +<p>"You sent him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I drove him out here! He might never have come back, if it hadn't +been for me. I ... Nobody else knows this, Benny; maybe nobody ever will +but you, but I've got to make you understand. He ... She ... His wife's +been in town a month. She come out here to throw herself away on that +rat, when she don't ... when she hates him.</p> + +<p>"I can't tell you all of it, but yesterday he saw her for th' first +time.</p> + +<p>"He must have raised hell with her ... because of me, because I've known +she was out here and didn't tell him. He took her away an' she ... sent +for me....</p> + +<p>"Don't you see that I'm to blame? Hell, it's no use hidin' it; he took +her off to get her away from me! He's bringin' her here, th' nearest +place to a home he's got. If 't wasn't for me, he wouldn't have started +for this place; he'd stayed there. Don't you see, Benny, that I'm +drivin' him into your hands. You may be justified in killin', but I +ain't justified ... in helpin' you!"</p> + +<p>"If it's that way ... between she an' you ... you'd ought to be +glad....'</p> + +<p>"Not that way!" Bayard exclaimed. "Not that, Benny! He's everything +you've called him, but I can't foul him. I've got to be more'n square +with him because he is ... her husband an' because she did ... send for +me!"</p> + +<p>For a moment the miner seemed to waver; a different look appeared in his +eyes, an appreciation for the absolute openness of this man before him, +his great sense of fair play, his honesty, his sincerity. Then, he +remembered that minutes had been consumed, that his game was drawing to +a climax.</p> + +<p>"I can't help it," he said, doggedly, drawing back, "We understand each +other now, Bruce, an' my advice to you is to clear out. Things'll happen +right soon."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" slowly, with incredulity.</p> + +<p>"Don't you know they wasn't a mile behind you, on th' other side of them +low bluffs?"</p> + +<p>Bayard half turned, sharply, as though he expected to find Ann and +Lytton directly behind him on the trail.</p> + +<p>"God, no!" he answered in a hushed tone. "Rough country, that's why I +didn't see 'em."</p> + +<p>"Well, that's them ... a man an' woman. They ought to be here any +minute."</p> + +<p>Lynch's voice sank to a whisper on the last and he drew the gun from its +scabbard, peering down the trail, listening. On sight of the colt, a +flicker came into Bayard's eyes, his jaw tightened, his shoulders +squared themselves.</p> + +<p>"I'll go down an' meet him," the miner said quite calmly, though the +color had gone even from his lips. "It's ..."</p> + +<p>With a drive of his hand, Bayard's fingers fastened on the gun and the +jerk he gave the weapon tore Lynch from his footing.</p> + +<p>"You'll not, Benny!"—in a whisper, securing the gun, and flinging it +into the brush behind him, gripping the other man by his shirt front, +"You won't, by God, if I have to choke you black in the face!"</p> + +<p>Lynch drew back against the cabin wall, struggling to free himself.</p> + +<p>"It's my fight, Bruce!" ... breathing in gasps, eyes wide, voice +strained almost to the point of sobbing.</p> + +<p>"I'll let go when you promise me to go into your house an' sit there an' +keep quiet until I finish my work ... or, until you're molested."</p> + +<p>"Not after two years! Not after my dad...."</p> + +<p>Tears stood in the miner's eyes and he struck out viciously with his +fists; then Bayard, thrusting his head forward, flung out his arms in a +clinging, binding embrace and they went down on the trail, a tangle of +limbs. Benny was no match in such a combat and in a trice he was on his +face, arms held behind him and Bayard was lashing his wrists together +with his bridle reins.</p> + +<p>"Stand up!" he said, sharply, when he had finished.</p> + +<p>He picked up the revolver and, with a hand under one of the bound arms, +helped Benny to his feet.</p> + +<p>"I'll apologize later. I'll do anything. I came out here to prevent a +killin', Benny, an' my work ain't done yet."</p> + +<p>The miner cursed him in a strained voice and the come and go of his +breath was swift and irregular. He trembled violently. All the brooding +he had experienced in the last months, all the strain of waiting he had +known in the recent days, the conviction that his hour of accomplishment +was at hand, and the sudden, overwhelming sense of physical helplessness +that was now on him combined to render his anger that of a child. He +attempted to hold back, but Bayard jerked him forward and, half dragged, +half carried, he entered the kitchen of the cabin he had helped build, +which had been stolen from him and which was now to be his prison at the +moment when he had planned to make his title to the property good by +killing....</p> + +<p>Bayard, too, trembled, and his gray eyes glittered. He breathed through +his lips and was conscious that his mouth was very dry. His movements +were feverish and he handled Lynch as though he were so much insensate +matter.</p> + +<p>Benny protested volubly, shouting and screaming and kicking, trying to +resist with all his bodily force, but Bruce did not seem to hear him. He +handled his captive with a peculiar abstraction in spite of the fact +that they struggled constantly.</p> + +<p>Bayard kicked a chair away from the table, forced Lynch into it and +holding him fast with one arm, drew the dangling bridle reins through +the spindles of the back and lashed the miner's bound wrists there +securely.</p> + +<p>"I can't help it, Benny," he said, hurriedly and earnestly, as he +straightened. "You and I ... we'll have this out afterwards.... Your +gun ... I'll leave it here,"—putting the weapon on top of a battered +cupboard that stood against the wall behind Benny.</p> + +<p>"I'm goin' down to turn him back towards town, Benny.... I won't give +you away; he won't know you're here, but I've got to do it myself. I +can't let you kill him to-day.... I can't, because I'm to blame for his +comin' here!"</p> + +<p>He was gone then, with a thudding of boots and a ringing of spurs as he +ran from the room, struck into the trail and went down among the pines +at a pace which threatened a nasty fall at every stride. And Benny, left +alone, whimpered aloud and tugged ineffectually at the knots which held +him captive in his chair. After a short interval, he stopped the +struggling and strained forward to listen. No sound reached his ears +except the low, sweet, throaty tweeting of quail as they ran swiftly +over the rocks, under a clump of brush and disappeared. The world was +very quiet and peaceful ... only in the man's heart was storm....</p> + +<p>Bayard ran on down the trail toward the edge of the timber where he +might look out on the valley and see those two riders he had followed +and passed without seeing. He had no plan. He would tell Lytton to go +back, would <i>make</i> him go back, with nothing but his will and his naked +hands. He wanted to laugh as he ran, for his relief was great; there was +to be no killing that day, no blood was to be on his conscience, no +tragedy was to stand between him and the woman who had called for aid.</p> + +<p>His pace became reckless, for the descent was steep and, when he emerged +from the timber, his whole attention was centered on keeping himself +upright and overcoming his momentum. When he could stop, he lifted his +eyes to the country below him, searched quickly for the figures of Ned +and his wife and swore in perplexity. He did not see sign of a moving +creature. He knew that there was no depression in that part of the +valley deep enough to hide them from him as he stood on that vantage +point. Had Lynch been mistaken? Had he deceived him artfully?</p> + +<p>He looked about bewildered, wholly at a loss to explain the situation. +Then ran on, searching the trail for indication of passing horses. They +could not have turned back and ridden from sight in the short time that +had elapsed since Benny saw them ... if he had seen them. Where could +they go, but on to the mine?</p> + +<p>The worn trail still led him down grade, though the pitch was not so +severe as it had been higher up; however, he did not realize the +distance he was from timber when he came upon fresh horse tracks. They +had ridden up to that point at a walk; they had stopped there, and when +they went on they had swerved to the right and ridden for the hills with +horses at a gallop.</p> + +<p>Bayard read the tell-tale signs in an instant, wheeled, looked up at the +abrupt slopes above him and cried,</p> + +<p>"He's gone around for some reason ... in a hurry.... To come into camp +from behind!"</p> + +<p>And trembling at thought of what might be happening back there in the +cabin, he started up the trail, running laboriously against the steep +rise of the hill.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3>THE FIGHT</h3> + + +<p>Bayard had guessed rightly. After miles of silent riding Lytton had +pulled his horse up with a jerk, had laid a hand on Ann's bridle and +checked her pony with another wrench.</p> + +<p>"Who's that?" he growled, staring at Bayard.</p> + +<p>She had looked at the distant horse, floundering up the slope beyond +them, recognized both Abe and his rider and had turned to stare at her +husband with fear in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Who is it?" he demanded again, and she dropped her gaze.</p> + +<p>"So that's it!" he jeered. "Your lover is trying to play two games. He's +come to beat us to it, has he?"—he licked his lips nervously. "Well, +we'll see!"</p> + +<p>He hung his spurs in and fanned her horse with his quirt and, still +clinging to her bridle, led his wife at a high lope off to the right, +swinging behind a shoulder of the hill and climbing up a sharp, wooded +draw.</p> + +<p>"I'll fool your friend!" he laughed, twenty minutes later when they had +climbed a steep ridge and the winded horses had dropped into a walk. +"I'll fool him!"</p> + +<p>He drew Bayard's automatic, which he had taken from Ann, and looked it +over in crafty anticipation.</p> + +<p>Ann, after her night and her day of hardship, of ceaseless anxiety, +could not cry out. A sound started but went dry and dead in her throat. +She sat lax in her saddle, worn and confused and suddenly indifferent. +She had been defiant yesterday afternoon for a time; she had been +frightened later; with cunning she had scratched her warning on Abe's +saddle and with like strategy she had managed to set the great horse +free when they were preparing for their early morning start from the +Boyd ranch. She had withstood her husband's taunts flung at her through +their sleepless night, she had taken in silence his abuse when it became +necessary to secure another horse; beside him she had ridden in silence +down the valley, knowing him for a crazed man. And now sight of Bayard, +the sense of relief that his nearness brought, the sudden fear for his +safety at seeing the pistol, reduced her to helplessness.</p> + +<p>"You wait here," she heard her husband say.</p> + +<p>He followed the order with a threat of some sort, a threat against her +life she afterward remembered, dismounted and walked away. At the time +his departure left no impression on her. She sat limp in her saddle a +long interval, then leaned forward and, face in her horse's mane, gave +way to sobbing. The vent for that emotion was relief; how long she cried +she did not know, but suddenly she found herself on the ground, looking +about, alive to the fact that the silence seemed like that of death.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Cautiously, Lytton crept up over the rocks after he left Ann. His +movements gave no hint of his recent weakness; they were quick and +jerky, but certain. His lids were narrowed and between them his eyes +showed balefully. He held his weapon in his right hand, slightly +elevated, ready to shoot. Moisture formed on his forehead and ran down +over his cheeks. Now and then his gun hand trembled spasmodically and +then he halted until it was firm again.</p> + +<p>He knew these rocks well and took no chances of exposing himself. He +slunk from tree to boulder and from boulder to brush, always making +nearer camp, always ready for an emergency. He attained a point where he +could look down on the cabin below him and stood there a long time, half +crouched, poised, scanning every corner, every shadow. The corral was +hidden from him and Abe, lying under a spreading juniper tree, was out +of his range of vision. He listened as he watched but no sound came to +him. Then he went on, down the ragged way.</p> + +<p>At intervals of every few feet he halted and listened, repressing even +his own breath that he might hear the slightest sound. But no movement, +no vibration disturbed that crystal noontime until he had gone halfway +to the red-roofed house below the dump. Then a bird fluttered from close +beside him: a soft, abrupt, diminishing whirr of wings and the man +shrank back against the rock, lifting his gun hand high, breath hissing +as it slipped out between his teeth, the craven in him shaking his +limbs, gripping his throat. Discovery of what had startled him brought +only slow relief, and minutes elapsed before he straightened and laughed +silently to shame his nerves to steadiness.</p> + +<p>A stone, loosened by his foot, rolled down before him to the next ledge, +rattling as it went, and he squatted quickly, again afraid, yet alert. +For he felt that noise emanating from his movements would precipitate +developments. But nothing moved, no new sounds came to him.</p> + +<p>He was not certain that Bayard had seen them out on the valley. He did +not know of his wife's message for help; in his confused consciousness +he had supposed that the cowman had ridden to the mine on some covetous +errand and that Bruce was ignorant of the fact that he and Ann had left +the Circle A. He did not even stop to remember that Bayard had come into +sight and disappeared through the timber on Abe, and that the stallion +had slipped away from them before dawn. He had leaped to the conclusion +that Bruce would be in the log house down yonder or somewhere about the +property. So he stalked on, lips dry and hot with the desire to kill....</p> + +<p>Lytton approached to within ten yards of the cabin without hearing more +sounds. There he straightened to his toes and stretched his neck to look +about, peering over the tops of oak brush that flourished in the scant +soil, and, as he reached his full height, the sharp sound of a chair +scraping on the floor sent him to a wilting, quivering squat, caused his +breath to come in gasps, made his hands sweat until the pistol he held +was slippery with their moisture. His head roared with excitement, but +through it he thought he heard the sound of a man's voice lifted in +speech.</p> + +<p>No window was visible to him from his position. The back door of the +kitchen stood open, he could see, but his view of the room through it +was negligible. At the other end of the room was a door and a window, +but he dared not risk advance from that direction. He crouched there, +panting, fearing, yet planning quickly, driven to desperation by the +urge of the hate which rankled in him. Bruce Bayard had attempted to +steal his wife, he repeated to himself, he had attempted to frighten him +away from his other property, his mine, and he was roused to a pitch of +nervous excitement that carried him beyond the caution of mental balance +and yet did not stimulate him to the abandon of actual madness. He +wanted Bayard's life with all the lust that can be stirred in men by an +outraging of the sense of possession and the passion of jealousy ... +beyond which there can be no destroying desire.</p> + +<p>No other sounds came from the house, but he was satisfied that the man +waiting within was his man and he skulked from the brush, choosing his +footing with care, treading on the balls of his feet, preventing the +stiff branches from slapping noisily together by his cautious left hand. +Slow, cat-like in his movements, he covered the distance to the cabin, +flinging out an arm on the last step as though he were falling and with +it steadying himself against the log wall of the building, where he +balanced a moment, becoming steady.</p> + +<p>He strained to listen and caught sounds of a man's breath expelled in +grunts. The doorway was not six feet from the place where he had halted +and he eyed it calculatingly, noting the footing he must cross, licking +his lips, eyes strained wide open. He took the first step forward and +halted, hand against the wall still to maintain his balance; then on +again, lifting the foot slowly, setting it down with great pains, +putting his weight on it carefully....</p> + +<p>And then nervous tension snapped. He could no longer hold himself back +and with a lunge he reached the door, gripped the casing with his left +hand and, crouching, swung himself into the doorway, pistol extended +before him, coming to a halt with an inarticulate, sobbing cry that +might have been hate or chagrin or only fright.... For the man he +covered with that weapon was a stranger, an individual he had never seen +before, sitting in a chair, back to him, his pale, startled face turned +over the near shoulder, giving the intruder frightened gaze for +frightened gaze.</p> + +<p>For a moment Lytton remained swaying in the doorway, bewildered, unable +to think. Then, he saw that the other man was bound to his chair, his +hands behind him, and he let go his hold on the casing, straightened +and put one foot over the threshold. He spoke the first words,</p> + +<p>"Who are you?"—in a tone just above a whisper, leaning forward, sensing +in a measure an explanation of this situation. And because of this +intuitive flash of comprehension, he did not give the other opportunity +to answer his first question, but said quickly, lowly, "What are you +doing here?"</p> + +<p>Benny looked at him, studying, a covered craftiness coming into his face +to obliterate the anxiety, the rebelliousness that had been there. His +semi-hysteria was gone, his cold, hard determination to carry his +mission to its conclusion had reasserted itself but covered, this time, +by cunning. He realized what had happened, knew that Lytton had expected +to find another there, he saw that he was ready to kill on sight, and in +the situation the miner read a way out for himself, a method of +attaining his own ends. So he said,</p> + +<p>"I'm takin' a little rest; can't you see?"—ironical in his answer to +Lytton's question, impatient when he put his own counter query.</p> + +<p>He wrenched at the bonds angrily and, partly from the exertion, partly +from the rage that rose within him, his face colored darkly.</p> + +<p>Lytton stepped further into the room, approaching Lynch's chair, looking +closely into his face, gun hand half lowered.</p> + +<p>"Who tied you up?" he asked in a whisper, for his mind was centered +about a single idea; the probable presence of Bayard and his relation to +this man who was some one's prisoner.</p> + +<p>Benny looked down at the floor and leaned over and again tugged at the +knots for he dared not reveal his face as he growled,</p> + +<p>"A damn dirty cowpunch!"</p> + +<p>The other man said nothing; waited, obviously for more information.</p> + +<p>"His name's Bayard," Benny muttered.</p> + +<p>He rendered the impression that he regarded that specific information as +of no consequence, but he heard the catch of a sound in Lytton's throat +and saw him shift his footing nervously.</p> + +<p>"How long ago?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Too damn long to sit here like this!"—in anger that was not simulated, +for with every word that passed between them, Benny felt his reason +slipping, felt that if this situation continued long enough he must rise +with the chair bound fast to him and try to do harm to this other man.</p> + +<p>"Where'd he go?"</p> + +<p>Lytton bent low as he whispered excitedly and his gun hand hung loosely +at his side.</p> + +<p>Benny shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I dunno," he said. "He went off some'res, but he won't be gone long, +that's a good bet! He was up to somethin'—God knows what. Guess he +thought I'd spoil it."</p> + +<p>He looked up and saw the glitter of Lytton's eyes.</p> + +<p>"Up to something is he?" Lytton laughed, dryly, repeating Lynch's words. +"Up to something! He's always up to something. He's been up to something +for weeks, the wife stealing whelp ... and now if I know what I'm +talking about, he's up <i>against</i> something!"</p> + +<p>"Wife stealer, is he?" Benny laughed as he put that question and was +satisfied when he saw Ned's jaw muscles bulge. "That's his latest, is +it?"</p> + +<p>Lytton looked at him pointedly.</p> + +<p>"You know him pretty well, too?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Know him! Do I know him? Look at this!"—with a slight lift of his +bound hands. "That's how much I know him.... I seem to have a fair +enough acquaintance, don't I?</p> + +<p>"Say, <i>hombre</i>, you turn me loose an' set here an' I'll pack him in to +you ... on my back ... if you're lookin' for him that way!"</p> + +<p>Lytton looked quickly about; then stood still to listen; the silence was +not broken and he stared back at the bound man, a new interest in his +face, as he framed his hasty diplomacy.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean you've ... got a fight with this man? With Bayard?"</p> + +<p>Benny moved from side to side in his chair and forced a laugh.</p> + +<p>"Have I?" he scoffed. "Have I? You just wait until I get loose an' get +my fingers on <i>him</i>. You'll think it's a fight, party.... But I'm in a +fine way to do anythin' now!"</p> + +<p>He looked through the front doorway, out down the sharp draw that the +trail to the valley followed. Lytton stepped nearer to him and as he +spoke his voice became eager and rapid,</p> + +<p>"I've a quarrel with him, too!" The craven in him drove him forward to +this newly offered hope, the hope of finding an ally, some one to share +his burden of responsibility, some one he could hide behind, some one, +perhaps, who might be inveigled into doing his fighting for him. "I came +here to hunt him down. When I came down that hill there,"—gesturing—"I +thought he was in here because I heard your chair move on the floor. +When I jumped through that door and covered you, I expected he'd be here +and that I'd ... Well, that I'd square accounts with him for good....</p> + +<p>"I don't know what your fight with him is, but he's abused you; he's got +you hogtied now. That you've a fight of some sort with him is enough for +me.... Aren't two heads better than one?"—insinuatingly.</p> + +<p>The miner forced himself to meet that inquiring gaze steadily, but his +expression of delight, of triumph, which came into his face was not +forced, was not counterfeit, and he growled quickly:</p> + +<p>"I don't need any man's help in my fight ... when I got an even chance. +My troubles are my own an' I'll tend to 'em, but, if you want to do me a +favor, you'll cut these damn straps ... you'll give me a chance to +fight, man to man!"</p> + +<p>He did not lie with those words; his inference might have been deception +but that chance to fight man to man was the dearest privilege he could +have been offered.</p> + +<p>No primitive urge to punish with his own hands a man who had crossed him +made itself paramount with Lytton; he wanted Bayard to suffer, but the +means did not matter. If he could cause him injury and avoid the +consequence of personal accountability, so much the better, and it was +with a grunt of relief and triumph that he shoved the automatic into the +waist band of his pants, drew a knife from his pocket and grasped the +tightly knotted straps.</p> + +<p>"You bet, I'll help anybody against that dirty—</p> + +<p>"Sit still!" he broke off, as Benny, quivering with excitement, strained +forward. "I'm likely to cut you if—"</p> + +<p>The blade slashed through the leather. Lynch floundered to his feet, +free, alone in the room with the man he had deliberately planned to +kill, and the overwhelming sense of impending achievement swept all +caution from him.</p> + +<p>He stumbled a step or two forward after the suddenly parting of the +straps set him free and then turned about to face Lytton, who stood +beside the chair closing his knife. Behind the Easterner was the +cupboard on which Bayard had placed Benny's gun, and the miner's first +idea should have been to restrain himself, to keep on playing a +strategic game, to move carefully, deliberately until he was armed and +could safely show his hand.</p> + +<p>But such control was an impossibility. He faced Ned Lytton who stood +there with an evil smile on his lips, and all the love for his dead +father, all the outraged sense of property rights, all the brooding, the +waiting, the accumulated tension caused something in him to swell until +he felt a choking sensation, until the hate came into his face, until he +drew his clenched fists upward and shook his head and bellowed and +charged, madly, blindly, wanting only to have his hands on his enemy, to +take his life as the first men took the lives of those who had done them +wrong! The feel of perishing flesh in his palms ... that was what he +wanted!</p> + +<p>With a shrill cry of fright, Lytton saw what happened. He saw the change +come over the face, the body, the manner of this man before him, saw +Lynch gather himself for the rush and, whipping his hand down to his +stomach as he backed and tried to run, he clutched for the weapon that +would defend him from this new foe.</p> + +<p>But the hand did not close on the pistol butt then. His wrist was caught +in the clamp of incredibly powerful fingers that bound about it and +wrenched it backward; the other hand was pinned to his side by an +encircling arm and the breath was beaten from him as Lynch's impact +sent them crashing into the wall.</p> + +<p>"You will, will you?" Benny snarled thickly. "Cheat an' steal an' ... +lie."</p> + +<p>They strained so for a moment, faces close together, the eyes of the +miner glittering hate, those of Lytton reflecting the mounting fear, +that possessed him.</p> + +<p>"Who are you?" he screamed. "You ... you snake!"</p> + +<p>"I'm Lynch ... Lynch! Son of an old man you cheated an' killed!" Benny +shouted. "I've waited for years for this.... 'T was Bayard, th' man you +hunted, tied me up so I couldn't ... kill you. But you ... walked into +your own trap...."</p> + +<p>"You sna—"</p> + +<p>Lytton's word was cut off by the jerk the miner gave him, dragging him +to the center of the floor, bending him backward, struggling to hold him +with one hand and secure the pistol with the other. Ned screamed again +and drew his knee up with a vigorous snap, jamming it into Benny's +stomach, sending the breath moaning from him. For the following moment +Lytton held the upper hand but Lynch clung to him instinctively, +unthinkingly, wrapping his arms and legs about Ned's body with a +determination to save himself until he could beat down the sickness that +threatened to overwhelm him. He did hold on, but his grip had lost some +of its strength and, when his vision cleared and his mind became agile +again, he felt Lytton's hand between their bodies, knew that it had +fastened on the weapon it had been seeking. He rallied his every force +to overcome that handicap.</p> + +<p>Ned's gun hand came free and he flung himself sideways in an effort to +turn and yank himself from Lynch, but the miner closed on him, caught +the forearm again in a mighty clamp of fingers and swept him smashing +against the one window of the room. The glass went out with a crash and +a jingle and the tough, dry wood of the frame snapped with a succession +of sharp reports. Blood gushed down Lytton's cheek where a jagged pane +had scratched the flesh as it fell and Lynch was conscious that warm +moisture spread over his own upper left arm.</p> + +<p>The Easterner braced against the window sill and grunted and squirmed +until he forced his adversary back a body's breadth.... Then he kicked +sharply, viciously and his boot toe crunched on Lynch's shin, sending a +paralyzing pain through the limb. They swirled and staggered to the far +end of the room in their struggles, the one bent on holding the other's +body close to his to controvert its ceaseless efforts to worm away; and +above their heads was the gun, gripped by fingers that were in turn +clinched in a huge, calloused palm and rendered helpless.</p> + +<p>"You snake!" Lytton cried again, and flung his head up sharply, catching +Lynch under the chin with a sharp click of bone on bone.</p> + +<p>They poised an instant at that, lurched clumsily against the stove and +sent it toppling from its legs while the pipe sections rattled hollowly +down about them, and a cloud of soot rose to fill their eyes. They +lunged into the wall again and hung against it a long, straining moment, +breathless in their efforts; then, grunting as Lytton wriggled violently +to escape, Benny steadily tightened his hold on him.</p> + +<p>Intervals of dogged waiting followed, after which came frantic +contortions as they lost and gathered strength again. Lytton's face was +covered with blood and some of it smeared on Lynch's cheek. Sweat made +their flesh glisten and then became mud as the soot mantled them. +Occasionally one called out in a curse, or in an exclamation of pain, +but much of the time their jaws were set, their lips tight, for both +knew that this fight was to the end; that their battle could finish in +but one of two ways.</p> + +<p>Each time they faced the cupboard Benny shot a glance at its top. His +gun was there; to reach it was his first hope, but he dared not +relinquish for a fractional second his dogged grip on the other man's +hand.</p> + +<p>Lytton renewed his efforts, kicking and bunting. They waltzed awkwardly +across the floor on a diagonal and Benny, backing swiftly on to the +overturned chair to which he had been bound, tripped and lost his +balance again. They went down with mingled cries, Lytton on top. For an +instant he retained the position and threatened to break away, but Benny +rolled over, hooking the other's limbs to helplessness with his own. He +withdrew his right arm from about Lytton's waist and grappled for the +man's throat while Ned writhed and kicked, flung his head from side to +side and struck desperately with his own free fist against the +throttling fingers. He loosed one leg and threshed it frantically, found +a bearing point against the wrecked stove, bowed his body with a +wracking effort and for an instant was out from under, restrained only +by the hot, hard fingers about his gun hand. He strove to reach up and +transfer the pistol to his left, but Benny was the quicker and they rose +to their feet, scrambling and snarling as they sought fresh holds.</p> + +<p>Lynch had the advantage of weight but Lytton's agility offset the +handicap. His muscles might not be able to endure so long a strain, but +they responded more quickly to his thoughts, took lightninglike +advantage of any opportunity offered. The fact enraged Benny and, giving +way to it, he called on his precious reserve of energy for a super +effort, lifted Ned from his feet and spun about as though he would dash +his body against the wall. But Ned met this new move with the strength +of the frenzied, and, when they had made three-quarters of the turn, +Lynch was overbalanced; he stumbled, lurched and with a crash and a rip +they went against the battered old cupboard.</p> + +<p>The jolt steadied the men, but the big fixture, rocking slowly, went +over sideways with a smash of breaking dishes and a rattling, banging of +pans. And from its top, spinning and sliding across the cluttered floor, +went Benny's big blue Colt gun.</p> + +<p>Both men saw at once and on sight of that other weapon their battle +became reversed. Lynch, glassy eyed, struggled to extricate himself now, +to retain his hold on Lytton's hand that held the automatic, but to free +his other, to stoop and recover his own revolver. Ned understood fully +on the first move. He wrenched repeatedly to gain use of the automatic, +but he clung with arms and legs and teeth to Lynch ... wherever he could +find purchase. He succeeded at first in working the fight back into a +corner away from the revolver, but his strength was not lasting.</p> + +<p>Benny redoubled his efforts and slowly they shifted again toward the +center of the room where the reflected sunlight made the blue metal of +the Colt glisten as it lay in the wreckage. They both breathed aloud now +and Lytton moaned at each acute effort he made to meet and check his +enemy's moves. With painful slowness, with ominous steadiness, they made +back toward Lynch's objective, inch by inch, zigzagging across the +floor, hesitating, swaying backward, but always keeping on. The violence +of their earlier struggle had departed; they were more deliberate, more +cautious, but the equality of their ability had gone. Lytton was +yielding.</p> + +<p>Benny got to within four feet of the revolver, gained another hand's +breadth by a strain that set the veins of his forehead into purple +welts. He bent sideways, forcing Ned's right hand with its pistol slowly +down toward the floor. Then, with a slip and a scramble, Lytton left +off his restraining hold, flung himself backward, spun his body about +and with a cry of desperation put every iota of energy into an attempt +to wrest his right hand from Benny's clutch.</p> + +<p>Lynch let him go, but with a motive; for as he released his grip, he +swung his right fist mightily, following it with the whole weight of his +falling body. The blow caught Lytton on the back of the neck, staggered +him, sent him pitching sideways toward the doorway and as Lynch, +pouncing to the floor on hands and knees, fastened his fingers on his +gun, Ned flashed a look over his shoulder, saw, knew that he could never +turn and fire in time, and plunged on through the doorway, falling face +downward into the dust, rolling over and fronting about ... out of the +miner's sight ... pistol covering the door and broken window where Benny +must appear ... if he were to appear.</p> + +<p>And the miner, within the ruined room, knees bent, torso doubled +forward, gun in his hand, cocked, uplifted, waited for some sound, some +indication from out there. None came and he straightened slowly, backing +against the wall, wiping the sweat from his eyes one at a time that his +vigilance might not be relaxed, gun ready to belch the instant Lytton +should show himself ... if he were to show himself.</p> + +<p>So they watched, hidden from one another, each knowing that his enemy +waited only for him to make a move, each aware that he could not bring +the other into range without exposing himself. After the bang and +clatter of their hand to hand struggle, the silence was oppressive, and +Benny, head turned to catch the slightest sound, thought that he could +hear the quick come and go of Lytton's breath.</p> + +<p>The man inside quivered with impatience; the one who waited in that +white sunlight cowered and paled as the flush of exertion ebbed from his +daubed face. Benny, whose whole purpose in life centered about squaring +his account, as he saw it, with the man outside yearned to show himself, +but held back, not through fear of harm, but because he knew that the +fulfillment of his mission depended wholly upon his own bodily welfare. +Lytton, quailing before the actual presence of great danger, of meeting +a foe on equal footing, of fighting without resort to surprise or +fouling, wanted to be away, to be quit of the place at any cost. He +would have run for it, but he knew that the sounds of his movements +would bring Lynch on his heels. He would have attempted to get away by +stealth but he feared that he might encounter Bayard in any direction. +He did not stop to think that he had no reason for fearing the cowman; +his very guilt, his subconscious disrespect of self, made him regard an +open meeting with Bruce as one of danger.</p> + +<p>So for many minutes, the tension of the situation becoming greater, more +unbearable with each pulse beat.</p> + +<p>Then sounds—faint at first. The rattle of a stone rolling over rock, +the distant swish of brush. A silent interval, followed by the sound of +a gasping cough; then, the faint, clear ring of a spur as the boot to +which it was strapped set itself firmly on solid footing.</p> + +<p>Within the house Lynch could not hear, but Lytton, alert to every +possibility, dreading even the sound of his own breathing, turned his +head sharply....</p> + +<p>There, below, making up the trail as fast as his exhausted limbs could +carry him, came Bruce Bayard, hat in one hand, arms swinging widely as +he strained to climb faster. He turned an angle of the trail and for the +space of thirty yards the way led across a ledge of smooth, flat rock, +screened by no trees and bearing no vegetation whatever.</p> + +<p>Fear again retreated from Lytton's heart before a fresh rush of wrath +that blinded him and made him heedless. He whirled, leaving off his +watching of the cabin door and window. His gun hand came up, slowly, +carefully, while he gritted his teeth to steady his muscles. He sighted +with care, bringing all his knowledge of marksmanship to bear that there +should be no error, that no possible luck of Bayard's should avail him +anything....</p> + +<p>And from above and behind the cabin rose a woman's voice:</p> + +<p>"Look out, Bruce!"</p> + +<p>Just those words, but the bell-like quality of the voice itself, the +horror in its shrill tone carrying sharply to them, echoing and +re-echoing down the gulch, struck a chill to the hearts of three men.</p> + +<p>The words had not left Ann's lips before the automatic in Ned's hand +leaped and flashed and the echo of the woman's warning cry was followed +by the smashing reverberations of the shot. But her scream had availed; +it had sent a tremor through Lytton's body even as he fired, and, as +Bayard halted abruptly in the center of the open space without barrier +before him or weapon with which to answer, absolutely at Lytton's mercy, +his hat was torn from his left hand.</p> + +<p>"You whelp!" Ned cried, and on the word took one more step forward, +halted, dropped the weapon on its mark again and paused for the merest +fraction of time. His muscles became plastic, as steady as stone under +the strain of this crisis. He did not hear the quick step on the kitchen +floor, he could not see Benny Lynch half fall through the doorway, but +when the miner's gun, held stiffly out from his hip, roared and belched +and remained steady, ready to shoot again, Ned lowered the weapon just a +trifle.</p> + +<p>A queer, strained grin came over his face and, standing erect, he turned +his head stiffly, jerkily toward Benny who stood crouched and waiting. +Then, very slowly, almost languidly, his gun hand lowered itself. When +it was almost beside his thigh, the fingers opened and the pistol +dropped with a light thud to the earth. Ned lifted the other hand to his +chest and still grinning, as if a joke had been made at his expense +which quite embarrassed him, he let his knees bend as though he would +kneel. He did not follow out the movement. He wilted and fell. He tried +to sit up, feebly, impotently. Then, he lay back with a quick sigh.</p> + +<p>The other two men stood fixed for a moment. Then, with a cry, Bayard +started up the slope at a run. He did not look again at Benny, did not +know that the miner walked slowly forward to where Lytton had fallen. +All he saw was the figure of a hatless woman, face covered with her +hands, leaning against a great boulder twenty yards above the cabin, and +he did not take his eyes from her during one step of the floundering +run.</p> + +<p>"Ann!" he called, as he drew near. "Ann!"</p> + +<p>She turned with a quick, terrified movement and looked at him. He saw +that her face was a mask, her eyes feverishly dry.</p> + +<p>"He didn't—"</p> + +<p>"No, Ann, he didn't," he answered, taking her hands in his, his voice +unsteady. "Benny ... he fired last ... an' there'll be no more +shootin'...."</p> + +<p>She swayed toward him.</p> + +<p>"I sent for you," she began, brushing the hair out of her eyes with the +back of one hand.</p> + +<p>"An' I came, Ann."</p> + +<p>"I ... It was only chance ... that I saw him and ... screamed...."</p> + +<p>"But you did; an' it saved me."</p> + +<p>"I sent for you, Bruce.... To take me away ... from Ned.... To take me +away from him ... with you...."</p> + +<p>She stepped closer and with a quivering sigh lifted her arms wearily and +clasped them about his neck, while Bayard, heart pounding, gathered her +body close against his as the tears came and great convulsions of grief +shook her.</p> + +<p>He leaned back against the rock, holding her entire weight in his arms, +and they were there for minutes, his lips caressing her hair, her +temples, her cheeks. Her crying quieted, and, when she no longer sobbed +aloud, he turned his head to look downward.</p> + +<p>Benny Lynch was just then straightening from a stooping posture beside +Lytton. He turned away, took a cartridge from his belt, slipped it into +the chamber from which the empty piece of smoky brass had been removed +and shoved the gun back into his holster. As it went home, he looked +down at it curiously, stared a moment, drew it out again and examined it +slowly, first one side, then the other. He shook his head and threw the +weapon down the gulch, where it clattered on the rocks. After that, he +walked toward the house, and about his movements was an indication of +the sense of finality, of accomplishment, that filled him.</p> + +<p>"I'll take you away, Sweetheart," Bayard whispered, gently. "But it +won't be necessary to take you ... away from Ned...."</p> + +<p>She shrank closer against him.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h3>THE TRAILS UNITE</h3> + + +<p>So it was that Ned Lytton ceased to be and with his going went all +barriers that had existed between Ann and Bruce. Each had played a part +in the grim drama which ended with violence, yet to neither could any +echo of blame for Ned's death be attached. Their hands and hearts were +clean.</p> + +<p>Ann's appeal to Bruce for help when Ned led her away from the ranch had +been made because she knew that real danger of some sort awaited Ned at +the Sunset mine; she had not considered herself or her own safety at +all.</p> + +<p>Bruce, for his part, had concentrated his last energy on averting the +tragedy. He had looked for the moment on his love of Ann only as a +factor which had helped bring about the crisis, thereby making him +accountable. To play the game as he saw it, to be squared with his own +conscience, he had risked everything, even his life, in his attempt to +save Lytton.</p> + +<p>Ned's true self had come to the surface just long enough to answer all +questions that might have been raised after his death. In that last +experience of his life he had risen above his cowardice. After hearing +Ann's warning scream, he must have known that to fire on Bayard the +second time meant his own death. Yet he was not dissuaded, just kept on +attempting to satiate his lust for the rancher's life. So, utterly +revealed, he died.</p> + +<p>The fourth individual was to be considered—Benny Lynch. Through the +months that he had brooded over the injustice which sent his father to a +quick end, through the weeks that he had planned to administer his own +justice, through the straining days that he had waited to kill, a part +of him had been stifled. That part was the kindly, deliberate, peace +loving Benny, and so surely as he was slow to anger he would have lived +to find himself tortured by regret had he slain for revenge. As it was, +he shot to save the life of a friend ... and only that. He lived to +thank the scheme of things that had called on him to untangle the skein +which events had snarled about Bruce and the woman he loved ... for it +took from him the stain of killing for revenge.</p> + +<p>Somehow, Bruce got Ann away from the Sunset mine that day. She was brave +and struggled to bear up, but after the strain of those last weeks the +fatigue of the ride Ned had forced her to take unnerved her and she was +like a child when they gained the Boyd ranch where she was taken to the +maternal arms of the mistress of that house, to be petted and cried over +and comforted.</p> + +<p>In his rattling, jingling buckboard Judson Weyl drove out to the mining +camp and beside a rock-covered grave murmured a prayer for the soul +which had gone out from the body buried there; when he drove away, his +chin was higher, his face brighter, reflecting the thought within him +that an ugly past must be forgotten, that the future assured those +qualities which would make it forgettable.</p> + +<p>News of the killing roused Yavapai. In the first hour the community's +attention was wholly absorbed in the actual affair at the mine, but, as +the story lost its first edge of interest, inquisitive minds commenced +to follow it backward, to trace out the steps which had led to the +tragedy.</p> + +<p>Ann's true identity became known. The fact that Bayard had sheltered +Lytton was revealed. After that the gossip mongers insinuated and +speculated. No one had known what was going on; when men hide their +relationships with others and with women it must be necessary to hide +something, they argued.</p> + +<p>And then the clergyman, waiting for this, came forward with his story. +He had known; his wife had known. Nora, the girl who had gone, had +known. No, there had been no deception in Bayard's attitude; merely +discretion. With that the talk ceased, for Yavapai looked up to its +clergy.</p> + +<p>Within the fortnight Ann boarded a train bound for the East. Her face +had not regained its color, but the haunted look was gone from her eyes, +the tensity from about her lips. She was in a state of mental and +spiritual convalescence, with hope and happiness in sight to hasten the +process of healing. Going East for the purpose of explaining, of making +what amends she could for Ned's misdeeds, was an ordeal, but she +welcomed it for it was the last condition she deemed necessary to set +her free.</p> + +<p>"It won't be long," she said, assuringly, when Bruce stood before her to +say farewell, forlorn and lonely looking already.</p> + +<p>"It can't be too quick," he answered.</p> + +<p>"Impatient?"</p> + +<p>"I'd wait till 'th' stars grow old an' th' sun grows cold'" he quoted +with his slow smile, "but ... it wouldn't be a pleasant occupation."</p> + +<p>She looked at him earnestly.</p> + +<p>"You might; you could," she whispered, "but <i>I</i> wouldn't wait ... that +long...."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Weeks had passed and October was offering its last glorious days. Not +with madly colored leaves and lazy hazes of Indian summer that are gifts +to men in the hardwood belt, but with the golden light, the infinite +distances, the super silence which comes alone to Northern Arizona. The +green was gone from grasses and those trees which drop their foliage +were clothed only in the withered remains of leaves, but color of +incredible variety was there—the mauves, the lavendars, the blues and +purples and ochres of rock and soil, changing with the swinging sun, +becoming bold and vivid or only a tint and modest as the light rays +played across the valley from various angles. The air, made crystal by +the crisp nights, brought within the eyes' register ranges and peaks +that were of astonishing distance. The wind was most gentle, coming in +leisurely breaths and between its sighs the silence was immaculate, +ravished by no jar or hum; even the birds were subdued before it.</p> + +<p>On a typical October morning, before the sun had shoved itself above the +eastern reaches of the valley, two men awoke in the new bunkhouse that +had been erected at the Circle A ranch. They were in opposite beds, and, +as they lifted their heads and stared hard at one another with that +momentary bewilderment which follows the sleep of virile, active men, +the shorter flung back his blankets and swung his feet to the floor. He +rubbed his tousled hair and yawned and stretched.</p> + +<p>"Awake!" he said, sleepily, and shook himself, "... +awake,"—brightening. "Awake, for 'tis thy weddin' morn!"</p> + +<p>The speaker was Tommy Clary and on his words Bruce Bayard grinned +happily from his pillow.</p> + +<p>"... weddin' morn ..." he murmured, as he sat up and reached for his +boots at the head of his bunk.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you wake up this mornin', frisky an' young an' full of th' love of +life an' liberty, just like them pictures of th' New Year comin' in! An' +by sundown you'll be roped an' tied for-good-an'-for-all-by-God, an' t' +won't be long before you look like th' old year goin' out!"</p> + +<p>He grinned, as he drew on his shirt, then dodged, as Bayard's heavy hat +sailed at him.</p> + +<p>"It's goin' to be th' other way round, Tommy," the big fellow cried. +"We're going to turn time backward to-day!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I guess <i>you</i> are, all right," deliberated Tommy. "Marriage has +always seemed to me like payin' taxes for somethin' you owned or goin' +to jail for havin' too much fun; always like payin' for somethin'. But +yourn ain't. Not much."</p> + +<p>Bruce laughed. They talked in a desultory way until they had dressed. +Then Bayard walked to the other side of the room where a sheet had been +tacked and hung down over bulky objects. He pulled it aside and stood +back that Tommy might see the clothing that hung against the wall.</p> + +<p>"How's that for raiment?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>Tommy approached and lifted the skirt of the black sack coat gingerly, +critically. He turned it back, inspected the lining and then put his +hand to his lips to signify shock.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my gosh, Bruce! Silk linin'! You'll be curlin' your hair next!"</p> + +<p>"Nothing too good for this fracus, Tommy. Best suit of clothes I could +get made in Prescott. Those shoes—patent leather!" He picked up one and +blew a fleck of dust from it carefully. "Cost th' price of a pair of +boots an' don't look like they'd wear a mile." He reached into the +pocket of the coat and drew out a small package, unrolling it to +display a necktie. "Pearl gray, they call it, Tommy. An' swell as a city +bartender's!" He waved it in triumph before the sparkling eyes of his +pug-nosed friend.</p> + +<p>"Gosh, Bruce, you're goin' to be done out like a buck peacock, clean +from your toes up. You—</p> + +<p>"Say, what are you goin' to wear on your head?"</p> + +<p>Bayard's hand dropped to his side and a crestfallen look crossed his +features.</p> + +<p>"I'm a sheepherder, if I didn't forget," he muttered.</p> + +<p>"Holy Smoke, Bruce, you can't wear an ordinary cowpuncher hat with them +varnished shoes an' that there necktie an' that dude suit!"</p> + +<p>"I guess I'll have to, or go bareheaded."</p> + +<p>Tommy looked at him earnestly for he thought that this oversight +mattered, and his simple, loyal heart was touched.</p> + +<p>"Never mind, Bruce," he consoled. "It'll be all right, prob'ly. She +won't—"</p> + +<p>"You go out and make me a crown of mistletoe, Tommy. Why, she wouldn't +like me not to be somethin' of my regular, everyday self. She'll like +these clothes, but she'll like my old hat, too!"</p> + +<p>Tommy seemed to be relieved.</p> + +<p>"Yes, maybe she will," he agreed. "She's kinda sensible, Bruce. She +ain't th' kind of a woman to jump her weddin' 'cause of a hat."</p> + +<p>Bayard, in a sudden ecstasy of animal spirits, picked the small cowboy +up in his arms and tossed him toward the ceiling, as if he were a child, +and stopped only when Tommy wound his arms about his neck in a +strangling clasp.</p> + +<p>"Le'me down, an' le'me show you my outfit!" he cried. "Don't get stuck +on yourself an' think you're goin' to be th' only city feller at this +party!"</p> + +<p>Breathlessly Bayard laughed as he put him down and followed him to the +bunk where he had slept with his war-bag for a pillow. Tommy seated +himself, lifted the sack to his lap and, with fingers to his lips for +silence, untied the strings.</p> + +<p>"Levi's!" he whispered, hoarsely, as he drew out a pair of brand new +overalls and shook them out proudly. "I ain't a reg'lar swell like you +are," he exclaimed, "but even if I am poor I wear clean pants at +weddin's!"</p> + +<p>He groped in the bag again and drew out a scarf of gorgeous pink silk.</p> + +<p>"Ain't that a eligent piece of goods?" he demanded, holding it out in +the early sunlight.</p> + +<p>"It is that, Tommy!"</p> + +<p>"But that ain't all. Hist!"</p> + +<p>He shifted about, hiding the bag behind his body that the surprise might +be complete. Then, with a swift movement he held aloft proudly a +stiff-bosomed shirt.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" he breathed as it was revealed entirely. "How's that for tony?"</p> + +<p>"That's great!"</p> + +<p>"Reg'lar armor plate, Bruce! I've gentled th' damn thing, too! Worked +with him 'n hour yesterday. He bucked an' rared an' tried to fall over +backwards with me, but I showed him reason after a while! Just proves +that if a man sets his mind on anythin' he can do it ... even if it's +bein' swell!"</p> + +<p>Bruce laughed his assent and remarked to himself that the array of +smudgy thumb prints about the collar band was eloquent evidence of the +struggle poor Tommy had experienced.</p> + +<p>"But this!" the other breathed, plunging again into the bag. "This here +is—"</p> + +<p>He broke short. "Why, you pore son-of-a-gun!" he whispered as he +produced his collar.</p> + +<p>Originally it had been a three-inch poke collar, but it was bent and +broken and smeared on one side with a broad patch of dirty brown.</p> + +<p>"Gosh a'mighty, Tommy, you've gone an' crippled your collar!" Bruce said +in rebuke.</p> + +<p>"Crippled is right, an' that ain't all! Kind of a sick lookin' pinto, he +is, with that bay spot on him." He looked up foolishly. "I ought to put +that plug in my pocket. You see, I rode out fast, an' this collar an' my +eatin' tobacco was in th' bottom of th' bag tied on behind my saddle. +Nig sweat an' it soaked through an' wet th' tobacco an' ... desecrated +my damn collar!"</p> + +<p>He rose resolutely.</p> + +<p>"A li'l thing like that can't make me quit!" he cried. "I rode this here +thing with its team-mate yesterday. I won't be stampeded by no change +in color. I've done my family wash in every stream between th' Spanish +Peaks an' California. I won't stop at this!"</p> + +<p>He strode from the bunk house and Bruce, looking through the window, saw +him lift a bucket of water from the well and commence to scrub his +daubed collar vigorously.</p> + +<p>Smoke rose from the chimney of the ranch house and through the kitchen +doorway Bayard saw a woman pass with quick, intent stride. It was Mrs. +Boyd. She and Mrs. Weyl had arrived the day before to set the house +aright and to deck the rooms in mountain greenery—mistletoe, juniper +berries and other decorative growth.</p> + +<p>The new bunkhouse, erected when plans for the wedding were first made, +had been occupied for the first time by Bruce and Tommy that night. +Tommy was to return in the spring and put his war-bag under the bunk for +good, because Bruce was going in for more cattle and would be unable to +handle the work alone.</p> + +<p>A half hour later the men presented themselves for breakfast, to be +utterly ignored by the bustling women. They were given coffee and steak +and made to sit on the kitchen steps while they ate, that they might not +be in the way. Bruce was amused and rebuked the women gently for the +seriousness with which they went about their work, but for Tommy the +whole procedure was a grave matter. He ate distractedly, hurriedly, +covering his embarrassment by astonishing gastronomic feats, glancing +sidelong at Bayard whenever the rancher spoke to the others, as though +those scarcely heeded remarks were something which made heavy demands +upon human courage.</p> + +<p>The interior of the house had been changed greatly. The kitchen range +was new, the walls were papered instead of covered with whitewash. The +room in which Ned Lytton had slept and fretted and come back toward +health was no longer a bed chamber. Its windows had been increased to +four that the light might be of the best. Its floor was painted and +carpeted with new Navajo blankets and a bear skin. A piano stood against +one wall and on either side of the new fireplace were shelves weighted +with books that were to be opened and read and discussed by the light of +the new reading lamp which stood on the heavy library table.</p> + +<p>Tommy was obviously relieved when his meal was finished. He drew a long +sigh when, wiping his mouth on a jumper sleeve, he stepped from the +house and followed Bruce toward the corral where the saddle horses ate +hay.</p> + +<p>"It's a wonder you ain't ruined that horse, th' way you baby him," Clary +remarked, when Bayard, brush in hand, commenced grooming Abe's sleek +coat. "Now, with my Nig horse there, I figure that if he's full inside, +he's had his share. I'm afraid that if I brushed him every day he'd get +dudish an' unreliable, like me.... I'm ready to do a lot of rarin' an' +runnin' every time I get good an' clean!"</p> + +<p>"I guess th' care Abe's had hasn't hurt him much," Bruce replied. "He +was ready when the pinch came; th' groomin' I'd been givin' him didn't +have much to do with it, I know, but th' fact that we were pals ... that +counted."</p> + +<p>His companion sobered and answered.</p> + +<p>"You're right, there, Bruce, he sure done some tall travelin' that day."</p> + +<p>"If he hadn't been ready ... we wouldn't be plannin' a weddin' this +noon. That's how much it counted!"</p> + +<p>Tommy moved closer and twined his fingers in the sorrel's mane. Neither +spoke for a moment; then Clary blurted:</p> + +<p>"She's got th' same kind of stuff, Bruce, or she wouldn't come through +neither. Abe made th' run of his life and wasn't hurt by it; she went +through about four sections of hell an'.... She looked like a Texas rose +when she got off th' train last week!"</p> + +<p>Bayard rapped the dust from his brush and answered:</p> + +<p>"You're right; they're alike, Tommy. It takes heart, courage, to go +through things that Ann an' Abe went through ... different kinds. It +wasn't so much what happened at th' mine. It was th' years she'd put in, +abused, fearin', tryin' not to hate. That was what took th' sand, th' +nerve. If she hadn't been th' right sort, she'd have crumpled up under +it."</p> + +<p>Clary said nothing for a time but eyed Bruce carefully, undisguised +affection in his scrutiny. Then he spoke,</p> + +<p>"My guess is that you two'll set a new pace on this here trail to +happiness!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The forenoon dragged. Bruce completed the small tasks of morning and +hunted for more duties to occupy his hands. The women would not allow +him in the house, and beneath his controlled exterior he was in a fury +of impatience. From time to time he glanced speculatively at the sun; +then referred to his watch to affirm his judgment of the day's growth.</p> + +<p>Ann was still at the Boyd ranch and old Hi was to drive her to her new +home before noon. Judson Weyl, who was to marry them, had been called +away the day before but had given his word that he would leave Yavapai +in time to reach the ranch with an ample margin, for Bruce insisted that +there be no hitch in the plans. Long before either was due the big +rancher frequently scanned the country to the north and east for signs +of travelers.</p> + +<p>"You're about as contented as a hen with a lost chicken," Tommy +observed.</p> + +<p>Bruce smiled slightly and scratched his chin.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'd hate to have anything delay this round-up."</p> + +<p>Another hour dragged out before his repeated gazing was rewarded. Then, +off in the east, a smudge of dust resolved itself into a team and wagon.</p> + +<p>"That's Hi with Ann!" he said excitedly. "Our sky pilot ought to be here +soon."</p> + +<p>"Lots of time yet," Tommy assured. "He won't be leavin' town for a +couple of hours."</p> + +<p>"Maybe not, Tommy, but I don't trust that chariot of fire. I'm afraid +it'll give its death rattle almost any time, dump our parson in th' road +an' stop our weddin'. That'd be bad!"</p> + +<p>Tommy roused to the dire possibilities of the situation.</p> + +<p>"It would," he agreed. "It takes a preacher, a fool or a brave man to +trust himself in a ve-hicle like that. He ought to come horseback. He—</p> + +<p>"Say, Bruce, why can't I saddle up an' lead a horse in after him? I can +make it easy. That'd keep you from worryin'. Matter of fact, between th' +women in th' house an' you with your fussin' outdoors I'm afraid my +nerves won't stand it all! I've been through stampedes on th' Pecos, an' +blizzards in Nebraska; I've been lost in Death Valley an' I've had a +silver tip try to box my ears, but I just naturally can't break myself +to p'lite society!"</p> + +<p>"I don't believe you, but your idea wins," Bayard laughed. "Go on after +him. Take ... Say, you take Abe for him to ride back! That's th' thing +to do. You put th' parson on Abe an' we'll be as certain to start this +fracas on time as I am that his 'bus is apt to secede from itself on th' +road any minute!"</p> + +<p>Bruce sent Abe away with Tommy. Ann arrived. Twenty minutes before the +time set for the simple ceremony Abe brought the clergyman through the +big gate of the Circle A with his swinging trot, ears up, head alert, as +though with conscious pride.</p> + +<p>"The fact is, Bruce, I'd have been late, if Tommy hadn't come after me," +Weyl confessed as he dismounted.</p> + +<p>"So? I've been expectin' somethin' would happen to you. What was it?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Nicodemus, my off horse, kicked four spokes out of a front wheel +and, when we were putting on another, we found that the axle was +hopelessly cracked."</p> + +<p>"I knew that chariot would quit sometime, but this horse, th' stallion +shod with fire ... he don't know what quittin' is!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The sun was slipping toward the western horizon when the last of the few +who had attended the ceremony passed from sight. For a long time Bruce +and Ann stood under the ash tree, watching them depart, hearing the last +sounds of wheel and hoof and voice break in on the evening quiet.</p> + +<p>The girl was wonderfully happy. The strained look about her eyes, the +quick, nervous gestures that had characterized her after the tragedy of +Ned Lytton's death and before her return to the East, were gone. A +splendid look of peace was upon her; one life was gone, thrown away as a +piece of botched work; another was opening.</p> + +<p>Far away to the north and eastward snow-covered peaks, triplets, rose +against the bright blue of the sky. As Bruce and Ann looked they lost +the silver whiteness and became flushed with the pink of dying day. The +distant, pine-covered heights had become blue, the far draws were +gathering their purple mists of evening. The lilac of the valley's +coloring grew fainter, more delicate, while the deep mauves of a range +of hills to the southward deepened towards a dead brown. Over all, that +incomparable silence, the inexplicable peace that comes with evening in +those big places. No need to dwell further on this for you who have +watched and felt and become lost in it; useless to attempt more for the +uninitiate.</p> + +<p>Ann's arm slipped into her husband's and she whispered:</p> + +<p>"Evening on Manzanita! Is there anything more beautiful?"</p> + +<p>Bayard smiled.</p> + +<p>"Not unless it's daytime," he said. "You know, Ann, for a long, long +time it's seemed to me as though there's been a shadow on that valley. +Even on the brightest days it ain't looked like it should. But now.... +Why, even with the sun goin' down, it seems to me as if that shadow's +lifted!</p> + +<p>"I feel freer, too. This fenced-in feelin' that I've had is gone. I ... +Why, I feel like life, the world, was all open to me, smilin' at me, +waitin' for me, just like that old valley out there.</p> + +<p>"What do you s'pose makes it so?"</p> + +<p>"Must I tell you?" she asked, reaching her arms upward for his neck.</p> + +<p>"Tell me," he said. "With your lips, but without words. That's a kind of +riddle, I guess! Do you know the answer?"</p> + +<p>Indeed, she did!</p> + + +<h3>THE END</h3> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3>The Beacon Biographies</h3> + +<h3><i>Edited by M. A. DeWOLFE HOWE</i></h3> + + +<p>A Series of short biographies of eminent Americans, the aim of which is +to furnish brief, readable, and authentic accounts by competent writers +of the lives of those Americans whose personalities have impressed +themselves most deeply on the character and history of their country.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Louis Agassiz</span>, by Alice Bache Gould<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">John James Audubon</span>, by John Burroughs<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Edwin Booth</span>, by Charles Townsend Copeland<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Phillips Brooks</span>, by M. A. DeWolfe Howe<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">John Brown</span>, by Joseph Edgar Chamberlin<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Aaron Burr</span>, by Henry Childs Merwin<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">James Fenimore Cooper</span>, by W. B. Shubrick Clymer<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Stephen Decatur</span>, by Cyrus Townsend Brady<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Frederick Douglass</span>, by Charles W. Chesnutt<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ralph Waldo Emerson</span>, by Frank B. Sanborn<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">David G. Farragut</span>, by James Barnes<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">John Fiske</span>, by Thomas Sergeant Perry<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Benjamin Franklin</span>, by Lindsay Swift<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ulysses S. Grant</span>, by Owen Wister<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Alexander Hamilton</span>, by James Schouler<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">James Russell Lowell</span>, by Edward E. Hale, Jr.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Samuel Finley Breese Morse</span> By John Trowbridge<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Thomas Paine</span>, by Ellery Sedgwick<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Edgar Allan Poe</span>, by John Macy<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">George Washington</span>, by Worthington C. Ford<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Daniel Webster</span>, by Norman Hapgood<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Walt Whitman</span>, by Isaac Hull Platt<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">John Greenleaf Whittier</span>, by Richard Burton<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Nathaniel Hawthorne</span>, by Mrs. James T. Fields<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father Hecker</span>, by Henry D. Sedgwick, Jr.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Sam Houston</span>, by Sarah Barnwell Elliott<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Stonewall Jackson</span>, by Carl Hovey<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Thomas Jefferson</span>, by Thomas E. Watson<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Robert E. Lee</span>, by William P. Trent<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Abraham Lincoln</span>, by Brand Whitlock<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</span> By George Rice Carpenter<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>With a photogravure frontispiece. Each volume has a chronology of the +salient features of the life of its subject, and a critical bibliography +giving the student the best references for further research. Sold +separately.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3>Business</h3> + +<h3>The Psychology of Advertising</h3> + +<h3>The Theory and Practice of Advertising</h3> + +<h3>By WALTER DILL SCOTT</h3> + + +<p>Practical books based on facts, painstakingly ascertained and +suggestively compared. "The Psychology of Advertising" and "The Theory +and Practice of Advertising" together form a well-rounded treatment of +the whole subject, a standard set for every man with anything to make +known to the public. The author is Director of the Bureau of +Salesmanship Research, Carnegie Institute of Technology, Director of the +psychological laboratory of Northwestern University, and President of +the National Association of Advertising Teachers. He has written many +other important books, including "The Psychology of Public Speaking," +"Influencing Men in Business," and "Increasing Human Efficiency in +Business."</p> + +<p>Professor Scott's books "will be found of value both by the psychologist +and the advertiser, and of unique interest to the general public that +reads advertisements."—<i>Forum</i>.</p> + +<p>"Ought to be in the hands of everyone who cares whether or not his +advertising brings returns."—<i>Bankers' Magazine.</i></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3>Cookery</h3> + +<h3>Over 2000 Recipes Completely Indexed Illustrated</h3> + +<h3>OFFICIAL LECTURER United States Food Administration</h3> + + +<p><i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Literary Digest</span> <i>says</i>:</p> + +<p>Of all the books that have been published which treat of the culinary +art, few have came so near to presenting a complete survey of the +subject as Mrs. Allen's. If evidence were needed to prove that cookery +is so much of a practical art as to have become a noble science, Mrs. +Allen has supplied it. There are more than two thousand recipes in this +book! No reader need be an epicure to enjoy the practical information +that is garnered here. The burden of the author's message is, "Let every +mother realize that she holds in her hands the health of the family and +the welfare and the progress of her husband ... and she will lay a +foundation ... that will make possible glorious home partnership and +splendid health for the generations that are to be."</p> + +<p>In times of Hooverized economy, such a volume will find a welcome, +because the author strips from her subject all the camouflage with which +scientists and pseudoscientists have invested in. The mystery of the +calory, that causes the average housewife to throw up her hands, is +tersely solved. The tyro may learn how to prepare the simplest dish or +the most elaborate. The woman who wants to know what to do and how to do +it will find the book a master-key to the subject of which it treats.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3>Drama</h3> + +<h3>Play-Making</h3> + +<h3>A Manual of Craftsmanship</h3> + +<h3>By WILLIAM ARCHER</h3> + + +<p>"I make bold to say," says Brander Matthews, Professor of Dramatic +Literature in Columbia University, "that Mr. Archer's is the best book +that has yet been written in our language, or in any other, on the art +and science of play-making. A score of serried tomes on this scheme +stand side by side on my shelves, French and German, American and +British; and in no one of them do I discern the clearness, the +comprehensiveness, the insight, and the understanding that I find in Mr. +Archer's illuminating pages.</p> + +<p>"He tells the ardent aspirant how to choose his themes; how to master +the difficult art of exposition—that is, how to make his first act +clear; how to arouse curiosity for what is to follow; how to hang up the +interrogation mark of expectancy; how to combine, as he goes on, tension +and suspension; how to preserve probability and to achieve logic for +construction; how to attain climax and to avoid anti-climax; and how to +bring his play to a close."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3>Educational</h3> + +<h3>The Land We Live In</h3> + +<h3><i>The Book of Conservation</i></h3> + +<h3>By OVERTON W. PRICE</h3> + +<h3><i>With an Introduction by</i></h3> + +<h3>GIFFORD PINCHOT</h3> + + +<p>"This book will have a very wide distribution, not only in libraries, +but also in the schools."</p> +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Robert P. Bass</span></p> + +<p class="right">(Former Governor of New Hampshire,<br /> and President of the American +Forestry Association)</p> + +<p>"It is the best primer on general conservation for older people that I +have ever seen, and the good it will do will be measured only by the +circulation it receives."</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">J. B. White</span></p> + +<p class="right">(President of the National Conservation Congress)</p> + +<p>"I wish it were possible to have the volume made a text book for every +public school."</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">William Edward Coffin</span></p> + +<p class="right">(Vice-President and Chairman of the Committee on<br /> Game Protective +Legislation and Preserves,<br /> Camp Fire Club of America)</p> + +<p><i>With 136 illustrations selected from 50,000 photographs</i></p> + +<h3>BOY SCOUT EDITION—JACKET IN COLORS</h3> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3>Fiction</h3> + +<h3>The Best Short Stories of 1915, 1916, 1917</h3> + +<h3>Edited by EDWARD J. O'BRIEN</h3> + +<p>From every point of view—from that of the actual probabilities of +reading enjoyment to be derived from it by all sorts of readers; from +that of the vivid and varied, but always valid, concernment with life +that it maintains; from that of technical literary interest in American +letters, and from that of sheer esthetic response to artistic +quality—THE BEST SHORT STORIES warrants an emphatic and unconditional +recommendation to all.—<i>Life.</i></p> + +<p>Indispensable to every student of American fiction, and will furnish +each successive year a critical and historical survey of the art such as +does not exist in any other form.—<i>Boston Transcript.</i></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3>War</h3> + +<h3>Beyond the Marne</h3> + +<h3>By HENRIETTE CUVRU-MAGOT</h3> + +<p>Mademoiselle Henriette is the little friend and neighbor of Miss Mildred +Aldrich (author of "A Hilltop on the Marne," "On the Edge of the War +Zone," etc.), who came to Miss Aldrich the day after the Germans were +driven away on the other side of the Marne to suggest that they visit +the battlefield. Her book might be called truly a companion volume to "A +Hilltop on the Marne."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3>War</h3> + +<h3>Covered With Mud and Glory</h3> + +<h3><i>A Machine Gun Company in Action</i></h3> + +<h3>By GEORGES LAFOND</h3> + +<p>Sergeant-Major, Territorial Hussars, French Army; Intelligence Officer, +Machine Gun Sections, French Colonial Infantry.</p> + +<h3><i>Translated by</i> EDWIN GILE RICH</h3> + +<h3><i>With an Introduction by</i> MAURICE BARRÈS of the French Academy</h3> + +<p>The Book with GEORGES CLEMENCEAU'S Famous "Tribute to the Soldiers of +France"</p> + + +<p><i>Illustrated</i></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3>War</h3> + +<h3>On the Edge of the War Zone</h3> + +<h3>From the Battle of the Marne to the Entrance of the Stars and Stripes</h3> + +<h3>By MILDRED ALDRICH</h3> + + +<p>The long-awaited continuation of "A Hilltop on the Marne."</p> + +<p>Portrait frontispiece in photogravure and other illustrations. Cloth, +bound uniformly with the same author's "A Hilltop on the Marne" and +"Told in a French Garden."</p> + +<p>Miss Aldrich tells what has happened from the day when the Germans were +turned back almost at her very door, to the never-to-be-forgotten moment +when the news reached France that the United States had entered the war.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3>Told in a French Garden: August, 1914</h3> + +<h3>By MILDRED ALDRICH</h3> + + +<p>With a portrait frontispiece in photogravure from a sketch of the author +by Pierre-Emile Cornillier.</p> + +<p>Unlike Miss Aldrich's other books, "Told in a French Garden" is a +venture in fiction.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3>War</h3> + +<h3>The White Flame of France</h3> + +<h3>By MAUDE RADFORD WARREN</h3> + +<h3>Author of "Peter Peter," "Barbara's Marriages," etc.</h3> + + +<p>The front-line trenches at Rheims during a bombardment when the shells +were whistling over, two Zeppelin raids in London, the heroic services +of devoted actors and actresses when they played for the soldiers of +Verdun, the irony of the mad slaughter, the indestructibility of human +courage and ideals, the spirit and soul of suffering France, the real +meaning of the war—all these things are interpreted in this remarkable +book by a novelist with a brilliant record in the art of writing, who +spent more than half a year "over there."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3>You Who Can Help</h3> + +<h3>Paris Letters of an American Army Officer's Wife, from August, 1916, to +January, 1918</h3> + +<h3>By MARY SMITH CHURCHILL</h3> + + +<p>The writer of these letters is the wife of Lieutenant-Colonel +Marlborough Churchill, who, the year before the entrance of the United +States into the war, was an American military observer in France, and +later became a member of General Pershing's staff. Mrs. Churchill +volunteered her services in Paris in connection with the American Fund +for the French Wounded—"the A. F. F. W."—and these are her letters +home, written with no thought of publication, but simply to tell her +family of the work in which she was engaged.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3>War Camps</h3> + +<h3>Camp Devens</h3> + +<h3>Described and Photographed by</h3> + +<h3>ROGER BATCHELDER</h3> + +<h3><i>Author of "Watching and Waiting on the Border"</i></h3> + +<p>"An accurate and complete description by pen and lens of Camp +Devens."—Roger Merrill, Major, A. G. R. C., 151st Infantry Brigade.</p> + +<p>With 77 illustrations.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3>Camp Upton</h3> + +<h3>Described and Photographed by</h3> + +<h3>ROGER BATCHELDER</h3> + +<p>A companion volume to "Camp Devens," and like it, a book that fills a +long-felt want.</p> + +<p>Illustrated with photographs</p> + + +<p><i>Other volumes in the AMERICAN CAMPS SERIES in preparation</i></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3>War Poetry</h3> + +<h3>Buddy's Blighty and other Verses from the Trenches</h3> + +<h3>By LIEUTENANT JACK TURNER, M. C.</h3> + + +<p>Here is a volume of poems that move the spirit to genuine emotion, +because every line pictures reality as the author knows it. The range of +subjects covers the many-sided life of the men who are fighting in the +Great War,—the happenings, the emotions, the give and take, the tragedy +and the comedy of soldiering.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"I have read Robert Service's 'Rhymes of a Red Cross Man'—and +<i>all</i> the verses written on the war—but in my opinion 'Buddy's +Blighty,' by Jack Turner, is the best thing yet written—because +it's the truth."</p> + +<p class="right"><i>Private Harold R. Peat</i></p></blockquote> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3>The Welfare Series</h3> + +<h3>The Field of Social Service</h3> + +<h3>Edited by PHILIP DAVIS, in collaboration with Maida Herman</h3> + +<p>An invaluable text-book for those who ask, "Just what can I do in social +work and how shall I go about it?"</p> + + +<h3>Street-Land</h3> + +<h3>By PHILIP DAVIS, assisted by Grace Kroll</h3> + +<p>What shall we do with the 11,000,000 children of the city streets? A +question of great national significance answered by an expert.</p> + + +<h3>Consumption</h3> + +<h3>By JOHN B. HAWES, 2d, M.D.</h3> + +<p>A book for laymen, by an eminent specialist, with particular +consideration of the fact that the problem of tuberculosis is first of +all a human problem.</p> + + +<h3>One More Chance</h3> + +<h3>An Experiment in Human Salvage</h3> + +<h3>By LEWIS E. MacBRAYNE and JAMES P. RAMSAY</h3> + +<p>Human documents from the experiences of a Massachusetts probation +officer in the application of the probation system to the problems of +men and women who without it would have been permanently lost to useful +citizenship.</p> + + +<p><i>Other volumes in preparation</i></p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Bruce of the Circle A, by Harold Titus + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BRUCE OF THE CIRCLE A *** + +***** This file should be named 39056-h.htm or 39056-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/0/5/39056/ + +Produced by Darleen Dove, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Bruce of the Circle A + +Author: Harold Titus + +Release Date: March 4, 2012 [EBook #39056] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BRUCE OF THE CIRCLE A *** + + + + +Produced by Darleen Dove, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + + BRUCE + + OF THE CIRCLE A + + BY HAROLD TITUS + + Author of "--I Conquered" + + + ILLUSTRATED + + BOSTON + SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY + PUBLISHERS + + Copyright, 1918 + By SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY + (INCORPORATED) + + + + +[Illustration: Except for the animal's breathing, the world was very +quiet.] + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I. THE WOMAN 1 + + II. SOME MEN 7 + + III. THE LODGER NEXT DOOR 17 + + IV. A REVELATION 31 + + V. THE CLERGY OF YAVAPAI 46 + + VI. AT THE CIRCLE A 56 + + VII. TONGUES WAG 68 + + VIII. A HEART SPEAKS 84 + + IX. LYTTON'S NEMESIS 102 + + X. WHOM GOD HATH JOINED 119 + + XI. THE STORY OF ABE 131 + + XII. THE RUNAWAY 147 + + XIII. THE SCOURGING 163 + + XIV. THE WOMAN ON HORSEBACK 187 + + XV. HER LORD AND MASTER 204 + + XVI. THE MESSAGE ON THE SADDLE 223 + + XVII. THE END OF THE VIGIL 239 + + XVIII. THE FIGHT 255 + + XIX. THE TRAILS UNITE 278 + + + + +BRUCE OF THE CIRCLE A + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE WOMAN + + +Daylight and the Prescott-Phoenix train were going from Yavapai. Fifty +paces from the box of a station a woman stood alone beside the track, +bag in hand, watching the three red lights of the observation platform +dwindle to a ruby unit far down the clicking ribbons of steel. As she +watched, she felt herself becoming lost in the spaciousness, the silence +of an Arizona evening. + +Ann Lytton was a stranger in that strange land. Impressions pelted in +upon her--the silhouetted range against the cerise flush of western sky; +the valley sweeping outward in all other directions to lose itself in +the creeping blue-grays of night; droning voices of men from the +station; a sense of her own physical inconsequence; her loneliness ... +and, as a background, the insistent vastness of the place. + +Then, out of the silence from somewhere not far off, came a flat, dead +crash, the report of a firearm. The woman was acutely conscious that the +voices in the station had broken short with an abruptness which alarmed +her. The other sound--the shot--had touched fear in her, too, and the +knowledge that it had nipped the attention of the talking men sent a +cool thrill down her limbs. + +A man emerged from the depot and his voice broke in, + +"Wonder where that--" + +He stopped short and the woman divined the reason. She strained to catch +the thrum of running hoofs, knowing intuitively that the man, also, had +ceased speaking to listen. She was conscious that she trembled. + +Another man stepped into the open and spoke, hurriedly, but so low that +Ann could not hear; the first replied in the same manner, giving a sense +of stealth, of furtiveness that seemed to the woman portentous. She took +a step forward, frightened at she knew not what, wanting to run to the +men just because she was afraid and they were human beings. She checked +herself, though, and forced reason. + +This was nonsense! She laid it on her nerves. They were ragged after the +suspense and the long journey, the dread and hopes. A shot, a galloping +horse, a suspected anxiety in the talk of the two men had combined to +play upon them in their overwrought condition. + +Then, the first speaker's voice again, in normal tone, + +"Trunk here, but I didn't see anybody get off." + +Ann wanted to laugh with relief. Just that one sentence linked her up +with everyday life again, took the shake from her knees and the accented +leap from her heart. She was impelled to run to him, and held herself +to a walk by effort. + +"I beg your pardon. Can you tell me the name of the best hotel?" she +asked. + +The man who had seized the trunk stopped rolling it toward the doorway +and turned quickly to look at the woman who stood there in the pallid +glow from the one oil lamp. He saw a blue straw toque fitting tightly +over a compact mass of black hair; he saw blue eyes, earnest and +troubled; red lips, with the fullness of youth; flushed cheeks, a trim, +small body clothed in a close fitting, dark suit. + +"Yes, ma'am; it's th' Manzanita House. It's th' two-story buildin' up +th' street. Is this your trunk?" + +"Yes. May I leave it here until morning?" + +The man nodded. "Sure," he answered. + +"Thank you. Is there a carriage here?" + +He set the trunk on end, wiped his palms on his hips and smiled +slightly. + +"No, ma'am. Yavapai ain't quite up to hacks an' things yet. We're young. +You can walk it in two minutes." + +Ann hesitated. + +"It's ... all right, is it?" + +He did not comprehend. + +"For me to walk, I mean. Just now.... It sounded as if some one shot, I +thought." + +He laughed. + +"Oh, Yavapai's a safe place! Somebody just shot at somethin', I guess. +But it's all right. We ain't got no hacks, but we don't have no killin's +either." + +"I'm glad of the one anyhow," Ann smiled, and started away from him not, +however, wholly reassured. + +She walked toward the array of yellow lighted windows that showed +through the deepening darkness, making her way over the hard ground, +hurriedly, skirt lifted in the free hand. She had not inspected the +shadowy town beyond glancing casually to register the ill-defined +impressions of scattered stock pens, sprawling buildings, a short string +of box-cars, a water-tank. The country, the location of the settlement, +was the thing which had demanded her first attention, for it was all +strange, new, a bit terrifying in the twilight. Two men passed her, +talking; their voices ceased and she knew that they turned to stare; +then one spoke in a lowered tone ... and the night had them. A man on +horseback rode down the street at a slow trot. She wondered uneasily if +that was the horse which had raced away at the sound of the shot. From +the most brilliantly lighted building the sound of a mechanical piano +suddenly burst, hammering out a blatant melody. + +A thick sprinkling of stars had pricked through the darkening sky and +Ann, as she walked along, scanned the outline that each structure made +against them. Once she laughed shortly to herself and thought, + +"_The_ two-story building!" + +And, almost with that thought, she stood before it. An oil lamp on an +uncertain post was set close against the veranda and through an open +window she saw a woman, bearing a tray, pause beside a table and deposit +steaming dishes. She walked up the steps, opened the screen door, and +entered an unlighted hall, barren, also, to judge from the sounds. On +one side was the dining room; on the other, a cramped office. + +"This is the Manzanita House?" she asked a youth who, hat on the back of +his head, read a newspaper which was spread over the top of a small +glass cigar case on the end of a narrow counter. + +"Yes, ma'am"--evidently surprised. + +He saw her bag, looked at her face again, took off his hat shyly and +opened a ruled copybook to which a pencil was attached by a length of +grimy cotton twine. He pushed it toward her, and the woman, as she drew +off her glove, saw that this was the hotel register. + +In a bold, large hand she wrote: + +"Ann Lytton, Portland, Maine." + +"I'd like a room for to-night," she said, "and to-morrow I'd like to get +to the Sunset mine. Can you direct me?" + +A faint suggestion of anxiety was in her query and on the question the +youth looked at her sharply, met her gaze and let his waver off. He +turned to put the register on the shelf behind him. + +"Why, I can find out," he answered, evasively. "It's over thirty miles +out there and th' road ain't so very good yet. You can get th' +automobile to take you. It's out now--took the doctor out this +afternoon--and won't be back till late, prob'ly." + +He took the register from the shelf again and, on pretext of noting her +room number on the margin of the leaf, re-read her name and address, +moving his lips in the soundless syllables. + +"I'd ... I'd like to go to my room, if I may," the woman said, and, +picking up one of the two lighted lamps, the other led her into the hall +and up the narrow flight of stairs. + +Ten minutes later, the young man stood in the hotel kitchen, the house +register in his hands. Over his right shoulder the waitress peered and +over his left, the cook breathed heavily, as became her weight. + +"Just Ann. It don't say Miss or Missus," the waitress said. + +"I know, Nora, but somehow she don't look like _his_ Missus," the boy +said, with a shake of his head. + +"From what you say about her, she sure don't. Are you goin' to tell her +anythin'? Are you goin' to try to find out?" + +"Not me. I wouldn't tell her nothin'! Gee, I wouldn't have th' nerve. +Not after knowin' him and then takin' a real good look at a face like +hers." + +"If she is his, it's a dirty shame!" the girl declared, picking up her +tray. She kicked open the swinging door and passed into the dining +room. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +SOME MEN + + +Ann Lytton ate alone--ate alone, but did not sit alone. She was the last +patron of the dining room that evening, and, after Nora Brewster, the +waitress, had surrounded her plate with an odd assortment of heavy +side-dishes, she drew out a chair at the end of the table, seated +herself, elbows on the limp, light linen, and, black eyes fast on the +face of the other woman, pushed conversation. + +"From the East, ain't you?" she began, and Ann smiled assent. + +"New York?" + +"No, not New York," and the blue eyes met the black ones, running +quickly over the pretty, dark-skinned face, the thick coils of chestnut +hair, noting the big, kindly mouth, the peculiarly weak chin. Obviously, +the girl was striving to pump the newcomer and on the realization some +of the trouble retreated far into the blue eyes and Ann smiled in +kindliness at Nora, as she parried the girl's direct questions. + +In another mood a part of her might have resented this blunt curiosity, +but just now it came as a relief from a line of thought which had been +too long sustained. And, after they had talked a few moments, the +eastern woman found herself interested in the simplicity, the patent +sincerity, of the other. The conversation flourished throughout the meal +and by the time Ann had tasted and put aside the canned plums she had +discovered much about Nora Brewster, while Nora, returning to the +kitchen to tell the cook and the boy from the office all she had +learned, awakened to the fact that she had found out nothing at all! + +Ann walked slowly from the dining room into the office to leave +instructions about her trunk, but the room was empty and she went back +to the door which stood open and looked out into the street. From across +the way the mechanical piano continued its racket, and an occasional +voice was lifted in song or laughter. She thought again of the shot, the +running horse. She watched the shadowy figures passing to and fro behind +the glazed windows of the saloon and between her brows came a frown. She +drew a deep breath, held it a long instant, then let it slip quickly +out, ending in a little catch of a cough. She closed one hand and let it +fall into the other palm. + +"To-morrow at this time, I may know," she muttered. + +She would have turned away and climbed the stairs, then, but on her last +glance into the street a moving blotch attracted her attention. She +looked at it again, closer; it was approaching the hotel and, after a +moment she discerned the outlines of a man walking, leading a horse. A +peculiar quality about his movements, an undistinguished part of the +picture, held her in the doorway an instant longer. + +Then, she saw that the man was carrying the limp figure of another and +that he was coming directly toward her, striding into the circle of +feeble light cast from the lamp on the post, growing more and more +distinct with each step. A thrill ran through the woman, making her +shudder as she drew back; the arms and legs of the figure that was being +borne toward her swung so helplessly, as though they were boneless; the +head, too, swayed from side to side. Yet these appearances, suggestive +as they were of tragedy, did not form the influence which caused Ann's +throat to tighten and her pulse to speed. She heard voices and footsteps +as other men ran up. She drew back into the shadows of the hall. + +"What you got, Bruce?" one asked, in a tone of concern. + +"O, a small parcel of man meat," she heard the tall one explain +casually, with something like amusement in his voice. + +"Who is it?" + +An answer was made, but the woman could not understand. + +"Oh, _him_!" Disdain was in the voice, as though there were no longer +cause for apprehension, as if the potential consequence of the situation +had been dissipated by identification of the unconscious figure. + +Other arrivals, fresh voices; out under the light a dozen men were +clustered about the tall fellow and his burden. + +"Where'd you find him?" one asked. + +"Out at th' edge of town--in th' ditch. Abe, here,"--with a jerk of his +head to indicate the sleek sorrel horse he led--"found him. He acted so +damned funny he made me get off to see what it was, an', sure enough, +here was Yavapai's most enthusiastic drinker, sleepin' in th' ditch! + +"Here, let me put him down on th' porch, there,"--elbowing his way +through the knot about him. "He ain't much more man in pounds than he is +in principle, but he weighs up considerable after packin' him all this +way." + +The watching woman saw that his burden was a slight figure, short and +slender, dressed roughly, with his clothing worn and torn and stained. + +"Why didn't you let Abe pack him?" a man asked, as the big cowboy, +stooping gently, put the inert head and shoulders to the boards and +slowly lowered the limp legs. He straightened, and, with a red +handkerchief, whipped the dust from his shirt. Then, he hitched up his +white goatskin chaps and looked into the face of his questioner and +smiled. + +"Well, Tommy, Abe here ain't never had to carry a souse yet, an' I guess +he won't have to so long as I'm around an' healthy. That right, Abe?" + +He reached out a hand and the sorrel, intelligent ears forward in +inquiry, moved closer by a step to smell the fingers; then, allowed them +to scratch the white patch on his nose. + +A chuckle of surprise greeted the man's remark. + +"Why, Bruce, to hear you talk anybody'd think that you close-herded your +morals continual; that you was a 'Aid S'city' wagon boss; that lips that +touch liquor should never--" + +"I ain't said nothin' to make you think that, Tommy Clary," the other +replied, laughing at the upturned face of his challenger, who was short +and pug-nosed and possessed of a mouth that refused to do anything but +smile; who was completely over-shadowed and rendered top-heavy by a hat +of astonishing proportions. "I drink," he went on, "like th' rest of us +damn fools, but I don't think it's smart to do it. I think it is pretty +much all nonsense, an' I think that when you drink you ought to +associate with drinkin' folks an' let th' ones who have better sense +alone. + +"That's why I never ride Abe to town when I figure I'm goin' to be doin' +any hellin' around; that's why, if I have got drunk by mistake when I +had him here, I've slept in town instead of goin' home. Abe, you see, +Tommy, has got a good deal of white man in him for a horse. He'd carry +me all right if I was drunk, if I asked him to; but I won't, because +he's such a _good_ horse that he ought to always have a mighty good man +on his middle. When a man's drunk, he ain't good ... for nothin'. Like +this here"--with a contemptuous movement of one booted foot to indicate +the huddle of a figure which lay in the lamplight. + +"No, I don't make no claim to bein' a saint, Tommy. Good Lord, _hombre_, +do you think, if I thought I was right decent all th' time, all through, +I'd ever be seen swapping lies with any such ugly outcast as you are?" + +The others laughed again at that, and the tall man removed his hat to +wipe the moisture from his forehead. + +Ann, watching from the shadows, lips pressed together, heart on a +rampage from a fear that was at once groundless and natural, saw his +fine profile against the lamp, as he laughed good-naturedly at the man +he had jibed. His head was flung back boyishly, but about its poise, its +lines, the way it was set on his sturdy neck, was an indication of +superb strength, a fine mettle. His hair fell backward from the brow. It +tended toward waviness and was dry and light in texture as well as in +color, for the rays of the light were scattered and diffused as they +shot through it. He was incredibly tall in his high-heeled riding boots, +but his breadth was in proportion. The movements of his long arms, his +finely moulded shoulders, his whole lithe torso were well measured, +splendidly balanced, of that natural grace and assurance which marks the +inherent leadership born in individuals. His voice went well with the +rest of him, for it was smooth and deep and filled with capabilities of +expression. + +"Well, if you think all us drunkards are such buzzard fodder, what are +you packin' this around with you for?" Clary asked, after the laughter +had subsided. + +The cowman looked down thoughtfully a moment and his face grew serious. +He shook his head soberly. + +"This fellow's a cripple, boys; that's all. Just a cripple," he +explained. + +"Cripple! He's about th' liveliest, most cantankerous, trouble-maker +this country has had to watch since Bill Williams named his mountain!" a +man in the group scoffed. + +"Yes, I know. His legs ain't broke or deformed; he can use both arms; +his fool tongue has made us all pretty hot since we've knowed him. But +he ain't right up here, in his head, boys. He's crippled there. There +ain't no reason for a human bein' gettin' to be so nasty as he's got to +be. It ain't natural. It's th' booze, Tommy, th' booze that's crippled +him. He ought to be kept away from it until he's had a chance, but +nobody's took enough interest in him or th' good of th' town to tend to +that. We've just locked him up when he got too drunk an' turned him +loose to hell some more when he was halfway sober. He ain't had nobody +to look out for him, when he's needed it more 'n anything else. + +"I ain't blamin' nobody. Don't know as I'd looked out for him myself, if +he hadn't looked so helpless, there 'n th' ditch, Gosh, any one of you'd +take in a dog with a busted leg an' try to fix him up; if he bit at you +an' scratched and tried to fight, you'd only feel sorrier for him. This +feller ... he's kind of a dog, too. Maybe it'd be a good investment for +us to look after him a little an' see if we can't set him on his feet. +We've tried makin' an example of him; now let's try to treat him like +any of you'd treat me, if I was down an' out." + +He looked down upon the figure on the porch; in his voice had been a +fine humane quality that set the muscles of the listening woman's throat +contracting. + +"Say, Bruce, he's bleedin'!" + +On the man's announced discovery the group outside again became compact +about the unconscious man and the tall cowboy squatted beside him +quickly. + +"Get back out of th' light, boys," he said, quietly, and the curious men +moved. "Hum ... I'm a sheepherder, if somebody ain't nicked him in th' +arm, boys! I'll be-- + +"Say, he must of laid on that arm an' stopped th' blood. It's +clotted.... Oh, damn! It's bleedin' worse. Say, I'll have to get him +inside where we can have him fixed up before that breaks open again. +Wonder how much he's bled--" + +He rose and moved to the door, pulled open the screen quickly. He made +one step across the threshold and then paused between strides, for +before him in the darkness of the hallway a woman's face stood out like +a cameo. It was white, made whiter by the few feeble rays of the light +outside that struggled into the entry; the eyes were great, dark +splotches, the lips were parted; one hand was at the chin and about the +whole suggested posture of her body was a tensity, an anxiety, a +helplessness that startled the man ... that, and her beauty. For a +moment they stood so, face to face, the one in silhouette, the other in +black and white; the one surprised, only, but the other shrinking in +terror. + +"I ... he ..." + +Then, giving no articulate coherence to the idea that was in his mind, +Bruce Bayard stepped through the doorway to his left and entered the +office, as though he had not seen the woman at all. He looked about, +returned to the hallway, gazed almost absently at the stairway where he +had seen that troubled countenance and which was now a blank, hesitated +a moment and stepped out to join the others. + +"I heard somebody shoot, when we was comin' up from th' depot," someone +was saying when Bayard broke in: + +"Nobody here. Anybody seen Charley?" + +"Here's his dad," Clary said, as a fat, wheezing man made his way +importantly into the group. + +"Uncle, I want to get a room," Bayard said, "to take this here man to so +I can wash him up an' look after his arm. He's been shot. I passed Doc +on th' road goin' out when I come in, so I'll just try my hand as a +veterinary myself. Can you fix me up?" + +"All right! Right here! Bring him in. I've got a room; a nice dollar +room," the man wheezed as he stumped into the building. "No disturbance, +mind, but I've got a room ... dollar room ..."--and the screen door +slapped shut behind him. + +"He won't die on you, Bruce," the man with a moustache said, +straightening, after inspecting the ragged, dirt-filled wound, and +laughing lightly. "It just stung him a little. There's a lot of +disorderly conduct left in him yet, an' it's a wonder he ain't been +ventilated before." + +"Yeah.... Well, we'll take him up and look him over," Bayard said, his +face serious, and stooped to gather the burden in his arms. + +"Want any help, Bruce?" Tommy asked. + +"Not on this trip, thanks. A good sleep and a stiff cussin' out'll help +a little I guess. Mebbe he's learnt a lesson an' he may go back home an' +behave himself." + +He shouldered open the screen door and, led by the wheezing landlord who +carried a lamp at a reckless angle in his trembling hand, started +clumping up the resounding stairway, while the group that had been about +the lamp-post drifted off into the darkness. Only the sorrel horse, Abe, +remained, bridle-reins down, one hip slumped, great, intelligent eyes +watching occasional figures that passed, ears moving to catch the +scattered sounds that went up toward the Arizona stars. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE LODGER NEXT DOOR + + +"Now, this is fine, Uncle," Bayard said, as he stood erect and surveyed +the lax body he had deposited on the bed. + +His great height made the low, tiny room seem lower, smaller, and in the +pale lamplight the fat hotel proprietor peered up into his face with +little greedy green eyes, chewing briskly with his front teeth, +scratching the fringe of red whiskers speculatively. + +"Well, Bayard, you're all right," he blurted out, huskily, as if he had +reached that decision only after lengthy debate. "Th' room's a dollar, +but I'll wait till mornin' as a favor to you. I wouldn't trust most +cowboys, but your reputation's gild-edged, fine!" + +"Thanks! Seein' nobody's around to overhear, I'll take a chance an' +return th' compliment." + +And as the other, turning in the doorway, looked back to determine, if +he could, the meaning of that last remark, Bayard stooped and gingerly +lifted the wounded forearm from which the sleeve had been rolled back. + +"What a lookin' human bein'!" he whispered slowly, a moment later, +shaking his head and letting his whole-hearted disgust find expression +in deep lines about his mouth, as he scanned the bloated, bruised, +muddied face below him. "You've got just about as low down, Pardner, as +anybody can get! Lord, that face of yourn would scare the Devil +himself ... even if it is his own work!" + +He kicked out of his chaps, flung off jumper and vest, rolled up his +sleeves and, turning to the rickety washstand, sloshed water into the +bowl from the cracked pitcher and vigorously applied lather to his hands +and forearms. From the next room came the sounds of a person moving; the +creak of a board, the tinkle of a glass, even the low brushing of a +garment being hung on a hook, for the partitions were of inch boards +covered only by wallpaper. + +"Th' privacies of this here establishment ain't exactly perfect, are +they?" the man asked, raising his voice and smiling. "I've got a friend +here who needs to have things done for him an' he may wake up and +object, but it ain't nothin' serious so don't let us disturb your sleep +any more'n you can help," he added and paused, stooped over, to listen +for an answer. + +None came; no further sound either; the person in the other room seemed +to be listening, too. Bayard, after the interval of silence, shrugged +his shoulders, filled the bowl with clean water, placed it on a +wooden-bottomed chair which held the lamp and sat down on the edge of +the bed with soap and towels beside him. + +"I'll wash out this here nick, first," he muttered. "Then, I'll scrub +up that ugly mug.... Ugh!" He made a wry face as he again looked at the +distorted, smeared countenance. + +He bathed the forearm carefully, then centered his attention on the +wound. + +"Ho-ho! Went deeper than I thought.... Full of dirt an' ... clot ... +an'...." + +He stopped his muttering and left off his bathing of the wound suddenly +and clamped his fingers above the gash, for, as he had washed away the +clotted blood and caked dirt, a thin, sharp stream of blood had spurted +out from the ragged tear in the flesh. + +"He got an artery, did he? Huh! When you dropped, you laid on that arm +or you'd be eatin' breakfast to-morrow in a place considerable hotter +than Arizona," Bayard muttered. + +He looked about him calculatingly as though wondering what was best to +do first, and the man on the bed stirred uneasily. + +"Lay still, you!" + +The other moaned and squirmed and threatened to jerk his arm free. + +"You don't amount to much, Pardner, but I can't hold you still and play +doctor by myself if ... + +"Say, friend,"--raising his voice. "You, in th' next room; would you +mind comin' in here a minute? I've took down more rope than I handle +right easy." + +He turned his head to listen better and through the thin partition came +again the sound of movements. Feet stepped quickly, lightly, on the +noisy floor; a chair was shoved from one place to another, a door +opened, the feet came down the hall, the door of the room in which +Bayard waited swung back ... and Ann Lytton stood in the doorway. + +For a moment their eyes held on one another. The woman's lips were +compressed, her nostrils dilated in excitement, her blue eyes wide and +apprehensive, although she struggled to repress all these evidences of +emotional disturbance. The man's jaw slacked in astonishment, then +tightened, and his chest swelled with a deep breath of pleased surprise; +he experienced a strange tremor and subconsciously he told himself that +she was as rare looking as he had thought she must be from the +impression he had received down in the dark hallway. + +"Why ... why, I didn't think you ... it might be a lady in there, Miss," +he said in slow astonishment. "I thought it was a man ... because ladies +don't often get in here. I ... this is a nasty mess an' maybe you better +not tackle it ... if ... if you could call somebody to help me.... Nora, +th' girl downstairs, would come, Miss--" + +"I can help you," she said, and a flush rushed into her cheeks, which at +once relieved and accentuated their pallor. It was as though he had +accused her of a weakness that she resented. + +Bayard looked her over through a silent moment; then moved one foot +quickly and, eyes still holding her gaze, his left hand groped for a +towel, found it, shook it out and spread it over the face of the +drunken, wounded man he had called her to help him tend. + +"He ain't a beauty, Miss," he explained, relieved that the countenance +was concealed from her. "I hate to look at him myself an' I'd hate to +have a girl ... like you have to look at him ... I'm sure he would, +too,"--as though he did not actually mean the last. + +The woman moved to his side then, eyes held on the wound by evident +effort. It was as if she were impelled to turn her gaze to that covered +face and fought against the desire with all the will she could muster. + +"You see, Miss, this artery's been cut an' I've got my thumb shut down +on it here," he indicated. "This gent got shot up a trifle to-night an' +we--you an' me--have got to fix him up. I can't do it alone because he's +bleedin' an' he's lost more than's healthy for him now. + +"It sure is fine of you to come, Miss." + +He looked at her curiously and steadily yet without giving offense. It +was as though he had characterized this woman for himself, was thinking +more about the effect on her of the work they were to do than of that +work itself. He was interested in this newcomer; he wanted to know about +her. That was obvious. He watched her as he talked and his manner made +her know that he was very gentle, very considerate of her peace of mind, +in spite of the quality about him which she could not understand, which +was his desire to know how she would act in this unfamiliar, trying +situation. + +"Now, you take that towel and roll it up," he was saying. "Yes, th' long +way.... Then, bring that stick they use to prop up th' window--" + +"It's a tourniquet you want," she broke in. + +He looked up at her again. + +"Tourniquet.... Tourniquet," he repeated, to fix the new word in his +mind. "Yes, that's what I want: to shut off the blood." + +She folded the towel and brought the stick. From her audible breathing +Bayard knew that she was excited, but, otherwise, she had ceased to give +indication of the fact. + +"Loop it around and tie a knot," he said. + +"Is that right?" she asked, in a voice that was too calm, too well +controlled for the circumstances. + +"Yes, it's all right, Miss. How about you?"--a twinkle in his eye. "If +this ... if you don't think you can stand it to fuss with him--" he +began, but she cut him off with a look that contained something of a +quality of reassurance, but which was more obviously a rebuff. + +"I said I could help you. Why do you keep doubting me?" + +"I don't; I'm tryin' to be careful of your feelings,"--averting his eyes +that she might not see the quick fire of appreciation in them. "Will you +tighten it with that stick, now, Miss?" + +The man on the bed breathed loudly, uncouthly, with now and then a +short, sharp moan. The sour smell of stale liquor was about him; the arm +and hand that had been washed were the only clean parts of his body. + +"Now you twist it," Bayard said, when she was ready, although he could +have done it easily with his free hand. + +She grasped the stick with determination and, as she turned it quickly +to take up the slack in the loop, Bayard leaned back, part of his weight +on the elbow which kept the legs of the unconscious man from threshing +too violently as the contrivance shut down on his arm. His attention, +however, was not for their patient; it was centered on the girl's hands +as they manipulated stick and towel. They were the smallest hands, the +trimmest, he had ever seen. The fingers were incredibly fine-boned and +about them was a nicety, a finish, that was beyond his experience; yet, +they were not weak hands; rather, competent looking. He watched their +quick play, the spring of the tendons in her white wrist and, with a new +interest, detected a smooth white mark about the third finger of her +left hand where a ring had been. He looked into her intent face again, +wondering what sort of ring that had been and why it was no longer +there; then, forgot all about it in seeing the tight line of her mouth +and finding delight in the splendid curve of her chin. + +"You hate to do it," he thought, "but you're goin' to see it through!" + +"There!" she said, under her breath. "Is that tight enough?" + +He looked quickly away from her face to the wound and released the +pressure of his thumb. + +"Not quite. It oozes a little." + +He liked the manner in which she moved her head forward to indicate her +resolve, when she forced the cloth even more tightly about the arm. The +injured man cried aloud and sought to roll over, and Bayard saw the +girl's mouth set in a firmer cast, but in other ways she bore herself as +if there had been no sound or movement to frighten or disturb her. + +"That'll do," he told her, watching the result of the pressure +carefully. "Now, would you tear that pillow slip into strips wide enough +for a bandage?" She shook the pillow from the casing. "That'll tickle +Uncle, downstairs," he added. "It's worth two bits, but he can charge me +a dollar for it." + +She did not appear to hear this last; just went on tearing strips with +hands that trembled ever so little and his gray eyes lighted with a +peculiar fire. Weakness was present in her, the weakness of +inexperience, brought on by the sight of blood, the presence of a +strange man of a strange type, the proximity of that muttering, filthy +figure with his face shrouded from her; but, behind that weakness, was +an inherent strength, a determination that made her struggle with all +her faculties to hide its evidences; and that courage was the quality +which Bayard had sought in her. Only, he could not then appreciate its +true proportions. + +"Is this enough?" she asked. + +"Plenty. I can manage alone now, if--" + +"But I might as well help you through with this!" + +She had again detected his doubt of her, discerned his motive in giving +her an avenue of graceful escape from the unpleasant situation; she +thought that he still mistrusted her stamina and her stubborn refusal to +give way to any weakness set the words on her lips to cut him short. + +"Well, if you want to," he said, soberly, "you can keep this thing +tight, while I wash this hole out an' bind it up.... I wouldn't look at +it, if I was you; you ain't used to it, you know." + +He looked her in the eye, on that last advice, for a moment. She +understood fully and, as she took the stick in her hand to keep the +blood flow checked, she averted her face. For a breath he looked at the +stray little hairs about the depression at the back of her neck. Then, +to his work. + +He was gentle in cleansing the wound, but he could not touch the raw +flesh without giving pain and still accomplish his end, and, on the +first pressure of his fingers, the man writhed and twitched and jerked +at the arm, drawing his knees up spasmodically. + +"I'll have to set on him, Miss," Bayard said. + +He did so, straddling the man's thighs and leaning to the right, close +against the woman's stooping body. He grasped the cold wrist with one +hand and washed the jagged hurt quickly, thoroughly. The man he held +protested inarticulately and struggled to move about. Once, the towel +that hid his face was thrown off and Bayard replaced it, glad that the +girl's back had been turned so she did not see. + +It was the crude, cruel surgery of the frontier and once, towards the +end, the tortured man lifted his thick, scarcely human voice in a +cursing phrase and Bayard, glancing sharply at the woman, murmured, + +"I beg your pardon, Miss ... for him." + +"That's not necessary," she answered, and her whisper was thin, weak. + +"You ain't goin' to faint, are you?" he asked, in quick apprehension, +ceasing his work to peer anxiously at her. + +"No.... No, but hurry, please; it is very unpleasant." + +He nodded his head in assent and began the bandaging, hurriedly. He made +the strips of cloth secure with deft movements and then said, + +"There, Miss, it's all over!" + +She straightened and turned from him and put a hand quickly to her +forehead, drew a deep breath as of exasperation and moved an uncertain +step or two toward the door. + +"All right," she said, with a half laugh, stopping and turning about. +"I was afraid ... you see! I'm not accustomed...." + +Bayard removed his weight from the other man and sat again on the edge +of the bed. + +"Lots of men, men out here in this country, would have felt the same way +... only worse," he said, reassuringly. "It takes lots of sand to fuss +with blood an' man meat until you get used to it. You've got the sand, +Miss, an' I sure appreciate what you've done. He will, too." + +She turned to meet his gaze and he saw that her face was colorless and +strained, but she smiled and asked, + +"I couldn't do less, could I?" + +"You couldn't do more," he said, staring hard at her, giving the +impression that his mind was not on what he was saying. "More for me or +more for ... a carcass like that." A tremor of anger was in his voice, +and resentment showed in his expression as he turned to look at the +covered face of the heavily breathing man. "It's a shame, Miss, to make +your kind come under the same roof with a ... a thing like he is!" + +After a moment she asked, + +"Is he so very bad, then?" + +"As bad as men get ... and the best of us are awful sinful." + +"Do you ... do you think men ever get so bad that anyone can be hurt by +being ... by coming under the same roof with them?" + +He shook his head and smiled again. + +"I'd say yes, if it wasn't that I'd picked this _hombre_ out of th' +ditch an' brought him here an' played doctor to-night. You never can +tell what you'll believe until the time comes when you've got to believe +something." + +A silent interval, which the woman broke. + +"Is there anything else I can do for you now?" + +He knew that she wanted to go, yet some quality about her made him +suspect that she wanted to stay on, too. + +"No, Miss, nothin' ..." he answered. "I've got to go tend to my horse. +He's such a baby that he won't leave his tracks for anybody so long's he +knows I'm here, so I can't send anybody else to look after him. But +you've done enough. I'll wait a while till somebody else comes along to +watch--" + +"No, no! let me stay here ... with him." + +"But--" + +"I came here to help you. Won't you let me go through with it?" + +He thought again that it was her pride forcing her on; he could not know +that the prompting in her was something far deeper, something tragic. He +said: + +"Why if you want to, of course you can. I won't be gone but a minute. +I've let up on this pressure a little; we'll keep letting up on it +gradual ... I've done this thing before. He's got to be watched, though, +so he don't pull the bandages off and start her bleeding again." + +The woman seated herself on the chair as he turned to go. + +"It'll only be a minute," he assured her again, hesitating in the +doorway. "I wouldn't go at all, only, when my horse is the kind of a pal +he is, I can't let him go hungry. See?" + +"I see," she said, but her tone implied that she did not, that such +devotion between man and beast was quite incomprehensible ... or else +that she had given his word no heed at all, had only waited impatiently +for him to go. + +He strode down the hallway and she marked his every footfall, heard him +go stumping and ringing down the stairs two at a time, heard him leave +the porch and held her breath to hear him say, + +"Well, Old Timer, I didn't plan to be so long." + +Then, the sound of shod hoofs crossing the street at a gallop. + +She closed her eyes and let her head bow slowly and whispered, + +"Oh, God ... there _is_ manhood left!" + +She sat so a long interval, suffering stamped on her fine forehead, +indicated in the pink and white knots formed from her clenched hands. +Then, her lips partly opened and she lifted her head and looked long at +the covered face of the man on the bed. Her breath was swift and shallow +and her attitude that of one who nerves herself for an ordeal. Once, she +looked down at the hand on the bed near her and touched with her own +the hardened, soiled fingers, then gave a shake to her head that was +almost a shudder, straightened in her chair and muttered aloud, + +"He said ... I had the sand...." + +She leaned forward, stretched a hand to the towel which covered the +man's face, hesitated just an instant, caught her breath, lifted the +shrouding cloth and gave a long, shivering sigh as she sat back in her +chair. + +At that moment Bruce Bayard in the corral across the street, pulled the +bridle over his sorrel's ears. He slung the contrivance on one arm and +held the animal's hot, white muzzle in his hands a moment. He squeezed +so tightly that the horse shook his head and lifted a fore foot in +protest and then, alarmed, backed quickly away. + +"... I didn't intend it, Abe," the man muttered. "... I was thinkin' +about somethin' else." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +A REVELATION + + +When Bayard returned to the Manzanita House, he ran up the stairs with +an eagerness that was not in the least inspired by a desire to return to +his watching over the man he had chosen to succor. He strode down the +hallway and into the room with his keen anticipation thinly disguised by +a sham concern. And within the doorway he halted abruptly, for the woman +who had helped him, whose presence there had brought him back from his +horse on a run, sat at the bedside with her hands limp in her lap and +about her bearing an air that quite staggered him. Her face was as +nearly expressionless as a human countenance can become. It was as if +something had occurred which had taken from her all emotion, all ability +to respond to any mental or sensory influence. For the moment, she was +crushed, and so completely that even her reflexes did not react to the +horror of the revelation. She did not look at Bayard, did not move; she +might have been without the sense of sight or hearing; she did not even +breathe perceptibly; just sat there with a fixity that frightened him. + +"Why, Miss!" he cried in confused alarm. "I ... I wouldn't left you--" + +She roused on his cry and shook her head, and he thought she wanted him +to stop, so he stood there through an awkward moment, waiting for her to +say more. + +"Course, it was too much for you!" he concluded aloud, +self-reproachfully, when she did not speak. "You're tired; this ... this +takin' care of this booze-soaked carcass was too much to ask of you. +I--" + +"Don't," she said, in a dry, flat voice, looking up at him appealingly, +mastering her voice with a heroic effort. "Don't, please! This.... This +booze-soaked ... carcass ... + +"He is my husband." + +The words with which she ended came in a listless whisper; she made no +further sound, and the hissing of Bayard's breath, as it slipped out +between his teeth, was audible. + +All that he had said against that other man came back to him, all the +epithets he had used, all the pains he had taken to impress on this +woman, his wife, a sense of the utter degradation, the vileness, of Ned +Lytton. For the instant, he was filled with regret because of his rash +speech; the next, he was overwhelmed by realizing that all he had said +was true and that he had been justified in saying those things of this +woman's husband. The thought unpoised him. + +"I didn't think you was married," he said, slowly, distinctly, his +voice unsteady, scarcely conscious of the fact that he was putting what +transpired in his mind into words. "Especially ... to a thing like +that!" + +The gesture of his one arm which indicated the prostrate figure was +eloquent of the contempt he felt and the posture of his body, bent +forward from his hips, was indication of his sincerity. He was so +intense emotionally that he could not realize that his last words might +lash the suffering woman cruelly. The thought was in him, so strong, so +revolting, that it had to come out. He could not have restrained it had +he consciously appreciated the hurt that its expression would give the +woman. + +She stared up at him, her numb brain wondering clumsily at the storm +indicated in his eyes, about his mouth, and they held so a moment before +she sat back in her chair, weakly, one wrist against her forehead. + +"Here, come over by the window ... never mind him," he said, almost +roughly, stepping to her side, grasping her arm and shaking it. + +Ten minutes before the careful watching of that unconscious man had been +the one important thing of the night, but now it was an inconsequential +affair, a bother. Ten minutes before his interest in the woman had been +a light, transient fancy; now he was more deeply concerned with her +trouble than he ever had been with an affair of his own. He lifted the +bandaged arm and placed a pillow beneath it, almost carelessly; then +closed the door. He turned about and looked at Ann Lytton, who had gone +to stand by the window, her back to him, face in her hands. + +He walked across and halted, towering over her, looking helplessly down +at the back of her bowed head. His arms were limp at his sides, until +she swayed as though she would fall, and, then, he reached out to +support her, grasping her shoulders gently with his big palms; when she +steadied, he left his hands so, lifting the right one awkwardly to +stroke her shivering shoulder. They stood silent many minutes, the man +suffering with the woman, suffering largely because of his inability to +bear a portion of her grief. After a time, he forced her about with his +hands and, when she had turned halfway around, she lifted her face to +look into his. She blinked and strained her eyes open and laughed +mirthlessly, then was silent, with the knuckles of her fist pressed +tightly against her mouth. + +"I am so glad ... so glad that it was you ..." she said, huskily, after +a wait in which she mastered herself, the thought that was uppermost in +her mind finding the first expression. "I heard you say, down there, +that he was a cripple and that ... that's what he is ... what I thought. +You ... you understand, don't you? A woman in my place _has_ to think +something like that!"--in unconscious confession to a weakness. "I heard +you say he was a cripple ... the man you were carrying ... and I thought +it must be Ned, because I've had to think that, too. You understand? +Don't you?" + +She looked into his eyes with the directness of a pleading child and, +gripping her shoulders, he nodded. + +"I think I understand, ma'am. I ... and I hope you can forget all th' +mean things I've said about him to-night. I--" + +"And when you called me in here," she interrupted, heedless of his +attempt at apology, "I was afraid at first, because something told me it +was he. I had come all the way from Maine to see him; to find out about +him, and I didn't want to blind myself after that. I wanted to know ... +the worst." + +"You have, ma'am," he said, grimly, and took his hands from her +shoulders and turned away. + +"I was afraid it was Ned from the very first, but out there, with those +other men around, I ... couldn't make myself look at him. And after that +the suspense was horrible. I was glad when you called me to help you +because that made me face it ... and even knowing what I know now is +better in some ways than uncertainty. I ... I might have dodged, anyhow, +if you hadn't made me feel you were trying to find out how far I would +go ... what I would do. Your doubting me made me doubt myself and +that ... that drove me on. + +"It took a lot of courage to look at his ... face. But I had to know. I +had to; I'd come all this way to know." + +She hesitated, staring absently, and Bayard waited in silence for her to +go on. + +"It seemed quite natural to hear those men talking about him the way +they did, swearing at him and laughing.... And then to hear someone +protecting him because he is weak,"--with a brave effort at a smile. +"That's what people in the East, his own people, even, have done; and +I ... I had to stand up for him when everything, even he, was against +me.... + +"I'd hoped that out here, at the mine, he'd be different, that he'd +behave, that people would come to respect and like him. I'd hoped for +that right up to the time I saw you coming across the street with him. I +felt it must be he. I hadn't heard from him in months, not a line. +That's why I came out here. And I guess that in my heart I'd expected to +find him like that. The uncertainty, that was the worst.... + +"Peculiar, isn't it, why I should have been uncertain? I should have +admitted what I felt intuitively, but I always have hoped, I always will +hope that he'll come through it sometime. That hope has kept me from +telling myself that it must be the same with him out here as it was back +there; that's why I fooled myself until I saw you ... with him. + +"And I'm so glad it happened to be you who picked him up. You +understand, you--" + +Emotion choked off her words. + +Bayard walked from her, returned to the bedside and stared down at the +inert figure there. He was in a tumult. The contrast between this man +and wife was too dreadful to be comprehended in calm. Lytton was the +lowest human being he had ever known, degenerated to an organism that +lived solely to satiate its most unworthy appetites. Ann, the woman +crying yonder, was quite the most beautiful creature on whom he had ever +looked and, though he had seen her for the first time no more than an +hour before, her charm had touched every masculine instinct, had gripped +him with that urge which draws the sexes one to another ... yet, he was +not conscious of it. She was, in his eyes, so wonderful, so removed from +his world, that he could not presume to recognize her attraction as for +himself. She was a distant, unattainable creature, one to serve, to +admire; perhaps, sometime, to worship reverently and that was the fact +which set the blood congesting in his head when he looked down at the +waster for whom she had traveled across a continent that she might +suffer like this. Lytton was attainable, was comprehensible, and Bayard +was urged to make him suffer in atonement for the wretchedness he had +brought to this woman who loved him.... Who.... _loved_ him? + +The man turned to look at Ann again, his lower lip caught speculatively +between his thumb and forefinger. + +"Now, I suppose the thing to do is to plan, to make some sort of +arrangements ... now that I have found him," she said in a strained +voice, bracing her shoulders, lifting a hand to brush a lock of hair +back from her white, blue-veined temple. + +She smiled courageously at the cowboy who approached her diffidently. + +"I came out here to find out what was going on, to help him if he were +succeeding, to ... help him if ... as I have found him." + +Her directness had returned and, as she spoke, she looked Bayard in the +eye, steadily. + +"Well, whatever I can do, ma'am, I'm anxious to do," he said, repressing +himself that he might not give ground to the suspicion that he was +forcing himself on her, though his first impulse was to take her affairs +in hand and shield her from the trying circumstances which were bound to +follow. "I can't do much to help you, but all I can do--" + +"I don't think I could do anything without you," she said, simply, +letting her gaze travel over his big frame. "It's so far away, out here, +from anyone I know or the things I am accustomed to. It's ... it's too +wonderful, finding someone out here who understands Ned, when even his +own people back home didn't. I wonder ... is it asking too much to ask +you to help me plan? You know people and conditions. I don't." + +She made the request almost timidly, but he leaped at the opportunity +and cried: + +"If I can help you, if I could be of use to you, I'd think it was th' +finest thing that ever happened to me, ma'am. I've never been of much +use to anybody but myself. I ... I'd like to help you!" His manner was +so wholly boyish that she impulsively put out her hand to him. + +"You're kind to me, so...." + +She lost the rest of the sentence because of the fierceness with which +he grasped her proffered hand and for a moment his gray eyes burned into +hers with confusing intensity. Then he straightened and looked away with +an inarticulate word. + +"Well, what do you want to do?" he asked, stepping to one side to bring +a chair for her. + +"I don't know; he's in a frightful ... I've never seen him as bad as +this,"--her voice threatening to break. + +"An' he'll be that way so long as he's near that!" + +He held his hand up in a gesture that impelled her to listen as the +notes from the saloon piano drifted into the little room. + +"He's pretty far gone, ma'am, your husband. He ain't got a whole lot of +strength, an' it takes strength to show will power. We might keep him +away from drinkin' by watching him all the time, but that wouldn't do +much good; that wouldn't be a cure; it would only be delay, and wasting +our time and foolin' ourselves. He'd ought to be took away from it, a +long ways away from it." + +"That's what I've thought. Couldn't I take him out to the mine--" + +"His mine is most forty miles from here, ma'am." + +"So much the better, isn't it? We'd be away from all this. I could keep +him there, I know." + +Bayard regarded her critically until her eyes fell before his. + +"You might keep him there, and you might not. I judge you didn't have +much control over him in th' East. You didn't seem to have a great deal +of influence with him by letter,"--gently, very kindly, yet +impressively. "If you got out in camp all alone with him, livin' a life +that's new to you, you might not make good there. See what I mean? You'd +be all alone, cause the mine's abandoned." She started at that. "There'd +be nobody to help you if he got crazy wild like he'll sure get before he +comes through. You--" + +"You don't think I'm up to it? Is that it?" she interrupted. + +He looked closely at her before he answered. + +"Ma'am, if a woman like you can't keep a man straight by just lovin' +him,"--with a curious flatness in his voice--"you can't do it no way, +can you?" + +She sat silent, and he continued to question her with his gaze. + +"I judge you've tried that way, from what you've told me. You've been +pretty faithful on the job. You ... you _do_ love him yet, don't you?" +he asked, and she looked up with a catch of her breath. + +"I do,"--dropping her eyes quickly. + +The man paced the length of the room and back again as though this +confession had altered the case and presented another factor for his +consideration. But, when he stopped before her, he only said: + +"You can't leave him in town; you can't take him to his mine. There +ain't any place away from town I know of where they'd want to be +bothered with a sick man," he explained, gravely, evading an expression +of the community's attitude toward Lytton. "I might take him to my +place. I'm only eight miles out west. I could look after him there, +cause there ain't much press of work right now an'--" + +"But I would go with him, too, of course," she said. "It's awfully kind +of you to offer...." + +In a flash the picture of this woman and that ruin of manhood together +in his house came before Bayard and, again, he realized the tragedy in +their contrast. He saw himself watching them, hearing their talk, seeing +the woman make love to her debauched husband, perhaps, in an effort to +strengthen him; he felt his wrath warm at thought of that girl's +devotion and loyalty wasting itself so, and a sudden, alarming distrust +of his own patience, his ability to remain a disinterested neutral, +arose. + +"Do you think he better know you're here?" he asked, inspired, and +turned on her quickly. + +"Why, why not?"--in surprise. + +"It would sure stir him up, ma'am. He ain't even wrote to you, you say, +so it would be a surprise for him to see you here. He's goin' to need +all the nerve he's got left, ma'am, 'specially right at first,"--his +mind working swiftly to invent an excuse--"Your husband's goin' to have +the hardest fight he's ever had to make when he comes out of this. He's +on the ragged edge of goin' _loco_ from booze now; if he had somethin' +more to worry him, he might.... + +"Besides, my outfit ain't a place for a woman. He can get along because +he's lived like we do, but you couldn't. All I got is one +room,"--hesitating as if he were embarrassed--"and no comforts for ... a +lady like you, ma'am." + +"But my place is with him! That's why I've come here." + +"Would your bein' with him help? Could you do anything but stir him up?" + +"Why of--" + +"Have you ever been able to, ma'am?" + +She stopped, unable to get beyond that fact. + +"If you ain't, just remember that he's a hundred times worse than he was +when you had your last try at him." + +She squeezed the fingers of one hand with the other. Her chin trembled +sharply but she mastered the threatened breakdown. + +"What would you have me do?" she asked, weakly, and at that Bayard swung +his arms slightly and smiled at her in relief. + +"Can't you stay right here in Yavapai and wait until the worst is over? +It won't be so very long." + +"I might. I'll try. If you think best ... I will, of course." + +"I'll come in town every time I get a chance and tell you about him," he +promised, eagerly. "I'll ... I'll be glad to," he hastened to add, with +a drop in his voice that made her look at him. "Then, when he's better, +when he's able to make it around the place on foot, when you think you +can manage him, I s'pose you can go off to his mine, then." + +He ceased to smile and smote one hip in a manner that told of his sudden +feeling of hopelessness. He walked toward the bed again and Ann watched +him. As he passed the lamp on the chair, she saw the fine ripple of his +thigh muscles under the close-fitting overalls, saw with eyes that did +not comprehend at first but which focused suddenly and then scrutinized +the detail of his big frame with an odd uneasiness. + +He turned on her and said irrelevantly, as if they had discussed the +idea at length, + +"I'm glad to do it for you, ma'am." + +He stared at her steadily, seeming absorbed by the thought of service to +her, and the woman, after a moment, removed her gaze from his. + +"It's so good of you!" she said, and became silent when he gave her no +heed. + +So it was arranged that Bayard should take Ned Lytton to his home to +nurse and bring him back to bodily health and moral strength, if such +accomplishments were possible. The hours passed until night had ceased +to age and day was young before the cowman deemed it wise to move the +still sleeping Easterner. He chose to make the drive to his ranch in +darkness, rather than wait for daylight when his going would attract +attention and set minds speculating and tongues wagging. + +Until his departure, the three remained in the room where they had met, +Ann much of the time sitting beside her husband, staring before her, +Bayard moving restlessly about in the shadows, watching her face and her +movements, questioning her occasionally, growing more absorbed in +studying the woman, until, during their last hour together, he was in a +fever to be away from her where he could think straight of all that had +happened since night came to Yavapai. + +Before he left he said: + +"Probably nobody will ask you questions, but if they do just say that +your husband went away before daylight an' that I left after I washed +his arm out. That'll be the truth an' what folks don't know won't hurt +'em ... nor make you uncomfortable by havin' 'em watch you an' do a lot +of unnecessary talkin'." + +From her window Ann watched Bayard emerge from the doorway below and +place the limp figure of his burden on the seat of the buckboard he had +secured for the trip home. In the starlight she saw him knot the bridle +reins of his sorrel over the saddle horn, heard him say, "Go home, Abe," +and saw the splendid beast stride swiftly off into the night alone. +Then, the creak of springs as he, too, mounted the wagon, his word to +the horses, the sounds of wheels, and she thought she saw him turn his +face toward her window as he rounded the corner of the hotel. + +The woman stood a moment in the cold draught of the wind that heralded +dawn. It was as though something horrible had gone out of her life and, +at the same time, as if something wonderful had come in; only, while the +one left the heaviness, the other brought with it a sweet sorrow. Half +aloud she told herself that; then cried: + +"No, it can't be! Nothing has gone; nothing has come. Things are as they +were ... or worse...." + +Then, she turned to her hard, lumpy bed. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE CLERGY OF YAVAPAI + + +Hours passed before Ann could sleep, and then her slumber was broken, +her rest harried by weird dreams, her half-waking periods crammed with +disturbing fantasies. When broad daylight came, she rose and drew down +the shades of her window and after she had listened to the birds, to the +sounds of the awakening town, to the passing of a train, rest came and +until nearly noon she slept heavily. + +She came to herself possessed by a queer sense of unreality and it was +moments before she could determine its source. Then the events of the +evening and night swept back to her intelligence and she closed her +eyes, feeling sick and worn. + +Restlessness came upon her finally and she arose, dressed, went +downstairs and forced herself to eat. Several others were in the dining +room and two men sat with her at table. She was conscious that the talk, +which had been loud, diminished when she entered and that those nearest +her were evidently uncomfortable, embarrassed, glad to be through and +gone. + +When Nora, the waitress, took her order, Ann saw that the girl eyed her +curiously, possibly sympathetically, and, while that quality could not +help but rouse an appreciation in her, she shrank from the thought that +this whole strange little town was eying her, wondering about her, +dissecting her as she suffered in its midst and even through her loyalty +to her husband crept a hope that her true identity might remain secret. + +She left the table and started for the stairway, when the boy who had +given her her room the night before came out of the office. He had not +expected to see her. He stopped and flushed and stammered. + +"You ... last night ... you said you might ... that is, do you want th' +automobile, ma'am?" + +"I shan't want to go out to-day," Ann answered him, forcing her voice to +steadiness. "I have changed my mind." + +Then, she went swiftly up the stairs. + +She knew that the youth knew at least a part of her reason for altering +her plans. She knew that within the hour all Yavapai would know that she +was not going to the Sunset mine because Ned Lytton was drunk and hurt, +and she felt like crying aloud to relieve the distress in her heart. + +Her room was hot, its smallness was unbearable and, putting on her hat, +she went down the stairs, out of the hotel and, looking up and down the +main street, struck off to the left, for that direction seemed to offer +the quickest exit from the town. + +Ann walked swiftly along the hard highway, head down until she had left +the last buildings behind. Then she lifted her chin and drew a deep +breath of the fine mountain air and for the first time realized the +immensity of the surrounding country. Sight of it brought a little gasp +of wonder from her and she halted and turned slowly to look about. + +The town was set in the northern edge of a huge valley which appeared to +head in abruptly rising hills not so far to the westward. But to the +south and eastward it swept on and out, astonishing in its apparent +smoothness, its lavish colorings. Northward, its rise was more decided +and not far from the town clumps of brush and scant low timber dotted +the country, but out yonder there appeared to be no growth except the +grass which, where it grew in rank patches, bowed before the breeze and +flashed silver under the brilliant sun. The distances were blue and +inviting. She felt as though she would like to start walking and walk +and walk, alone under that high blue sky. + +She strolled on after that and followed the wagon track an hour. Then, +bodily weariness asserted itself and she rested in the shade of a low +oak scrub, twining grass stalks with nervous fingers. + +"I would have said that a country like this would have inspired +anybody," she said aloud after a time. "But he's the same. He's small, +he's small!" + +Vindictiveness was about her and her tone was bitter. + +"Still," she thought, "it may not be too late. That other man ... is as +big as this...." + +When she had rested and risen and gone a half mile back toward Yavapai, +she repeated aloud: + +"As big as this...." + +A great contrast that had been! Bruce Bayard, big, strong, controlled, +clean and thinking largely and clearly; Ned Lytton, little, weak, victim +of his appetites, foul and selfish. She wondered rather vaguely about +Bayard. Was he of that country? Was he the lover of some mountain girl? +Was he, possibly, the husband? No, she recalled that he had said that he +lived alone.... Well, so did she, for that matter! + +Scraps of Bayard's talk the night before came back to her and she +pondered over them, twisting their meanings, wondering if she had been +justified in the relief his assurances gave her. There, alone in the +daylight, they all seemed very incredible that she should have opened +her heart, given her dearest confidences to that man. As she thought +back through the hour, she became a trifle panicky, for she did not +realize then that to have remained silent, to have bottled her emotions +within herself longer would have been disastrous; she had reached +Yavapai and the breaking point at the same hour, and, had not Bayard +opportunely encountered her, she would have been forced to talk to the +wheezing hotel proprietor or Nora, the waitress, or the first human +being she met on the street ... someone, anyone! Then, abruptly changing +her course of thought, she reminded herself of the strangeness of the +truth that not once had it occurred to her to worry over the fact that +her husband, in an unconscious condition, had been taken away, she knew +not where, by this stranger. The faith she had felt in Bayard from the +first prevailed. She faced the future with forebodings; about the +present condition of Ned Lytton she did not dare think. A comforting +factor was the conviction that everything was being done for him that +she could do and more ... for she always had been helpless. + +She breathed in nervous exasperation at the idea that everything she +saw, talked about, thought or experienced came back to impress her +further with the hopelessness of the situation, then told herself that +fretting would not help; that she must do her all to make matters over, +that she must make good her purpose in coming to this new place. + +As she neared the town again, she saw the figure of a man approaching. +He walked slowly, with head down, and his face was wholly shaded by the +broad brim of his felt hat. His hands were behind his back and the +aimlessness of his carriage gave evidence of deep thought. + +When the woman was about to pass him, he turned back toward town without +looking up and it was the scuffing of her shoe that attracted him. He +faced about quickly at the sound and stared hard at Ann. The stare was +not offensive. She saw first his eyes, black and large and wonderfully +kind; his hair was white; his shaven lips gentle. Then she observed +that he wore the clothing of a clergyman. + +His hand went to his hat band, after his first gaze at her, and he +smiled. + +"How-do-you-do?" he said, with friendly confidence. + +Ann murmured a greeting. + +"I didn't know anyone was on the road. I was thinking rather fiercely, I +guess." + +He started to walk beside her and Ann was glad, for he was of that type +whose first appearance attracts by its promise of friendship. + +"I've been thinking, too," she answered. "Thinking, among other things +what a wonderful country this is. I'm from the East, I suppose it is not +necessary to say, and this is my first look at your valley." + +"Manzanita is a great old sweep of country!" he exclaimed, looking out +over it. "That valley is a good thing to look at when we think that +human anxieties are mighty matters." + +He smiled, and Ann looked into his face with a new interest and said: + +"I should think that such an influence as this is would tend to lessen +those anxieties; that it would tend to make the people who live near it +big, as it is big." + +He looked away and shook his head slowly. + +"I hold that theory, too, sometimes ... in my most optimistic hours. But +the more I see of the places in which men live, the closer I watch the +way we humans react to our physical environments, the less faith I have +in it. Some of the biggest, rarest souls I know have developed in the +meanest localities and, on the other hand, some of the worst culls of +the species I've ever seen have been products of countries so big that +they would inspire most men. Perhaps, though, the big men of the small +places would have been bigger in a country like this; possibly, those +who are found wanting out here would fall even shorter of what we expect +of them if they were in less wonderful surroundings." + +He paused a moment and then continued: "It may be a myth, this tradition +of the bigness of mountain men; or the impression may thrive because, +out here, we are so few and so widely scattered that we are the only +people who get a proper perspective on one another. That would be a +comfortable thing to believe, wouldn't it? It would mean, possibly, that +if we could only remove ourselves far enough from any community we would +appreciate its virtues and be able to overlook its vices. I'd like to +believe without qualification that a magnificent creation like this +valley would lift us all to a higher level; but I can't. Some of your +enthusiastic young men who come out from the East and write books about +the West would have it that these specimens of humanity which thrive in +the mountains and deserts are all supermen, with only enough rascals +sprinkled about to serve the purposes of their plots. That, of course, +is a fallacy and it may be due to the surprising point of view which we +find ourselves able to adopt when we are removed far enough by distance +or tradition from other people. We have some splendid men here, but the +average man in the mountains won't measure up to where he will +overshadow the average man of any other region ... I believe. We haven't +so many opportunities, perhaps, to show our qualities of goodness and +badness ... although some of us can be downright nasty on occasion!" + +He ended with an inflection which caused Ann to believe that he was +thinking of some specific case of misconduct; she felt herself flush +quickly and became suddenly fearful that he might refer directly to Ned. +Last night she had poured her misery into a stranger's ears; to-day she +could not bear the thought of further discussing her husband's life or +condition; she shrank, even, from the idea of being associated with him +in the minds of other people and in desperation she veered the subject +by asking, + +"Is it populated much, the valley, I mean?" + +"Not yet. Cattle and horse and some sheep ranches are scattered about. +One outfit will use up a lot of that country for grazing purposes, you +know. Someday there'll be water and more people ... and less bigness!" + +He told her more of the valley, stopping now and then to indicate +directions. + +"I came from over there yesterday," he said, facing about and pointing +into the westward. "Had a funeral beyond those hills. Stopped for +dinner with a young friend of mine whose ranch is just beyond that swell +yonder.... Fine boy; Bayard, Bruce Bayard." + +Ann wanted to ask him more about the rancher, but somehow she could not +trust herself; she felt that her voice would be uncertain, for one +thing. Some unnamed shyness, too, held her from questioning him now. + +They stopped before the hotel and the man said: + +"My name is Weyl. I am the clergy of Yavapai. If you are to be here +long, I'm sure Mrs. Weyl would like to see you. She is in Prescott for a +week or two now." + +He put out his hand, and, as she clasped it, Ann said, scarcely +thinking: + +"I am Ann Lytton. I arrived last night and may be here some time." + +She saw a quick look of pain come into his readable eyes and felt his +finger tighten on hers. + +"Oh, yes!" he said, in a manner that made her catch her breath. "I +know.... Your brother, isn't it, the young miner?" + +At that the woman started and merely to escape further painful +discussion, unthinkingly clouding her own identity, replied, + +"Ned, you mean ... yes...." + +"Well, if you're to be here long we will see you, surely. And if there's +anything I can do for you, please ask it." + +"You're very kind," she said, as she turned from him. + +In her room she stood silent a moment, palms against her cheeks. +Bayard's words came back to her: + +"I didn't think you was married ... especially to a thing like that...." + +And now this other man concluded that she could not be Ned's wife! + +"I must be his wife ... his _good_ wife!" she said, with a stamp of her +foot. "If he ever needed one ... it's now...." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +AT THE CIRCLE A + + +Ned Lytton swam back to consciousness through painful half dreams. Light +hurt his inflamed eyes; a horrible throbbing, originating in the center +of his head, proceeded outward and seemed to threaten the solidity of +his skull; his body was as though it had been mauled and banged about +until no inch of flesh remained unbruised; his left forearm burned and +stung fiendishly. He was in bed, undressed, he realized, and covered to +the chin with clean smelling bedding. He moved his tortured head from +side to side and marveled dully because it rested on a pillow. + +It was some time before he appreciated more. Then he saw that the fine +sunlight which hurt his eyes streamed into the room from open windows +and door, that it was flung back at him by whitewashed walls and +scrubbed floor. He was in someone's house, cared for without his +knowing. He moved stiffly on the thought. Someone had taken him in, +someone had shown him a kindness, and, even in his semi-stupor, he +wondered, because, for an incalculable period, he had been hating and +hated. + +He did not know how Bayard had dragged a bed from another room and set +it up in his kitchen that he might better nurse his patient; did not +know how the rancher had slept in his chair, and then but briefly, that +he might not be tardy in attending to any need during the early morning +hours; did not realize that the whole program of life in that +comfortable ranch house had been altered that it might center about him. +He did comprehend, though, that someone cared, that he was experiencing +kindness. + +The sound of moving feet and the ring of spurs reached him; then a boot +was set on the threshold and Bruce Bayard stepped into the room. He was +rubbing his face with a towel and in the other hand was a razor and +shaving brush. He had been scraping his chin in the shade of the ash +tree that waved lazily in the warm breeze and tossed fantastically +changing shadows through the far window. He looked up as he entered and +encountered the gaze from these swollen, inflamed eyes set in the +bruised face of Ned Lytton. + +"Hello!" he cried in surprise. "You're awake?" + +He put down the things he carried and crossed the room to the bedside. + +"Yes.... For God's sake, haven't you got a drink?"--in a painful rasp. + +"I have; one; just one, for you," the other replied, left the room and +came back with a tumbler a third filled with whiskey. He propped +Lytton's head with one hand and held the glass to his misshapen lips, +while he guzzled greedily. + +"More ... another ..." Lytton muttered a moment after he was back on his +pillow. + +"Seems to me you'd ought to know you've punished enough of this by now," +the rancher said, standing with his hands on his hips and looking at the +distorted expression of suffering on Lytton's face. + +The sick man moved his head slightly in negation. Then, after a moment: + +"How'd I get here? Who are you ... anyhow?" + +"Don't you know me?" + +The fevered eyes held on him, studying laboriously, and a smile +struggled to bend the puffed lips. + +"Sure ... you're the fellow, Nora's fellow ... the girl in the hotel. I +tried to ... and she said you'd beat me up...." Something intended for a +laugh sounded from his throat. The face of the man above him flushed +slightly and the jaw muscles bulged under his cheek. "Where in hell am +I? How'd I get here?" + +"I brought you here last night. You'd gone the limit in town. Somebody +tried to shoot you an' got as far's your arm. I brought you here to try +to make somethin' like a man of you,"--ending with a hint of bitterness +in spite of the whimsical smile with which he watched the effect of his +last words. + +Lytton stirred. + +"Damned arm!" he muttered, thickly, evidently conscious of only physical +things. "I thought something was wrong. It hurts like.... Say, whatever +your name is, haven't you got another drink?" + +"My name is Bayard; you know me when you're sober. You're at my ranch, +th' Circle A. You've had your drink for to-day." + +"May--Bayard. Say, for God's sake, Bayard, you ain't going to let +me.... Why, like one gentleman to another, when your girl Nora, the +waitress ... said you'd knock me ... keep away. I wasn't afraid.... +Didn't know she was yours.... I quit when I knew.... Treated you like a +gentleman. Now why ... don't you treat me like a gentle ... give me a +drink. I kept away from your wo--" + +"Oh, shut up!" + +The ominous quality of the carelessly spoken, half laughing demand +carried even to Lytton's confused understanding and he checked himself +between syllables, staring upward into the countenance of the other. + +"In the first place, she's not my woman, in th' way you mean; if she +was, I wouldn't stand here an' only tell you to shut your mouth when you +talked about her like that. Sick as you are, I'd choke you, maybe. In +th' second place, I'm no gentleman, I guess,"--with a smile breaking +through into a laugh. "I'm just a kind of he-man an' I don't know much +about th' way you gentlemen have dealin's with each other. + +"No more booze for you to-day. Get that in your head, if you can. I've +got coffee for you now an' some soup." + +He turned and walked to the stove in the far corner, kicked open the +draft and took a cup from the shelf above. All the while the bleared, +scarce understanding gaze of the man in bed followed him as though he +were trying to comprehend, trying to get the meaning of Bayard's simple, +direct sentences. + +After he had been helped in drinking a quantity of hot coffee and had +swallowed a few spoonfuls of soup, Lytton dropped back on the pillow, +sighed and, with his puffed eyes half open, slipped back into a state +that was half slumber, half stupor. + +Bayard took the wounded arm from beneath the cover, unwrapped the +bandages, eyed the clotted tear critically and bound it up again. Then +he walked to the doorway and, with hands hooked in his belt, scowled out +across the lavendar floor of the treeless valley which spread before and +below him, rising to blue heights in the far, far distance. He stood +there a long, silent interval, staring vacantly at that vast panorama, +then, moved slowly across the fenced dooryard, let himself into a big +enclosure and approached a round corral, through the bars of which the +sorrel horse watched his progress with alert ears. For a half hour he +busied himself with currycomb and brush, rubbing the fine hair until the +sunlight was shot back from it in points of golden light and all the +time the frown between his brows grew deeper, more perplexed. Finally, +he straightened, tapped the comb against a post to free it of dust, +flung an arm affectionately about the horse's neck, caressed one of the +great, flat cheeks, idly, and, after a moment, began to laugh. + +"Because we set our fool eyes on beauty in distress we cross a jag-cure +with a reform school an' set up to herd th' cussed thing!" he chuckled. +"Abe, was there ever two bigger fools 'n you an' me? Because she's a +beauty, she'll draw attention like honey draws bees; because she's in +trouble an' can't hide it, she'll have everybody prospectin' round to +locate her misery an' when they do, we'll be in th' middle of it all, +keepin' th' worthless husband of a pretty young woman away from her. All +out of th' goodness of our hearts. It won't sound good when they talk +about it an' giggle, Abe. It won't sound good!" And then, very +seriously, + +"How 'n hell could she marry a ... thing like that?" + +During the day Lytton roused several times and begged for whiskey, +incoherently, scarce consciously, but only once again did Bayard respond +with stimulants. That was late evening and, after the drink, the man +dropped off into profound slumber, not to rouse from it until the sun +again rose above the hills and once more flooded the room with its +glorious light. Then, he looked up to see Bayard smiling seriously at +him, a basin and towel in his hands. + +"You're a good sleeper," he said. "I took a look at your pinked arm an' +you didn't even move; just cussed me a little." + +The other smiled, this time in a more human manner, for the swelling had +partly gone from his lips and his eyes were nearer those of his species. + +"Now, sit up," the cowman went on, "an' get your face washed, like a +good boy." + +Gently, swiftly, thoroughly, he washed Lytton's face and neck in water +fresh from the well under the ash tree, and, when he had finished, he +took the sick man in the crook of his big, steady arm, lifted him +without much effort and placed him halfway erect against the re-arranged +pillows. + +"Would you eat somethin'?" he asked, and for the first time that day his +patient spoke. + +"Lord, yes! I'm starved,"--feebly. + +Bayard brought coffee again and eggs and stood by while Lytton consumed +them with a weak show of relish. During this breakfast only a few words +were exchanged, but when the dishes were removed and Bayard returned to +the bed with a glass of water the other stared into his face for the +space of many breaths. + +"Old chap, you're mighty white to do all this," he said, and his voice +trembled with earnestness. "I ... I don't believe I've ever spoken to +you a dozen times when I was sober and yet you.... How long have you +been doing all this for me?" + +"Only since night before last," Bayard answered, with a depreciating +laugh. "It's no more 'n any man would do for another ... if he needed +it." + +Lytton searched his face seriously again. + +"Oh, yes, it is," he muttered, with a painful shake of his head. "No one +has ever done for me like this, never since I was a little kid.... + +"I ... I don't blame 'em; especially the ones out here. I've been a +rotter all right; no excuse for it. I ... I've gone the limit and I +guess whoever tried to shoot me was justified ... I don't know,"--with a +slow sigh--"how much hell I've raised. + +"But ... but why did you do this for me? You've never seen me much; +never had any reason to like me." + +The smile went from Bayard's eyes. He thought "I'm doing this not for +you, but for a woman I've seen only once...." What he said aloud was: +"Why, I reckoned if somebody didn't take care of you, you'd get killed +up. I might just as well do it as anybody an' save Yavapai th' trouble +of a funeral." + +They looked at one another silently. + +"A while ago ... yesterday, maybe ... I said something to you about a, +about a woman," the man said, and an uneasiness marked his expression. +"I apologize, Old Man. I don't know just what I said, but I was nasty, +and I'm sorry. A ... a man's woman is his own affair; nobody's else." + +"You think so?" The question came with a surprising bluntness. + +"Why, yes; always." + +Bayard turned from the bedside abruptly and strode across the floor to +the table where a pan waited for the dirty dishes, rolling up his +sleeves as he went, face troubled. Lytton's eyes followed him, a trifle +sadly at first, but slowly, as the other worked, a cunning came into +them, a shiftiness, a crafty glitter. He moistened his lips with his +tongue and stirred uneasily on his pillow. Once, he opened his mouth as +though to speak but checked the impulse. When the dishpan was hung away +and Bayard stood rolling down his sleeves, Lytton said: + +"Old man, yesterday you gave me a drink or two. Can't ... haven't you +any left this morning?" + +"I have," the rancher said slowly, "but you don't need it to-day. You +did yesterday, but this mornin' you've got some grub in you, you got +somethin' more like a clear head, an' I don't guess any snake juice +would help matters along very fast. There's more coffee here an' you can +fill up on that any old time you get shaky." + +"Coffee!" scoffed the other, a sudden weak rage asserting itself. "What +th' hell do I want of coffee? What I need's whiskey! Don't you think I +know what I want? Lord, Bayard, I'm a man, ain't I? I can judge for +myself what I want, can't I?" + +"Yesterday, you said you was a gentleman," Bayard replied, +reminiscently, his tone lightly chaffing, "an' I guess that about states +your case. As for you knowin' what you want ... I don't agree with you; +judgin' from your past, anyhow." + +The man in the bed bared his teeth in an unpleasant smile; two of the +front teeth were missing, another broken, result of some recent fight, +and with his swollen eyes he was a revolting sight. As he looked at him, +Bayard's face reflected his deep disgust. + +"What's your game?" Lytton challenged. "I didn't ask you to bring me +here, did I? I haven't asked any favors of you, have I? You ... You +shanghaied me out to your damned ranch; you keep me here, and then won't +even give me a drink out of your bottle. Hell, any sheepherder'd do that +for me! + +"If you think I'm ungrateful for what you've done--sobered me up, I +mean--just say so and I'll get out. That was all right. But what was +your object?" + +"I thought by bringing you out here you might get straightened up. I did +it for your own good. You don't understand right now, but you may ... +sometime." + +"My own good! Well, I've had enough for my own good, now, so I guess I +won't wait any longer to understand!" + +He kicked off the covers and stood erect, swaying dizzily. Bayard +stepped across to him. + +"Get back into bed," he said, evenly, with no display of temper. "You +couldn't walk to water an' you couldn't set on a horse five minutes. +You're here an' you're goin' to stay a while whether you like it or +not." + +The cords of his neck stood out, giving the only evidence of the anger +he felt. He gently forced the other man back into bed and covered him, +breathing a trifle swiftly but offering no further protest for +explanation. + +"You keep me here by force, and then you prate about doing it for my own +good!" Lytton panted. "You damned hypocrite; you.... It's on account of +a woman, I know! She tried to get coy with me; she tried to make me +think she was all yours when I followed her up. She told you about it +and ... damn you, you're afraid to let me go back to town!"--lifting +himself on an elbow. "Come, Bayard, be frank with me: the thing between +us is a woman, isn't it?" + +The rancher eyed him a long time, almost absently. Then he walked slowly +to the far corner of the room and moved a chair back against the wall +with great pains; it was as though he were deciding something, something +of great importance, something on which an immediate decision was +gravely necessary. He faced about and walked slowly back to the bedside +without speaking. His lips were shut and the one hand held behind him +was clenched into a knot. + +"Not now ... a woman," he said, as though he were uncertain himself. +"Not now ... but it may be, sometime...." + +The other laughed and fell back into his pillows. Bayard looked down at +him, eyes speculative beneath slightly drawn brows. + +"And then," he added, "if it ever comes to that...." + +He snapped his fingers and turned away abruptly, as if the thought +brought a great uneasiness. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +TONGUES WAG + + +It was afternoon the next day that Bruce Bayard, swinging down from his +horse, whipped the dust from his clothing with his hat and walked +through the kitchen door of the Manzanita House. + +"Hello, Nora," he said to the girl who approached him. "Got a little +clean water for a dirty cow puncher?" + +He kicked out of his chaps and, dropping his hat to the floor, reached +for the dipper. The girl, after a brief greeting, stood looking at him +in perplexed speculation. + +"What's wrong, Sister? You look mighty mournful this afternoon!" + +"Bruce, what do you know about Ned Lytton?" she asked, cautiously, +looking about to see that no one could overhear. + +"Why? What do _you_ know about him?" + +"Well, his wife's here; you took him upstairs with you that night dead +drunk, you went home and he was gone before any of us was up. She ... +she's worried to fits about him. Everybody's tryin' to put her off his +track, 'cause they feel sorry for her; they think he's probably gone +back to his mine to sober up, but nobody wants to see her follow and +find out what he is. Nobody thinks she knows how he's been actin'. + +"You know, they think that she's his sister. I don't." + +He scooped water from the shallow basin and buried his face in the +cupped hands that held it, rubbing and blowing furiously. + +"That's what I come to town for, Nora, because I suspected she'd be +worryin'." To himself he thought, "Sister! That helps!" + +"You mean, you know where he is?" + +"Yeah,"--nodding his head as he wiped his hands--"I took him home. I got +him there in bed an' I come to town th' first chance I got to tell her +he's gettin' along fine." + +"That was swell of you, Bruce," she said, with an admiring smile. + +He shrugged his shoulders deprecatingly. + +"Yes, it was!" she insisted. "To do it for her. She's th' sweetest thing +ever come into this town, an' he's...." + +She ended by making a wry face. + +"You had a run-in with him, didn't you?" he asked, as if casually, and +the girl looked at him sharply. + +"How'd you know?" + +"He's been kind of nutty an' said somethin' about it." + +A pause. + +"He come in here last week, Bruce, drunk. He made a grab for me an' said +somethin' fresh an' he was so crazy, so awful lookin', that it scart me +for a minute. I told him to keep away or you'd knock all th' poison out +of him. He ... You see,"--apologetically--"I was scart an' I knew that +was th' easiest way out--to tell him you'd get after him. You ... Th' +worst of 'em back up when they think you're likely to land on 'em." + +He reached out and pinched her cheek, smiled and shook his head with +mock seriousness. + +"Lordy, Sister, you'd make me out a hell-winder of a bad man, wouldn't +you?" + +"Not much! 'N awful good man, Bruce. That's what puts a crimp in +'em--your goodness!" + +He flushed at that. + +"Tryin' to josh me now, ain't you?" he laughed. "Well, josh away, but if +any of 'em get fresh with you an' I'll ... I'll have th' sheriff on +'em!"--with a twinkle in his gray eyes. Then he sobered. + +"I s'pose I'd better go up to her room now," he said, an uneasy manner +coming over him. "She'll be glad to know he's gettin' along so well.... + +"So everybody thinks she's his sister, do they?"--with an effort to make +his question sound casual and as an afterthought. + +"Yes, they do. I'm th' only one who's guessed she's his wife an' I kept +my mouth shut. Rest of 'em all swear she couldn't be, that's she's his +sister, 'cause she ... well, she ain't th' kind that would marry a +thing like that. I didn't say nothin'. I let 'em think as they do; but I +know! No sister would worry th' way she does!" + +"You're a wise gal," he said, "an' when you said she was th' sweetest +thing that ever come to this town you wasn't so awful wrong." + +He opened the door and closed it behind him. + +In the middle of the kitchen floor the girl stood alone, motionless, her +eyes glowing, pulses quickened. Then, the keen light went from her face; +its expression became doggedly patient, as if she were confronted by a +long, almost hopeless undertaking, and with a sigh she turned to her +tasks. + +Patient Nora! As Bayard had closed the door behind him unthinkingly, so +had he closed the door to his heart against the girl. All her crude, +timid advances had failed to impress him, so detached from response to +sex attraction was his interest in her. And for months she had +waited ... waited, finding solace in the fact that no other woman stood +closer to him; but now ... she feared an unnamed influence. + +Ann Lytton, staring at the page of a book, heard his boots on the stair. +He mounted slowly, spurs ringing lightly with each step, and, when he +was halfway up, she rose to her feet, walked to the door of her room and +stood watching him come down the narrow, dark hallway, filling it with +his splendid height, his unusual breadth. + +They spoke no greeting. She merely backed into the room and Bruce +followed with a show of slight embarrassment. Yet his gaze was full on +her, steady, searching, intent. Only when she stopped and held out her +hand did his manner of looking at her change. Then, he smiled and met +her firm grasp with a hand that was cold and which trembled ever so +slightly. + +"He ... is he ..." she began in an uncertain voice. + +"He's doin' fine, ma'am," he said, and her fingers tightened on his, +sending a thrill up his arm and making its muscles contract to draw her +a bit closer to him. "He's doin' fine," he repeated, relinquishing his +grasp. "He's feelin' better an' lookin' better an' he'll begin to gain +strength right off." + +An inarticulate exclamation of gladness broke from her. + +"Oh, it's been an age!" she said, smiling wanly and shaking her head +slowly as she looked up into his face. "Every hour has seemed a day, +every day a week. I didn't dare, didn't dare think; and I've hoped so +long, with so little result that I didn't dare hope!" + +She bowed her head and held her folded hands against her mouth. For a +moment they were so, the cowboy looking down at her with a restless, +covetous light in his eyes and it was the impulsive lifting of one hand +as though he would stroke the blue-black braids that roused her. + +"Come, sit down," she said, indicating a chair opposite hers by the +open window. "I want you to tell me everything and I want to ask you if +it isn't best that I go to him now. + +"Now, from the beginning, please!" + +He looked into her eyes as though he did not hear her words. Her +expression of eager anticipation changed; her look wavered, she left off +meeting his gaze and Bayard, with a start, moved in his chair. + +"There ain't much to tell," he mumbled. "I got him home easy enough an' +sent th' team back that day by a friend of mine who happened along...." + +Her eyes returned to his face, riveting there with an impersonal +earnestness that would not be challenged. Her red lips were parted as +she sat with elbows on knees in the low rocker before him. It was his +gaze, now, that wavered, but he hastened on with his recital of what he +thought best to tell about what had occurred at his ranch in the last +two days. + +From time to time he glanced at her and on every occasion the mounting +appreciation of her beauty, the unfaltering earnestness of her desire to +learn every detail about her husband, the wonder that her sort could +remain devoted to Ned Lytton's kind, combined to enrage him, to make him +rebel hotly, even as he talked, at thought of such impossible human +relations, and he was on the point of giving vent to his indignation +when he remembered with a decided shock that on their first meeting she +had told him that she loved her husband. Beyond that, he reasoned, +nothing could be said. + +"He's awful weak, of course, but he was quiet," he concluded. "I left +him sleepin' an' I'll get back before he rouses up, it's likely." + +"Well, don't you think I might go back with you?" she asked, eagerly. +"Don't you think he's strong enough now, so I might be with him?" + +He had expected this and was steeled against it. + +"Why, you might, ma'am, if things was different," he said. "It's sort of +rough out there; just a shack, understand, an' you've never lived that +kind of life. There's only one room, an' I...." + +"Oh, I hadn't thought of crowding you out! Please don't think I'd +overlook your own comfort." + +Her regret was so spontaneous, that he stirred uneasily, for he was not +accustomed to lying. + +"Not at all, ma'am. Why, I'd move out an' sleep in th' hills for you, if +I knew it was best ... for you!" + +The heart that was in his voice startled her. She sat back in her chair. + +"You've been very kind ... so kind!" she said, after a pause. + +He fidgetted in his chair and rose. + +"Nobody could help bein' kind ... to you, ma'am," he stammered. "If +anybody was anything but kind to you they deserve...." + +He realized of a sudden that the man for whose sake she was undergoing +this ordeal had been cruel to her, and checked himself. Because +bitterness surged up within him and he felt that to follow his first +impulses would place him between Ann Lytton and her husband, aligned +against the man in the role of protector. + +She divined the reason for his silence and said very gently, + +"Remember the cripples!" + +He turned toward her so fiercely that she started back, having risen. + +"I'm tryin' to!" he cried, with a surprising sharpness. "Tryin' to, +ma'am, every minute; tryin' to remember th' cripples." + +He looked about in flushed confusion. Ann stared at him. + +His intensity frightened her. The men of her experience would not have +presumed to show such direct interest in her affairs on brief +acquaintance. A deal of conventional sparring and shamming would have +been required for any of them to evince a degree of passion in the +discussion of her predicament; but this man, on their second meeting, +was obviously forced to hold himself firmly, restraining a natural +prompting to step in and adjust matters to accord with his own sense of +right. The girl felt instinctively that his motives were most high, but +his manner was rough and new; she was accustomed to the usual, the +familiar, and, while her confidence in Bayard had been profoundly +aroused, her inherent distrust of strangeness caused her to suspect, to +be reluctant to accept his attitude without reserve. Looking up at her +he read the conflict in her face. + +"I'd better go now," he added in a voice from which the vigor had gone. +"I..." + +"But you'll let me know about Ned?" she asked, trying to rally her +composure. + +"I'll come to-morrow, ma'am," he promised. + +"That'll be so kind of you!" + +"You don't understand, maybe, that it's no kindness to you," he said. +"It might be somethin' else. Have you thought of that? Have you thought, +ma'am, that maybe I ain't th' kind of man I'm pretendin' to be?" + +Then, he walked out before she could answer and she stood alone, his +words augmenting the disquiet his manner had aroused. She moved to the +window, anxiously waiting to see him ride past. He did, a few minutes +later, his head down in thought, his fine, flat shoulders braced +backward, body poised splendidly, light, masterly in the saddle, the +wonderful creature under him moving with long, sure strides. The woman +drew a deep breath and turned back into the room. + +"I mustn't ... I mustn't," she whispered. + +Then wheeled quickly, snatched back the curtains and pressed her cheek +against the upper panes to catch a last glimpse of him. + + * * * * * + +Next day Bayard was back and found that the hours Ann had spent alone +had taken their toll and she controlled herself only by continual +repression. He urged her to talk, hoping to start her thinking fresh +thoughts, but she could think, then, only of the present hour. Her +loneliness had again broken down all barriers. Bayard was her confessor, +her talk with him the only outlet for the emotional pressure that +threatened her self-control; that relief was imperative, overriding her +distrust of the day before. For an hour the man listened while she gave +him the dreary details of her married life with that eagerness of the +individual who, for too long a period, has hidden and nursed +heart-breaking troubles. She was only twenty-four and had married at +twenty. A year later Ned's father had died, the boy came into sudden +command of considerable property, lost his head, frittered away the +fortune, drank, could not face the condemnation of his family and fled +West on the pretext of developing the Sunset mine, the last tangible +asset that remained. She tried to cover the entire truth there, but +Bayard knew that Lytton's move was only desertion, for she told of going +to work to support herself, of standing between Ned and his relatives, +of shielding him from the consequences of the misadministration of his +father's estate, of waiting weeks and months for word of him, of denying +herself actual necessities that she might come West on this mission. + +At the end she cried and Bayard felt an unholy desire to ride to his +Circle A ranch and do violence to the man who had functioned in this +woman's life as a maker of misery. But he merely sat there and put his +hands under his thighs to keep them from reaching out for the woman, to +comfort her, to claim a place as her protector.... + +The talk and tears relieved Ann and she smiled bravely at him when he +left; a tenderness was in her face that disturbed him. + +Day after day the rancher appeared in Yavapai, each time going directly +to the hotel and to Ann. Many times he talked to her in her room; often, +they were seen together on the veranda; occasionally, they walked short +distances. The eyes of the community were on Ann anyhow, because, being +new, she was intrinsically interesting, but this regularity on the part +of Bayard could not help but attract curious attention and cause gossip, +for in the years people had watched him grow from a child to manhood one +of the accepted facts about him had been his evident lack of interest in +women. To Nora, the waitress, he had given frank, companionable +attention and regarding them was a whispered tradition arising when the +unknown girl arrived in Yavapai and Bruce appeared to be on intimate +terms with her from the first. + +But now Nora received little enough of his time. She watched his comings +and goings with a growing concern which she kept in close secret and no +one, unless they had watched ever so closely, would have seen the slow +change that came over the brown haired girl. Her amiable bearing toward +the people she served became slightly forced, her laughter grew a trifle +hard, and, when Bruce was in sight, she kept her eyes on him with steady +inquiry, as one who reads eagerly and yet dreads to know what is +written. + +One day the cattleman came from the hotel and crossed the street to the +Yavapai saloon where a dozen men were assembled. Tommy Clary was there +among others and, when they lined up before the bar on Bruce's arrival, +feet on the piece of railroad steel that did service as footrail, Tommy, +with a wink to the man at his right said: + +"Now, Bruce, you're just in time to settle 'n argument. All these here +other _hombres_ are sayin' you've lost your head an' are clean skirt +crazy, an' I've been tellin' 'em that you're only tryin' to be a brother +to her. Ain't that right, now? Just back me up, Bruce!" + +He stood back and gestured in mock appeal, while the others leaned +forward over the bar at varying degrees that they might see and grinned +in silence. Bayard looked straight before him and the corners of his +mouth twitched in a half smile. + +"Who is this lady you're honorin' by hitchin' me up with?" he asked. + +"Ho, that's good! I s'pose you don't quite comprehend our meanin'! Well, +I'll help you out. This Lytton girl, sister to our hydrophobia skunk! +They think you're in love, Bruce, but I stick up for you like a friend +ought to. I think you're only brotherly!" + +"Why, Tommy, they ought to take your word on anythin' like that," Bayard +countered, turning slowly to face the other. "Th' reason th' _Yavapai +Argus_ perished was 'cause Tom Clary beat th' editor to all th' news, +wasn't it?" + +The laugh was on the short cowboy and he joined it heartily. + +"But if that's true--that brother stuff--," he said, when he could be +heard, "seems to me you're throwin' in with a fine sample of stalwart +manhood!" + +Then they were off on a concerted damnation of Ned Lytton and under its +cover Bayard thanked his stars that Nora had been right, that Yavapai +had been satisfied with jumping at the conclusion that Ann could not be +her husband's wife. + +"But I'll tell you, Bruce," went on Tommy, as Bayard started to leave, +"if I was as pretty a fellow as you are, I'd make a play for that gal +myself! If she'd only get to know me an' know 'bout my brains, it'd all +be downhill an' shady. But she won't. You got th' looks; I've got th' +horse power in my head. Can't we form a combination?" + +"I'm sort of again' combinations ... where women are concerned," Bruce +answered, and walked out before they could see the seriousness that +possessed him. + +On his way out of town Bayard passed two friends but did not look at +them nor appear to hear their salutations. He was a mile up the road +before his absorption gave way to a shake of the head and the following +summing up, spoken to the jogging Abe: + +"Gosh, Pardner, back there they've all got me in love with her. I had a +hard time keepin' my head, when they tried to josh me about it. I ain't +ever admitted it to myself, even, but has that--not admittin' it--got +anything to do with it, I wonder? Does it keep it from bein' so? Why +should I get hot, if it ain't true?" + +When they were in sight of the ranch, he spoke again, + +"How 'n th' name of God can a man help lovin' a woman like that?" + +And in answer to the assertion that popped up in his mind, he cried +aloud: "He ain't no man; _he_ ain't ... an' she loves him!" + +He put the stallion into a high lope then, partly to relieve the stress +of his thinking, partly because he suddenly realized that he had been +away from the ranch many hours. This was the first time that Lytton had +been up and about when he departed and he wondered if, in the interval, +the man had left the ranch, had stolen a march on him, and escaped to +Yavapai or elsewhere to find stimulant. + +Lytton's improvement seemed to have been marked in the last two days. +That forenoon, when Bayard told him he was to go to town, the man had +insisted on helping with the work, though his body was still weak. He +had been pleasant, almost jovial, and it was with pride that the +rancher had told Ann of the results he had obtained by his care and his +patience; had spoken with satisfaction in spite of the knowledge that +ultimate success meant a snuffing out of the fire that burned in his +heart ... the fire that he would not yet admit existed. + +Arrived at the ranch, Bruce forced the sorrel against his gate, leaned +low to release the fastening and went on through. He was grave of face +and silent and he walked toward the house after dismounting, deep in +thought, struggling with the problem of conduct which was evolving from +the circumstance in which he found himself. + +On the threshold, after looking into the kitchen, he stood poised a +moment. Then, with a cry of anger he strode into the room, halted and +looked about him. + +"You damned liar!" he cried into the silence. + +Ned Lytton lay across the bed, face downward, breathing muffled by the +tumbled blankets, and on the floor beside him was an empty whiskey +bottle. + +"You liar!" Bayard said again. "You strung me this mornin', didn't you? +This was why you was so crazy to help me get an early start! You +coyote!" + +He moved noisily across the room and halted again to survey the scene. A +cupboard had been roughly emptied and the clock had been overturned when +Lytton searched its shelf; in another room an old dresser stood gaping, +the things it had contained in a pile on the floor, its drawers flung in +a corner. Everywhere was evidence of a hurried search for a hidden +thing. And that sought object was the bottle, the contents of which had +sent the prostrate figure into its present state. + +"You're just ... carrion!" he said, disgustedly, staring at Lytton. + +Then, with set face, he undressed the man, laid him gently on the +pillows and covered him well. + +"God help me to remember that you're a cripple!" he muttered, and turned +to straighten the disorder of his house. + +An hour later Bayard drew a chair to the bedside, seated himself and +frowned steadily at the sleeping man. + +"I've got to remember you're a cripple ... got to," he said, over and +over. "For her sake, I must. An' I can't ... trust myself near her ... I +can't!" + +The drunken man roused himself with a start and stared blearily, +unintelligently into the other's face. + +"Tha's righ', Ole Man," he mumbled. "Tha's ri'...." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +A HEART SPEAKS + + +With forebodings Bruce Bayard went to Ann Lytton the next day. She saw +trouble on his face as he entered her room. + +"What is it?" she asked, quietly, steadying herself, for she was ever +ready for the worst. + +He only continued to look gravely at her. + +"Don't be afraid to tell me, Mr. Bayard. I can stand it; you can't hide +it." + +He looked at her, until he made sure that she was not speculating, that +she was certain that he brought her bad news. + +"Yesterday, while I was here, your husband ransacked my house an' found a +quart of whiskey I had...." + +"Oh! After he sent you away, making you feel..." + +"You know him right well, ma'am," he interrupted. "Yes, I guess all his +show of bein' himself in th' mornin' was to get me to move out so he +could look for th' booze. He knew it was there; he'd been waitin' this +chance, I expect." + +"How awful! What a way to treat you." + +He smiled. "Don't mind me, ma'am; I'm thinkin' about you." + +She looked back at him bravely. + +"And the other day ... when you left, you tried to make me stop thinking +these kind things about you," she challenged. "You suggested that your +interest in Ned and in me might not be fine." + +It did not occur to either of them that at such a moment, under those +conditions which they told themselves prevailed, talk and thought of +their own special relations was out of place. + +"I'm only doin' what I can ... for you," he assured her. "An' I guess it +ain't much I can do. I'm kind of a failure at reformin' men, I guess. I +want to keep on tryin', though. I,"--he moistened his lips--"I don't +like to think of givin' up an' I don't like to think of turnin' him over +to you like he is." + +She smiled appreciatively, downing her misery for the moment, and +hastened to say: + +"Don't you think it would be better, if I were there now? You see, I +could be with him all the time, watch him, help him over the worst days. +It surely wouldn't set him back to see me now." + +"And might it not be that living alone with you, away from the things he +needs: good care, the comforts he's been brought up to know, the right +food...." + +So confused was Bayard before the conviction that he must meet this +argument, that he proceeded without caution, without thought of the +foundation of lies on which his separation of husband and wife rested, +he burst out: + +"But he has them there! Here, ma'am, he'd been seein' an' hearin' folks, +he'd be tempted continually. Out there ... why, ma'am, he don't see +nobody, hear nothin'. He couldn't be more comfortable. There ain't a +house in Yavapai, not one this side o' Prescott, that's better fixed up. +I brought out a bed for him into th' kitchen so 't would be lighter, +easier for him to be watched. He ... I have sheets for him an' good +beddin'. I got eggs an' fruit an' ..." + +The perplexity on her face stopped him. + +"But you said, you said it was too rough for a woman, that it wasn't +much of a house, that it only had one room, that it ..." + +One hand extended, leaning toward him, brows raised, accusing, she +sought for explanation and she saw his face flood with flush, saw his +chest fill. + +"Well, I lied to you," he said, the lines of his body going suddenly lax +as he half turned from her. "It ain't rough. It's a pretty fair outfit." + +She dropped her hands until they met before her and a look of offended +trust, came into her face, settling the lines about her mouth into an +expression of determination. + +"But why?" she asked him. "Why should you lie to me and keep me from +Ned, my husband? I trusted you; I believed what you said. Why was it, +Mr. Bayard?" + +He turned on her, eyes burning, color running from his face. + +"I'll tell you why, ma'am," he said, chokingly, as though his lungs were +too full of air. "I'll tell you: It's because I didn't dare trust myself +under th' same roof with you, that's why; it's because I know that if +you're around me you'll be ... you'll be in danger." + +"No man should tempt himself too far an' 'twould be temptin', if I was +to let you come there. You don't know this country. You don't know us +men ... men like I am. I don't know your kind of men myself; but we're +rough, we're not nice when we want a thing. We haven't got nice manners. +I tell you, ma'am, I want to help you all I can, but I've got to look +out for myself, you see! Do you see that, ma'am? I thought I could see +you now an' then safe enough, but I can't I guess.... This had to come +out; it had to!" + +A forearm half raised she stepped back from him, settling her weight to +one foot. He breathed heavily twice to relieve the congestion that +strained his voice. + +"When I stood down there th' other night,"--gesturing toward the +entrance of the hotel--"an' looked into the darkness an' saw your face +there, it was like an angel ... or somethin'. It caught me in th' +throat, it made my knees shake--an' they've never shook from fear or +anythin' else in my life. When we set in that next room washin' out that +wound, bindin' it up, I didn't give a damn if that man lived or died--" + +"Oh!" she cried, and drew away another step, but he followed close, +bound that she should hear, should understand. + +"--If he lived or died," he repeated. "I wanted to be near you, to watch +your fingers, to see th' move of your shoulders, to look at th'--th' +pink of your neck through your waist, to see your lips an' your eyes an' +your hair ... ma'am. I didn't give a damn about that man. It was you; +your strangeness, your nerve, your sand, I wanted to see, to know +about ... an' your looks. Then you said, you said he was your husband +an' for a minute I wanted him to die, I did! That was a black minute, +ma'am; things went round, I didn't know what was happenin'. Then, I come +out of it and I realized; realized what kind of a woman you are, if +you'd come clear from th' East on th' trail of a ... a ... your husband, +an' speak of him as a cripple an' be as ... as wrought up over him as +you was-- + +"I thought then, like a fool I was, that I'd be doin' somethin' fine if +I took that ... that ... your husband an' made a man of him an' sent him +back to you, a man!" + +He gulped and breathed and his hands fell to his sides. He moved back an +awkward pace. + +"Well, it would,"--averting his face. The resonance had gone from his +voice. "It would have been fine. It ... it _will_ be fine,"--in a +whisper. + +"But I can't stand you around," he muttered, the tone rallying some of +its strength. "I can't; I can't! I couldn't have you in th' same room +in my sight. I'd keep thinkin' what he is an' what you are; comparin' +you. It'd tear my heart out! + +"Ma'am don't think I ain't tried to fight against this!" extending his +palms pleadingly. "I've thought about you every minute since I first saw +you down there 'n th' hallway. I've lied to myself, I've tried to make +myself think different but I can't! I can't help it, ma'am ... an' I +don't know as I would if I could, 'cause it's somethin' I never knew +could be before!" + +He was talking through clenched teeth now, swiftly, words running +together, and the woman, a hand on her lips, gave evidence of a queer, +fascinating fright. + +He had said that she did not know his sort of man. He had spoken truth +there. And because she did not know his breed, she did not know how to +judge him now. Would he really harm her? Was he possessed of desires and +urgings of which he had no control? She put those questions to herself +and yet she could not make her own heart believe the very things he had +told her about himself. She feared, yes; but about the quality she +feared was a strong fascination. He caused her to sense his own uncurbed +vitality, yet about the danger of which he talked was a compelling +quality that urged her on, that made her want to know that danger +intimately ... to suffer, perhaps, but to know! + +"You'll let me alone, won't you, ma'am?" he continued. "You'll stay +away? You'll stay right here an' give me a chance to play my hand? I'll +make him or break him, ma'am! I'll send him back to you, if there's a +spark of man left in him, I will; I promise you that! I will because +you're th' only woman--" + +"Don't!" She threw up a hand as she cried sharply, "Don't say it!" + +"I will say it!" he declared, moving to her again. "I will! + +"I love you, I love you! I love that lock of hair blowin' across your +cheek; I love that scared look in your eyes now; I love th' way th' +blood's pumpin' in your veins; I love you ... all of you. But you told +me th' other night, you loved your husband. I asked you. You said you +did. 'I do,' that's what you said. I know how you looked, how it +sounded, when you said it, 'I do.' That's why I'm workin' with him; +that's why I want to make him a man. You can't waste your lovin', ma'am; +you can't!" + +He stepped even closer. + +"That's why you've got to keep away from me! You can't handle him alone. +You can't come to my ranch to handle him because of _me_. Nobody else +will take him in around here. It's me or nobody. It's my way or th' old +way he's been goin' until he comes to th' end. + +"I promise you this. I'll watch over him an' care for him an' guard him +in every way. I'll put the best I've got into bringin' him back.... An' +all th' time I'll be wishin'--prayin', if I could--that a thunderbolt +'uld strike him dead! He ain't fit for you, ma'am! He's no more fit for +you than ... than ... + +"Hell, ma'am, there's no use talkin'! He's your husband, you've said you +loved him, that's enough. But if he, if he wasn't your husband, if he +..." + +He jerked open the front of his shirt, reached in and drew out his flat, +blue automatic pistol. + +She started back with a cry. + +"Don't you be afraid of me," he cried fiercely, grasping her wrist. +"Don't you ever! + +"You take this gun; you keep it. It's mine. I don't want to be able to +hurt him, if I should ever lose my head. Sometimes when I set there an' +look at him an' hear him cussin' me, I get hot in th' head; hot an' +heavy an' it buzzes. I ... I thought maybe sometime I might go crazy an' +shoot him,"--with deadly seriousness. "An' I wouldn't do that, ma'am, +not to yours, no matter what he might do or say to me. I brought my +rifle in to-day to have th' sights fixed; they needed it an' 't would +get it out of th' house. You'll keep this gun, won't you, please, +ma'am?" + +His pleading was as direct as that of a child and, eyes on his with a +mingling of emotions, Ann Lytton reached a groping hand for the weapon. +She was stunned. Her nervous weakness, his strength, the putting into +words of that great love he bore for her, the suggested picture of +contrast with the man between them, the conflict it all aroused in her +conscience, the reasonless surging of her deepest emotions, combined to +bewilder the woman. She reached out slowly to take his weapon and do his +bidding, moved by a subconscious desire to obey, and all the while her +eyes grew wider, her breath faster in its slipping between her parted +lips. + +Her fingers touched the metal, warmed by his body heat, closed on it and +her hand, holding the pistol, fell back to her side. She turned her face +from him and, with a palm hard against one cheek, whispered, + +"Oh, this is horrible!" + +The man made a wry smile. + +"I presume it is, ma'am,"--drearily, "but I can't help it, lovin' you." + +"No, no, not that!" she cried. "I didn't mean _that_ was horrible. +It ... it isn't. The horrible thing is the rest, the whole situation." + +"I know it is," he went on, heedless of her explanation, moving toward +the window and looking into the street as he talked, his back to her. "I +know it is, but it had to be. If I had kept from talkin' it would sort +of festered in me. When a horse runs somethin' in his foot, you've got +to cut th' hoof away, got to hurt him for a while, or it'll go bad with +him. Let what's in there out an' gettin' along will be simple. + +"That's how it was with me, you see. If I'd kept still, I'd 'a' gone +sort of _loco_, I might have hurt him. But now ... + +"Why, now, I can just remember that you know how I feel, that you +wouldn't want a man who's said he loves you to be anythin' but kind to +your ... to Ned Lytton." + +When he finished, the woman took just one step forward. It was an +impulsive movement, as if she would run to him, throw herself on him; +and her lips were parted, her throat ready to cry out and ask him to +take her and forget all else but that love he had declared for her. In a +flash the madness was past; she remembered that she must not forget +anything because of his confession of love, rather that she must keep +more firmly than ever in mind those other factors of her life, that she +must stifle and throttle this yearning for the man before her which had +been latent, the existence of which she had denied to herself until this +hour, and which was consuming her strength now with its desire for +expression. + +She walked slowly to the dresser and laid his gun there, as though even +its slight weight were a burden. + +"I'm so sorry," she said, as though physically weak, "I'm so sorry." He +turned away from the window with a helpless smile. "I don't feel right, +now, in letting you do this for me. I feel ..." + +"Why don't you feel right?" + +"Because ... because it means that you are giving me everything and I'm +giving nothing in return." + +"Don't think that, ma'am," with a slow, convinced shaking of his head, +"I'm doin' little enough for what I get." + +"For what _you_ get!" + +"What I get, ma'am, is this. I can come to see you. I can look at your +face, I can see your hair, I can watch you move an' hear you talk an' be +near you now an' then, even if I ain't any right, even if ..." + +He threw out his arms and let them fall back to his thighs as he turned +from her again. + +"That's what I get in exchange," he continued a moment later. "That's my +pay, an' for it, I'd go through anything, thirst or hunger or cold ... +anythin', ma'am. That's how much I think of you: that's why carin' +for ... for that man out home ain't any job even if he is ... if you are +his!" + +On that, doubt, desire, again overrode her training, her traditional +manner of thought. She struggled to find words, but she could not even +clarify her ideas. Impressions came to her in hot, passing flashes. A +dozen times she was on the point of crying out, of telling him one thing +or another, but each time the thought was gone before she could seize +upon and crystallize it. All she fully realized was that this thing was +love, big, clean, sanctified; that this man was a natural lover of +women, with a body as great, as fine as the heart which could so reveal +itself to her; and that in spite of that love's quality she was +helpless, bound, gagged even, by the circumstances that life had thrown +about her. She would have cried out against them, denouncing it all ... + +Only for the fact that that thing, conscience, handed down to her +through strict-living generations, kept her still, binding her to +silence, to passivity. + +"I won't bother you again this way," she heard him saying, his voice +sounding unreal as it forced its way through the roaring in her head. "I +had to get it out of my system, or it'd have gone in some other +direction; reaction, they call it, I guess. Then, somebody'd have been +hurt or somethin' broken, maybe your heart,"--looking at her with his +patient smile. + +"I'll go back home; I'll work with him. Sometimes, I'll come to see you, +if you don't mind, to tell you about ... him. You don't mind, do you?" + +With an obvious effort, she shook her head. "No, I don't mind. I'll be +glad to see you," she muttered, holding her self-possession doggedly. + +An awkward pause followed in which Bayard fussed with the ends of the +gay silk scarf that hung about his neck and shoulders. + +"I guess I'd better go now," he mumbled, and picked up his hat. + +"You see, I don't know what to say to you," Ann confessed, drawing a +hand across her eyes. "It has all overwhelmed me so. I ... perhaps +another time I can talk it over with you." + +"If you think it's best to mention it again, ma'am," he said. + +She extended her hand to him and he clasped it. On the contact, his arm +trembled as though he would crush the small fingers in his, but the +grasp went no further than a formal shake. + +"In a day or two ... Ann," he said, using her given name for the first +time. + +He bowed low, turned quickly and half stumbled into the hall, closing +the door behind him as he went. + +The woman sat down on the edge of the bed weakly. + + * * * * * + +In the dining room Nora Brewster was dusting and she looked up quickly +at Bayard's entrance. + +"Hello, Bruce," she said, eyes fastening on him eagerly. "You're gettin' +to be a frequent caller, ain't you?" + +He tried to smile when he answered, + +"Hardly a caller; kind of an errand boy, between bein' a nurse an' +jailer." + +He could not deceive the girl. She dropped her dustcloth to a chair, +scanning his face intently. + +"What's wrong, Bruce? You look all frazzled out." + +He could not know how she feared his answer. + +"Nothin'," he evaded. "He's been pretty bad an' I've missed sleep +lately; that's all." + +But that explanation did not satisfy Nora. She knew it was not the whole +truth. She searched his face suspiciously. + +"She ... his wife," he went on, steadying his voice. "It's hard on her, +Nora." + +"I know it is, poor thing," she replied, almost mechanically. "I talk +to her every time I can, but she, she ain't my kind, Bruce. You know +that. The' ain't much I can say to her. Besides, I dasn't let on that I +know who she is or that you've got her husband." + +Her eyes still held on his inquiringly. + +"You might get her outdoors," he ventured. "Keepin' in that room day an' +night, worryin' as she does, is worse 'n jail. You ... You ride a lot. +Why don't you get her some ridin' clothes an' take her along? I'll tell +Nate to give you an extra horse. You see...." + +The girl did see. She saw his anxiety for the woman upstairs. She knew +the truth then, and the thing which she had feared through those days +rang in her head like a sullen tocsin. She had felt an uneasiness come +into her heart with the arrival of this eastern woman, this product of +another civilization with her sweetness, her charm for both her own sex +and for men. And that uneasiness had grown to apprehension, had mounted +as she watched the change in Bayard under Ann's influence until now, +when she realized that the thing which she had hoped against for months, +which she had felt impending for days, had become reality; and that she, +Bayard, Ned Lytton, Ann, were fast in the meshes of circumstances that +bound and shut down upon them like a net, forecasting tragedy and the +destruction of hopes. Nora feared, she feared with that groundless, +intuitive fear peculiar to her kind; almost an animal instinct, and she +felt her heart leaping, her head becoming giddy as that warning note +struck and reverberated through her consciousness. Her gaze left the +man's face slowly, her shoulders slackened and almost impatiently she +turned back to her work that he might not see the foreboding about her. + +"You see, th' open air would help her, an' bein' with you, another +woman, even if you an' she don't talk th' same language, would help +too," he ended. + +"I see," Nora answered after a moment, as she tilted a chair to one leg +and stooped low to rub the dust from its spindles. "I understand, Bruce. +I'll take her to ride ... every day, if you think it's best." + +Something about her made Bayard pause, and the moment of silence which +followed was an uneasy one for him. The girl kept on with her task, eyes +averted, and he did not notice that she next commenced working on a +chair that she had already dusted. + +"That's a good girl, Nora," he said. "That'll help her." + +He left then and, when the ring of his spurs had been lost in the lazy +afternoon, the girl sat suddenly in the chair on which she had busied +herself and pressed the dustcloth hard against her eyes. She drew a +long, sharp breath. Then, she stood erect and muttered, + +"Oh, God, has it come?" + +Then, stolidly, with set mouth, she went on with her work, movements a +little slower, perhaps, a bit lethargic, surely, bungling now and then. +Something had gone from her ... a hope, a sustaining spark, a leaven +that had lightened the drudgery. + + * * * * * + +Upstairs in her room Ann Lytton lay face down on her bed, hands gripping +the coarse coverlet, eyes pressed shut, breath swift and irregular, +heart racing. What had gone from the girl below--the hope, the spark, +the leaven which makes life itself palatable--had come to her after +those years of nightmare, and Ann was resisting, driving it back, +telling herself that it must not be, that it could not be, not in the +face of all that had happened; not now, when ethical, moral, legal ties +bound her to another! Oh, she was bound, no mistaking that; but it was +not Ann's heart that wrenched at the bonds. It was her conscience, her +trained sense of right and wrong, the traditions that had moulded her. +No, her heart was gone, utterly, to the man who crossed the hard, beaten +street of Yavapai, head down, dejection in the swing of his shoulders, +for her heart knew no right, no wrong ... only beauty and ugliness. + +Bayard, too, fought his bitter fight. The urge in him was to take her, +to bear her away, to defy the laws that men had made to hurt her and to +devil him; but something behind, something deep in him, forbade. He must +go on, nursing back to strength that mockery of manhood who could lift +his fuddled, obscene head and, with the blessing of society, claim Ann +Lytton as his--her body, her soul! He must go on, though he wanted to +strangle all life from the drunken ruin, because in him was the same +rigid adherence to things that have been which held the woman there on +her bed, face down, even though her limbs twitched to race after him and +her arms yearned to twine about his neck, to pull herself close to his +good chest, within which the great heart pumped. + +And Nora? Was she conscienceless? Indeed, not. She had promised to +befriend this strange woman because Bruce Bayard had asked it. It was +not for Ann's sake she dully planned diversion; it was because of her +love for the owner of the Circle A that she stifled her sorrow, her +natural jealousy. She knew that to refuse him, to follow her first +impulses, would hurt him; and that would react, would hurt her, for her +devotion was that sort which would go to any length to make the man of +her heart happier. + +To Ann's ears came Bruce's sharp little whistle, and she could no longer +lie still. She rose, half staggered to the window and stood holding the +curtains the least bit apart, watching him stand motionless in the +middle of the thoroughfare. Again, his whistle sounded and from a +distance she heard the high call of the sorrel horse who had moved along +the strip of grass that grew close beside the buildings, nibbling here +and there. The animal approached his master at a swinging trot, holding +his head far to the right, nose high in the air, that the trailing reins +might not dangle under his feet. All the time he nickered his +reassurance and, when he drew to a halt beside his master, Abe's voice +retreated down into his long throat until it was only a guttural murmur +of affection. + +"Old Timer, if I was as good a man as you are horse, I'd find a way," +Bruce said half aloud as he gathered the reins. + +He mounted with a rhythmical swing of shoulder and limb, and gave the +stallion his head, trotting out of town with never a look about. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +LYTTON'S NEMESIS + + +That which followed was a hard night for both Bayard and Lytton. The +wounded arm was doing nicely, but the shattered nervous system could not +be repaired so simply. Since the incident of the ransacked house and the +pilfered whiskey, Lytton had not had so much as one drink of stimulant +and, because of that indulgence of his appetite, his suffering was made +manifold. Denial of further liquor was the penalty Ned was forced to pay +for the abuse of Bayard's trust. Much of the time the sick man kept +himself well in hand, was able to cover up outward evidence of the +torture which he underwent, and in that fact rested some indication of +the determination that had once been in him. But this night the effects +of his excesses were tearing at his will persistently and sleep would +not come. + +He walked the floor of the room into which his bed had been moved from +the kitchen after the first few days at the ranch; his strength gave out +and for a time he lay on the bed, muttering wildly,--then walked again +with trembling stride. + +Bayard heard. He, too, was suffering; sleep would not come to ease him. +He did not talk, did not yearn for action; just lay very quiet and +thought and thought until his mind refused to function further with +coherence. After that, he forced himself to give heed to other matters +for the sake of distraction and became conscious of the sounds from the +next room. When they increased with the hours rather than subsiding, he +got up, partly dressed, made a light and went to Lytton. + +Quarrelling followed. The sick man raved and cursed. He blamed Bayard +for all his suffering, denounced him as a meddler, whining and storming +in turn. He declared that to fight against his weakness was futile; the +next moment vowed that he would return to town, and face temptation +there and beat it; and within a breath was explaining that he could +easily cure himself, if he could only be allowed to taper off, to take +one less drink each day. Before it all, Bayard remained quietly firm and +the incident ended by Lytton screaming that at daylight he would leave +the ranch and die on the Yavapai road before he would submit to another +day of life there. + +But when dawn came he was sleeping and the rancher, after covering him +carefully, retired to his room for two hours' rest before rousing for a +morning's ride through the hills. + +He was back at noon and found Lytton white faced, contrite. Together +they prepared a meal. + +"I was pretty much of an ass last night," Lytton said after they had +eaten a few moments in silence. It was one of those rare intervals in +which a bearing of normal civility struggled through his despicability +and Bayard looked up quickly to meet his indecisive gaze, feeling +somehow that with every flash of this strength he was rewarded for all +the work he had done, the unpleasantness he had undergone. Rewarded, +though it only made Lytton a stronger, more enduring obstacle between +him and a consummation of his love. + +"I'm sorry," the man confessed. "It wasn't I. It was the booze that's +still in me." + +"I understand," the cowman said, with a nod. A moment of silence +followed. + +"There's something else, I'm sorry about," Lytton continued. "The other +day I tried to get nasty about a girl, the girl Nora at the Manzanita +House, didn't I?" + +"Oh, you didn't know what you said." + +"Well, if I didn't, that's no excuse." He was growing clearer, obtaining +a better poise, assuming a more decided personality. "I apologize to you +for what I said, and, if you think best, I'll go see her and apologize +for the advances I made to her." + +"No, no,"--with a quick gesture. "That wouldn't do any good; she'll +never know." + +"As you say, then. I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry; that's all. I +know how a fellow feels when his girl's name is dragged into a brawl +that way. I've noticed you sort of dolling up lately when you've started +for town,"--with a faint twinkle in his eyes and a smile that +approximated good nature. "I know how it is with you fellows who still +have the woman bug,"--a hint of bitterness. "I know how touchy you'll +all get. You ... you seem to be rather interested in that Nora girl." + +Bayard made no answer. He was uneasy, apprehensive. + +"I've heard 'em talk about it in town. Funny that she's the only woman +you've fallen for, Bayard. They tell me you won't look at another, that +you brought her to Yavapai yourself several years ago. You're so +particular that you have to import one; is that it?" + +He laughed aloud and a hint of nastiness was again in the tone. The +other man did not answer with more than a quickly passing smile. + +"Well, you fellows have all got to have your whirl at it, I suppose," +Lytton went on, the good nature entirely gone. "You'll never learn +except from your own experience. Rush around with the girls, have a gay +time; then, it's some one girl, next, it's marriage and she's got +you,"--holding up his gripped fist for emphasis. "She's got you hard and +fast!" + +He stirred in his chair and broke another biscuit in half. + +"Believe me, I know, Bayard! I've been there. I.... Hell, I married a +girl with a conscience,"--drawling the words, "That's the kind that +hangs on when they get you ... that _good_ kind! She's too damn fine for +human use, she and her kind. You know," ... laughing bitterly--"she +started out to reform me. One of that kind; get me? A damned +straight-laced Puritan! She snivelled and prayed and, instead of helping +me, she just drove me on and on. She's got me. See? I can't get away +from her and the only good thing about being here is that there are +miles between us and I don't hear her cant and prating!" + +"Seems to me that a woman who sticks by a man when he goes clean to hell +must amount to something," observed Bayard, gazing at him pointedly. + +Lytton shrugged his shoulders. + +"Maybe ... in some ways, but who the devil wants that kind hanging +around his neck?" He pushed his plate away and stared surlily out +through the door. Bayard tilted back in his chair and looked the +Easterner in the face critically. + +"Suppose somebody was to come along an' tell you they was goin' to take +her off your hands. What'd you say then?" + +"What do you mean?" disgruntled at the challenge in Bayard's query. + +"Just what I say. You've been tellin' me what a bad mess mixin' with +women is. I'm askin' you what you'd do if somebody tried to take your +woman. You say it's bad, bein' tied up. How about it, if somebody was to +step in an' relieve you?" + +The other moved in his chair. + +"That's different," he said. "To want to be away from a woman until she +got some common sense, and to have another man _take_ your wife are two +different things. To have a man take your wife would make anybody want +to kill, no matter what trouble you might have had with her. Breaking up +marriages, taking something that belongs to another man, has nothing to +do with what I was talking about." + +"You don't want her yourself. You don't want anybody else to have her. +Is that it?" + +"Didn't I say that those were two different--" + +"You want to look out, Neighbor!" Bayard said, with a smile, dropping +the forelegs of his chair to the floor and leaning his elbows on the +table. "You're talking one thing and meaning another. You want to keep +your head, if you want to keep your wife. Don't make out you want to let +go when you really want to hang on. Women are funny things. They'll +stick to men like a burr, they'll take abuse an' suffer and give no sign +of quittin', because they want love, gentleness, and they hate to give +up thinkin' they'll get it from the man they'd planned would give it to +'em. + +"But some day, while they're stickin' to a man who don't appreciate 'em, +they'll see happiness goin' by ... then, they're likely to get it. And +sometime that's goin' to happen to your wife; she'll see happiness +somewhere else an' she'll go after it; then, she won't be around your +neck, but somebody else'll have her! + +"Oh, they're queer things ... funny things! You can't tell where th' +man's comin' from that'll meet 'em an' take their heart an' their head. +He may be right near 'em all th' time an' they never wake up to it for +years; he may come along casual-like, not lookin' for anything, an' see +'em just by chance an' open his heart an' take 'em.... + +"Once I was in th' Club in Prescott an' I heard a mining engineer from +th' East sing a song about some man who lived on th' desert. + + "'From th' desert I come to thee,' + +"it went, + + "'On a stallion shod with fire....' + +"An' then he goes on with th' finest love song you ever heard, endin' +up: + + "... 'a love that shall not die + Till th' sun grows cold, + An' th' stars are old, + An' th' leaves of th' Judgment Book unfold!' + +"... That's the sort of guy that upsets a woman who's hungry for +happiness. It's that kind of love they want. They'll stand most anything +a long, long time; seems like some of 'em loved abuse. But if a real +_hombre_ ever comes along ... Look out! + +"You can't tell, Lytton. This thing love comes like a storm sometimes. A +man's interest in a woman may be easy an' not amount to much at first. +It's like this breeze comin' in here now; warm an' soft an' gentle, th' +mildest, meekest little breeze you've ever felt, ain't it? Well, you +can't tell what it'll be by night! + +"I've seen it just like this, without a dust devil on th' valley or a +cloud in th' sky. Then she'd get puffy an' dust would commence to rise +up, an' th' sky off there south an' west would begin to look dirty, +rusty. Then, away off, you'd hear a whisper, a kind of mutter, growin' +louder every minute, an' you'd see trees bend down to one another like +they was hidin' their faces from somethin' that scared 'em. Dust would +come before it like a wall an' then th' grass would flatten out an' look +a funny white under that black and then ... Zwoop! She'd be on you, +blowin' an' howlin' an' thunderin' and lightnin' like hell itself.... +When an hour before it'd been a breeze just like this." + +He paused an instant. + +"So you want to look out ... if you want to keep her. Some man on a +'stallion shod with fire' may ride past an' look into your house an' see +her an' crawl down an' commence to sing a love song that'll make her +forget all about tryin' to straighten you up.... Some feller who's never +counted with her may wake up and go after her as strong as a summer +storm. + +"She's young; she's sweet; she's beau ..." + +"Say, who told you about my wife?" Lytton demanded, drawing himself up. + +Bayard stopped with a show of surprise. His earnestness had swept his +caution, his sense of the necessity for deception, quite away, but he +rallied himself as he answered: + +"Why, I judge she is. She's stickin' by you like a sweet woman would." + +"Well, what if she is?" Lytton countered, the surprise in his face +giving way to sullenness. "We've discussed me and my wife enough for one +day. You're inexperienced. You don't know her kind. You don't know +women, Bayard. Why, damn their dirty skins, they--" + +"You drop that!" Bruce cried, rising and leaning across the table. "You +keep your lying, dirty mouth shut or I'll..." + +He drew his great fists upward slowly as though they lifted their limit +in weight. Then suddenly went limp and smiled down at the face of the +other man. He turned away slowly and Lytton drawled. + +"Well, what's got into you?" + +"Excuse me," said the rancher, with a short laugh. "I'm ... I'm only +worked up about a woman myself," reaching out a hand for the casing of +the doorway to steady himself. "I'm only wondering what th' best thing +to do is.... You said yourself that ... experience was th' only way to +learn...." + + * * * * * + +That afternoon Lytton slept deeply. Of this fact Bayard made sure when, +from his work in the little blacksmith shop, he saw a horseman riding +toward the ranch from a wash that gouged down into Manzanita Valley. +When he saw the man slumbering heavily on his bed, worn from the +struggle and the sleeplessness of last night, he closed the door softly +and returned to resume the shoeing of the pinto horse that stood dozing +in the sunlight. + +"Oh, you is it, Benny Lynch?" Bayard called, as the horseman leaned low +to open the gate and rode in. + +"Right again, Bruce. How's things?" + +"Fine, Benny. Ain't saw you in a long time. Get down. Feed your horse?" + +"No, thanks, we've both et." + +The newcomer dismounted and, undoing his tie rope, made his pony fast to +a post. He was a short, thick set young chap, dressed in rough clothing, +wearing hobnailed shoes. His clothes, his saddle, the horse itself +belied the impression of a stock man and his shoes gave conclusive +evidence that he was a miner. He turned to face Bayard and pushed his +hat far back on his head, letting the sun beat down on his honest, +bronzed face, peculiarly boyish, yet lined as that of a man who has +known the rough edges of life. + +"Mind if I talk to you a while, Bruce?" he asked, serious, preoccupied +in his manner. + +"Tickled to death, Benny; your conversation generally is enlightenin' +an' interestin'." + +This provoked only a faint flash of a smile from the other. Bayard +kicked a wooden box along beside the building and both seated themselves +on it. An interval of silence, which the miner broke by saying abruptly: + +"I've done somethin', Bruce, that I don't like to keep to myself. I'm +planning on doin' somethin' more that I want somebody to know so that if +anything happens, folks'll understand. + +"I come to you,"--marking the ground with the edge of his shoe sole, +"because you're th' only man I know in this country--an' I know most of +'em--I'd trust." + +"Them bouquets are elegant, Benny." Bayard laughed, trying to relieve +the tension of the other. "Go ahead, I love 'em!" + +"You know what I mean, Bruce. You've always played square with everybody +'round here, not mindin' a great deal about what other folks done so +long as they was open an' honest about it. You've never stole calves, +you've never been in trouble with your neighbors--" + +"Hold on, Benny! You don't know how many calves I've stole." + +The other smiled and put aside Bayard's attempt at levity with a gesture +of one hand. + +"You understand how it is, when a fellar's just got to talk?" + +"I understand," said Bayard. "I've been in that fix myself, recent." + +"I knew you would; that's why I come." + +He shifted on the box and pulled his hat down over his eyes and said: + +"I tried to kill a feller th' other night. I didn't make good. I'm +likely to make another try some time, an' go through with it." + +Bayard waited for more, with a queer thrill of realization. + +"You know this pup Lytton, don't you, Bruce? Yes, everybody does, +th' ----! I tried to get him th' other night in Yavapai. I thought I'd +done it an' lit out, but I heard later I only nicked his arm. That means +I've got to do it later." + +"It's that necessary to kill him, is it, Benny?" Bayard asked. "I know +he was hit.... Fact is, I found him an' took him into th' Hotel an' +fixed him up." + +Their gazes met. Benny Lynch's was peculiarly devoid of anger, steady +and frank. + +"That was like you, Bruce. You'd take care of a sick wolf, I guess. Next +time, though, I'll give somebody a job as a gravedigger, 'stead of a +good Samaritan.... + +"But what I stopped in to-day for was to tell you th' whole story, so +you'd know it all." + +"Let her fly, Benny!" + +"Prob'ly you know, Bruce, that I come out here from Tennessee, when I +was only a spindly kid, with th' old man an' my mammy. We was th' last +of our family. They'd feuded our folks down to 'n old man 'n old woman +and a kid--me. We come 'cause th' old man got religion and moved west so +he wouldn't have to kill nobody. I s'pose some back there claims to have +druv him out, but they either didn't know him or they're lyin'. He'd +never be druv out by fear, Bruce; he wasn't that kind. + +"Well, we drifted through Colorado an' New Mex an' finally over here. We +landed out yonder on th' Sunset group which th' old man located an' +commenced to work. I growed up there, Bruce. I helped my mammy an' my +pap cut down trees an' pick up stone to make our house. I built my +mammy's coffin myself when I was seventeen. Me an' pap buried her; me +shovelin' in dirt an' rocks, him prayin' an' readin' out of th' Bible." + +He paused to overcome the shaking of his voice. + +"We hung on there an' was doin' right well with th' mine, workin' out a +spell now an' then, goin' back an' developin' as long as our grub an' +powder lasted. We got her right to where we thought she was ready to +boom, when hard times come along, an' made us slow up. I started out, +leavin' th' old man home, 'cause he was gettin' so old he wasn't much +use anywhere an' it ain't right that old folks should work that way +anyhow. + +"I landed over in California and was in an' 'round th' Funeral Range for +over two years, writin' to pap occasional an' hearin' from him every few +months. I didn't make it very well an' our mine just had to wait on my +luck, let alone th' hard times. We wouldn't sell out, then, 'cause we'd +had to take little or nothin' for th' property. It worried me; my old +man was gettin' old fast, he'd never had nothin' but hard knocks, if he +was ever goin' to have any rest an' any fun it'd have to come out of +that mine.... + +"Well, while I was away along come this here Eastern outfit, promised to +do all sorts of things, formed a corporation, roped th' old man in with +their slick lies, an' give him 'bout a quarter value for what we had. +They beat him out of all he'd ever earnt, when he was past workin' for +more! Now, Bruce, a gang of skunks that'd do that to as fine an old man +as my dad was, ought to be burnt, hadn't they?" + +"They had. Everybody sure loved your daddy, Ben." + +"Well, the' was nothin' we could do. Them Eastern pups just set down an' +waited for us to get tired an' let 'em have a clear field. So we moved +out, left our house an' all, went to Prescott an' went to work, both of +us, keepin' an eye on th' mine to see they didn't commence to operate on +th' sly. After a while I got what looked like a good thing down on th' +desert in a new town an' I went there. + +"While I was gone, along comes this here Lytton an' finishes th' job. +His dad had owned most of th' stock, an' he'd come here to start +somethin'. He begun with my pappy. He lied to him, took advantage of an +old man who was trustful an' an easy mark. He crooked it every way he +could, he got everythin' we had; all th' work of my hands,"--holding +their honest, calloused palms out--"all th' hopes of a good old man. It +done him no good; he couldn't get enough backin' to do business.... But +it killed my dad." + +He stared vacantly ahead before saying: + +"You know th' rest. Dad died. That killed him, Bruce, an' Lytton was to +blame. Ain't that murder? Ain't it?" + +"It's murder, Benny, but they won't call it that." + +"No, but what they call it don't make no difference in th' right or th' +wrong of it, does it? An' it don't matter to me. I've got a law all my +own, Bruce, an' it's a damn sight more just 'n theirs!" He had become +suddenly alert, intent. "Th' last thing that my old man said was that +th' wickedest of th' world had killed him. He wouldn't blame no one man +but I will ... I do!" + +He moved quickly on the box, bringing himself to face Bayard. + +"I come back to this country an' waited. I've been thinkin' it over most +two years, Bruce, an' I don't see no way out but to fix my old man's +case myself. Maybe if things was different, I'd feel some other way +about it, but this here Lytton is worse 'n scum, Bruce. You know an' +everybody knows what he is. He's a drunken, lyin' ----! That's what he +is! + +"I've been watchin' him close for weeks, seein' him drink every cent of +my dad's money, seein' him get to be less 'n less of a man. + +"One day I was in town. I'd been drinkin' myself to keep from goin' +crazy thinkin' 'bout this thing. Just at dusk, just when th' train come +in an' everybody was down to th' station, I walked down th' street +toward Nate's corral to get my horse. I seen him comin' towards me, +Bruce. He was drunk, he could just about make it. He didn't know me, +never has knowed who I was, but he looks up at me an' commences to cuss, +an' I ... Well, I draws an' fires." + +He leaned back against the building. + +"He dropped an' I thought things was squared, so I lit out. But I found +out I shot too quick ... or maybe I was drunker 'n I thought. + +"Where was he hit, Bruce?" + +"Left forearm, Benny ... right there." + +"Hum ... I thought so. I had a notion that gun was shootin' to th' +right." + +They sat silent a moment, then he resumed: + +"When I got to thinkin' it over I was glad I hadn't killed him. I made +up my mind that wasn't the best way. That's a little too much like +killin' just 'cause you're mad, so I made up my mind I'd go on about my +business until I was meddled with. + +"I'm livin' at my home, now, Bruce. I'm back at th' Sunset, livin' in +th' cabin me an' my folks built with our hands, workin' alone in our +mine, waitin' for good times to come again. I'm goin' to stay there ... +right along. It's goin' to be my mine 'cause it rightfully belongs to +me, no matter what Lytton's damn corporation papers may say. + +"Some day, when he sobers up, he'll start back there, Bruce. I'll be +waitin' for him. I won't harm a hair, I won't say a word until he steps +on to them claims. Then, by God, I'll shoot him down like he was a +coyote tryin' to get my chickens!" + +Bayard got up and thoughtfully stroked the hip of the pinto horse. + +"I guess I understand, Benny," he said, after a moment. "I'm pretty sure +I do." + +"He's ... He's as low as a snake's belly, ain't he, Bruce?"--as if for +reassurance. + +"Yes, an' he'd be lower, Benny, if there was anythin' lower," he +remarked, grimly. + +"He can shoot though; watch him, Benny! I've seen him beat th' best of +us at a turkey shootin'." + +"That's what makes me feel easy about it. I wouldn't want to kill a man +that couldn't shoot as good as I can, anyhow." + +Benny Lynch departed, still unsmiling, very serious, and, as Bayard +watched him ride away, he shook his head in perplexity. + +"I wish I was as free to act as you are," he thought. "But I ain't; an' +your tellin' me has dug my hole just that much deeper!" + +He looked out over the valley a long moment. It was bright under the +afternoon sun but somehow it seemed, for him, to be queerly shadowed. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +WHOM GOD HATH JOINED + + +The next day the puzzled cowman rode the trail to Yavapai to find that +Ann was out. He was told that Nora had taken her riding, so he waited +for their return, restless, finding no solace in the companionship that +the saloon, the town's one gathering place for men, afforded. + +He stood leaning against the front of the general store, deep in +thought, when a distant rattle attracted his attention. He glanced down +the street to his right and beyond the limits of the town saw a rapidly +moving dust cloud approach. As it drew near, the rattling increased, +became more distinct, gave evidence that it was a combination of many +sounds, and Bayard smiled broadly, stirring himself in anticipation. + +A moment more and the dust cloud dissolved itself into a speeding mantle +for a team of ponies and a buckboard, on the seat of which sat the Rev. +Judson A. Weyl. The horses came down the hard street, ears back, +straining away from one another until they ran far outside the wheel +tracks. The harnesses, too large for the beasts, dangled and flopped and +jingled, the clatter and clank of the vehicle's progress became +manifold as every bolt, every brace, every bar and slat and spoke +vibrated, seeming to shake in protest at that which held it to the rest, +and, above it all, came the regular grating slap of the tire of a dished +hindwheel, as in the course of its revolutions it met the metal brake +shoe, as if to beat time for the ensemble. + +The man on the seat sat very still, the reins lax in his hands. The +spring under him sagged with his weight and his long legs were doubled +oddly between the seat and broken dash. He appeared to give no heed to +his team's progress; just sat and thought while they raced along, the +off horse breaking into a gallop at intervals to keep pace with its long +stepping mate. + +Across from where Bayard stood, the team swung sharply to the right, +shot under a pinyon tree, just grazing the trunk with both hubs of the +wheels, and rounded the corner of a low little house, stopping abruptly +when out of sight; and the rancher laughed aloud in the sudden silence +that followed. + +He went across the thoroughfare, followed the tracks of the buckboard +and came upon the tall, thin, dust covered driver, who had descended, +unfastened the tugs and was turning his wild-eyed, malevolent-nosed team +of half broken horses into a corral which was shaded by a tall pine +tree. He looked up as Bayard approached. + +"Hel-_lo_, Bruce!" he cried, flinging the harness up on a post, and +extending a hearty hand. "I haven't seen you in an age!" + +"How are you, Parson?" the other responded, gripping the offered hand +and smiling good-naturedly into the alert gaze from the black eyes. "I +ain't saw you for a long time, either, but every now and then, when I'm +ridin' along after my old cows, I hear a most awful noise comin' from +miles away, an' I say to myself, 'There goes th' parson tryin' to beat +th' devil to another soul!'" + +The other laughed and cast a half shameful look at his buckboard, which +Bayard was inspecting critically. It was held together with rope and +wire; bolts hung loosely in their sockets; not a tight spoke remained in +the wheels; the pole was warped and cracked and the hair stuffing of the +seat cushion was held there only by its tendency to mat and become +compact, for the cover was three-quarters gone. + +"It's deplorable, ain't it," Bayard chuckled, "how th' Lord outfits his +servants in this here country?" + +The clergyman laughed. + +"That's a chariot of fire, Bruce!" he cried. "Don't you understand?" + +"It'd be on fire, if I had it, all right! It ain't fit for nothin' else. +Why, Parson, I should think th' devil'd get you sure some of these +nights when you're riskin' your neck in this here contraption an' +trustin' to your Employer to restrainin' th' wickedness in that pair of +unlovely males you call horses!" + +"Well, maybe I should get a new rig," the other admitted, still +laughing. "But somehow, I'm so busy looking after His strays in this +country that I don't get time to think about my own comfort. Maybe +that's the best way. If I took time to worry about material discomforts, +I suppose I'd feel dirty and worn and hot now, for I've had a long, long +drive." + +"A drink'd do you a lot of good, Parson," said Bruce, with a twinkle in +his eye. "I don't mind drinkin' with you, even if you are a preacher." + +"And _because_ I'm a member of the clergy I have to drink with you +whether I like it or not, Bruce!"--with a crack of his big hand on +Bayard's shoulder. "A bottle of pop would taste fine about now, son!" + +"Well, you wait here an' I'll get that brand of sham liquor," said +Bruce, turning to start for the saloon. + +"Hold on, Bruce. I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I don't feel +that I want to let you buy anything for me out of that place. Get me +some at the drug store." + +The younger man hesitated. + +"Well, I got a few convictions myself, Parson. Maybe there ain't much to +be said for s'loon men, but your friend who runs that pill foundry sells +booze to Indians, I suspect, which ain't right an' which no +self-respectin' s'loon man would do." + +"Son, all life is a compromise," laughed Weyl. "You go buy what you like +to drink; I'll buy mine. How's that?" + +"That's about as fair as a proposition can be, I guess." + +Ten minutes later they were seated in the shade of the pine tree, backs +against the corral where the sweat-crusted horses munched alfalfa. +Bayard drank from a foaming bottle of beer, Weyl from a pop container. +Both had removed their hats, and their physical comfort approached the +absolute. + +The cowman, though, was not wholly at ease. He listened attentively to +the rector's discourse on the condition of his parish, but all the while +he seemed to be bothered by some idea that lurked deep in his mind. +During a pause, in which the brown pop gurgled its way through Weyl's +thin lips, Bruce squinted through the beer that remained in his bottle +and said, + +"Somethin's been botherin' me th' last day or so, Parson, an' I sure was +glad when I seen you comin' up in this here ... chariot of fire." + +"What is it, Bruce?" + +"Well, here's th' case. If a jasper comes to you an' tells you somethin' +in confidence, are you bound to keep your mouth shut even if somebody's +likely to get hurt by this here first party's plan? I know your outfit +don't have no confession--'tain't confession I want.... It's advice ... +what'd you do if you was in that fix?" + +The other straightened his long limbs and smiled gravely. + +"I can tell you what I would do, Bruce; but, if it's a matter of +consequence, I can't advise you what to do. + +"That's one of the hardest things I have to meet--honest men, such as +you, coming to me with honest questions. I'm only a man like you are; I +have the same problems, the same perplexities; it's necessary for me to +meet them in the way you do. Because I button my collar behind is of no +significance. Because I'm trying to help men to know their own souls +gives me no superiority over them. That's as far as I can go--helping +men to know themselves. Once that is accomplished, I can't guide their +actions or influence their decisions. So far as I can determine, that's +all God wants of us. He wants us to see ourselves in the light of truth; +then, be honest with ourselves. + +"In your particular matter, I couldn't stand by and see a man walk into +danger unaware and yet it would mean a lot for me to betray another +man's confidence. I suppose I'd do as I do in so many matters, and that +is to compromise. I would consider it my duty to keep a confidence, if +it was made in the spirit of honesty and, just as surely, it is my duty +to save men from harm. My word of honor means much ... yes. But my +brother's safety, if I am his keeper, is of as much consequence, surely. +If I couldn't compromise--if taking a middle course wouldn't be +practical--then I think I would choose the cause which I considered most +just and throw all my influence and energy into it. + +"That's what I would do, my friend. Perhaps, it is not what you would +do, but so long as you are honest in your perplexity then, basically, +whatever action you decide on, must be right." + +Bayard drank again, slowly. + +"I've never been inside your church," he said at length. "I'm like a lot +of men. I don't care much about churches. Do you preach like that on +Sunday?"--turning his face to Weyl. + +The other laughed heartily. + +"I don't preach, Bruce! I just talk and try to think out loud and make +my people think. Yes ... I try to be before my people just as I am +before you, or any other friend." + +"Some day, then, I'm likely to come along and ask to throw in with your +outfit ... your church. I'll bet that after I've let a little more hell +out of my system, I could get to be a top deacon in no time ... in your +church!" + +The clergyman smiled and rested his hand affectionately on Bayard's +knee. + +"We're always glad to have stoppers come along," he replied. "Every now +and then one drops in to see what we're like. Some have stayed and gone +to work with us and turned out to be good hands." + +Bruce made no response and the other was not the sort to urge. So they +sat a time in companionable silence until the younger man asked, + +"Had you come far to-day?" + +"Wolf Basin. I went over there yesterday and married old Tom Nelson's +girl to a newcomer over there." + +Bayard looked at him keenly. He had wanted to bring up another +question, but had been unable to decide upon a device for the +manipulation of the conversation. This was a fortunate opening. + +"Did you hear the yarn they was tellin' 'bout old Newt Hagadorn, when +they 'lected him justice of th' peace in Bumble Bee? At his first +weddin' Newt got tangled up in his rope an' says, + +"'Who me 'nd God has j'ined together let no man put apart!'" + +Weyl threw back his head and laughed heartily. Bruce shook with mirth +but watched his friend's face, and, when the clergyman had sobered +again, he asked, + +"How about this who-God-hath-joined-together idea anyhow, Parson? Does +it always work out?" + +"Not always, Bruce,"--with a shake of his head--"You should know that." + +"Well, when it don't, what've you parsons got to say about it? You've +hogtied 'em in th' name of all that's holy; what if it don't turn out +right? They're married in th' name of God, ain't they?" + +Weyl drained the last of his pop and tossed the bottle away. + +"I used to think they were ... they all were, Bruce. That was when I was +as young in years, as I try to be young in heart now. But the more +couples I marry, the stronger is my conviction that God isn't a party to +all those transactions, not by a long sight! + +"If my bishop were to hear me say that, he'd have me up for a lecture, +because he is bothered with a lot of traditions and precedent, but many +men are calling on Him to bless the unions of young men and women when +He only refuses to answer. Men don't know; somehow they can't see that +God turns his face from marriage at times; they keep on thinking that +all that is necessary is to have some ordained minister warn society to +keep hands off, that it is the Father's business ... when it is not, +when love, when God, isn't there." + +"How are young goin' to tell when He's missin' from those present?" + +Weyl shrugged his shoulders. + +"The individuals, the parties concerned, are the only ones who know +that." + +"When they do know, when they don't give up even then? What are you +goin' to do 'bout that?" + +The other man shook his head sadly. + +"There are many things that you and I--that society--must do, Bruce, my +son. It's up to us to change our attitude, to change our way of looking +at human relations, to pull off the bandages that are blinding our eyes +and see the true God. Other things besides marriage demand that unerring +sight, too....' + +"But what I'm gettin' at," broke in the other, pulling him back to the +question of matrimony, "is, what are you goin' to do, when you know God +ain't ridin' with a couple, when it's a sin for 'em to be together, but +when th' man holds to his wife like I'd hold to a cow with my brand on +her, an' when th' woman--maybe--hangs to him 'cause she thinks th' Lord +_has_ had somethin' to do with it." + +"In that case, if she thinks of the Father's connection as an affair of +the past, she must know it is no longer holy; someone should open her +eyes, someone who is unselfish, who has a perspective, who is willing to +be patient and help her, to suffer with her, if need be." + +"You wouldn't recommend that a party who sort of hankered to wring th' +husband's neck an' who thought the wife was 'bout th' finest thing God +ever put breath into, start out to tackle th' job, would you?" + +Weyl rubbed his chin in thoughtful consideration; then replied slowly: + +"No, it is our duty to give the blind sight; we can only do that by +knowing that our motives are holy when we undertake the job. That is the +first and only matter to consider. Beyond motives, we cannot judge men +and women.... + +"My bishop would drop dead before me, Bruce, if he heard that." + +The other was silent a moment; then he said, slowly, "I wish some of us +miser'ble sinners could be so open minded as some of you God fearin', +hell-preachin' church goers!" + +After a long interval, in which their discussion rambled over a score of +topics, Bayard left. + +"If you ever get near th' Circle A in that chariot of fire, I hope she +goes up in smoke, so you'll have to stay a while!" he said. "An' I hope +M's. Weyl's with you when it happens." + +"Your wishes for bad luck are only offset by the hope that sometime we +can come and spend some days with you, my friend!" laughed the minister +as they shook hands. + + * * * * * + +Ann and Nora had returned when Bruce reached the Manzanita House and in +the former's room a few moments later, after he had reported on Lytton's +slow gaining of strength, Bayard said to her, + +"Do you believe what I tell you, ma'am?" + +She looked at him as though she did not get his meaning, but saw he was +in earnest and replied, + +"I've never doubted a thing you've told me." + +"Then I want you to believe one more thing I'm goin' to tell you, an' I +don't want you to ask me any questions about it, cause I'm so +hogtied--that is, situated, ma'am--that I can't answer any. I just want +to tell you never to let your husband go back to th' Sunset mine." + +"Never to _let_ him? Why, when he's himself again that's where his work +will be--" + +"I can't help that, ma'am. All I can say is, not to let him. It means +more to you than anybody can think who don't know th' ways of men in a +country like this. Just remember that, an' believe that, will you?" + +"You want him to give up everything?" + +"All I want, ma'am, is for you to say you'll never let him go there." + +Finally, she unwillingly, uncomprehendingly, agreed to do all she could +to prevent Ned's return to the mining camp. + +"Then, that's all, for now," Bayard announced, dryly, and went from the +room. + +Their hands had not touched; there had been no word, no glance +suggestive of the emotional outburst which characterized their last +meeting, and, when he was gone, the woman, with all her conscience, felt +a keen disappointment. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE STORY OF ABE + + +True to her promise to Bruce, Nora had taken Ann in hand. She proposed +that they ride together the day after the man had suggested such a +kindness and the step was met most enthusiastically by the eastern +woman, for it promised her relief from the anxiety provoked by mere +waiting. + +"I know nothing about this, so you'll have to tell me everything, Nora," +she said as, in a new riding skirt, she settled herself in the saddle +and felt her horse move under her. + +"I don't know much either," the girl replied, fussing with her blouse +front. "I was learnt to ride by a fine teacher, but I was so busy +learnin' 'bout him that I didn't pay much attention to what he said." + +She looked up shyly, yet her mouth was set in determination and she +forced herself to meet Ann Lytton's gaze, to will to be kind to her ... +because Bruce had asked it. Her thinly veiled declaration of interest in +Bayard was not made without guile. It was a timid expression of her +claim to a free field. Perhaps, beneath all her sense of having failed +in the big ambition of her life, was a hope. This eastern woman was +married. Nora knew Bruce, knew his close adherence to his own code of +morals, and she believed that something possibly might come to pass, +some circumstance might arise which would take Ann out of their lives +before the control that Bayard had built about his natural impulses +could be broken down. That would leave her alone with the rancher, to +worship him from a distance, to find a great solace in the fact that +though he refused to be her lover no other woman was more intimately in +his life. That hope prompted her mild insinuation of a right of +priority. + +Ann caught something of the subtle enmity which Nora could not wholly +cover by her outward kindness. She had heard Nora's and Bruce's names +associated about the hotel, and when, on speaking of Bayard, she saw her +companion become more shy, felt her unconscious hostility increase +perceptibly, she deduced the reason. With her conclusion came a feeling +of resentment and with a decided shock Ann realized that she was +prompted to be somewhat jealous of this daughter of the west. Indignant +at herself for what she believed was a mean weakness she resolved to +refrain from talking of Bruce to Nora for the sake of the girl's peace +of mind, although she could not help wondering just how far the affair +between the waitress and her own extraordinary lover had gone. + +Keeping off the subject was difficult, for the two were so far apart, +their viewpoints so widely removed, that they had little or no matter on +which to converse, aside from Yavapai and its people; and of the +community Bayard was the outstanding feature for them both. + +"How long have you been here, Nora?" Ann asked. + +"Three years; ever since Bruce got me my job." + +There you were! + +"Do you like it here?" + +"Well, folks have showed me a good time; Bruce especially." + +Again the talk was stalled. + +"Were you born out here?" + +"Yes; that's why I ain't got much education ... except what Bruce gave +me." + +Once more; everything on which they could converse went directly back to +Bayard and, finally, Ann abandoned the attempt to avoid the embarrassing +subject and plunged resolutely into it, hoping to dissipate the +intangible barrier that was between them. + +"Tell me about Bruce," she said. "He brought you here, he educated you; +he must have been very kind to you. He must be unusual,"--looking at the +other girl to detect, if she could, any misgiving sign. + +Nora stared straight ahead. + +"He's been good to me," she said slowly. "He's good to everybody, as I +guess you know. The' ain't much to know about him. His name ain't +Bayard; nobody knows what it is. He was picked up out of a railroad +wreck a long time ago an' old Tim Bayard took him an' raised him. They +never got track of his folks; th' wreck burnt. + +"Tim died four years ago an' Bruce's runnin' th' outfit. He's got a fine +ranch!"--voice rising in unconscious enthusiasm. "He ain't rich, but +he'll be well fixed some day. He don't care much about gettin' rich; +says it takes too much time. He'd rather read an' fuss with horses an' +things." + +"Isn't it unusual to find a man out here or anywhere who feels like +that? Are there more like him in this country, Nora?" + +"God, no!"--with a roughness that startled her companion. "None of 'em +are like him. He was born different; you can tell that by lookin' at +him. He ain't their kind, but they all like him, you bet! _He's_ +smarter'n they are. Feller from th' East, a perfesser, come out here +with th' consumption once when Tim was alive an' stayed there; he taught +Bruce lots. My!"--with a sigh of mingled pride and hopelessness--"he +sure knows a lot. Just as if he was raised an' educated in th' East, +only with none of th' frills you folks get." + +Then she was silent and refused to respond readily to Ann's advances, +but rode looking at her pony's ears, her lips in a straight line. + +That was the beginning. Each day the two women rode together, Nora +teaching Ann all she knew of horses and showing her, in her own way, the +mighty beauty of that country. + +After the first time, they said little about Bruce; with a better +acquaintance, more matters could be talked about and for that each was +thankful. + +Removed as they were from one another by birth and training, each of +these two women, strangers until within a few days, found that a great +part of her life was identical with that of the other. Yet, at the very +point where they came closest to one another, divergence began again. +Their common interest was their feeling for Bruce Bayard, and their +greatest difference was the manner in which each reacted to the emotion. +The waitress, more elemental, more direct and child-like, wanted the man +with an unequivocal desire. She would have gone through any ordeal, +subjected herself to any ignominious circumstances, for his pleasure. +But she did not want him as a possession, as something which belonged to +her; she wanted him for a master, longed with every fiber of her sensory +system to belong to him. She would have slaved for him, drudged for him, +received any brutal outburst he might have turned on her, gratefully, +just so long as she knew she was his. + +Ann Lytton, complicated in her manner of thought by the life she had +lived, hampered by conventions, by preconceived standards of conduct, +would not let herself be whiffed about so wholly by emotion. It was as +though she braced backward and moved reluctantly before a high wind, +urged to flight, resisting the tugging by all the strength of her limbs, +yet losing control with every reluctant step. For her, also, Bruce +Bayard was the most wonderful human being that she had ever experienced. +His roughness, his little uncouth touches, did not jar on her highly +sensitized appreciation of proprieties. With another individual of a +weaker or less cleanly type, the slips in grammar, even, would have been +annoying; but his virility and his unsmirched manner of thought, his +robust, clean body, overbalanced those shortcomings and, deep in her +heart, she idolized him. And yet she would not go further, would not +willingly let that emotion come into the light where it could thrive and +grow with the days; she tried to repress it, keeping it from its natural +sources of nourishment and thereby its growth--for it would grow in +spite of her--became a disrupting progress. One part of her, the real, +natural, unhampered Ann, told her that for his embraces, for his +companionship, she would sell her chances of eternity; she had no desire +to own him, no urge to subject herself to him; the status she wanted was +equal footing, a shoulder-to-shoulder relationship that would be a +joyous thing. And yet that other part, that Puritanical Ann, resisted, +fought down this urge, told her that she must not, could not want Bayard +because, at the Circle A ranch, waited another man who, in the eyes of +the law, of other people, of her God, even, was the one who owned her +loyalty and devotion even though he could not claim her love. Strange +the ways of women who will guard so zealously their bodies but who will +struggle against every natural, holy influence to give so recklessly, so +uselessly, so hopelessly, of their souls! + +Nora was the quicker to analyze her companion-rival. Her subjection to +Bayard's every whim was so complete that, when he told her to be kind to +this other woman, she obeyed with all the heart she could muster, in +spite of what she read in his face and in Ann's blue eyes when that +latter-day part of the eastern woman dreamed through them. She went +about her task doggedly, methodically, forcing herself to nurse the bond +between these two, thinking not of the future, of what it meant to her +own relationships with the cattleman, of nothing but the fact that +Bayard, the lover of her dreams, had willed it. The girl was a religious +fanatic; her religion was that of service to Bayard and she tortured +herself in the name of that belief. + +And in that she was only reflecting the spirit of the man she loved. +Back at the ranch, Bayard underwent the same ordeal of repressing his +natural desires, only, in his case, he could not at all times control +his revulsion for Lytton, while Nora kept her jealousy well in hand. As +at first, he centered his whole activity about bringing Lytton back to +some semblance of manhood. He nursed him, humored him as much as he +could, watched him constantly to see that the man did not slip away, go +to Yavapai and there, in an hour, undo all that Bruce had accomplished. + +Lytton regained strength slowly. His nervous system, racked and torn by +his relentless dissipation, would not allow his body to mend rapidly. He +had been on the verge of acute alcoholism; another day or two of +continued debauchery would have left him a bundle of uncontrollable +nerves, and remedying the condition was no one day task. A fortnight +passed before Lytton was able to sit up through the entire day and, even +then, a walk of a hundred yards would bring him back pale and panting. + +Meager as his daily improvement was, nevertheless it was progress, and +the rehabilitation of his strength meant only one thing for Bruce +Bayard. It meant that Lytton, within a short time, must know of Ann's +presence, must go to her, and that, thereafter, Bayard would be excluded +from the woman's presence, for he still felt that to see them together +would strip him of self-restraint, would make him a primitive man, +battling blindly for the woman he desired. + +As the days passed and Bruce saw Lytton steadying, gaining physical and +mental force, his composure, already disturbed, was badly shaken. He +tried to tell himself that what must be, must be; that brooding would +help matters not at all, that he must keep up his courage and surrender +gracefully for the sake of the woman he loved, keeping her peace of mind +sacred. At other times, he went over the doctrine of unimpeachable +motive, of individual duty that the clergyman had expounded, but some +inherent reluctance to adopt the new, some latent conservatism in him +rebelled at thought of man's crossing man where a woman was at stake. He +did not know, but he formed the third being who was held to a rigid +course by conscience! Of the four entangled by this situation, Ned +Lytton alone was without scruples, without a code of ethics. + +Between the two men was the same attitude that had prevailed from the +first. Bayard kept Lytton in restraint by his physical and mental +dominance. He gave up attempting to persuade, attempting to appeal to +the spark of manhood left in his patient, after that day when Lytton +stole and drank the whiskey. He relied entirely on his superiority and +frankly kept his charge in subjection. When strength came back to the +debauched body, Bayard told himself, he could begin to plead, to argue +for his results; not before. + +For the greater portion of the time Lytton was morose, quarrelsome. Now +and again came flashes of a better nature, but invariably they were +followed by spiteful, reasonless outbursts and remonstrances. To these +Bayard listened with tolerance, accepting the other man's curses and +insults as he would the reasonless pet of a child, and each time that +Ned showed a desire to act as a normal human being, to interest himself +in life or the things about him, the big rancher was on the alert to +give information, to encourage thought that would take the sick man's +mind from his own difficulties. + +One factor of the life at the ranch evidently worried Lytton, but of it +he did not speak. This was the manner with which Bayard kept one room, +the room in which he slept, to himself. The door through which he +entered never stood open, Lytton was never asked to cross the sill. +Bayard never referred to it in conversation. A secret chamber, it was, +rendered mysterious by the fact that its occupant took pains that it +should never be mentioned. Lytton instinctively respected this attitude +and never asked a question touching on it, though at times his annoyance +at being so completely excluded from a portion of the house was evident. + +Once Lytton, sitting in the shade of the ash tree, watched Bayard riding +in from the valley on his sorrel horse. The animal nickered as his +master let him head for the well beside the house. + +"He likes to drink here," Bruce laughed, dropping off and wiping the +dust from his face. "He thinks that because this well's beside the +house, it's better than drinkin' out yonder in th' corral. Kind of a +stuck up old pup, ain't you, Abe?" slapping the horse's belly until he +lifted one hind foot high in a meaningless threat of destruction. "Put +down that foot you four-flusher!" setting his boot over the hoof and +forcing it back to earth. + +He pulled off the saddle, dropped it, drew the bridle over the sleek, +finely proportioned ears and let the big beast shake himself mightily, +roll in the dooryard dust and drink again. + +"Where'd he come from?" Lytton asked, after staring at the splendid +lines of the animal for several minutes. + +"Oh, Abe run hog-wild out on th' valley," Bayard answered, with a +laugh, waving his hand out toward the expanse of country, now a fine +lilac tinted with green under the brilliant sunlight, purple and +uncertain away out where the heat waves distorted the horizon. "He was a +hell bender of a horse for a while.... + +"You see, he come from some stock that wasn't intended to get out. +Probably, an army stallion got away from some officer at Whipple +Barracks and fell in with a range mare. That kind of a sire accounts for +his weight and that head and neck, an' his mammy must have been a +leather-lunged, steel-legged little cuss--'cause he's that, too. He's +got the lines of a fine bred horse, with the insides of a first class +bronc." + +"He attracted attention when he was a two year old and some of th' boys +tried to get him, but couldn't. They kept after him until he was four +and then sort of give up. He was a good horse gone bad. He drove off +gentle mares and caused all kind of trouble and would 'a been shot, if +he hadn't been so well put up. He was no use at all that way; he was a +peace disturber an' he was fast an' wise. That's a bad combination to +beat in a country like ours,"--with another gesture toward the valley. + +"But his fifth summer was th' dry year--no rain--creeks dryin' up--hell +on horses; Tim and I went to get him. + +"There was just three waterin' places left on that range. One on Lynch +Creek, one under Bald Mountain, other way over by Sugar Block. We fenced +the first two in tight so nothin' but birds could get to 'em, built a +corral around th' third, that was clean across th' valley +there,"--indicating as he talked-"an' left th' gate open." + +"Well, first day all th' horses on th' valley collected over other side +by those fenced holes, wonderin' what was up,"--he scratched his head +and grinned at the memory, "an' Tim and I set out by Sugar Block in th' +sun waitin'.... Lord, it was hot, an' there wasn't no shade to be had. +That night, some of the old mares come trailin' across th' valley +leadin' their colts, whinnerin' when they smelled water. We was sleepin' +nearby and could kind 'a' see 'em by th' starlight. They nosed around +th' corral and finally went in and drunk. Next day, th' others was +hangin' in sight, suspicious, an' too thirsty to graze. All of 'em stood +head toward th' water, lookin' an' lookin' hours at a time. 'Long toward +night in they come, one at a time, finally, with a rush; unbranded +mares, a few big young colts, all drove to it by thirst. + +"Old Abe, though, he stood up on th' far rim of a wash an' watched an' +hollered an' trotted back an' forth. He wouldn't come; not much! We had +a glass an' could see him switch his tail an' run back a little ways +with his ears flat down. Then, he'd stop an' turn his head an' stick up +his ears stiff as starch; then he'd turn 'round an' walk towards us, +slow for a few steps. Never got within pistol shot, though. All next day +he hung there alone, watchin' us, dryin' up to his bones under that +sun. Antelope come up, a dozen in a bunch, an' hung near him all +afternoon. Next mornin' come th' sun an' there was Mr. Abe, standin' +with his neck straight in th' air, ears peekin' at our camp to see if we +was there yet. Gosh, how hot it got that day!" He rose, drew a bucket of +water from the well and lifting it in his big hands, drank deeply from +the rim at the memory. + +"I thought it was goin' to burn th' valley up. + +"'This'll bring him,' says Tim. + +"'Not him,' I says! 'He'll die first.' + +"'He's too damn good a sport to die,' Tim said. 'He'll quit when he's +licked.' + +"An' he did." + +The man walked to the sorrel, who stood still idly switching at flies. +He threw his arm about the great head and the horse, swaying forward, +pushed against his body with playful affection until Bayard was shoved +from his footing. + +"You did, didn't you, Abe? He didn't wait for dark. It was still light +an' after waitin' all that time on us, you'd thought he'd stuck it out +until we couldn't see so well. But it seemed as if Tim was right, as if +he quit when he saw he was licked, like a good sport. He just +disappeared into that wash an' come up on th' near side an' walked slow +toward us, stoppin' now an' then, sidesteppin' like he was goin' to turn +back, but always comin' on an' on. He made a big circle toward the +corral an', when he got close, 'bout fifty yards off, he started to +trot an' he went through that gate on a high lope, comin' to stop plumb +in th' middle of that hole, spatterin' water an' mud all over himself +an' half th' country. + +"'Twasn't much then. We made it to th' gate on our horses. He could see +us, but we knew after bein' dried out that long he'd just naturally have +to fill up. When I reached for th' gate, he made one move like he tried +to get away but 'twas too late. We had him trapped. He was licked. He +looked us over an' then went to lay down in th' water." + +He stroked the long, fine neck slowly. + +"After that 'twas easy. I knew he was more or less man even if he was +horse. We put th' first rope on him he'd ever felt next mornin'. Of +course, 'twas kind of a tournament for a while, but, finally we both +tied on an' started home with him between us. He played around some, but +finally let up; not licked, not discouraged, understand, but just as if +he admitted we had one on him an' he was goin' to see our game through +for curiosity. + +"We put him in th' round corral an' left him there for a straight month, +foolin' with him every day, of course. Then I got up an' rode him. +That's all there is to it. + +"He was my best friend th' minute I tied on to him; he is yet. We never +had no trouble. I treat him square an' white. He's never tried to pitch +with me, never has quit runnin' until I told him to, an', for my part, +I've never abused him or asked him to go th' limit." + +He walked out to the corral then, horse following at his heels like a +dog, nosing the big brown hand that swung against Bayard's thigh. + +"That's always been a lesson to me," Bruce said, on his return as he +prepared to wash in the tin basin beside the wall. "Runnin' hog-wild +never got him nothin' but enemies, never did him no good. He found out +that it didn't pay, that men was too much for him, an' he's a lot +happier, lot better off, lot more comfortable than he was when he was +hellin' round with no restraint on him. He knows that. I can tell. + +"So,"--as he lathered his hands with soap--"I've always figured that +when us men got runnin' too loose we was makin' mistakes, losin' a lot. +It may seem a little hard on us to stop doin' what we've had a good time +doin' for a while, but, when you stop to consider all sides, I guess +there's about as much pleasure for us when we think of others as there +is when we're so selfish that we don't see nothin' but our own desires." + +Lytton stirred uneasily in his chair and tossed his chin scornfully. + +"Don't you ever get tired playing the hero?" he taunted. "That's what +you are, you know. You're the hero; I'm the villain. You're the one +who's always saying the things heroes say in books. You're the one who's +always right, while I'm always wrong. + +"You know, Bayard, when a man gets to be so damn heroic it's time he +watched himself. I've never seen one yet whose foot didn't slip sooner +or later. The higher you fly, understand, the harder you fall. You're +pretty high; mighty superior to most of us. Look out!" + +The other regarded him a moment, cheeks flushing slowly under the taunt. + +"Lytton, if I was to ask a favor of you, would you consider it?" + +"Fire away! The devil alone knows what I could do for anybody." + +"Just this. Be careful of me, please. I might, sometime, sort of choke +you or something!" + +He turned back to the wash basin at that and soused his face and head in +the cold water. + +A moment before he had looked through that red film which makes killers +of gentle men. He had mastered himself at the cost of a mighty effort, +but in the wake of his rage came a fresh loathing for that other man ... +the man he was grooming, rehabilitating, only to blot out the +possibility of having a bit of Ann's life for himself. He was putting +his best heart, his best mind, his best strength into that discouraging +task, hoping against hope that he might lift Lytton to a level where Ann +would find something to attract and hold her, something to safeguard her +against the true lover who might ride past on his fire-shod stallion. +And it was bitter work. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE RUNAWAY + + +During these days Bayard saw Ann regularly. He would be up before dawn +that he might do the necessary riding after his cattle and reach Yavapai +before sunset, because, somehow, he felt that to see another man's wife +by daylight was less of a transgression than though he went under cover +of darkness. Perhaps it was also because he feared that in spite of his +caution to keep Ann's identity secret, in spite of the community's +accepted first conclusion, Yavapai might learn that she was wife and not +sister, and wished to fortify her against the sting of comment that +might be passed should the revelation occur and his affection for her be +guessed. + +He was punctilious about his appearance. Invariably he changed shirts +and overalls before riding to the town, and he had reserved one gorgeous +green silk scarf for those occasions. He never appeared before the woman +unshaven and, since his one confessional outburst, he was as careful of +his speech, his manner, as he was of his person. + +Ann had taken to Arizona whole heartedly and dressed suitably for the +new life she was leading--divided skirts, simple blouses, a brimmed hat +that would shade her eyes. Her cheeks bronzed from sun and wind, the +blood pumped closer to her skin from the outdoor life and her eyes, +above the latent pain in their depths, took on the brilliance of health. +Her new manner of dress, the better color that came to her face and +accentuated her beauty, the growing indications of vitality about her, +served only to fan the flame in Bayard's heart, for as it made her more +attractive to him, it also made her more understandable, brought her +nearer to his virile kind. + +[Illustration: Ann had taken to Arizona whole-heartedly and dressed +suitably for the new life she was leading.] + +"I've come to tell you about him, ma'am," he always said, by way of +opening their conversations. + +Not once again did he call her by her given name, but, though he was +always formal, stiffly polite, never allowing an intimation of personal +regard to pass his lips, he could not hide the adoration in his eyes. It +came through his dogged resolution to hold it back, for he could not +keep his gaze from following her every move, every bend of her neck, +change of her lips, lift of her arms and shoulders or free, rhythmic +movement as she walked. + +Ann saw and read that light and, though something in her kept demanding +that she blind herself to its significance, that, if necessary to +accomplish this, she refuse to give Bayard gaze for gaze, she could no +more have hidden the fact of that evidence of his love from her +understanding than she could have stopped the quickening of her pulse +when he approached. + +Nora saw that light, too. She saw the trouble with it in his face; +and the realization of what it all meant was like a stab in the breast. +He had ceased entirely to laugh and banter with her as he had done +before Ann Lytton came to Yavapai; in other days he had always eaten at +the Manzanita House when in town, and his humorous chiding had been one +of the things in which the girl found simple delight. Now, he came and +went without eating; his words to her were few, almost without exception +they were of the other woman and, always, his speech was sober. + +Mrs. Weyl returned to Yavapai and with her coming Ann found another +outlet for the trouble that she fought vainly to repress. To Bayard she +had given the fullest detail of her confidence; through Nora she had +found a method of forgetting for short successions of hours. But Bayard +was a man, and between them was the peculiar barrier which his love had +erected; Nora was not the type to which Ann would go for comfort and +there, anyhow, was again a dividing circumstance which could not wholly +be overcome. It was the emotional receptiveness of an understanding +woman that Ann Lytton needed; she wanted to be mothered, to be pitied, +to be assured in the terms of her kind and all that she found in the +clergyman's wife. + +"Why, the poor child!" that good woman had cried when, on her arrival +home, her husband had told her of Ann's presence. "And you say her +brother has disappeared?" + +"From Yavapai, yes; I suspect, though, that Bruce Bayard knows +something of where he is and I guess the girl could find him. Something +peculiar about it, though. Bruce is worried. And I think he's quite +desperately in love." + +Forthwith, his wife dropped all other duties and went to Ann. In fifteen +minutes the novelty of acquaintance had worn off and in an hour Ann was +crying in the motherly arms, while she poured her whole wretched story +into the sympathetic ears; that is, all of the story up to the day when +Bruce Bayard told her why she must not help him nurse Ned Lytton back to +physical and moral health. + +To the accompaniment of many there-there's and dear-child's and caresses +Ann's outburst of grief spent itself and the distress that had reflected +on the countenance of the older woman gave way to an expression of sweet +understanding. + +"And because of everything, we--Mr. Bayard and I--had thought it best to +let people go on thinking that I am ... Ned's sister.... You see, it +might be embarrassing to have them talk." + +Her look wavered and the face of Mrs. Weyl showed a sudden +comprehension. For a breath she sat gazing at the profile of the girl +beside her. Then she leaned forward, kissed her on the cheek and said, + +"I know, daughter, I know." + +That meeting led to daily visits and soon Bruce and Ann were invited to +eat their evening meal at the Weyls'. It was a peculiar event, with the +self-consciousness of Ann and the rancher putting an effective damper on +the conversation. Afterward, when the men sat outside in the twilight, +Bruce smoking a cigarette and the minister drawing temperately on an +aged cob pipe, the cowman broke a lengthy silence with: + +"I'm glad she told your wife ... about bein' his wife.... It relieves +me. A thing like that is considerable of a secret to pack around." + +The other blew ashes gently from the bowl of his pipe, exposing the ruby +coal before he spoke. + +"If you ever think there's anything any man can do to help--from +listening on up--just let me try, will you, my boy?" + +"If any man could help, you'd be the one," was the answer. "But th' +other day we sifted this thing down; it's up to th' man himself to be +sure that he's ridin' th' open trail an' ain't got anything to cover up. + +"But lately so much has happened that I don't feel free, even when I'm +out on the valley. I feel, somehow, like I was under fence ... fenced +in." + +Nora and Ann continued their rides together and one afternoon they had +gone to the westward in the direction of Bayard's ranch. It was at +Nora's suggestion, after they had agreed that Bruce might be on his way +to Yavapai that day. In the distance, they had sighted a rider and after +watching him a time saw him wave his hat. + +"That's him," the waitress said. "Here's some fine grass; let's give th' +horses a bite an' let 'em cool till he comes up." + +They waited there then, slouched in their saddles. Ann wanted to talk +about something other than Bruce, because, at the mention of his name, +that old chill was bound to assert itself in Nora. + +"This is a better horse than the one I've had," she commented, stroking +the pony's withers and hoping to start talk that would make the interval +of waiting one of ease between them. + +"Yes," agreed Nora, "but he's got a bad eye. I was afraid of him when we +first started out, but he seems to be all right. Bruce had one that +looked like him once an' he tried to pitch me off." + +"Hold up your head, pony," Ann said, "You'll get us into trouble--" + +Her horse, searching grass, had thrust his head under the pony Nora rode +and, as Ann pulled on the reins, he responded with the alacrity of a +nervous animal, striking the stirrup as he threw up his head. He +crouched, backed, half turned and Nora's spur caught under the headstall +of his bridle. It was a bridle without a throat-latch, and, at the first +jerk, it slipped over his ears, the bit slid from his mouth and +clattered on the rocks. Ann's first laugh changed to a cry of fright. +Nora, with a jab of her spurs, started to send her pony close against +the other, reaching out at the same time with her arms to encircle his +head. But she was too late, too slow. The freed horse trotted off a few +steps, throwing his nose to one side in curiosity, felt no restraint, +broke into a lope, struck back along the road toward town and, +surprised, frightened by his unexpected liberty, increased his pace to a +panicky run. + +Behind, Nora pulled her horse up sharply, knowing that to pursue would +only set the runaway at a greater speed. + +"Hang on!" she shouted, in a voice shrill with excitement. "Hang on!" + +Ann was hanging on with all her strength. She was riding, too, with all +the skill at her command; for greater safety she clung to the horn with +both hands. She tried to speak to the horse under her, thinking that she +might quiet him by words, but the rush of wind whipped the feeble sounds +from her lips and their remnants were drowned in the staccatoed drumming +of hoofs as the crazed beast, breathing in excited gulps, breasted the +hill that led them back toward town, gathering speed with every leap +that carried them forward. + +Nora, seeing that a runaway was inevitable, cried to her mount and the +pony, keyed to flight, sped along behind the other, losing with every +length traveled. Tears of fright spilled from the girl's eyes, chilling +her cheeks. What might happen was incalculable, she knew. + +Then new sounds, above the beat of her horse's hoofs, above the wind in +her ears; the sweeping, measured, rolling batter of other hoofs, and +Nora turned her head to see Bruce Bayard, mouth set, eyes glowing, brim +of his hat plastered back against the crown by his rush, urge his big +sorrel horse toward her. He hung low over the fork of his saddle, clear +of his seat, tense, yet lithe, and responding to every undulation of the +beast that carried him. + +From a distance Bayard had seen. He thought at first that Ann had +started her pony purposely, but when the animal raced away toward town +at such frantic speed, when Ann's hat was whipped from her head, when he +heard a distant, faint scream, he knew that no prompting of the woman's +had been behind the break. He stretched himself low over Abe's neck and +cried aloud, hung in his spurs and fanned the great beast's flanks with +his quirt. Never before had the sorrel been called upon so sharply; +never before had he felt such a prodding of rowels or lashing of +rawhide. Ears back, nose out, limbs flexing and straightening, spurning +the roadway with his drumming hoofs, the great animal started in +pursuit. + +For a mile the road held up hill, following closely the rim of a rise +that hung high above the valley to the right. As it rose, the wagon +track bent to the left, with the trend of the rim. At the crest of the +hill Yavapai would be visible; from there the road, too, could be seen, +swinging in a big arc toward the town, which might be reached by travel +over a straight line; but that way would lead down an abrupt drop and +over footing that was atrocious, strewn with _malpais_ boulders and +rutted by many washes. + +It was to overtake Ann's runaway before he topped this rise that Bayard +whipped his sorrel. He knew what might happen there. The animal that +bore the woman was crazed beyond control, beyond his own horse judgment. +He was running, and his sole objective was home. Now, he was taking the +quickest possible route and the moment he struck the higher country he +might leave the road and go straight for Yavapai, plunging down the +sharp point that stood three hundred feet above the valley, and making +over the rocks with the abandon of a beast that is bred and reared among +them. Well enough to run over rough ground at most times, but in this +insane going the horse would be heedless of his instinctive caution, +sacrificing everything for speed. He might fall before he reached the +valley floor, he might lose his footing at any yard between there and +town, and a fall in that ragged, volcanic rock, would be a terrible +thing for a woman. + +Abe responded superbly to the urging. He passed Nora's pony in a shower +of gravel. His belly seemed to hang unbelievably close to the ground, +his stride lengthened, his tail stood rippling behind him, his feet +smote the road as though spitefully and he stretched his white patched +nose far out as if he would force his tendons to a performance beyond +their actual power. But he could not make it; the task of overcoming +that handicap in that distance was beyond the ability of blood and +bone. + +As he went on, leap by leap, and saw that his gaining was not bringing +him beside Ann in time, Bayard commenced to call aloud to the horse +under him, and his eyes grew wide with dread. + +His fears were well grounded. As though he had planned it long before, +as if the whole route of his flight had been preconceived, the black +pony swung to the right as he came up on level ground. He cut across the +intervening flat and, ears back, hindquarters scrooching far under his +body as he changed his gait for the steep drop, he disappeared over the +rim. + +Bayard cried aloud, the sorrel swung unbidden on the trail of the +runaway and twenty yards behind stuck his fore feet stiffly out for the +first leap down the rock-littered point. Unspeakable footing, that. +_Malpais_ lumps, ranging from the size of an egg to some that weighed +tons, were everywhere. Between them sparse grass grew, but in no place +was there bare ground the size of a horse's hoof, and for every four +lengths they traveled forward, they dropped toward the valley by one! + +Ears up now, the sorrel watched his footing anxiously, but the black +pony, eyes rolling, put his whole vigor into the running, urged on to +even greater efforts by the nearness of the pursuing animal. The fortune +that goes with flying bronchos alone kept his feet beneath his body. + +Bayard's mouth was open and each time the shock of being thrown forward +and down racked his body, the breath was beaten from him. He looked +ahead, watching the footing at the bottom, leaving that over which they +then passed to his horse, for the most critical moment in a run such as +they took is when the horses strike level ground. Then they are apt to +go end over end, tripped by the impetus that their rush downhill gives +them. He knew that he could not overtake and turn Ann's pony with safety +before they reached the bottom. He feared that to come abreast of him +might drive the frantic beast to that last effort which would result in +an immediate fall. Every instant was precious; every leap filled with +potential disaster. + +The stallion left off pretense at clean running. He slipped and +floundered and scrambled down the point; at times almost sitting on his +haunches to keep the rush of his descent within safety and retain +control of his balance. Slowly he drew closer to the other animal, +crowding a bit to the left to be nearer, grunting with his straining, +dividing his attention between preserving caution and making progress. + +Ann's hair came down, tumbling about her shoulders, then down her back, +and finally brushed the sweated coat of her runaway with its ends. The +horrible sensation of falling, of pitching forward helplessly, swept +through her vitals each time the animal under her leaped outward and +down. It grew to an acute physical pain by its constant repetition. Her +face was very white, but almost expressionless. Only her eyes betrayed +the fear in her by their darkness, by their strained lids. Her mouth was +fixed in determination to play the game to its end. She heard the other +horse coming; Bayard's voice had called out to her. That was all she +knew. This flight was horrible, tragic; with each move of her horse she +feared that it must be the last, that she would be flung into those +rocks, yet, somehow, she felt that it would end well. For Bayard was +near her. + +Not so with the man. As they slid down halfway to the valley, he cried +aloud to his horse again, for he saw that along the base of the drop, +right at the place toward which they were floundering, a recent storm +had gouged a fresh wash. Deep and narrow and rock filled, and, if her +horse, unable to stop, unable to turn with any degree of safety whatever +went into that ... + +Behind them, loosened rocks clattered along, the dust rose, their trail +was marked by black blotches where the scant red soil had been turned +up. The sorrel's nose reached the black's reeling rump; it stretched to +his flank, to the saddle, to his shoulder.... And Ann turned her head +quickly, appealingly. + +"Careful ... Abe! Once more ... easy ..." + +Bayard dropped his reins; he leaned to the left. He scratched with his +spurs. His horse leaped powerfully twice, thrice, caution abandoned, +risking everything now. The man swung down, his arm encircled Ann's +waist, he brought the pressure of his right knee to bear against the +saddle, and lifted her clear, a warm, limp weight against his body. + +Staggering under the added burden, the stallion gathered himself for a +try at the wash which he must either clear or in which he and those he +carried were to fall in a tangle. Bayard, lifting the woman high, +balanced in his saddle and gathered her closer. + +The black floundered in uncertain jumps, throwing his head down in an +effort to check his progress, was overcome by his own momentum and +leaped recklessly. He misjudged, fell short and with a grunt and a thud +and a threshing went down into the bald rocks that floods had piled in +the gully. + +Abe did not try to stop, to overcome the added impetus that this new +weight gave him. He lowered his head in a show of determination, took +the last three strides with a swift scramble and leaped. + +Bayard thought that they were in the air for seconds. They seemed to +float over that wash. Seemed to hang suspended a deliberate instant. +Then they came down with a sob wrenched from the horse as his forefeet +clawed the far footing for a retaining hold and his hindquarters, the +bank crumbling under them, slipped down into the gully. He strained an +instant against sliding further back, gathering himself in an agony of +effort and floundered safely up! + +Bruce became conscious that Ann's arms were about his neck, that her +body was close against his. He knew that his limbs quivered, partly from +the recent fright, partly from contact with the woman. + +Abe staggered forward a few steps, halted and turned to look at his +unfortunate brother galloping lamely toward Yavapai. + +Except for the animal's breathing, the world was very quiet. For a +moment Ann lay in Bayard's embrace; his one arm was about her shoulders, +the other hooked behind her knees; then, convulsively, her arms +tightened about his neck; she pressed her cheek against his and clung so +while their hearts throbbed, one against the other. He had not moved, he +refrained from crushing her, from taking her lips with his. It cost him +dearly and the effort to resist shot another tremor through his frame. +On that she roused. + +"I wasn't afraid ... after I knew it was you," she said, raising her +head. + +"I was, ma'am," he said, soberly, lifting and seating her on Abe's +withers. + +"I was mighty scared. See what happened to your horse? That ... You'd +have been with him in those rocks." + +He dismounted, still supporting her in her position. + +"You sit in th' saddle, ma'am; I'll walk an' lead Abe. You're ... you're +not scared now?" + +"A little,"--breathing deeply as he helped her, and, laughing in a +strained tone. "I'll ... I'll be frightened later I expect, but I'm not +now ... much ... It's you, you keep me from it," she said. "I'm not +frightened with you." + +"I tried to keep things so you won't have to be, ma'am." + +Probably because she was weak, perhaps wholly because of the hot +yearning that contact with him had roused in her, Ann swayed down toward +him. It was as though she would fall into his arms, as though she +herself would stir his repressed desire for her until it overcame his +own judgment, and yield to his will there in the brilliant afternoon; as +though she were going to him, then, for all time, regardless of +everything, caring only for the instant that her lips should be on his. +He started forward, flung up one arm as though to catch her; then drew +back. + +"Don't, ma'am," he begged. "Don't! For the sake ... for your sake, +don't." + +The woman swallowed and straightened her back as though just coming to +the complete realization of what had happened. + +"Forgive me," she whispered. + +They had not heard Nora riding down to them, so great was their +absorption in one another, but at that moment when Ann's head drooped +and Bayard's shoulders flexed as from a great fatigue the waitress +halted her horse beside them. + +"God! I didn't think...." + +She had looked at them with the fear that had struck her as she watched +the last phase of their descent still gripping her. But in their faces +she read that which they both struggled to hide from one another and the +light that had been in her eyes went out. She turned her face away from +them, looking out at the long afternoon shadows. + +"I'll have to be gettin' back," she said, dully, as though unconscious +of the words. + +"We'll go with you, Nora," the man said, very quietly. "Mrs. Lytton," he +pronounced the words distinctly as if to impress himself with their +significance--"is the first person who has ever been on Abe but me.... +He seems to like it." + +Leading the horse by the reins, he began to climb the point back toward +the road. In the east the runaway had dwindled to a bobbing fleck. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE SCOURGING + + +In the last moments of twilight Ann sat alone in her room, cheeks still +flushed, limbs still trembling at intervals, pulses retaining their +swift measure. She was unstrung, aquiver with strange emotions. + +It was not wholly the fright of the afternoon that had provoked her +nerves to this state; it was not alone the emotional surging loosed by +her moment in Bayard's arms, her cheek against his cheek; nor was it +entirely inspired by the fact, growing in portent with each passing +hour, that Bruce had told her his work with Ned Lytton was all but +ended, that within a day or two he was sending her husband to her. It +was a combination of all this, with possibly her husband's impending +return forming a background. + +Again and again she saw Bruce as he delivered his message, heard his +even, dogged voice uttering the words. He had waited until they reached +the hotel, he had let Nora leave them and, then, in the sunset quiet, +standing on the steps where she had first seen him, he had refused to +hear her thanks for saving her from bodily hurt, and had broken in: + +"It ain't likely I'll be in again for a while, ma'am. Your husband's +about ready to move. I've done all I can; it'd only hurt him to stay on +against his will. Sometime this week, ma'am, he'll be comin'." + +And that was Wednesday! She had been struck stupid by his words. She had +heard him no further, though he did say other things; she had watched +him go, unable to call him back. + +It relieved Ann not at all to tell herself that it was this for which +she had waited, had worried, had restrained herself throughout these +weeks; that she had come West to find her husband and that she was about +to join him, knowing that he was strengthened, that he had been lifted +up to a physical and mental level where she might guide him, aid him in +the fight which must continue. + +That knowledge was no solace. It was that for which she had outwardly +waited, but it was that against which she inwardly recoiled. She +realized this truth now, and conscience cried back that it must not be +so, that she must stifle that feeling of revulsion, that she must +welcome her husband, eagerly, gladly. And it went on to accuse ... that +conscience; it shamed her because she had been held to the breast of +another man; it scorned her because she had drawn herself closer to him +with her own arms; it taunted her bitterly because she could not readily +agree with her older self that in the doing she had sinned, because to +her slowly opening eyes that moment had seemed the most beautiful +interval of her life! + +A peculiar difference in the vivacity of her impressions had been +asserting itself. The memory of the runaway had faded. Her picture of +the moment when she strained her body against Bayard's was not so clear +as it had been an hour before, though the thrill, the great joy of it, +still remained to mingle with those other thoughts and emotions which +confused her. The last great impression of the day, though--Bayard's +solemn announcement of his completed task--grew more sharply defined, +more outstanding, more important as the moments passed, because its +eventuality was a thing before which she felt powerless in the face of +her conscience, before which all this other must be forgotten, before +which this new rebellious Ann must give way to the old long-suffering, +submissive wife. She felt as though she had known her moment of beauty +and that it had gone, leaving her not even a sweet memory; for her +grimmer self whispered that that brief span of time had been vile, +unchaste. And yet, in the next moment, her strength had rallied and she +was fighting against the influence of tradition, against blind +precedents. + +A knock came on her door and Ann, wondering with a thrill if it could be +Bayard, both troubled and pleased at the possibility, stepped across the +floor to answer it. + +"Oh, Nora!" she said in surprise. "Come in,"--when the girl stood still +in the hall, neither offering to speak nor to enter. "Do come in," she +insisted after a pause and the other crossed the threshold, still +without speaking. + +"I've been sitting here in the dark thinking about what happened this +afternoon," Ann said, drawing a chair to face hers that was by the +window. "It was all very exciting, wasn't it?" + +Nora had followed across the room slowly and Ann felt that the girl's +gaze held on her with unusual steadfastness. + +"I guess it's a fortunate thing that Bruce Bayard came along when he +did. I ... I tremble every time I think of the way my horse went down!" +She broke off and laughed nervously. + +Nora stood before her, still silent, still eyeing her pointedly. + +"Well ... Won't you sit down, Nora?"--confused by the portentous silence +and the staring of the other. "Won't you sit down here?" + +Mechanically the girl took her seat and Ann, wondering what this strange +bearing might mean, resumed her own chair. They sat so, facing one +another in the last sunset glow, the one staring stolidly, Ann covering +her embarrassment, her wonder with a forced smile. Gradually, that smile +faded, an uncertainty appeared in Ann's eyes and she broke out: + +"Why, what is the matter with you, Nora?" + +At that question the girl averted her face and let her hands drop down +over the chair arms with careless laxity. + +"Don't you know what it is?" she asked, in her deep, throaty voice, +meeting Ann's inquiring gaze, shifting her eyes quickly, moving her +shoulders with a slight suggestion of defiance. + +"Why, no, Nora! You're so queer. Is something troubling you? Can't you +tell me?" + +Ann leaned forward solicitously. + +The waitress laughed sharply, and lifted a hand to her brow, and shook +her head. + +"Don't you know what it is?" she asked again, voice hardening. "Can't +you see? Are you blind? Or are you afraid? + +"What'd you come out here for anyhow?" she cried, abruptly accusing, one +hand out in a gesture of challenge, and Ann could see an angry flush +come into her face and her lower lids puff with the emotion. + +"Why, Nora...." + +"Don't tell me! I know what you come for! You come to look after your +worthless whelp of a man; that's why; an' you stayed to try to take +mine!"--voice weakening as she again turned her face toward the window. + +"Why, Nora Brewster ..." + +The sharp shake of the girl's arm threw off Ann's hand that had gone out +to grasp it and the rasp in Nora's voice checked the eastern woman's +protest. + +"Don't try to tell me anything different! I know! Can't I see? Am I as +blind as you try to make me think you are?"--with another swagger of the +shoulders as she moved in her chair. "Can't I see what's goin' on? Can't +I see you makin' up to him an' eyein' him an' leadin' him on?--You, a +married woman!" + +"Nora, stop it!" + +With set mouth Ann straightened, her breathing audible. + +"I _won't_ stop. You're goin' to hear me through, understand? You're +goin' to know all about it; you're goin' to know what I am an' what he +is an' what's been between us ... what you've been breakin' up. Then, I +guess you won't come in here with your swell eastern ways an' try to +take him.... I guess not!" + +She laughed bitterly and Ann could see the baleful glow in her eyes. + +"I told you that he brung me here an' put me to work, I guess. Well, +that was so; he did. I'll tell you where he got me." She hitched +forward. "He brung me from th' Fork. You come through there; all you +know 'bout it is that there's a swell hotel there an' it's a junction +point. Well, the's a lot more to know about th' Fork ... or was." + +She paused a moment and rubbed her palms together triumphantly, as if +she had long anticipated this moment. + +"When I was there, the' wasn't no hotel; the' wasn't nothin' but a +junction an' ... hell itself. 'Twasn't a place with much noise about it, +not so many killin's as some places maybe, but 'twas bad, low down. + +"The' was a place there ... Charley Ling's.... 'Twas a Chinese place, +with white women. I was one of 'em." + +Ann gasped slightly and drew back, and Nora laughed. + +"I thought that'd hurt," she mocked. "I thought you couldn't stand it! + +"Charley's was a fine place. Sheep herders come there an' Mexicans an' +sometimes somebody of darker color. We wasn't particular, see? We wasn't +particular, I guess not! Men was white or black or red or yellow or +brown, but their money was all one color.... + +"The' was dope an' booze an' ... hell.... Charley's was a reg'lar boil +on th' face of God's earth, that's what it was.... He--Bruce Bayard--got +me out of there." + +The girl breathed hard and swiftly. Her upper lip was drawn back and her +white teeth gleamed in the semi-darkness as she sat forward in her +chair, flushed, her accusing face thrust forward toward the bewildered, +horrified Ann Lytton. + +"He got me there, so you know what I was, what I am. He brung me here, +got me this job, has kept me here ever since,"--with a suggestion of +faltering purpose in her voice. "It's been him ever since; just him. +I'll say that for myself. I've been on th' level with Bruce an' ain't +had nothin' to do with others. + +"You see he's mine!"--her voice, which had dropped to a monotone, rose +bitingly again. "He's mine; he's all I got. If 'twasn't for him, I +wouldn't be here. If he quits me, I'll go back to that other. I don't +want to go back; so long as he sticks by me I won't go back. If I leave, +it'll be because I'm drove back.... + +"That's what you're doin'. You're drivin' me back to Charley's ... or +some place like it...." + +She moved from side to side, defiantly, and leaned further forward, +resting her elbows on her knees, staring out into the darkened street +below them. + +"You come here, a married woman; you got one man now, an' he don't suit. +So you think you're goin' to take mine. That's big business for a ... a +respectable lady, like yourself, ain't it? Stealin' a man off a woman +like me!" + +She laughed shortly, and did not so much as look up as Ann tried to +reply and could not make words frame coherent sentences. + +"I've kept still until now, 'cause I ain't proud of my past, 'cause I +thought you, havin' one man, had enough without meddlin' with mine. But +I'm through keepin' my mouth shut now,"--menacingly. "I'm through, I +tell you,"--wiping her hands along her thighs and straightening her +body slowly as she turned a malevolent gaze on the silent Ann. "You're +tryin' to take what belongs to me an' I won't set by an' let you walk +off with him. I'll-- + +"Why, what'd this town say, if I was to tell 'em you're Ned Lytton's +wife instead of his sister? They all know you've been havin' Bruce come +here to your room; they all think he's your lover. First thing, they'd +fire you out of th' hotel; then, they'd laugh at you as you walked along +th' street! It'd ruin him, too; what with keepin' your man out at his +ranch so's he can see you without trouble!" + +Her voice had mounted steadily and, at the last, she rose to her feet, +bending over the bewildered Ann and gesturing heavily with her right arm +while the other was pressed tightly across her chest. + +"That's what I come here to tell you to-night!" she cried. "That's what +you know, now. But I want you to know that while I've been bad, as bad +as women get, that I've been open about it; I ain't been no hypocrite; I +ain't passed as a good woman an' ... been bad--" + +"Nora, stop this!" + +Ann leaped to her feet and confronted the girl, for the moment furious, +combative. They faced one another in the faint light that came through +the windows and before her roused intensity Nora stepped backward, +yielding suddenly, frightened by this show of vigorous indignation, for +she had believed that her accusation would grind the spirit, the pride, +from Ann. + +"Why, you-u-u- ..." + +Ann's hands clenched and opened convulsively at her sides as she groped +fruitlessly for words. + +"You go now, Nora; go away from me! What you have said has been too +contemptible, too base for me even to answer!" + +She walked quickly to the door, opened it and faced about with a gesture +of command. Nora hesitated a moment, then, without a word, walked from +the room. In the hall she paused, back still toward Ann as though she +had more that she would say, as if, possibly, she considered the +advisability of going further; but, if that was true, she had no +opportunity then, for the door closed firmly and the lock clicked. + +It was the most confused moment in Ann's life. The identification of her +husband, her several trying scenes with Bayard, would not compare with +it. She heard Nora's slow, receding footsteps with infinite relief and, +when they were quite gone, she realized that as she stood, back to the +door, she was shaking violently. She was weakened, frightened by what +had passed, and, as she strove through those minutes to control her +thoughts, to marshal the elements of the ordeal through which she had +come, she became possessed by the terrifying conviction that she had no +defence to offer! That she could not answer the other woman's +accusations, that by telling Nora she was above replying to those +charges she was only hiding behind a front of false superiority, a +veneer of assurance that was as artificial as it was thin. + +She moved to her bed with lagging, uncertain steps and sat down with a +long sigh; then, drew a wrist across her eyes, propping herself erect +with the other arm. + +"She ... he belongs to her ..." she said aloud, trying to bring +coherence to her thinking by the uttered words. "He belongs ... to +her...." + +A slow warmth went through her body, into her cheeks to make them flame +fiercely. That was a sense of guilt coming over her, shaming her, +torturing her, and behind it, inspiring, urging it along, giving it +strength, was that conscience of hers. + +At other times she had defied that older self; only that evening she had +regained some of the ground from which it had driven her by its last +assault, lifting herself above the judgments she had been trained to +respect because, in transgressing them, she had experienced a free, holy +joy that had never been hers so long as she had remained within their +bounds. But now! That cry for escape was gone. + +She had been stealing another woman's man ... and such a woman! + +Never before had she faced such ugly truths as the girl had poured upon +her. Of the cancerous places in the social structure she had known, of +course; at times she had even gone so far as to judge herself a +wide-awake, keen-seeing woman, but now ... she shuddered as the woman's +words came back to her, "White or black or red or brown; but their money +was all th' same color." That was too horrible, too revolting; she could +not accept it with a detached point of view. Its very truth--she did not +doubt it--smirched her, for she had been stealing the man of such a +woman! + +Oh, that conscience was finding its revenge! That day it had been +outraged, had been all but unseated; but now it came back with a +vengeance. She, the lawful wife of Ned Lytton, had plotted to win Bruce +Bayard. No, she had not! one part of her protested, as she weakened and +sought for any escape that meant relief. You did, you did! thundered +that older self. By passively accepting, as a fact, her want of him, she +had sinned. By finding joy in his touch, at sight of him, she had +grievously wronged not only Ned and herself but all people. She was a +contaminated thing! She was as bad, worse than Nora Brewster, because, +while Nora had sinned, she admitted it, had done it openly, and frankly +while she, Ann Lytton, had covered it with a cloak of hypocrisy, had +refused to admit her transgressions even to herself and lied and +distorted happenings, even her thoughts, until they were made to appease +her craven heart! + +"She said it; she said it!" Ann muttered aloud. "She said that I was a +hypocrite. She said ... she did not hide!" Then, for a moment, she was +firm, drawing her body, even, to firmness to contend more effectively +against these suggestive accusations. What matter if she were married? +What if Bayard did love an abandoned woman? What mattered anything but +that she loved him? + +And, as though it had waited for her to go that far to show her hand, +that other self cried out: "To your God you have given your word to love +this man, your husband! To your God you have promised to love no other! +To your God you have pledged him your body, your soul, your life, come +what may!" + +She cowered before the thought, tearless, silent, and sat there, going +through and through the same emotional experiences, always coming +against the stone wall formed by her concepts of honor and morality. + +In another room of the Manzanita House another woman fought with herself +that night. Nora, too, stood backed against her locked door a long time +after she had gained its refuge, bewildered, trying to think her way to +a clear understanding of all that had happened. Its entire consequence +came to her sooner than it had come to Ann. She groped along the wall to +her matchsafe, scratched a light, removed the chimney from her lamp and +set the wick burning. She waved out the match absently, put the charred +remains in the oilcloth cover of the washstand and said to herself, + +"Well, I've done it." + +It was as though she spoke of the accomplishment of an end the +advisability of which had been debatable in her mind, and as if there +were now no remedy. What was done, was done; events of the past could +not be altered, their consequences could not be changed. + +She undressed listlessly, put on her nightgown and moved to the crinkled +mirror to take down her hair. + +"I guess that'll fix her," she muttered. "She'll get out, now...." + +She looked at herself in the mirror as she began to speak, but, when her +sight met its own reflection, her voice faltered, the words trailed off. +She stood motionless, scrutinizing herself closely, critically; then saw +a slow flush come up from her neck, flooding her cheeks. Uneasily her +eyes dropped from their reflection, then shot back with a rallying of +the dark defiance that had been in them; only for an instant, for the +fire disappeared, they became unsteady. + +Her movements grew rapid. She drew hairpins from the coils and dropped +them heedlessly. She shook out her hair and brushed it with nervous +vigor; then braided it feverishly, as if some inner emotion might find +vent in that simple task. + +Time after time she shot glances into the mirror, but in each instance +she felt her cheeks burn more fiercely, saw the confused humility +increasing in her expression and, finally, her rapid breathing lost its +regularity, her lips quivered and her shoulders lifted in a sob. She +covered her face with her hands, pressing finger tips tightly against +her eyes, struggling to master herself, to bring again that defiant +spirit. But she could not; it had gone and she was fighting doggedly +against the reaction, knowing that it must come, knowing what it would +be, almost terror stricken at the realization. + +She paced the floor, stopping now and then, and finally cried aloud: + +"She _was_ stealin' him; he _is_ mine!"--as though some presence had +accused her of a lie. Again, she repeated the words, but in a whisper; +and conviction was not with her. + +She sat down on the edge of her bed, but could not remain quiet, and +commenced walking, moving automatically, almost dreamlike, distressed, +flinging her arms about like a guilt-maddened Lady Macbeth. Each time +she passed the mirror she experienced a terrible desire to meet her own +gaze again, but she would not, for her own eyes accused her, bored +relentlessly into her heart. + +"An' I called her a hypocrite," she burst out suddenly, halted, turned +and rushed back toward the dresser, straining forward, forcing her gaze +to read the soul that was bared before her, there in the mirror. + +"You lied to her!" she muttered. "You told her dirty lies; you're +throwin' him down. You're killin' her... You ... + +"Oh, Bruce, Bruce!" + +She turned away and let the tears come again. + +"You'd hate me, Bruce, you'd hate me!" + +She threw herself full length on the bed. Jealousy had had its inning. +All the bitterness that it could create had been flung forth on to the +woman who had roused it and then the emotion had died. Strong as it was +in Nora, the elemental, the childish, it was not so strong as her +loyalty to Bayard's influence and the same thing in her that would have +welcomed physical abuse from him now called on her to undo her work of +the evening, to strive to prevent his love for Ann from wasting itself, +though every effort that she might make toward that end would cause her +suffering. + +It was midnight when Ann Lytton, still motionless, still chilling and +flushing as thought followed thought through her confused mind, found +herself in the center of her dark room. The knock that had roused her to +things outside sounded again on her door, low and cautious. + +"Who is it?" she asked, unsteadily. + +"It's me, Nora." + +The tone was husky, weak, contrite. + +"Well, what do you want, Nora?"--summoning a sternness for the query. + +"I ... I want to come in; I want to tell you somethin' ... if you'll let +me." + +Ann calculated a moment, but the quality of the other woman's voice, +supplicating, uncertain, swung the balance and she unlocked the door, +opening it wide. Nora stood in her long white gown, head hung, fingers +nervously intertwining before her. + +A pitiable humility was about the girl, and on sight of it Ann's manner +changed. + +"What is it, Nora? Won't you come in?" + +She stepped forward, took her by the hand and gently urged her into the +room, closing the door. + +"Sit on the bed, Nora, while I light the lamp." + +"Oh, M's. Lytton, please don't ..."--with an uneasy movement. "I'd +rather ... not have to look at you...." + +A pause. + +"Why, if you want it that way, of course, Nora. Sit down here. Aren't +you cold?" + +She took a shawl from its hook, threw it across the other's shoulders +and sat down on the bed, drawing Nora to her side. An awkward silence +followed, then came the sound of Nora's crying, lifted to a pitch just +above a sigh. + +"Don't, Nora! Please, don't! What is it, now? Tell me ... do tell me," +Ann pleaded, growing stronger, of better balance, feeling some of her +genuine assurance returning. + +"I ... I lied to you. I ..." Nora began and stopped. + +Ann uttered no word; just inhaled very slowly and squared her shoulders +with relief. + +"I ... was jealous of you. When I saw him with his arms around you this +afternoon, I ... couldn't stand it. I had to do somethin'. I was drove +to it." + +She brushed the damp hair back from her forehead and cleared her throat. +She clutched Ann's one hand in both hers and turned to talk closely into +her face. + +"I ... it wasn't all lies. That part about me, about Charley Ling's, was +true. It was true that Bruce took me out of there, too, but not for what +you think. I ... I was pretty bad for a young girl, but I never knew +much different until I knew Bruce ... I didn't know much. + +"I was at Ling's. I didn't lie about that," she repeated stoically, +baring her shame in an attempt to atone for her former behavior. "I'd +been there quite a while, when one night when the' was whiskey an' men +an' hell, he come.... + +"I'll never forget it. I can't. He was so big that he filled th' door, +he was so ... different, so clean an' disgusted-like, that it stopped +th' noise for a minute. He stood lookin' us over; then he saw me an' +looked an' looked, an' I couldn't do nothin' but hang my head when 'twas +my business to laugh at him. + +"He didn't say a word at first, but he come across to to me an' set down +beside me, an' when th' piano started again an' folks quit givin' us +attention he said, + +"'You're only a kid.' + +"Just that; but it made me cry. He was so kind of accusin' an' so +gentle. Nobody'd ever been gentle with me before that I could remember +of. They'd been accusin' all right, all right ... but not gentle. He +went away that night an' I cried until it was light. In th' mornin' he +come back an' asked for me an' took me outdoors an' talked to me. He +talked.... He didn't do no preachin'; he didn't say nothin' about bein' +good or bein' bad. He just said that that place wasn't fit for coyotes +to live in, that I'd never see th' mountains or th' stars or th' +sunshine livin' there. He said that.... An' he said he'd get me a job +here in Yavapai.... + +"He did. Got me this job, in this hotel. He stuck by me when folks +started to talk; he stopped it. He taught me to ride an' like horses an' +dogs an' th' valley an' things like that. He give me things to read an' +talked to me about 'em an' ... was good to me. + +"I've always been like his sister. That's straight, M's. Lytton; that's +no lie. He's been my brother; that's all. More 'n that, I'm about th' +only woman he's looked at in three years until ... you come. He ain't a +saint but he's ... an awful fine man." + +She was silent a moment and stroked the hand she had taken in hers. + +"That's all. That's all the' is to say. I've tried to get him, tried to +make him care for me ... a lot; but I ain't his kind,"--with a slow +shake of the head as she withdrew one hand. "I can never be his kind ... +in that way. I've known it all along, but I've never let myself believe +th' truth. He didn't know, didn't even guess. That's how hopeless it +was. He ain't never seen that I'd do ... anythin' for him. + +"When you come, I saw th' difference in him ... right off. He ... You're +his kind, M's. Lytton. You're what he's waited for, what he's lookin' +for. I was jealous. I hated you from th' first. I was nice to you +'cause he wanted it, 'cause that would make him happier. I fought +against showin' what I felt for his sake ... for him. Then, to-day, when +I seen how he looked after he'd had you in his arms where I've wanted to +be always, as I've wanted to make him look, I.... + +"It made me kind of crazy. I felt like tellin' you what I was, lyin' +about what I was to Bruce, thinkin' it might drive you away an' I might +sometime make him love me. But, after I'd done it, after I got it into +words, I knew it was against everything he'd ever taught me, against +everything he'd ever been, an' that if you went 't would break his +heart. That's why I come back to tell you I lied, to tell you how it +is.... + +"You go to him now; you go before it's too late. I tried to come between +you ... an' didn't. You go to him before somethin' does...." + +She felt Ann's arm go about her and stifling her sobs she yielded to the +pull until her head rested on the other woman's shoulder. + +"Oh, Nora, I can't tell you how this makes me feel; I can't. I'll never +be able to. There's nothing I can say at all, nothing I can do, even!" + +The waitress lifted her face to peer closely at her. + +"Just one thing you can do," she said, lowly. "Go to him now. That's +what I come back here for--to tell you I lied, so you would go." + +Ann straightened and shook her head sharply. + +"That's impossible," she said, emphatically. "Impossible." + +"Impossible, M's. Lytton?"--wiping her eyes. + +"Yes, Nora." + +"But why? He loves you!" + +"When you were here before you gave the reason--I'm a married woman." + +"But that ain't.... Why, do you _love_ your husband?" + +She grasped Ann's arm and shook it gently as she put that question in a +voice that the tears had made hoarse, and leaned forward to catch the +answer. For an interval Ann did not reply, gave no sign that she had +heard, and Nora repeated her query with impressive slowness. + +"It isn't a question of loving, Nora," she finally said. "I'm his wife; +I have a wife's duty to perform." + +"But do you love him?" the girl persisted. + +"No, I don't any more ..."--sadly, yet without regret. + +"An' you'd go back to him, M's. Lytton? You'd go back without lovin' +him?" + +Incredulity was in her tone. + +"Of course. It is my place. He is coming to me soon, stronger, wiser, I +hope, and there's a chance that we will find at least a little peace +together." + +"But the' won't be love,"--in a whisper. + +Ann gave a little shudder and braced her shoulders backward. + +"No, Nora. That is past. Besides, I--" + +"Don't be afraid to admit it!" the girl urged, speaking rapidly. "Don't +be afraid to tell me. I know what you're thinkin'. You love Bruce +Bayard! I know; you can't hide it from me, M's. Lytton." + +Ann's fingers twisted the coverlet. + +"And if I do?" she asked weakly. "What if I do?" + +"What if you do? Ain't lovin' a man answer enough for any woman?" cried +the other. "Is the' anything else that holds folks together? Is the' +anything else that makes men an' women happy? Does your bein' a man's +wife mean happiness? Your promisin' to love him didn't make you love, +did it? Because a preacher told you you was one didn't make it so, did +it? Nobody can make you love him, not even yourself, 'cause you said it +was duty that takes you back; that you don't love him. But you can't +help lovin' Bruce Bayard! + +"Oh, M's. Lytton, don't fool yourself about this duty! It's up to a man +an' a woman to take love, to take happiness, when it comes. You can't +set still an' watch it go by an' hope to have it come again; real +happiness don't happen but once in most of our lives. I know. I've been +down ... I've been happy, too ... I know! + +"An' duty! Why, ma'am, duty like you think you ought to do, is waste! +You're young, you're healthy, you're pretty. You'll waste your best +years, you'll waste your health, you'll waste your looks on duty! +You'll waste all your love; you'll get old an' bitter an'.... + +"If the's anything under heaven that's a crime, it's wasted love! Oh, +M's. Lytton, I wasted my love when I was a kid, 'cause I didn't know +better. I sold mine for money. For God's sake, don't sell yours for +duty! If the's anything your God meant folks to do was to get what joy +they can out of life. He wouldn't want you to think of bein' Ned +Lytton's wife as ... as your duty. He ... God ain't that kind, M's. +Lytton; he ain't!" + +"Nora, Nora, don't say these things!" Ann pleaded. "You're wrong, you +must be! Don't tempt me to ... these new ways ... don't...." + +"New!" the girl broke in. "It ain't new, what I've been sayin'. It's as +old as men an' women. It's as old as th' world. Th' things you try to +make yourself believe are th' new ones. Love was old before folks first +thought about duty. It seems new, because you ain't ever let yourself +see straight ... you never had to until now." + +"Nora, stop I You must stop! You can't be right ... you can't be!" + +The waitress trembled against Ann and commenced to cry under the strain +of her earnestness. + +"But I know I'm right, M's. Lytton, I know I am! I know what you're +doin'. Do--don't you see that you wouldn't be much different from what I +was, if you went back to your husband, hatin' him an' lovin' another? +Happiness comes just once; it's a sin to let it go by!" + +Slowly Ann withdrew her embrace from the girl. She sat with hands limp +in her lap until Nora's sobbing had subsided to mere long-drawn breaths; +then she rose and walked to the window, looking out into the moonlit +night. And when Nora, drying her eyes, regaining control of her +emotions, started to speak again she saw that Ann was lost in thought, +that it was unnecessary to argue further, so she went quietly from the +room. The rattle of the knob, the sound of the closing door did not +rouse the woman she left behind. Ann only stared out at the far hills +which were a murky blot in the cold light; stared with eyes that did not +see, for out of the storm of that night a new creature was coming into +active life within her and the re-birth was so wonderful that it quite +deadened her physical senses. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE WOMAN ON HORSEBACK + + +Lytton had gone for a ride in the hills, leaving Bayard alone at the +ranch, busying himself with accomplishing many odds and ends of tasks +which had been neglected in the weeks that his attention had been +divided between his cattle and the troubles of Ann. Ned was back to his +usual strength, now; also, his mending mental attitude had made him a +better companion, a less trying patient. He rode daily, he helped +somewhat with the ranch work, his sleeps were long and untroubled. The +first time a horse had carried him from sight Bayard had scarcely +expected to see him back again; he had firmly believed that Lytton would +ride directly to Yavapai and fill himself with whiskey. When he came +riding into the ranch, tired, glad to be home once more, Bruce knew that +the man was not wholly unappreciative, that his earlier remonstrances at +remaining at the Circle A had not always been genuine. + +"Mighty white of you, old chap," he had said, after dismounting. "Mighty +white of you to treat me like this. Some day I'll pay you back." + +"You'll pay me back by gettin' to be good an' strong an' goin' out an' +bein' a man," the rancher had answered, and Lytton had laughed at his +seriousness. + +No intimation of his wife's nearness had been given to Lytton. Isolated +as they were, far off the beaten path of travel, few people ever stopped +at the ranch and, when stray visitors had dropped in, chance or Bayard's +diplomacy had prevented their discovering the other man's presence. Not +once after their argument over the rights of a man to his wife had Ned +referred to Ann and in that Bruce found both a conscious and an +unconscious comfort: the first sort because it hurt him brutally to be +reminded of the girl as this man's mate, and the other because the fact +that while Lytton had only bitterness for Ann Bayard could wholly +justify his own attention to her, his own love. + +Day after day the progress continued uninterrupted, Bruce making it a +point to have his charge ride alone, unless Ned himself expressed a +desire to go in company. The rancher believed that if the other were +ever to be strong enough to resist the temptation to return to his old +haunts and ways, now was the time. Although Lytton's attitude was, +except at rare intervals, subtly resentful, his passive acceptance of +the conditions under which he lived was evidence that he saw the wisdom +in remaining at the ranch and those hours alone on horseback, out of +sight, away from any influencing contact, were the first tests. Bayard +was delighted to see that his work did not collapse the moment he +removed from it his watchful support. And yet, while he took pride in +this accomplishment, he went about his daily work with a sense of +depression constantly on him. It was as though some inevitable calamity +impended, as though, almost, hope had been removed from his future. He +tried not to allow himself to think of Ann Lytton. He knew that to let +his fancies and emotions go unrestrained for an hour would rouse in his +heart a hatred so intense, so compelling, that he would rise in all his +strength during some of Lytton's moods and do the man violence; or, if +not that, then, when talking to her, he would lose self-control and +break his word to her and to himself that not again so long as she loved +her husband would he speak of his regard for her. + +But the end of that phase was approaching. Within a few days Lytton +would know that his wife was in the country, would go to her, and +Bayard's interval of protectorate over them both, which at least gave +him opportunity to see the woman he loved, would come to its conclusion. + +Now, as he worked on a broken hinge of the corral gate his heart was +heavy and, finally, to force himself to stop brooding, he broke into +song: + + "From th' desert I come to thee + On a stallion shod wi-- + +"No ... not that," he muttered. "I'll not be comin' ... on a stallion +shod with fire, or anythin' else." Then he began this cruder, livelier +strain: + + "Foot in th' stirrup an' hand on th' horn, + Best damn cowboy ever was born, + + "Coma ti yi youpa ya, youpa ya, + Coma ti yi-- + +"Dog-gone bolt's too short, Abe," he muttered to the sorrel who stood +within the enclosure. "Too short-- + + "I herded an' I hollered an' I done very well, + Till th' boss says, Boys, just let 'em go to hell! + + "Coma ti yi-- + +"What do you see, Boy?" + +As he turned to go toward the blacksmith shop, he saw the horse standing +with head up and every line of his body rigid, gazing off on the valley. + +"You see somebody?" he asked, and swung up on the corral for a better +view. + +Far out beyond and below him a lazy wisp of dust rose lightly to be +trailed away by the breath of warm breeze, and, after his eyes had +studied it a moment, he discerned a moving dot that he knew was horse +and rider. + +"Lytton didn't go that way," he muttered, as he dropped to the ground +again. "No use worryin' any more, though; it's time somebody knew he was +here; they will soon, an' it won't do any harm." + +He swept the valley with his gaze again and shook his head. "Seems like +it's in shadow all the time now," he muttered, "an' not a cloud in the +sky!" + +When he found a bolt of proper length and fitted it in place the horse +and rider were appreciably nearer and he watched them crawl toward him a +moment. + + "I went to th' wagon to get my roll, + To come back to Texas, dad-burn my soul; + I went to th' wagon to draw my roll, + Th' boss said I was nine dollars in th' hole! + + "Coma ti yi, youpy, youpy ya, youpy ya, + Coma ti--" + +He turned again to look at the approaching rider before he went into the +stable. Then, for twenty minutes he was busy with hammer and saw, +humming to himself, thinking of things quite other than the work at +which his hands were busy. + +"Is this the way you greet your visitors?" + +It was Ann Lytton's voice coming from the stable doorway, and Bayard +straightened slowly, turning awkwardly to look at her over his shoulder. +She was flushed, flustered, uncertain for the moment just how to comport +herself, but he did not notice for he was far off balance himself. + +"Good-mornin', ma'am," he said, taking off his hat and stepping out from +the stall in which he had been working. "What do you want here?" + +His voice was pitched almost in a tone of rebuke. + +"I came to see my husband," she answered, and for a moment they stared +hard at one another, Bayard, as though he did not believe her, and the +woman, as if conscious that he questioned the truth of her reply. Also, +as if she feared he might read in her the _whole_ truth. + +"He ought to be back soon," the rancher said, replacing his hat. "He's +off for a ride. Won't you come into the house?" + +They stepped outside. He saw that behind her saddle a bundle was tied. +He looked from it to her inquiringly. + +"I have thought it all over," she said, as if he had challenged her with +words, "and I've made up my mind that my place, for the time, anyhow, is +with Ned. It's best for me to be here; it's best for Ned to know and +have it over with.... Have a complete understanding." + +He looked away from her, failing to mark the significance of her last +words or to see the fresh determination in her face. + +"It had to come sometime. I expect now's about as likely a day as any," +he said, gloomily, and untied the roll from her saddle. "I'll show you +around th' house so you'll know where things are,"--and started across +toward the shade of the ash tree. + +Ann walked beside him, wanting to speak, not knowing what to say. She +found no words at all, until they gained the kitchen and stood within. +Bayard placed her bundle on the table. + +"Do you mean that you won't be here?" she faltered. + +"Well, that's th' best way," he said, looking down and rubbing the back +of a chair thoughtfully. + +"I can't...." + +"Yes, you can,"--divining what was in her mind and interrupting. "I'll +be glad to have you meet him here, ma'am. 'Twould offend me if you went +away, but I think, considerin' everythin', how you've been apart so long +an' all, it'd be better for me to leave you two alone. I've got business +in town anyhow," he lied. "I'd have to go in either to-night or in th' +mornin'. It's th' best way all round." + +He did not look at her during this, could not trust himself to. He felt +that to meet her gaze would mean that he would be tempted again to +declare his love for her, his hatred for her husband, because this hour +was another turning point for them all. For the safety of Ned Lytton to +hold himself in accord with his own sense of right, it was wise for him +to be away at the meeting of husband and wife; not fear for himself but +of himself drove him from his hearth. He knew that Ann's eyes were on +him, steady and inquiring, felt somehow that she had suddenly become +mistress of the situation. Heretofore, he had dominated all their +interviews. But now that eminence was gone. He was retreating from this +woman and not wholly in good order, for he could not remain with her nor +could he trust himself to give a true explanation of his departure. + +To delay longer, to just stand there and discuss the very embarrassing +situation, would be no relief, might only lead to greater discomfiture, +he knew, so he said: + +"All th' things to cook with are in that cupboard, ma'am,"--turning away +from her to indicate. "All th' pots an' pans an' dishes are below there, +on those shelves. He ... your husband knows, anyhow. He can show you +round. + +"In here.... This is his room." + +He paused when halfway across the floor, turned and looked at her. In +her eye he caught a troubled quality. + +"He's been sleepin' here," he repeated, walking on and opening the door. + +The woman followed and looked over his shoulder. + +"But I've another room; my room, in here,"--moving to another door. +"This is mine, an' as I won't be here you can use it as you ... as you +want to." + +Nothing in his tone or manner of speech suggested anything but the idea +contained in his words, but Ann's eyes rested on his profile with a +sudden gratitude, a warmth. Surprise came to her a moment later and she +exclaimed, + +"Oh, how fine!" + +He had thrown the door back and stood aside for her to enter. Light came +into the room from three windows and before the gentle breeze white +curtains billowed inward. Navajo blankets covered the floor. The bed, +in one corner, was spread with a gay serape and beside it was a bookcase +with shelves well filled. In the center of the room stood a table and on +it a reading lamp. About the walls were pictures, few in number but +interesting. + +At Ann's exclamation Bruce smiled broadly, pleased. + +"I'm glad you like it," he said. "I do. I thought maybe you would." + +"Why, it's splendid!" she cried again. "It doesn't look like a room in +the house of a bachelor rancher. It doesn't look like...." + +She stopped and looked up at him, puzzled, questioning so eloquently +with her gaze that it was unnecessary for him to await the spoken query. + +"Yes, I did it myself," he said with a flushed laugh. Their +self-consciousness was relieved by the change of thought. "It's mine; +all mine. You ... You're the first person to come in here, ma'am, except +Tim.... He was my daddy, an' he's dead. I don't ask folks in here 'cause +it's so much trouble to explain to most of 'em. They'd think I'm stuck +up, with lace curtains an' all...." + +He waved his hands to include the setting. + +"I can live with th' roughest of 'em an' enjoy it; I can put up with +anything when it's necessary, but somehow I've always wanted something +different, something that'll fill a place that plenty of grub an' a hot +stove don't always satisfy. + +"Them curtains,"--with a chuckle--"came from th' Manzanita House. They +were th' first decorations I put up. I woke up one mornin' after I'd +been ... well, relieving my youth a little. I was in one of th' hotel +rooms. 'Twas about this time of year an' th' wind was soft an' gentle, +blowin' through th' windows like it does now, an' them curtains looked +so cool an' clean an' homelike that I... Well, I just rustled three +pair, ma'am!" + +He laughed again and crossed the room to free one curtain that had +caught itself on a protruding hook. + +"Tim an' me had a great argument, when I brought 'em home. Tim, he says +that if I was goin' to have curtains, I ought to go through with th' +whole deal an' have gilt rods to hang 'em on. I says, no, that was goin' +too far, gettin' to be too dudish, so I nailed 'em up!" + +He pointed to show her the six-penny nails that held them in place, and +Ann laughed heartily. + +"Then, I played a little game that th' boys out here call Monte. It's +played with cards, ma'am. I played with a Navajo I know--an' cards--an' +he had just one kind of luck, awful bad. That's where these blankets +come from,"--smiling in recollection. + +All this pleased him; he saw the humor of a man of his physique, his +pursuit, furnishing a room with all the pains of a girl. + +"Those are good rugs. See? They're all black an' gray an' brown: natural +colors. Red an' green are for tourists. + +"I bought that serape from a Mexican in Sonora when I was down there +lookin' around. That lamp, though, that's th' best thing I got." + +He leaned low to blow the dust from its green shade with great pains, +and Ann laughed outright at him. + +"I never could learn to dust proper, ma'am. It don't bother me so long's +I don't see it," he confessed. "A man who came out here to stay with us +for his health--a teacher--brought that lamp; when he went back, he left +it for me. I think a lot of it." + +"You read by it?" she asked. + +"Lord, yes! Those,"--waving his hand toward the books, and she walked +across to inspect them, Bayard moving beside her. "He left 'em for me. +He keeps sendin' me more every fall. I ... I learnt all I know out of +them, an' from what he told me. It ain't much--what I know. But I got it +all myself; that makes it seem more." + +Ann's throat tightened at that, but she only leaned lower over the +shelves. Dickens was there, and Thackeray; one or two of Scott and a +broken set of Dumas. History and travel predominated, with a volume of +Kipling verse and a book on mythology discovered in a cursory +inspection. + +"I think a lot of my books. I like 'em all.... I liked that story 'bout +Oliver Twist th' best of 'em," he said, pointing to the Dickens. "Poor +kid! An' old Bill Sykes! Lord, he was a hellion--a bad one, +ma'am,"--correcting himself hastily. "An' Miss Sharpe this man +Thackeray wrote about in his book! I'd like to know a woman like her; +she sure was a slick one, wasn't she? She'd done well in th' cow +business." + +"Do you like these?" she asked, indicating the Scott. + +"Well, sometimes," he said. "I like th' history in 'em, but, unless I +got a lot of time, like winter, I don't read 'em much. I like 'Ivanhoe' +pretty well any time, but in most of 'em Walt sure rounded up a lot of +words!" + +She smiled at that. + +"This is th' best of 'em all, though," he said, drawing out Carlyle's +French Revolution. "It took me all one winter to get on to th' hang of +that book, but I stayed by her an' ... well, I'd rather read it now than +anythin'. Funny that a man writin' so long ago could say so many things +that keep right on makin' good. + +"I'd like to know him," he said a moment later. "I could think up a lot +of questions to ask a man like that." + +He stood running over the worn, soiled pages of his "French Revolution" +lost in thought and Ann, stooping before the shelves, turned her face to +watch him covertly. This was the explanation of the Bruce Bayard she +knew and loved; she now understood. This was why he had drawn her to him +so easily. He was rough of manner, of speech, but behind it all was +thought, intelligence; not that alone, but the intelligence of an +intrinsically fine mind. For an unschooled man to accomplish what he had +accomplished was beyond her experience. + +"I liked them," he said, touching some volumes of Owen Wister. "Lord, he +sure knows cowboys an' such. He wrote a story about 'n _hombre_ called +Jones, Specimen Jones, that makes me sore from laughin' every time I +read it. It's about Arizona an' naturally hits me. + +"That's why I like that picture. It's my country, too." He pointed to a +print of Remington's "Fight for The Water Hole." + +"That's th' way it looks--heat an' color an' distance," he said. "But +when a thing's painted like that, you get more 'n th' looks. You get +taste an' smell an' th' feeling. I get thirsty an' hot an' desperate +every time I look at that picture very long.... + +"This Cousin Jack, Kipling," he resumed, turning back to the books, "he +wrote a poem about what a man ought to be before he considers himself a +man that says all there is to say on th' subject. Nothin' new in what he +wrote, but he's corraled all th' ideas anybody's ever thought about. +It's fine--" + +"But who is that?" she broke in, walking closer to the photograph of a +young woman, too eager to see the whole of this room to pause long over +any one thing. + +He smiled in embarrassment. + +"My sister, ma'am." + +"Your sister!" + +"Yeah. You see, I never had any folks. Nearest thing to ancestors I know +about was a lot of bent steel an' burnin' railroad cars. Old Tim picked +me out of a wreck when I was a baby, an' we never found out nothin' +about me." He rubbed the back of one hand on his hip. "I... It ain't +nice, knowin' you don't belong to nobody, so I picked out my +family,"--smiling again. + +"I was in Phoenix once an' I saw that lady's picture in front of a +photograph gallery. It was early mornin' an' I was on my way to th' +train comin' north. I busted th' glass of th' show case an' took it. I +left a five-dollar gold piece there so th' photographer wouldn't mind, +an' I guess th' lady, if she knew, wouldn't care so awful much. Nobody +ever seen her here but Tim an' me. I respect her a lot, like I would my +sister. You expect she would mind, ma'am?" + +"I think she would be very much pleased," Ann said, soberly. + +"An' that up there's my mother," he said, after their gazes had clung a +moment. + +"Whistler's 'Mother'!" + +"Yes, he painted it; but she's th' one I'd like to have for my mother, +if I could picked her out. She looks like a good mother, don't she? I +thought so when I got that ... with a San Francisco newspaper." + +Ann did not trust herself to speak or to look at him. + +"Your father?" she asked after a moment. + +"Oh, I had one. Tim. He was my daddy. He did all any father could for +me. No, ma'am, I wouldn't pick out nobody to take Tim's place. He +brought me up. But if I was to have uncles, I'd like them." + +He moved across the room to where prints of Lincoln and Lee were tacked +to the wall. + +"But, they were enemies!" Ann objected. + +"Sure, I know it. But they both thought somethin' an' stuck by it an' +fought it out. Lincoln believed one way, Lee another; they both stood by +their principles an' that's all that counts. Out here we have cattlemen +an' sheepmen. I'm in cattle an' lots of times I've felt like gunnin' for +th' fellers who were tryin' to sheep me, but then I'd stop an' think +that maybe there was somethin' to be said on their side. + +"I'd sure liked to have men for uncles who could believe in a thing as +hard as they believed!" + +A pause followed and he looked about the room again calculatingly; then +started as though he had forgotten something. + +"But what I brought you in here for was to tell you that this is yours, +to do what you want with ... you ..." + +His words brought them back to the situation they confronted and an +embarrassed silence followed. + +"I don't feel right, driving you out like this," Ann protested, at +length. + +"But don't you understand? Nobody's ever been in here, but Tim, who's +dead, an' you. You're th' first person I've ever asked to stay in here. +I'd like it ... to think you'd been in here ... stayin'.... It's you who +'re doin' th' favor...." + +He ended in a lowered tone and was so intent, so keen in his desire that +Ann looked on him with a queer little feeling of misgiving. Every now +and then she had encountered those phases of him for which she could not +account, which made her doubt and, for the instant, fear him. But, after +she had searched his face and found there nothing but the sincere +concern for her welfare, she knew that his motive was of the highest, +that he thought only of her, and she answered, + +"Why, I'll be glad to stay here, in your room." + +He turned and walked into the kitchen, swinging one hand. + +"I'll be driftin'," he said, when she followed, forcing himself to a +brusque manner which disarmed her. + +"You ask Ned to water th' horses. I'm ridin' th' pinto to town. I'll be +back to-morrow sometime." + +He put on his hat and started for the door resolutely. Then halted. + +"If anything should happen," he began, attempting a casual tone. But he +could not remain casual, nor could he finish his sentence. He stammered +and flushed and his gaze dropped. "Nothin' will ... to you," he +finished. + +With that he was gone, leading her borrowed horse back to town at her +request. From a point half a mile distant he looked back. She was still +in the doorway and when he halted his pony he saw a flicker of white as +she waved a handkerchief at him. He lifted his hat in salute; then rode +on, with a heart that was heavy and cold. + +"Th' finest woman that God ever gave a body," he said, "an' I've given +her over to th' only man that walks th' earth who wouldn't try to +appreciate her!" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +HER LORD AND MASTER + + +Ann watched him go, an apprehensive mood coming upon her. He shacked off +on the pinto horse while Abe, left alone in the corral, trotted about +and nickered and pawed to show his displeasure at being left behind. For +a long time the girl stood there, not moving, breathing slowly; then she +looked about her, turned and walked into Bruce's room, roamed around, +examining the books, the pictures, the furniture, touching things with +her finger tips gently, lovingly, hearing his voice again as it told her +of them. For her each article in that room now held a particular +interest. She stared at the photograph of the girl he had selected as a +sister, at Whistler's fine, capped old lady, opened the "French +Revolution" and riffled the leaves he had thumbed and soiled and torn, +and laughed deep in her throat as she saw the curtains hanging +irregularly from their six-penny nails ... laughed, though her eyes were +damp. + +A step sounded in the kitchen and the woman became rigid as she +listened. + +"... hotter ..." + +Just the one word of the muttered sentence was distinguishable, but she +knew it was not Bayard's voice; knew, then, whose it must be. + +Very quietly she walked to the doorway of the bedroom and stood there. +Ned Lytton had halted a step from the kitchen entry and was wiping his +face with a black silk kerchief. He completed the operation, removed his +hat, tossed it to a chair, unbuttoned the neck of his shirt ... and +ceased all movements. + +For each the wordless, soundless period that followed seemed to be an +age. The woman looked at the man with a slight feeling of giddiness, a +sensation that was at once relief and horror, for he was as her worst +fears would have it; his face, in spite of his weeks of good living, was +the color of suet, purple sacks under the eyes, lips hard and cruel, and +from chin to brow were the indelible marks of wasting, of debauchery. + +"Ann!" he exclaimed. + +Surprise, dread, a mingling of many emotions was in the tone, and he +waited at high tension for her to answer. His wife, a woman he had not +seen in three years, standing there before him in the garb of this new +country, beautiful, desirable, come as though from thin air! He thought +this might be merely an hallucination, that it might be some uncanny +creation of his unstable mind. + +"Yes, Ned; it is I," she answered, with a catch in her voice. + +On her words he stepped quickly forward, fear gone, eagerness about him. +He took her hands in his, fondling them nervously, and had she not +swayed back from him to the slightest noticeable degree, he would have +followed out his prompting to take her lips with as much +matter-of-factness as he had clutched her hands. + +"Ann, where did you come from?" he cried. "Why, I thought maybe you were +a ... a ghost or something! Oh, I'm glad to see you!" + +"Are you, Ned?"--almost plaintively, stroking the back of one of his +hands as she looked into his lighted eyes, reading sadly the desire +behind that shallow joy at sight of her. "Are you really glad?" + +"Of course I'm glad! Who wouldn't be? Gad, Ann, you're in fine +shape!"--stepping back from her, still holding her hands, and looking +her up and down, greedily. "Oh, you're good to look at!" + +He went close to her again and reached out one arm quickly to slip it +about her waist, but she turned away from him quite casually and he +stopped, disconcerted, hurt, humiliated, but covering the fact as well +as he could. + +An awkward fraction of a minute followed, which he broke by asking: + +"But where did you come from, Ann? How did you get here? How did you +know? What brought you?" + +She smiled wanly. + +"One at a time, Ned. You brought me. You should know that. I came out +here to find you, to see what was happening, to help you if I could." + +She allowed him to take her hands again and looked wistfully into his +face as she talked. A change came into his expression with her words and +his gaze shifted from hers while a show of petulance appeared in his +slightly drawn brows. + +"Well, I've needed help in one way," he muttered. + +"You've been very ill, I know." + +"You know?"--in surprise. + +"Yes; I have been here through it all." + +He dropped her hand and tilted his head incredulously. + +"Through it all! What do you mean?" + +"I've been here for a month." + +"A month! You've been here a month and this is the first time you've +come to see me?" + +"I didn't think it best to come before." + +"You've been here while I've been passing through hell itself? You've +known about me, known how I've suffered? Have you?" + +"Oh, Ned, I have...." + +"And you didn't come to me when I needed help most! You've not even +taken the trouble to find out about me--" + +"You're wrong there," Ann broke in simply. With the return of his old, +petulant, irritating manner, the wistfulness slipped from her and a +little show of independence, of resentment, came over the woman. "I +have known about you; I've kept track of you; I've waited and prayed for +the time when it would be best for me to see you...." + +He folded his arms theatrically and swung one leg over the corner of the +table. Ann stopped talking on that, for his attitude was one of open +challenge. + +"You've come out here to spy on me! Isn't that it? You've come to help +me, you said, and yet you wouldn't even let me know you were here? Isn't +it the same old game? Isn't it?" + +She did not answer. + +"Isn't it a fact that you've been waiting to see what I'd do when I got +well? I suppose you've come out here to-day with a prayer-book and a lot +of soft words, a lot of cant, to try to reform me?" He thrust his face +close to hers as he asked the last. + +"Is this the way you're going to greet me?" she asked. "Haven't you +anything but the same old suspicion, the same old denunciation for me?" + +He looked away from her and shrugged his shoulders. + +"How have you known about me when you haven't been to see me?" he asked, +evasively. + +"Mr. Bayard has kept me informed." + +He looked at her through a moment of silence, and she looked back as +steadily, as intently as he. + +"Bayard?" he asked. "Bayard? He's been telling you ... about me?" + +"He's been as kind to me as he has to you, Ned,"--with a feeling of +misgiving even as she uttered the words. "He has ... ridden to Yavapai +many times just to tell me about you." + +He looked at her again, and she saw the puzzlement in his face. He +started as though to speak, checked himself and looked past her into +Bayard's room. + +"Where is he now?" + +"He's gone to town; he left a few moments after I came. He asked me +to--" + +"Did he show you into that room?" + +"Yes,"--turning to look. "He told me to use it." + +Her husband eyed her calculatingly and rested his weight on the table +once more. It was as though he had settled some important question for +himself. + +"Why haven't you been out before, Ann?" he asked her, eyes holding on +her face to detect its slightest change of expression. + +She felt herself flushing at that; her conscience again! + +"You were in an awful condition, Ned," she forced herself to say. "I saw +you in Yavapai, the night I arrived. I--I helped Mr. Bayard fix your +arm; I knew how ill you would be when you came to yourself. We +agreed--Mr. Bayard and I--that it would needlessly excite you, if I were +to come here, so I stayed away. I stayed as long as I could,"--with +deadly honesty--"I had to come to-day." + +"You and Bayard.... You both thought it best for me to stay here +without knowing my wife was in Arizona?" + +His attitude had become that of a cross-examiner. + +"Yes, Ned. You were in fearful shape. You know that for days after +you--" + +"And you've relied on him to give you news of me?" + +He stood erect and moved nearer, watching her face closely as her eyes +became less certain, her cheeks a deeper color. + +"Yes, Ned. Don't get worked up. It's been all right. I'm sure the weeks +you put in here have given...." + +"Given what?" he broke in, brows gathering, thrusting out his chin, +glaring at her and drawing back his lips to bare the gap left by the +broken and missing teeth. + +The woman recoiled. + +"Give what?" he demanded again, trembling from knee to fingers. "To give +him a chance to come and see you, that's what you've given!" + +"Ned Ly--"--crouching, a hand to one cheek, Ann backed into Bayard's +room quickly as her husband, fists clenched and raised, lurched toward +her. + +"Don't talk to me!" he cried thickly, face dark, voice unnatural. "Don't +talk to me,"--looking not at her eyes but at her heaving breast. "I +know. I know now what I should have known weeks ago! I know now why he's +been shaving his pretty face every day, why he's been dolling up every +time he left for town, putting on his gay scarfs, changing his shirts +like a gentleman, instead of a dirty hound that would steal a man's wife +as soon as he would steal a neighbor's calf! I know why he's held me +here and lied to me and played the hypocrite,"--words running together +under the intensity of his raving. + +"I see it now! I see why he's admitted that there was a woman bothering +him. I see why he's tried to ring in that hotel waitress to make me +think she was the one he went to see. I see it all; I see what a fool +I've been, what a lying pup Bayard is with all his smug talk about +helping me! Helping me ... when he's been helping himself to my wife!" + +"Ned!" + +"A month, eh?" he went on. "You've been here a month, have you? And he's +known it; he's kept me here, by God, through fear, that's all. I confess +it to you! I'd have been gone long ago but I was afraid of him! He's +intimidated me on the pretext of doing it for my own good while he could +steal my wife ... my wife ... you-u-u...." + +He advanced slowly, reasonless eyes on hers now, and Ann backed swiftly, +putting the table between them, watching him with fear stamped on her +features. + +"Ugh! The snake! The poison, lying, grovelling--" + +"Ned!" + +The sharpness of her cry, the way she straightened and stamped her foot +and vibrated with indignation broke through his rage, even, and he +stopped. + +"You don't know what you're saying." Her voice quivered. "You're +accusing the best man friend you've ever had; you're cursing one of the +best men that ever walked ground, and you're doing it without reason!" + +"Without reason, am I?" he parried, quieter, breathing hard, but +controlling his voice. "It's without reason when he lives with me a +month, seeing my wife day after day, knowing I've not seen her in years +and then never breathing a word about it? It's without reason when he +opens this room to you ... a room he's never let me look into, and tells +you to use it? It's no reason when he runs away to town rather than face +me here in your presence? Can you argue against that? + +"And it's without reason when you stand there flushed to your hair, you +guilty woman?" + +He thumped the table with his fist. "You guilty woman," he repeated, +just above a whisper. "You guilty--My wife, conspiring with your lover +while he keeps me here by force, by brute force. Can you argue against +that ... against that?" + +It was the great moment of Ann Lytton's life. It seemed as though the +inner conflict was causing congestion in her chest, stilling her heart, +clogging her breathing, making her blind and powerless to move or speak +or think. It was the last struggle against her old manner of thought, +against the old Ann, the strangling for once and for all that narrow +conscience, the wiping out of that false conception of morality, for she +emerged from her moment of doubt, of torment, a beautiful, brave +creature. Her great sacrifice had been offered; it had been repulsed +with contempt and now she stood free, ready to fight for her spiritual +honor, her self-respect, in the face of a world's disapproval, if that +should become necessary. + +"Yes, I can argue against that," she cried, closing her eyes and smiling +in fine confidence. "I can, Ned Lytton. I can, because he is my lover, +because the love he bears for me is pure, is good, is true holiness!" + +She leaned toward him across the table, still smiling and letting her +voice drop to its normal tone, yet losing none of its triumphant +resonance. + +"And you can say that," he jeered, "after he's been ... after you've +been letting him keep you a month!" + +"Oh, you can't hurt me with your insults, Ned, for they won't go home. +You know that statement isn't true; you know me too well for that. I'm +your wife by law, Ned, but beyond that I'm as free as I was five years +ago, before I ever saw you. Emancipating myself wasn't easy. I came out +here hampered by tradition and terms and prejudice, but I've learned the +truth from this country, these people, from ... you. I've learned that +without love, without sympathy, without understanding or the effort, +the desire, to understand, no marriage is a marriage; that without them +it is only ugly, hideous. + +"I've had to fight it all out and think it all out for myself. +Circumstances and people have helped me make my decision. I owed you +something, I still thought, and I came here to-day to fulfill my duty, +to give you another chance. If you had met me with even friendliness, +I'd have shut my eyes, my ears, my heart to Bruce Bayard in spite of all +he means to me. I'd have gone with you, thinking that I might take up +the work of regeneration where he left off and give my life to making a +man of you, foregoing anything greater, better for myself, in the hope +that some day, some time you and I might approach halfway to happiness. + +"But what did you do; what did I find? In the first moments hate of me +came into your face; you jeered at me for coming, mocked me. That's what +happened. Then you suspect me, suspect Bayard, who has kept you alive, +who has given you another chance at everything ... including me." + +"Suspect him? Of course I suspect him! You've admitted your guilt, you +damned--" + +"Don't go on that way, Ned. It's only a waste of time. I told you what +would have happened, if you had greeted me in another way. You've had +your chance ... you've had your thousand chances in these last five +years. It's all over now. It's over between us, Ned. It's been a bitter, +dreary failure and the sooner we end it all, the better. Don't think +I'm going to transgress what you call morality," she pleaded, smiling +weakly. "You deserted me, Ned, after you'd abused me. You've refused to +support me, you've been unfaithful in every way. I don't think the law +that made me your wife will refuse to release me now--" + +"You're forgetting something," he broke in, rallying his assurance with +an effort. "You're forgetting that while you were conspiring to keep me +here, your lover, Bruce Bayard,"--drawling the words--"was meeting you +secretly. What do you think your law will say to that?" + +"I'll trust to it, Ned," she answered, in splendid composure. "I will +trust to other men to judge between us--" + +"Then, I won't!" he screamed, stepping quickly around the table, +grasping for her arm. She retreated quickly and he lunged for her again +and again missed. + +Then, with a choking oath, he threw the table aside and the lamp went +crashing to the floor. + +"Then, I won't, damn you! You're my wife, to do as I please with; the +law gave you to me, and it hasn't taken you from me yet!" + +He advanced menacingly toward her as she backed into a corner, paling +with actual fear now; his elbows stuck stiffly out from his sides, his +hands were clenched at his hips, face thrust forward, feet carrying him +to her with slow uncertainty. + +"Ned--" Her voice quavered. "Ned, what are you going to do?" + +"Maybe I'll ... strangle you!" he said. + +She looked quickly from side to side and one hand clutched at her breast +convulsively, clutched the cloth ... and something that was resting +within her waist. She started and with a quick movement unbuttoned the +garment at her bosom, reached in and drew out an automatic pistol. + +"Ned, don't force me!" she said, slowly, voice unsteady. + +The man halted, hesitated, backed away, both hands half raised. + +"Ann, you wouldn't shoot me!" he whispered. + +"You said ... you'd strangle me, Ned,"--leaning against the wall for +support, because weakness had swept over her. + +Lytton drew a hand across his eyes. He trembled visibly. + +"But ... I was mad, Ann," he stammered. "I was crazy; I wouldn't...." + +Her hands dropped to her sides and she turned her face from him, +shutting her eyes and frowning at the helplessness that came over her +with the excitement and the fear of a physical encounter. She could +brave any moral clash, but her body was a woman's body, her strength a +woman's strength, and now, when she faced disaster, her muscles failed +her. + +Ned comprehended. He stepped quickly to her side, reached to the hand +that held the weapon, fastened on it and with a wrench, jerked it free +from her limp grasp. + +"You would, would you?" he muttered, his old malevolence returning with +assurance that the woman could no longer defend herself. "This! Where +did you get it?"--surveying the weapon. + +"It's Bayard's." + +"He gave it to you to use on me?"--with a short laugh. + +The woman shook her head wearily. + +"You refuse to understand anything," she responded. "He gave it to me to +protect you from himself." + +He stood looking at her, revolving that assertion quickly in his mind, +feeling for the first time that his command over the situation was good +only so long as they were alone. Before his suddenly rising fear of +Bruce Bayard his bitterness retreated. + +"Well, we'll quit this place," he said with a swagger. "We'll clear out, +you and I.... I've had enough of this damned treachery; trying to steal +you, my wife. I might have known. I told him his foot would slip!" + +Ann scarcely heard. She was possessed by a queer lethargy. She wanted to +rest, to be quiet, to be left alone, yet she knew that much remained to +be endured. She had never rebelled before; she had always compromised +and she felt that after her great demonstration of self-sufficiency +nothing could matter a great deal. Ned had said that they would quit +this place. She had no idea of resisting, of even arguing. It was easier +to go, to delay a further break, for their journey would not be far, she +felt, nor would she be with her husband long. Bayard would come somehow; +he had come when she was in danger before, and now that which menaced +her was of much less consequence. Why fear? + +She stooped to pick up a book that had been thrown to the floor when the +table overturned. + +"Leave that alone!" he ordered. + +She straightened mechanically, the listlessness that was upon her making +it far easier to obey than to summon the show of strength necessary to +resist. + +"We'll quit this place," Ned repeated again. "And you'll go with me ..." + +He turned to face the doorway. The bent reading lamp lay at his feet, +shade and chimney wrecked, oil gurgling from it. He kicked the thing +viciously, sending it crashing against the wall. + +"The damned snake!" he muttered. "He brought you in here, did he? Into +this place.... Bah!" + +He seized a volume from the bookcase and flung it at the ruined lamp. + +"Ned, don't!" she pleaded. + +"You keep quiet; you'll have enough to think about coming with me. Come +on, now!" + +Mechanically she responded and with unreal, heavy movements put on her +hat as he told her to do, crossed the kitchen floor and emerged into the +afternoon sunlight. Her husband's horse, still saddled, stood in the +shade of the ash tree. + +"He's left only that damn stallion," she heard Ned say. "Well, we'll +take him." + +"What for, Ned?" she asked dully, walking after him as he strode toward +the corral and catching his sleeve, shaking it for his attention. "Why +are you taking him?" + +"To take you away on," he snapped. + +"That's stealing." + +"He didn't think of that when he tried to steal my wife; I'll steal two +of his horses for a while ... just like he had you ... for a while." + +Her strength of wit had been spent in the furious scene within the house +and she attempted no answer, just stood outside while Lytton entered the +corral, bridled the curious stallion and turned to lead him out. Abe +would not move. He would not even turn about and the man's strength was +not sufficient to do more than pull his head around. + +"Come along, you----" + +He took off his hat and swung it to strike the horse's nose sharply, but +Abe only threw up his head and blinked rapidly. The ears were flat and +he switched his tail when Lytton again tried to drag him out. He would +not respond; just braced backward and resisted. + +Ann forced her mind to function with some degree of alertness. + +"Let me take him, Ned," she said, white faced and quiet. "I can't see +you abuse him." + +She took the reins from her husband who relinquished his grip on them +reluctantly; then she spoke a low word to the sorrel. He sniffed her +garments and moved his nostrils in silent token of recognition. This was +the woman Bayard had put on his back, the only person besides his master +who had ever straddled him, so it must be all right. He turned and +followed her from the corral while Lytton swore under his breath. + +Ten minutes later, the woman mounted on the stallion, they rode through +the gate. Ann was silent, scarcely comprehending what happened. + +They did not turn to the left and take the road toward Yavapai; instead, +Ned followed a course that held straight eastward, gradually taking them +away from the wagon tracks, out into the great expanse of valley. + +"Where are you taking me, Ned?" Ann finally rallied her wits enough to +ask. + +"Back to my castle!" he mocked. "Back to the mine, where nobody'll come +to get you!" + +On that, Bayard's unexplained warning occurred to the girl and she felt +her heart leap. + +"Not that!" she said, dully. "Oh, Ned, not that. Something awful ... +will happen if you go back there." + +He looked at her, suspecting that this was a ruse. + +"What makes you think that?" + +"I was warned never to let you go back there." + +"Did Bayard warn you?"--leaning low in his saddle that he might see her +face better. She answered with a nod. "And why didn't he want me to go +back there?" + +"I don't know, Ned. But--Take my word, I beg of you!" + +He rose in his stirrups and shook his fist at her. + +"He steals my wife and tries to frighten me away from my property, does +he? What's his interest in the Sunset mine? Do you know? No? Well, we'll +find out by to-morrow night, damn him!" + +He slapped his coat pocket where the automatic rested and lifted his +quirt to cut the hindquarters of the slow moving stallion. + + * * * * * + +It was late night when they halted at a ranch, and the house was in +darkness. + +"We'll put up here," Ned growled. "We'll make on before daylight ... if +we can get this damned horse to move!" + +He drew back a fist as though he would strike the stallion, for the +sorrel had retarded them, insisting on turning and trying to start back +toward the Circle A ranch, refusing to increase his pace beyond a +crawling walk, held to that only by Ann's coaxing, for she knew that if +she gave the animal his head and let him turn back, her husband would +be angered to a point where he might abuse the beast. + +She feared no special thing now. She wanted to reach some destination, +some place where she could rest and think. This being led away seemed as +only some process of transition; it was unpleasant, but great happiness +was not far off. Of that she was certain. + +But she could not let Ned go on to his mine. Danger of some sort waited +there and it was impossible for her to allow him to walk into it. She +had planned while they rode that afternoon just how she would make the +first move to prevent his reaching the Sunset and as her husband +hammered on the door of the house to rouse the occupants she drew a pin +from her hat, shoved herself back in the saddle, and, while he was +parleying with the roused rancher, scratched swiftly and nervously on +the smooth leather. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE MESSAGE ON THE SADDLE + + +The hours he spent in Yavapai that night were memorable ones for Bruce +Bayard. He rode the distance to town at a slow walk and arrived after +the sun had set. He had no appetite for food but, nevertheless, after +washing in the kitchen, he went into the hotel dining room and talked +absently to Nora. + +It did not occur to him to mention what had happened that afternoon to +the girl. That had been a matter too purely personal to permit its +discussion with another. While he talked to her, his mind was wholly +occupied with thoughts other than those of which he spoke and he did not +see that the waitress was studying him carefully, reading what was +written on his face. Nora knew that Ann was gone; she knew that she had +taken with her a new conviction, a new courage, and the fact that Bayard +had left her at his ranch, probably with Ned Lytton, puzzled the girl. + +Bruce was not certain that he had acted wisely. Many circumstances might +arise in which his presence at the ranch could be a determining factor. +At times he wondered vaguely if Lytton might not attempt to do his wife +violence, but always he comforted himself by assurance of her strength +of character, of her moral fiber, contrasting it with Ned's vacillating +nature. + +"She'd take care of herself anywhere," he thought time after time. + +When he had gone through with the formal routine of feeding himself he +went out to stroll about. He watched the train arrive and depart, he +talked absently with an Indian he knew and jested with the red man's +squaw. He bought a Los Angeles paper and could not center his mind on a +line of its printed pages. He walked aimlessly, finally entering the +saloon where a dozen were congregated. + +"That piano of yours has got powerful lungs, ain't it?" he asked the +bartender, wincing, as the mechanical instrument banged out its measure. + +"This here beer's so hot it tastes like medicine," he complained, +putting down his glass after his first swallow, and picking up the +bottle to look at it with a wry face. + +"It's right off th' ice," the other assured. + +"You can have th' rest of it for th' deservin' poor," he said and strode +out, while the others laughed after him. + +Up and down the street, into the general store to exchange absent-minded +pleasantries with the proprietor's wife, across to the hotel where he +tried to sit quietly in a chair, back to the saloon; up and down, up and +down. + +[Illustration: Down the main street of Yavapai] + +A hundred yards from the Manzanita House was a corral and in it a score +of young horses were being held to await shipment. In the course of +his ambling, Bruce came to this bunch of animals and leaned against the +bars, poking a hand through and snapping his thumb encouragingly as the +ponies crowded against the far side and eyed him with suspicion. He +talked to them a time, then climbed the fence and perched on the top +pole, snapping his fingers and making coaxing sounds in futile effort to +tempt the horses to come to him; and all the time his mind was back at +the Circle A, wondering what had transpired under his roof, in his room, +that day. + +Nora's voice startled him when it sounded so close behind, for he had +not heard her approach. + +"Why, you scart me bad!" he said, with a laugh, letting himself down +beside her. "What you doin' out to-night?" + +He pinched her cheek with his old familiarity, but under the duress of +his own thinking did not notice that she failed to respond in any way to +his pretended mood. + +"I thought I'd like to walk a little an' get th' air," she said. +"An' ... tell you that I'm goin' away." + +"Away, Nora?" + +"Yes, I'm goin' to Prescott, Bruce." + +He lifted his hat and scratched his ear and moved beside her as she +started walking along the road, now a dim tape under the mountain stars. + +"Why, Nora, I thought you was a fixture here; what'll we do without +you?" + +He did not know how that hurt her, how the thought that he _could_ do +without her hung about her heart like a sodden weight. She covered it +well, holding her voice steady, restraining the discouragement that +wanted to break into words, and the night kept secret with her the +pallor of her face. + +"I guess you'll get along, Bruce; you done it before I come an' I guess +th' town'll keep on prosperin' after I leave. I ... I got a chance to go +into business." + +"Why, that's fine, Sister." + +"A lunch counter that I can get for two hundred; I've saved more 'n that +since ... since I come here. That'll be better than workin' for somebody +else an' I figure I'll make as much and maybe considerable more." + +"That's fine!" he repeated. "Fine, Nora!" + +In spite of the complexity of his thinking he found an interval of +respite and was truly glad for her. + +"I ... I wanted to tell you before anybody else knew, 'cause I ... Well, +you made it possible. If you hadn't done this for me ... this here in +Yavapai ... I'd never been ..." + +He laughed at her. + +"Oh, yes you would, Nora. You had it in you. If I hadn't happened along +some one else would. What we're goin' to be, we're goin' to be, I +figure. I was only a lucky chance." + +"Lucky," she repeated. "Lucky! God, Bruce, lucky for me!" + +"Naw, lucky for me, Nora. Why, don't you know that every man likes to +have some woman dependin' on him? It's in us to want some female woman +lookin' to us for protection an' help. It tickled me to death to think I +was helpin' you, when, all the time, I knew down in my heart, I was only +an accident.'' + +"You can say that, Bruce, but you can't make me believe it." + +They walked far, talking of the past, of her future, but not once did +the conversation touch on Ann Lytton. Bayard kept away from it because +of that privacy with which he had come to look on the affair, and the +girl knew that his presence there in town after Ann's departure for the +ranch could mean only that a crisis had been reached. With her woman's +heart, her intuition, she was confident of what the outcome would be. +And though she had given her all to help bring it about, she knew that +the sound of it in speech would precipitate that self-revelation which +she had avoided so long, at such cost. + +"I'll see you again," she said, when they stood before the hotel and she +was ready to enter for the night. "I'll see you again before I go, +Bruce. And--I ... thank you ... thank you...." + +She gripped his hand convulsively and lowered her head; then turned and +ran quickly up the steps, for she would not let him see the emotion, nor +let him hear uncertain words form on her lips. + +In her last speech with him, Nora had lied; she had lied because she +knew that to tell him she had packed her trunk and would leave on the +morning train would bring thanks from him for what she had done for Ann +Lytton; and Nora could not have stood this. From the man downstairs she +had learned kindness, had learned that not all mistakes are sins, had +learned that there is a judgment above that which denounces or commends +by rule of thumb. He had set in her heart a desire to be possessed by +him, had fed it unconsciously, had led her on and on to dream and plan; +then, had unwittingly wrecked it. But he had made her too big, too fine, +too gentle, to let jealousy control her for long. She had weakened just +once, and that had served to set in Nora's heart a new resolve, a finer +purpose than had ever found a place there before. And, as she stumbled +up the narrow stairway, the tears scalding her cheeks, her soul was +glad, was light, was happy, for she knew true greatness. + +Bayard roamed until after midnight; then went to his room in the hotel +and slept brokenly until dawn. In those hours he chilled with fear and +experienced flushes of temper, but behind it all he was resigned, +willing to wait. He had done his all, he had held himself strictly +within the bounds of justice as he conceived it, and beyond that he +could do no more. + +The east had only commenced to silver when he rode out of town at a +brisk gallop. He did not realize what going back to his ranch meant +until he was actually on his way and then with every length of the road +traveled, his apprehensions rose. It was no business of his he argued, +what had transpired the day before; it was Ann's affair ... and her +husband's. Yet, if he had left her alone, unprotected, and Lytton had +done her harm, he knew that he could never escape reproaching himself, +and his suffering would be in proportion to hers. Then, of the many, +there was another disturbing possibility. Perhaps a complete +reconciliation had followed. Perhaps he would ride into his dooryard to +find Ann Lytton cooking breakfast for her husband, smiling and happy, +refusing to meet his gaze, ashamed of what had been between them. + +He prodded his pony to greater speed with that thought. + +The sun was not yet up when he pulled his swift-breathing horse to a +stop. The outer gate stood open, and, as he rode through, his face +clouded slightly with annoyance over the unusual occurrence, but when he +looked to the horse corral and saw that it, too, was open, and empty, +that Abe was gone, his annoyance became fear. He spurred the tired pony +across the yard and flung off before the house with eyes on that portion +of the kitchen which was visible through the door. Then, stopped, stood +still, and listened. + +Not a sound except the breathing of his horse. The breeze had not yet +come up, no animal life was moving. An uncanny sense of desertion was +upon the place and for a moment Bayard knew real panic. What if some +violence.... + +"Lytton!" he called, cutting his half-formed, horrible thought short, +and stepped into the room. + +No answer greeted him and, after listening a moment, he again shouted. +Then walked swiftly to the room where Ned Lytton had lived through those +weeks. He knocked, waited, flung open the door and grunted at the +emptiness which he found. One more room remained to be inspected--his +room--and he turned to the door which was almost closed. He rapped +lightly on the casing; louder, called for Lytton, grasped the knob and +entered. + +The overturned table, broken lamp, the spreading stain of its oil, the +rumpled rugs yielded their mute suggestion, and he moved slowly about, +eyeing them, searching for other evidence, searching for something more +than the fact that a struggle had taken place, hoping to find it, +fearing to know. + +He stopped suddenly, holding his head to one side as though listening to +catch a distant sound. + +"Both saddle horses gone ... they're gone," he muttered to himself and +started from the room on a run. + +He inspected the saddle rack under his wagonshed and saw that the third +saddle was missing, and then, with expert eyes, studied the ground for +evidence. + +A trail, barely discernible in the multitude of hoof-marks, led through +to the outer gate, crossed the road and struck straight east across the +valley. + +"That's Abe," he said excitedly to himself. "That was made late +yesterday." + +He stood erect and looked into the far reaches of the lower valley +where the wreaths of mists in the hollows were turning to silver and +those without shelter becoming dispelled as the sun spread its first +warmth over the country. + +"You've stolen my horse!" he said aloud, and evenly, as though he were +dispassionately charging some one before him with the misdeed. "You +stole my horse, but she ... was your woman!" + +He straightened and lifted his head, moving it quickly from side to side +as he strove to identify a moving object far below him that had risen +suddenly into sight on one of the valley swells and disappeared again in +a wash. It was a horse, he knew, but whether it was a roamer of the +range or a beast bearing a rider, he could not tell. He waited anxiously +for its reappearance, again hoping and fearing. + +"Huh! You're carryin' nobody," he muttered aloud as the speck again came +into view. "An' you sure are goin' some particular place!" + +The animal was too far distant to be readily identified but about its +swing was a familiar something and, inspired by an idea, Bayard returned +to the house, emerged with a field glass and focused it on the +approaching horse. The animal was his sorrel stallion. + +"Come on, Abe," he said aloud, putting down the binoculars with a hand +that trembled. "They've sent you on home, or you've got away.... But how +about th' party you carried off?" + +He walked to the gate and stood uneasily awaiting the arrival of the +animal. As the sorrel came into sight from the nearest wash into which +he had disappeared he was moving at a deliberate trot, but when he made +out the figure of his waiting master he strode swifter, finally breaking +into a gallop and approaching at great speed, whinnering from time to +time. + +The bridle reins were knotted securely about the horn. He had not +escaped; Abe had been sent home. He stopped before Bruce and nuzzled the +man's hands as they caressed his hot, soft nose. + +"It looks as if they had trouble before they left, from th' way my room +is," the man said to the horse as he stroked his nose, "but I know right +well he'd never got you out of that corral alone an' never got you off +in that direction unless somebody'd helped him; she might make you mind +'cause she rode you once. If it wasn't for that ... I'd think she'd been +forced ... 'cause they must have had a racket...." + +He led the horse through the gate and into the corral. There, he slipped +the bridle off, uncinched and dragged the saddle toward him. As the +polished, darkened seat turned to the bright sunlight, he saw that the +leather had been defaced and, indignation mounting, he leaned over to +inspect it. The resentment departed, a mingling of fear and triumph and +rage rose within him, for on the saddle had been scratched in hasty, +crude characters: + + BOUND FOR MI + NE + HELP + +No need to speculate as to the author of that message on the saddle. +That Ann had been forced by circumstances to do the work furtively was +as evident. And the combination of facts which rode uppermost in his +confused mentality was this. Ann Lytton was being taken to the Sunset +mine against her will; she had appealed to him for aid and, because of +that, he knew that she had chosen between the two, between her husband +and her honorable lover! + +For a moment, mad, hot triumph filled him. He had done his best with the +ruin of a man he had set out to reconstruct; he had groomed him well, +conscientiously, giving him thorough care, great consideration, just to +satisfy his own moral sense; he had given him back to Ann at the cost of +intense suffering ... and it had not been enough for her; she was not +satisfied. Beside her husband, bound for her husband's mountain home, +she had found herself in her hour of need and had cried out to him for +help! + +Bruce calculated swiftly as he stood there. Lytton's trail from the +ranch led straight eastward, toward the Sunset group. They had not +ridden the whole forty-five miles at one stretch. He was satisfied of +that. Obviously, they had stopped for the night and out in that country +toward which they had started was only one ranch that would not take +them miles out of their course. That was the home of Hi Boyd, a dozen +miles straight east, six miles south and east from Yavapai, thirty-three +miles from the Sunset group. By now they were making on, they could +finish their journey before night.... + +And then recurred a thought that Bruce had overlooked in those moments +of speculation, of quick thinking: + +"Good God, Benny Lynch's waitin' for him ... with murder in his heart!" +he cried aloud, the horror at the remembrance so sharp, the meaning of +this new factor in the situation so portentous, that the words came from +his lips unconsciously. He stood beside the horse, staring down at the +message on the saddle again, bewildered, a feeling of helplessness +coming over him. + +"I can't let that happen, Abe, I can't!" he said. "I drove him there.... +He must have gone because ... He's found out she was here all along ... +he's blamed it on me.... He's crazy mad an' he's ridin' straight to his +end!... It would free her, but I can't let it happen ... not that +way ... + +"It's up to you to get me to town," he cried as he reached for the +bridle. "Just to Yavapai ... that's all.... You're th' best horse in th' +southwest, but they've got too much of a start on you. We'll try +automobiles this once, Pardner!" + +In an incredibly short time the saddle was on, cinch tight. He gathered +the reins, called to the sorrel and Abe, infected with his excitement, +wheeled for the gate, the man running by his side. As the animal rounded +into the road, Bruce vaulted into the saddle, pawed with his right foot +for the flopping stirrup and leaning low on Abe's neck, shouted into his +ears for speed. + +Merely minutes transpired in that eight-mile race to Yavapai. Bayard's +idea was to hire the one automobile of which the town boasted, start +down the valley road that Lytton and Ann must follow to reach the mine, +overtake and turn them back, somehow, on some pretext. He could arrange +the device later; he could think of the significance of Ann's appeal to +him when the man between them was free from the danger of which Bayard +was aware; his whole thought now was to beat time, to reach town with +the least possible waste of seconds. The steel sinews, the leather +lungs, the great heart of the beast under him responded nobly to this +need. They stormed along the wagon tracks when they held straight, +thundered through the unmarked grass and over rocks when the highway +turned and twisted. Once, when they ran through a shallow wash and Abe +climbed the far side with a scramble, fire shot from his shoes and Bruce +cried, + +"You're th' stallion shod with fire, boy!" + +It was a splendid, unfaltering run, and, when the rider swung down +before the little corrugated iron building that housed Yavapai's motor +car, the stallion was black with water and his breath came and went with +the gasps of fatigue and nervous tension. + +Bruce turned from his horse and stepped toward the open door of the +garage. A man was there, behind the car, looking dolefully down at an +array of grease covered parts that littered the floor. + +"Jimmy, I want you to take me out on th' Valley road this mornin'. How +soon can we get away?" + +"It won't be this mornin' or this afternoon, Bruce," the man said, with +a shake of his head. "I've got a busted differential." + +"Can't it be fixed?"--misgiving in his voice. + +"Not here. I have to send to Prescott for a new one. I'll be laid up a +couple of days anyhow." + +Bayard did not answer. Just stood trying to face the situation calmly, +trying to figure his handicap. + +"Is it awful important, Bruce?" the man asked, struck by the cowman's +attitude. + +"I guess th' end of th' world's more important,"--as he turned away, +"but to me, an' compared to this, it's a small sized accident." + +He walked slowly out into the street and paused to look calculatingly at +Abe. Then, turning abruptly, struck by a new possibility, he ran across +to the Manzanita House, entered the door, strode into the office, took +down the telephone receiver and rattled the hook impatiently. + +"I want Hi Boyd's ranch," he said to the operator. Then, after a wait in +which he shifted from foot to foot and swore under his breath: "Hello +... Boyd's? Is this Hi Boyd? It is? ... Well Hi, this is Bruce Bayard +an' I've got to have a horse from you this mornin'...." + +"A horse!" came the thin, distant exclamation over the wire. "Everybody +wants horses off me today...." + +"But I've _got_ to have one, Hi! It's mighty important. Yours is th' +only ranch that's on my way--" + +"... an' we let one get away this mornin'," the voice went on, not +pausing for Bruce's insistence, "'fore daylight an' left a lady who +spent th' night with us a foot. We had to go catch up another for 'em +an' Lytton--Ned Lytton, was th' man--only got on two hours ago ... three +hours late! No, they ain't a horse on th' place that'll ride." + +"Can't you catch one for me?" Bruce persisted. + +"How? Run him down on foot? If I was a young man like you, I might, but +now...." + +Bayard slammed up the receiver and turned away, staring at the floor. He +walked into the street again, looking about almost wildly. One by one +the agencies that might prevent the impending catastrophe out yonder had +been rendered helpless. The automobile, the chance of getting a change +horse, his haste in riding to Yavapai and its consequent inroads made +upon Abe's strength. + +"I'm playin' with a stacked deck!" he muttered, as he approached the +stallion. "There ain't another horse in this country equal to you even +after your mornin's work," he said, looking at the breathing, sweat +darkened creature. "I wouldn't ask you to do it for anybody else, Boy. +But ... won't you do it for her? She sent for me. Will you take me back? +It'll mean a lot to her, let alone what it means to me ... if I don't +stop him. + +"It's thirty-five miles for us to make while they're doin' little more +'n twenty, for they've been traveling since dawn. Maybe it'll be your +last run ... It may break your heart.... How about it?" + +In his desperation, something boyish came into his tone, his manner, and +he appealed to his horse as he would have pleaded with another human +being. The sorrel looked at him inquiringly, great intelligent eyes +unblinking, ears forward with attentiveness and, after a moment, the +white patch on his nose twitched and he moved closer against his master +as he gave a low little nicker. + +"Is that your answer, Abe? Are you sayin' yes?" Bayard asked, and +unbuckled his chap belt. "Is it, old timer? You're ... it's all up to +you!" He kicked out of his chaps, flung them to the hotel porch, +mounted, reined the stallion about and high in the stirrups, a live, +flexible weight, rode out of town at a slow trot, holding the horse to +the gait that the wind which blew in from the big expanse of country +might cool him. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE END OF THE VIGIL + + +Benny Lynch was at work in the face of the Sunset's lower tunnel. He +swung his singlejack swiftly, surely, regularly, and each time it struck +the drill, his breath whistled through his lips in the manner of mine +workers. His candle, its stick secure in a crack above him, lighted the +small chamber and under its uncertain, inefficient rays, his face seemed +drawn and hard and old. + +A fortnight ago, when he rode to the Circle A ranch to share with Bayard +the secret that harassed him his countenance had been merely sober, +troubled; but now it gave evidence of a severe strain that had endured +long enough to wear down his stolidity--the tension that would naturally +come to a man who is normally kind and gentle and who, by those same +qualities, is driven to hunt a fellow human as he would plot to take the +life of a dangerous animal. Through those two weeks he had been waiting +alone in the mining camp, working eight hours each day, doing his +cooking and housework methodically, regularly, telling himself that he +had settled down to the routine of industriously developing property +that was rightfully his, when that occupation was only a ruse, a blind, +when he was waiting there solely for the opportunity to kill! His +watching had not been patient; it was outwardly deliberate, true, but +inwardly it kept him in a continual state of ferment; witness the lines +about his mouth, the pallor of his skin, the feverish, expectant look in +his eyes. + +On a spike in the timbering hung an alarm clock ... and a gun belt, +weighted with revolver and ammunition. At regular, frequent intervals, +the blows of his jack were checked and he sat crouched there, head +forward and a trifle to one side, as though he were listening. When no +sound save the singing of his candle wick reached his ears, he went on, +regularly, evenly, purposeful. Possibly the tension that showed about +his mouth became more noticeable after each of these brief periods when +he strained to catch sounds. + +With a final blow Benny left off the rhythmic swing, wiped his forehead +with a wrist, poured water from a small tin bucket into the hole on +which he was at work and picked up his jack to resume the swinging. He +glanced at the clock. + +"It's time," he said aloud, his voice reverberating hollowly in the +place. + +He put down his hammer quickly and rose from his squatting position as +though he had neglected to perform some important duty. He took down the +gun belt, slung it about his waist, and, making a reflector of his +hollowed hand for the candle, started out along the tunnel, walking +swiftly, intent on a definite end. When he reached the point where the +darkness of the drift was dissipated by the white sunlight, he +extinguished his feeble torch, jabbed the candlestick into the +hanging-wall and reached for a pair of binoculars that, in their worn +and battered case, hung from the timbering. + +"This is 'n elegant day," he said aloud, as he walked out on to the +dump, manipulating the focusing screw of the glass and looking +cautiously around at the pine clad mountains which stretched away to +right, left and behind him. + +Evidently his mind was not on his words or on the idea; he was merely +keeping up his game of pretense, while beneath the surface he was alert, +expectant. Near the foot of the pile of waste rock was the log cabin +with its red, iron roof and protruding stove pipe. Far below him and +running outward like a great tinted carpet spread Manzanita Valley. +Close in to the base of the hills on which he stood a range of bald, +flat-topped, miniature buttes made, from his eminence, a low welt in its +contour, but beyond that and except for an occasional island of +knee-high oak brush it seemed to be without mar or blemish. Here and +there patches of deeper color showed and the experienced eye knew that +there the country swelled or was cut by washes, but, otherwise, it all +seemed to be flat, unbroken. + +On this immense stretch of country Benny trained the glass. His manner +was intent, resolute. Each hour during daylight he had been making that +observation for a fortnight; every time he had anticipated reward, +action. Aided by the lenses he picked out the low buttes, saw a spot +that he knew was a grazing horse, a distant shimmering blotch of mellow +white canopied by a golden aura that meant sheep, turned his body from +left to right in swift, sweeping inspection. + +And stopped all movement with a jerk, while an inarticulate exclamation +came from him. + +For the first time his sight had encountered that for which he had been +seeking. He was motionless an instant, then lowered the glass to his +chest-level and stared hard with naked eyes. He wet his lips with his +tongue and strained forward, used the glasses again, shifted his +footing, looking about with a show of bright nervousness, and rubbed the +lenses on his shirt briskly. + +"He ain't even waitin' to take th' road," he said aloud. "He's in a +powerful hurry!" + +Once more the instrument picked out the moving dot under that vast dome +of brilliant blue sky and, for a lengthy interval Benny held his aided +gaze upon it, watching it disappear and come into sight again, ever +holding toward him through wash and over swells, maintaining its steady +crawling. He moved further out on the dump to obtain a better view and +leaned against the rusty ore car on its track that he might be steadier; +for sight of that purposeful life down yonder had started ever so slight +tremors through his stalwart limbs. + +He muttered to himself, and again looked alertly about, right and left +and behind. His eye was brighter, harder. When he looked into the +valley again, sweeping its expanse to find the horseman who had +momentarily disappeared, he stood with gaze fixed in quite another +direction and, when he had suppressed his breath an instant to make +absolutely certain, he cried excitedly: + +"In bunches! They're comin' in droves!" + +He put down the binocular, took the six-gun from its holster, twirled +the cylinder briskly and caressed the trigger with an eager finger. His +mouth had become a tight, straight line and his brows were gathered +slightly, as in perplexity. He breathed audibly as he watched those +indications of human life on the valley. He knew then the greatest +torment of suspense.... + +Ten minutes later, when the near dot had become easily discernible to +the naked eye, when the figure of horse and rider was in sharp detail +through the glass, the ominous quality about the man gave way to frank +mystification. He flung one leg over the corner of the ore car, and his +face ceased to reflect his great determination, became puzzled, half +alarmed. + +"That's Bruce's stallion, if I ever seen him!" he thought, "An' he's +been run to th' last breath." + +The horse went out of sight, entered the timber below Benny and the +clicking of stones, the sounds of shod hoofs floundering over bare rocks +gave evidence that he would be at the mine level in another five +minutes. The man hitched his gun belt about, took one more anxious, +puzzled look down into the valley where other figures moved, and walked +down the trail toward the cabin slowly, watching through the pines for +sight of the climbing animal. + +A man came first, bent over that he might climb faster up the steep +trail. He was leading a horse that was drenched from ear to ankle, +lathered about neck and shoulder and flank, who breathed in short, low +sobs, and stepped with the uneven awkwardness of utter fatigue. Benny +stopped as he recognized Bayard and Abe and his right hand which had +rested lightly on the gun butt at his hip dropped to his thigh. He stood +still, waiting for them to come nearer, wondering anxiously what this +might mean, for he knew that the owner of the sorrel stallion would +never have ridden him to that condition without cause. + +Bayard looked up, saw the man waiting for him and halted between +strides, the one foot far advanced before the other. His face was white +and he stared hard at the miner, studying him closely, dreading to ask +the question that was at his lips. But after that momentary pause he +blurted out, + +"Is everything all right, Benny?" + +And Lynch, shaken by Bruce's appearance, the manner of his arrival, +countered: + +"What's wrong? What is it?"--walking swiftly down the trail toward the +newcomer. + +"Has anybody been here before me, to-day?" + +"Nobody, Bruce. What is it?"--anxiously, feeling somehow that they were +both in danger. + +"Thank God for that!" Bayard muttered, some of the intensity going from +him, and turned to loose the cinch. "We weren't too late, Abe, we +weren't." He dragged the saddle from the stallion's dripping back, flung +it on the rocks behind him, pulled off the bridle and with hands that +were not steady, stroked the lathered withers as the horse stood with +head hung and let the breath sob and wheeze down his long throat while +his limbs trembled under his weight. "We've come from town in th' most +awful ride a horse ever made on this valley, Benny. Look at him! I had +to ask him, I had to ask him to do this, to run his heart out for me; I +had to do it!" + +He stood looking at his horse and for the moment seemed to be wholly +absorbed in contemplating the animal's condition; his voice had been +uncertain as he pleaded the vague necessity for such a run. + +"What is it, Bruce? Why was you in such a hurry?" Lynch asked, taking +the cowman gently by the arm, turning him so that they confronted one +another, an uneasy connection forming in his mind between his friend's +dramatic arrival and his own purpose at the mine. + +"Ned Lytton an' his wife are comin' here to-day, Benny,"--bluntly. "I +had to get here before them to stop you ... doin' what you've come here +an' waited to do." + +The other's hand dropped from Bruce's arm; in Benny's face the look of +fear, of doubt, gave way to a return of the strained, tense expression +with its dogged determination. That was it! The woman, identified as +such through his glass, was Lytton's wife! He felt the nerves tightening +at the back of his neck. + +"What do you mean by that ... to stop me?" he asked, spreading his feet, +arms akimbo, a growing defiance about him. + +"What I said, Benny. I've come to stop a killin' here to-day. I thank +God I was in time!" + +His old assurance, his poise, which had been missing on his arrival, had +returned and he stepped forward, reaching out a hand to rest on Benny's +shoulder, gripping through the flannel shirt with his long, stout +fingers. + +"You told me your trouble with Lytton in confidence. I thought once this +mornin' maybe I'd have to break that confidence. I thought when I +started up this trail that I must be too late to do any good, but now +I'm here I know you'll understand, old timer, I know you'll understand!" + +He shook Lynch gently with his hand and smiled, but no responsive light +came from the miner's eyes in return; hostility was there, along with +the fever of waiting. + +"No, I don't understand," he said, sharply. "I don't understand why +you're throwin' in with that scum." + +"Don't think that! It's not for him I'm doin' this. I wouldn't ask my +Abe to run himself sick for _him_! It's for my own peace of mind an' +yours, Benny." + +"My mind'll be at peace when I've squared my dad's account with Lytton +an' not before!"--with a significant gesture toward his gun. + +"But mine won't, an' neither will yours when you know that by comin' to +me with your story you tied me hand an' foot! Hand an' foot, Benny, +that's what! I've never been helpless before, but I am this time; if +Lytton comes to any harm from you here to-day, his blood'll be on my +hands. I know he's a snake, I know he knifed your daddy in th' +back,"--growing more intense, talking faster, "But he's wrong, Benny, +wrong in th' head. A man can't get so lowdown as he is an' not be wrong. + +"Oh, I know him. I know him better than you or anybody else does! I've +been nursin' him for weeks. He's been at my ranch--" + +"At your--" + +"Yes, at my ranch. I took him there a month ago, Benny, to make a man of +him for his wife, the sweetest woman that God ever made live to make us +men better. I've been groomin' him up for her, workin' with him, hatin' +him, but doin' my best to make a man of him. Now, he's bringin' her here +by force because of me, an' she sent back for me ... asked me to help +her. She knows there's danger here. I didn't tell her why, but I told +her that much, told her never to let him come back. Now he's forcin' her +to come with him an' she sent for me. + +"Don't you see? I can't let you shoot him down! Can't you see that, +Benny?" + +He shook him again and leaned forward, face close to face. + +"No, I don't see that it makes any difference," Lynch said slowly, a +hard calm covering his roused emotions. + +Bayard drew back a step and a quick flush swept into his cheeks. + +"But I sent him here, Benny; knowin' you were waitin'. It's my fault if +he--" + +"You sent him?" + +"Yes, I drove him out here! He might never have come back, if it hadn't +been for me. I ... Nobody else knows this, Benny; maybe nobody ever will +but you, but I've got to make you understand. He ... She ... His wife's +been in town a month. She come out here to throw herself away on that +rat, when she don't ... when she hates him. + +"I can't tell you all of it, but yesterday he saw her for th' first +time. + +"He must have raised hell with her ... because of me, because I've known +she was out here and didn't tell him. He took her away an' she ... sent +for me.... + +"Don't you see that I'm to blame? Hell, it's no use hidin' it; he took +her off to get her away from me! He's bringin' her here, th' nearest +place to a home he's got. If 't wasn't for me, he wouldn't have started +for this place; he'd stayed there. Don't you see, Benny, that I'm +drivin' him into your hands. You may be justified in killin', but I +ain't justified ... in helpin' you!" + +"If it's that way ... between she an' you ... you'd ought to be +glad....' + +"Not that way!" Bayard exclaimed. "Not that, Benny! He's everything +you've called him, but I can't foul him. I've got to be more'n square +with him because he is ... her husband an' because she did ... send for +me!" + +For a moment the miner seemed to waver; a different look appeared in his +eyes, an appreciation for the absolute openness of this man before him, +his great sense of fair play, his honesty, his sincerity. Then, he +remembered that minutes had been consumed, that his game was drawing to +a climax. + +"I can't help it," he said, doggedly, drawing back, "We understand each +other now, Bruce, an' my advice to you is to clear out. Things'll happen +right soon." + +"What do you mean?" slowly, with incredulity. + +"Don't you know they wasn't a mile behind you, on th' other side of them +low bluffs?" + +Bayard half turned, sharply, as though he expected to find Ann and +Lytton directly behind him on the trail. + +"God, no!" he answered in a hushed tone. "Rough country, that's why I +didn't see 'em." + +"Well, that's them ... a man an' woman. They ought to be here any +minute." + +Lynch's voice sank to a whisper on the last and he drew the gun from its +scabbard, peering down the trail, listening. On sight of the colt, a +flicker came into Bayard's eyes, his jaw tightened, his shoulders +squared themselves. + +"I'll go down an' meet him," the miner said quite calmly, though the +color had gone even from his lips. "It's ..." + +With a drive of his hand, Bayard's fingers fastened on the gun and the +jerk he gave the weapon tore Lynch from his footing. + +"You'll not, Benny!"--in a whisper, securing the gun, and flinging it +into the brush behind him, gripping the other man by his shirt front, +"You won't, by God, if I have to choke you black in the face!" + +Lynch drew back against the cabin wall, struggling to free himself. + +"It's my fight, Bruce!" ... breathing in gasps, eyes wide, voice +strained almost to the point of sobbing. + +"I'll let go when you promise me to go into your house an' sit there an' +keep quiet until I finish my work ... or, until you're molested." + +"Not after two years! Not after my dad...." + +Tears stood in the miner's eyes and he struck out viciously with his +fists; then Bayard, thrusting his head forward, flung out his arms in a +clinging, binding embrace and they went down on the trail, a tangle of +limbs. Benny was no match in such a combat and in a trice he was on his +face, arms held behind him and Bayard was lashing his wrists together +with his bridle reins. + +"Stand up!" he said, sharply, when he had finished. + +He picked up the revolver and, with a hand under one of the bound arms, +helped Benny to his feet. + +"I'll apologize later. I'll do anything. I came out here to prevent a +killin', Benny, an' my work ain't done yet." + +The miner cursed him in a strained voice and the come and go of his +breath was swift and irregular. He trembled violently. All the brooding +he had experienced in the last months, all the strain of waiting he had +known in the recent days, the conviction that his hour of accomplishment +was at hand, and the sudden, overwhelming sense of physical helplessness +that was now on him combined to render his anger that of a child. He +attempted to hold back, but Bayard jerked him forward and, half dragged, +half carried, he entered the kitchen of the cabin he had helped build, +which had been stolen from him and which was now to be his prison at the +moment when he had planned to make his title to the property good by +killing.... + +Bayard, too, trembled, and his gray eyes glittered. He breathed through +his lips and was conscious that his mouth was very dry. His movements +were feverish and he handled Lynch as though he were so much insensate +matter. + +Benny protested volubly, shouting and screaming and kicking, trying to +resist with all his bodily force, but Bruce did not seem to hear him. He +handled his captive with a peculiar abstraction in spite of the fact +that they struggled constantly. + +Bayard kicked a chair away from the table, forced Lynch into it and +holding him fast with one arm, drew the dangling bridle reins through +the spindles of the back and lashed the miner's bound wrists there +securely. + +"I can't help it, Benny," he said, hurriedly and earnestly, as he +straightened. "You and I ... we'll have this out afterwards.... Your +gun ... I'll leave it here,"--putting the weapon on top of a battered +cupboard that stood against the wall behind Benny. + +"I'm goin' down to turn him back towards town, Benny.... I won't give +you away; he won't know you're here, but I've got to do it myself. I +can't let you kill him to-day.... I can't, because I'm to blame for his +comin' here!" + +He was gone then, with a thudding of boots and a ringing of spurs as he +ran from the room, struck into the trail and went down among the pines +at a pace which threatened a nasty fall at every stride. And Benny, left +alone, whimpered aloud and tugged ineffectually at the knots which held +him captive in his chair. After a short interval, he stopped the +struggling and strained forward to listen. No sound reached his ears +except the low, sweet, throaty tweeting of quail as they ran swiftly +over the rocks, under a clump of brush and disappeared. The world was +very quiet and peaceful ... only in the man's heart was storm.... + +Bayard ran on down the trail toward the edge of the timber where he +might look out on the valley and see those two riders he had followed +and passed without seeing. He had no plan. He would tell Lytton to go +back, would _make_ him go back, with nothing but his will and his naked +hands. He wanted to laugh as he ran, for his relief was great; there was +to be no killing that day, no blood was to be on his conscience, no +tragedy was to stand between him and the woman who had called for aid. + +His pace became reckless, for the descent was steep and, when he emerged +from the timber, his whole attention was centered on keeping himself +upright and overcoming his momentum. When he could stop, he lifted his +eyes to the country below him, searched quickly for the figures of Ned +and his wife and swore in perplexity. He did not see sign of a moving +creature. He knew that there was no depression in that part of the +valley deep enough to hide them from him as he stood on that vantage +point. Had Lynch been mistaken? Had he deceived him artfully? + +He looked about bewildered, wholly at a loss to explain the situation. +Then ran on, searching the trail for indication of passing horses. They +could not have turned back and ridden from sight in the short time that +had elapsed since Benny saw them ... if he had seen them. Where could +they go, but on to the mine? + +The worn trail still led him down grade, though the pitch was not so +severe as it had been higher up; however, he did not realize the +distance he was from timber when he came upon fresh horse tracks. They +had ridden up to that point at a walk; they had stopped there, and when +they went on they had swerved to the right and ridden for the hills with +horses at a gallop. + +Bayard read the tell-tale signs in an instant, wheeled, looked up at the +abrupt slopes above him and cried, + +"He's gone around for some reason ... in a hurry.... To come into camp +from behind!" + +And trembling at thought of what might be happening back there in the +cabin, he started up the trail, running laboriously against the steep +rise of the hill. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE FIGHT + + +Bayard had guessed rightly. After miles of silent riding Lytton had +pulled his horse up with a jerk, had laid a hand on Ann's bridle and +checked her pony with another wrench. + +"Who's that?" he growled, staring at Bayard. + +She had looked at the distant horse, floundering up the slope beyond +them, recognized both Abe and his rider and had turned to stare at her +husband with fear in her eyes. + +"Who is it?" he demanded again, and she dropped her gaze. + +"So that's it!" he jeered. "Your lover is trying to play two games. He's +come to beat us to it, has he?"--he licked his lips nervously. "Well, +we'll see!" + +He hung his spurs in and fanned her horse with his quirt and, still +clinging to her bridle, led his wife at a high lope off to the right, +swinging behind a shoulder of the hill and climbing up a sharp, wooded +draw. + +"I'll fool your friend!" he laughed, twenty minutes later when they had +climbed a steep ridge and the winded horses had dropped into a walk. +"I'll fool him!" + +He drew Bayard's automatic, which he had taken from Ann, and looked it +over in crafty anticipation. + +Ann, after her night and her day of hardship, of ceaseless anxiety, +could not cry out. A sound started but went dry and dead in her throat. +She sat lax in her saddle, worn and confused and suddenly indifferent. +She had been defiant yesterday afternoon for a time; she had been +frightened later; with cunning she had scratched her warning on Abe's +saddle and with like strategy she had managed to set the great horse +free when they were preparing for their early morning start from the +Boyd ranch. She had withstood her husband's taunts flung at her through +their sleepless night, she had taken in silence his abuse when it became +necessary to secure another horse; beside him she had ridden in silence +down the valley, knowing him for a crazed man. And now sight of Bayard, +the sense of relief that his nearness brought, the sudden fear for his +safety at seeing the pistol, reduced her to helplessness. + +"You wait here," she heard her husband say. + +He followed the order with a threat of some sort, a threat against her +life she afterward remembered, dismounted and walked away. At the time +his departure left no impression on her. She sat limp in her saddle a +long interval, then leaned forward and, face in her horse's mane, gave +way to sobbing. The vent for that emotion was relief; how long she cried +she did not know, but suddenly she found herself on the ground, looking +about, alive to the fact that the silence seemed like that of death. + + * * * * * + +Cautiously, Lytton crept up over the rocks after he left Ann. His +movements gave no hint of his recent weakness; they were quick and +jerky, but certain. His lids were narrowed and between them his eyes +showed balefully. He held his weapon in his right hand, slightly +elevated, ready to shoot. Moisture formed on his forehead and ran down +over his cheeks. Now and then his gun hand trembled spasmodically and +then he halted until it was firm again. + +He knew these rocks well and took no chances of exposing himself. He +slunk from tree to boulder and from boulder to brush, always making +nearer camp, always ready for an emergency. He attained a point where he +could look down on the cabin below him and stood there a long time, half +crouched, poised, scanning every corner, every shadow. The corral was +hidden from him and Abe, lying under a spreading juniper tree, was out +of his range of vision. He listened as he watched but no sound came to +him. Then he went on, down the ragged way. + +At intervals of every few feet he halted and listened, repressing even +his own breath that he might hear the slightest sound. But no movement, +no vibration disturbed that crystal noontime until he had gone halfway +to the red-roofed house below the dump. Then a bird fluttered from close +beside him: a soft, abrupt, diminishing whirr of wings and the man +shrank back against the rock, lifting his gun hand high, breath hissing +as it slipped out between his teeth, the craven in him shaking his +limbs, gripping his throat. Discovery of what had startled him brought +only slow relief, and minutes elapsed before he straightened and laughed +silently to shame his nerves to steadiness. + +A stone, loosened by his foot, rolled down before him to the next ledge, +rattling as it went, and he squatted quickly, again afraid, yet alert. +For he felt that noise emanating from his movements would precipitate +developments. But nothing moved, no new sounds came to him. + +He was not certain that Bayard had seen them out on the valley. He did +not know of his wife's message for help; in his confused consciousness +he had supposed that the cowman had ridden to the mine on some covetous +errand and that Bruce was ignorant of the fact that he and Ann had left +the Circle A. He did not even stop to remember that Bayard had come into +sight and disappeared through the timber on Abe, and that the stallion +had slipped away from them before dawn. He had leaped to the conclusion +that Bruce would be in the log house down yonder or somewhere about the +property. So he stalked on, lips dry and hot with the desire to kill.... + +Lytton approached to within ten yards of the cabin without hearing more +sounds. There he straightened to his toes and stretched his neck to look +about, peering over the tops of oak brush that flourished in the scant +soil, and, as he reached his full height, the sharp sound of a chair +scraping on the floor sent him to a wilting, quivering squat, caused his +breath to come in gasps, made his hands sweat until the pistol he held +was slippery with their moisture. His head roared with excitement, but +through it he thought he heard the sound of a man's voice lifted in +speech. + +No window was visible to him from his position. The back door of the +kitchen stood open, he could see, but his view of the room through it +was negligible. At the other end of the room was a door and a window, +but he dared not risk advance from that direction. He crouched there, +panting, fearing, yet planning quickly, driven to desperation by the +urge of the hate which rankled in him. Bruce Bayard had attempted to +steal his wife, he repeated to himself, he had attempted to frighten him +away from his other property, his mine, and he was roused to a pitch of +nervous excitement that carried him beyond the caution of mental balance +and yet did not stimulate him to the abandon of actual madness. He +wanted Bayard's life with all the lust that can be stirred in men by an +outraging of the sense of possession and the passion of jealousy ... +beyond which there can be no destroying desire. + +No other sounds came from the house, but he was satisfied that the man +waiting within was his man and he skulked from the brush, choosing his +footing with care, treading on the balls of his feet, preventing the +stiff branches from slapping noisily together by his cautious left hand. +Slow, cat-like in his movements, he covered the distance to the cabin, +flinging out an arm on the last step as though he were falling and with +it steadying himself against the log wall of the building, where he +balanced a moment, becoming steady. + +He strained to listen and caught sounds of a man's breath expelled in +grunts. The doorway was not six feet from the place where he had halted +and he eyed it calculatingly, noting the footing he must cross, licking +his lips, eyes strained wide open. He took the first step forward and +halted, hand against the wall still to maintain his balance; then on +again, lifting the foot slowly, setting it down with great pains, +putting his weight on it carefully.... + +And then nervous tension snapped. He could no longer hold himself back +and with a lunge he reached the door, gripped the casing with his left +hand and, crouching, swung himself into the doorway, pistol extended +before him, coming to a halt with an inarticulate, sobbing cry that +might have been hate or chagrin or only fright.... For the man he +covered with that weapon was a stranger, an individual he had never seen +before, sitting in a chair, back to him, his pale, startled face turned +over the near shoulder, giving the intruder frightened gaze for +frightened gaze. + +For a moment Lytton remained swaying in the doorway, bewildered, unable +to think. Then, he saw that the other man was bound to his chair, his +hands behind him, and he let go his hold on the casing, straightened +and put one foot over the threshold. He spoke the first words, + +"Who are you?"--in a tone just above a whisper, leaning forward, sensing +in a measure an explanation of this situation. And because of this +intuitive flash of comprehension, he did not give the other opportunity +to answer his first question, but said quickly, lowly, "What are you +doing here?" + +Benny looked at him, studying, a covered craftiness coming into his face +to obliterate the anxiety, the rebelliousness that had been there. His +semi-hysteria was gone, his cold, hard determination to carry his +mission to its conclusion had reasserted itself but covered, this time, +by cunning. He realized what had happened, knew that Lytton had expected +to find another there, he saw that he was ready to kill on sight, and in +the situation the miner read a way out for himself, a method of +attaining his own ends. So he said, + +"I'm takin' a little rest; can't you see?"--ironical in his answer to +Lytton's question, impatient when he put his own counter query. + +He wrenched at the bonds angrily and, partly from the exertion, partly +from the rage that rose within him, his face colored darkly. + +Lytton stepped further into the room, approaching Lynch's chair, looking +closely into his face, gun hand half lowered. + +"Who tied you up?" he asked in a whisper, for his mind was centered +about a single idea; the probable presence of Bayard and his relation to +this man who was some one's prisoner. + +Benny looked down at the floor and leaned over and again tugged at the +knots for he dared not reveal his face as he growled, + +"A damn dirty cowpunch!" + +The other man said nothing; waited, obviously for more information. + +"His name's Bayard," Benny muttered. + +He rendered the impression that he regarded that specific information as +of no consequence, but he heard the catch of a sound in Lytton's throat +and saw him shift his footing nervously. + +"How long ago?" he asked. + +"Too damn long to sit here like this!"--in anger that was not simulated, +for with every word that passed between them, Benny felt his reason +slipping, felt that if this situation continued long enough he must rise +with the chair bound fast to him and try to do harm to this other man. + +"Where'd he go?" + +Lytton bent low as he whispered excitedly and his gun hand hung loosely +at his side. + +Benny shook his head. + +"I dunno," he said. "He went off some'res, but he won't be gone long, +that's a good bet! He was up to somethin'--God knows what. Guess he +thought I'd spoil it." + +He looked up and saw the glitter of Lytton's eyes. + +"Up to something is he?" Lytton laughed, dryly, repeating Lynch's words. +"Up to something! He's always up to something. He's been up to something +for weeks, the wife stealing whelp ... and now if I know what I'm +talking about, he's up _against_ something!" + +"Wife stealer, is he?" Benny laughed as he put that question and was +satisfied when he saw Ned's jaw muscles bulge. "That's his latest, is +it?" + +Lytton looked at him pointedly. + +"You know him pretty well, too?" he asked. + +"Know him! Do I know him? Look at this!"--with a slight lift of his +bound hands. "That's how much I know him.... I seem to have a fair +enough acquaintance, don't I? + +"Say, _hombre_, you turn me loose an' set here an' I'll pack him in to +you ... on my back ... if you're lookin' for him that way!" + +Lytton looked quickly about; then stood still to listen; the silence was +not broken and he stared back at the bound man, a new interest in his +face, as he framed his hasty diplomacy. + +"Do you mean you've ... got a fight with this man? With Bayard?" + +Benny moved from side to side in his chair and forced a laugh. + +"Have I?" he scoffed. "Have I? You just wait until I get loose an' get +my fingers on _him_. You'll think it's a fight, party.... But I'm in a +fine way to do anythin' now!" + +He looked through the front doorway, out down the sharp draw that the +trail to the valley followed. Lytton stepped nearer to him and as he +spoke his voice became eager and rapid, + +"I've a quarrel with him, too!" The craven in him drove him forward to +this newly offered hope, the hope of finding an ally, some one to share +his burden of responsibility, some one he could hide behind, some one, +perhaps, who might be inveigled into doing his fighting for him. "I came +here to hunt him down. When I came down that hill there,"--gesturing--"I +thought he was in here because I heard your chair move on the floor. +When I jumped through that door and covered you, I expected he'd be here +and that I'd ... Well, that I'd square accounts with him for good.... + +"I don't know what your fight with him is, but he's abused you; he's got +you hogtied now. That you've a fight of some sort with him is enough for +me.... Aren't two heads better than one?"--insinuatingly. + +The miner forced himself to meet that inquiring gaze steadily, but his +expression of delight, of triumph, which came into his face was not +forced, was not counterfeit, and he growled quickly: + +"I don't need any man's help in my fight ... when I got an even chance. +My troubles are my own an' I'll tend to 'em, but, if you want to do me a +favor, you'll cut these damn straps ... you'll give me a chance to +fight, man to man!" + +He did not lie with those words; his inference might have been deception +but that chance to fight man to man was the dearest privilege he could +have been offered. + +No primitive urge to punish with his own hands a man who had crossed him +made itself paramount with Lytton; he wanted Bayard to suffer, but the +means did not matter. If he could cause him injury and avoid the +consequence of personal accountability, so much the better, and it was +with a grunt of relief and triumph that he shoved the automatic into the +waist band of his pants, drew a knife from his pocket and grasped the +tightly knotted straps. + +"You bet, I'll help anybody against that dirty-- + +"Sit still!" he broke off, as Benny, quivering with excitement, strained +forward. "I'm likely to cut you if--" + +The blade slashed through the leather. Lynch floundered to his feet, +free, alone in the room with the man he had deliberately planned to +kill, and the overwhelming sense of impending achievement swept all +caution from him. + +He stumbled a step or two forward after the suddenly parting of the +straps set him free and then turned about to face Lytton, who stood +beside the chair closing his knife. Behind the Easterner was the +cupboard on which Bayard had placed Benny's gun, and the miner's first +idea should have been to restrain himself, to keep on playing a +strategic game, to move carefully, deliberately until he was armed and +could safely show his hand. + +But such control was an impossibility. He faced Ned Lytton who stood +there with an evil smile on his lips, and all the love for his dead +father, all the outraged sense of property rights, all the brooding, the +waiting, the accumulated tension caused something in him to swell until +he felt a choking sensation, until the hate came into his face, until he +drew his clenched fists upward and shook his head and bellowed and +charged, madly, blindly, wanting only to have his hands on his enemy, to +take his life as the first men took the lives of those who had done them +wrong! The feel of perishing flesh in his palms ... that was what he +wanted! + +With a shrill cry of fright, Lytton saw what happened. He saw the change +come over the face, the body, the manner of this man before him, saw +Lynch gather himself for the rush and, whipping his hand down to his +stomach as he backed and tried to run, he clutched for the weapon that +would defend him from this new foe. + +But the hand did not close on the pistol butt then. His wrist was caught +in the clamp of incredibly powerful fingers that bound about it and +wrenched it backward; the other hand was pinned to his side by an +encircling arm and the breath was beaten from him as Lynch's impact +sent them crashing into the wall. + +"You will, will you?" Benny snarled thickly. "Cheat an' steal an' ... +lie." + +They strained so for a moment, faces close together, the eyes of the +miner glittering hate, those of Lytton reflecting the mounting fear, +that possessed him. + +"Who are you?" he screamed. "You ... you snake!" + +"I'm Lynch ... Lynch! Son of an old man you cheated an' killed!" Benny +shouted. "I've waited for years for this.... 'T was Bayard, th' man you +hunted, tied me up so I couldn't ... kill you. But you ... walked into +your own trap...." + +"You sna--" + +Lytton's word was cut off by the jerk the miner gave him, dragging him +to the center of the floor, bending him backward, struggling to hold him +with one hand and secure the pistol with the other. Ned screamed again +and drew his knee up with a vigorous snap, jamming it into Benny's +stomach, sending the breath moaning from him. For the following moment +Lytton held the upper hand but Lynch clung to him instinctively, +unthinkingly, wrapping his arms and legs about Ned's body with a +determination to save himself until he could beat down the sickness that +threatened to overwhelm him. He did hold on, but his grip had lost some +of its strength and, when his vision cleared and his mind became agile +again, he felt Lytton's hand between their bodies, knew that it had +fastened on the weapon it had been seeking. He rallied his every force +to overcome that handicap. + +Ned's gun hand came free and he flung himself sideways in an effort to +turn and yank himself from Lynch, but the miner closed on him, caught +the forearm again in a mighty clamp of fingers and swept him smashing +against the one window of the room. The glass went out with a crash and +a jingle and the tough, dry wood of the frame snapped with a succession +of sharp reports. Blood gushed down Lytton's cheek where a jagged pane +had scratched the flesh as it fell and Lynch was conscious that warm +moisture spread over his own upper left arm. + +The Easterner braced against the window sill and grunted and squirmed +until he forced his adversary back a body's breadth.... Then he kicked +sharply, viciously and his boot toe crunched on Lynch's shin, sending a +paralyzing pain through the limb. They swirled and staggered to the far +end of the room in their struggles, the one bent on holding the other's +body close to his to controvert its ceaseless efforts to worm away; and +above their heads was the gun, gripped by fingers that were in turn +clinched in a huge, calloused palm and rendered helpless. + +"You snake!" Lytton cried again, and flung his head up sharply, catching +Lynch under the chin with a sharp click of bone on bone. + +They poised an instant at that, lurched clumsily against the stove and +sent it toppling from its legs while the pipe sections rattled hollowly +down about them, and a cloud of soot rose to fill their eyes. They +lunged into the wall again and hung against it a long, straining moment, +breathless in their efforts; then, grunting as Lytton wriggled violently +to escape, Benny steadily tightened his hold on him. + +Intervals of dogged waiting followed, after which came frantic +contortions as they lost and gathered strength again. Lytton's face was +covered with blood and some of it smeared on Lynch's cheek. Sweat made +their flesh glisten and then became mud as the soot mantled them. +Occasionally one called out in a curse, or in an exclamation of pain, +but much of the time their jaws were set, their lips tight, for both +knew that this fight was to the end; that their battle could finish in +but one of two ways. + +Each time they faced the cupboard Benny shot a glance at its top. His +gun was there; to reach it was his first hope, but he dared not +relinquish for a fractional second his dogged grip on the other man's +hand. + +Lytton renewed his efforts, kicking and bunting. They waltzed awkwardly +across the floor on a diagonal and Benny, backing swiftly on to the +overturned chair to which he had been bound, tripped and lost his +balance again. They went down with mingled cries, Lytton on top. For an +instant he retained the position and threatened to break away, but Benny +rolled over, hooking the other's limbs to helplessness with his own. He +withdrew his right arm from about Lytton's waist and grappled for the +man's throat while Ned writhed and kicked, flung his head from side to +side and struck desperately with his own free fist against the +throttling fingers. He loosed one leg and threshed it frantically, found +a bearing point against the wrecked stove, bowed his body with a +wracking effort and for an instant was out from under, restrained only +by the hot, hard fingers about his gun hand. He strove to reach up and +transfer the pistol to his left, but Benny was the quicker and they rose +to their feet, scrambling and snarling as they sought fresh holds. + +Lynch had the advantage of weight but Lytton's agility offset the +handicap. His muscles might not be able to endure so long a strain, but +they responded more quickly to his thoughts, took lightninglike +advantage of any opportunity offered. The fact enraged Benny and, giving +way to it, he called on his precious reserve of energy for a super +effort, lifted Ned from his feet and spun about as though he would dash +his body against the wall. But Ned met this new move with the strength +of the frenzied, and, when they had made three-quarters of the turn, +Lynch was overbalanced; he stumbled, lurched and with a crash and a rip +they went against the battered old cupboard. + +The jolt steadied the men, but the big fixture, rocking slowly, went +over sideways with a smash of breaking dishes and a rattling, banging of +pans. And from its top, spinning and sliding across the cluttered floor, +went Benny's big blue Colt gun. + +Both men saw at once and on sight of that other weapon their battle +became reversed. Lynch, glassy eyed, struggled to extricate himself now, +to retain his hold on Lytton's hand that held the automatic, but to free +his other, to stoop and recover his own revolver. Ned understood fully +on the first move. He wrenched repeatedly to gain use of the automatic, +but he clung with arms and legs and teeth to Lynch ... wherever he could +find purchase. He succeeded at first in working the fight back into a +corner away from the revolver, but his strength was not lasting. + +Benny redoubled his efforts and slowly they shifted again toward the +center of the room where the reflected sunlight made the blue metal of +the Colt glisten as it lay in the wreckage. They both breathed aloud now +and Lytton moaned at each acute effort he made to meet and check his +enemy's moves. With painful slowness, with ominous steadiness, they made +back toward Lynch's objective, inch by inch, zigzagging across the +floor, hesitating, swaying backward, but always keeping on. The violence +of their earlier struggle had departed; they were more deliberate, more +cautious, but the equality of their ability had gone. Lytton was +yielding. + +Benny got to within four feet of the revolver, gained another hand's +breadth by a strain that set the veins of his forehead into purple +welts. He bent sideways, forcing Ned's right hand with its pistol slowly +down toward the floor. Then, with a slip and a scramble, Lytton left +off his restraining hold, flung himself backward, spun his body about +and with a cry of desperation put every iota of energy into an attempt +to wrest his right hand from Benny's clutch. + +Lynch let him go, but with a motive; for as he released his grip, he +swung his right fist mightily, following it with the whole weight of his +falling body. The blow caught Lytton on the back of the neck, staggered +him, sent him pitching sideways toward the doorway and as Lynch, +pouncing to the floor on hands and knees, fastened his fingers on his +gun, Ned flashed a look over his shoulder, saw, knew that he could never +turn and fire in time, and plunged on through the doorway, falling face +downward into the dust, rolling over and fronting about ... out of the +miner's sight ... pistol covering the door and broken window where Benny +must appear ... if he were to appear. + +And the miner, within the ruined room, knees bent, torso doubled +forward, gun in his hand, cocked, uplifted, waited for some sound, some +indication from out there. None came and he straightened slowly, backing +against the wall, wiping the sweat from his eyes one at a time that his +vigilance might not be relaxed, gun ready to belch the instant Lytton +should show himself ... if he were to show himself. + +So they watched, hidden from one another, each knowing that his enemy +waited only for him to make a move, each aware that he could not bring +the other into range without exposing himself. After the bang and +clatter of their hand to hand struggle, the silence was oppressive, and +Benny, head turned to catch the slightest sound, thought that he could +hear the quick come and go of Lytton's breath. + +The man inside quivered with impatience; the one who waited in that +white sunlight cowered and paled as the flush of exertion ebbed from his +daubed face. Benny, whose whole purpose in life centered about squaring +his account, as he saw it, with the man outside yearned to show himself, +but held back, not through fear of harm, but because he knew that the +fulfillment of his mission depended wholly upon his own bodily welfare. +Lytton, quailing before the actual presence of great danger, of meeting +a foe on equal footing, of fighting without resort to surprise or +fouling, wanted to be away, to be quit of the place at any cost. He +would have run for it, but he knew that the sounds of his movements +would bring Lynch on his heels. He would have attempted to get away by +stealth but he feared that he might encounter Bayard in any direction. +He did not stop to think that he had no reason for fearing the cowman; +his very guilt, his subconscious disrespect of self, made him regard an +open meeting with Bruce as one of danger. + +So for many minutes, the tension of the situation becoming greater, more +unbearable with each pulse beat. + +Then sounds--faint at first. The rattle of a stone rolling over rock, +the distant swish of brush. A silent interval, followed by the sound of +a gasping cough; then, the faint, clear ring of a spur as the boot to +which it was strapped set itself firmly on solid footing. + +Within the house Lynch could not hear, but Lytton, alert to every +possibility, dreading even the sound of his own breathing, turned his +head sharply.... + +There, below, making up the trail as fast as his exhausted limbs could +carry him, came Bruce Bayard, hat in one hand, arms swinging widely as +he strained to climb faster. He turned an angle of the trail and for the +space of thirty yards the way led across a ledge of smooth, flat rock, +screened by no trees and bearing no vegetation whatever. + +Fear again retreated from Lytton's heart before a fresh rush of wrath +that blinded him and made him heedless. He whirled, leaving off his +watching of the cabin door and window. His gun hand came up, slowly, +carefully, while he gritted his teeth to steady his muscles. He sighted +with care, bringing all his knowledge of marksmanship to bear that there +should be no error, that no possible luck of Bayard's should avail him +anything.... + +And from above and behind the cabin rose a woman's voice: + +"Look out, Bruce!" + +Just those words, but the bell-like quality of the voice itself, the +horror in its shrill tone carrying sharply to them, echoing and +re-echoing down the gulch, struck a chill to the hearts of three men. + +The words had not left Ann's lips before the automatic in Ned's hand +leaped and flashed and the echo of the woman's warning cry was followed +by the smashing reverberations of the shot. But her scream had availed; +it had sent a tremor through Lytton's body even as he fired, and, as +Bayard halted abruptly in the center of the open space without barrier +before him or weapon with which to answer, absolutely at Lytton's mercy, +his hat was torn from his left hand. + +"You whelp!" Ned cried, and on the word took one more step forward, +halted, dropped the weapon on its mark again and paused for the merest +fraction of time. His muscles became plastic, as steady as stone under +the strain of this crisis. He did not hear the quick step on the kitchen +floor, he could not see Benny Lynch half fall through the doorway, but +when the miner's gun, held stiffly out from his hip, roared and belched +and remained steady, ready to shoot again, Ned lowered the weapon just a +trifle. + +A queer, strained grin came over his face and, standing erect, he turned +his head stiffly, jerkily toward Benny who stood crouched and waiting. +Then, very slowly, almost languidly, his gun hand lowered itself. When +it was almost beside his thigh, the fingers opened and the pistol +dropped with a light thud to the earth. Ned lifted the other hand to his +chest and still grinning, as if a joke had been made at his expense +which quite embarrassed him, he let his knees bend as though he would +kneel. He did not follow out the movement. He wilted and fell. He tried +to sit up, feebly, impotently. Then, he lay back with a quick sigh. + +The other two men stood fixed for a moment. Then, with a cry, Bayard +started up the slope at a run. He did not look again at Benny, did not +know that the miner walked slowly forward to where Lytton had fallen. +All he saw was the figure of a hatless woman, face covered with her +hands, leaning against a great boulder twenty yards above the cabin, and +he did not take his eyes from her during one step of the floundering +run. + +"Ann!" he called, as he drew near. "Ann!" + +She turned with a quick, terrified movement and looked at him. He saw +that her face was a mask, her eyes feverishly dry. + +"He didn't--" + +"No, Ann, he didn't," he answered, taking her hands in his, his voice +unsteady. "Benny ... he fired last ... an' there'll be no more +shootin'...." + +She swayed toward him. + +"I sent for you," she began, brushing the hair out of her eyes with the +back of one hand. + +"An' I came, Ann." + +"I ... It was only chance ... that I saw him and ... screamed...." + +"But you did; an' it saved me." + +"I sent for you, Bruce.... To take me away ... from Ned.... To take me +away from him ... with you...." + +She stepped closer and with a quivering sigh lifted her arms wearily and +clasped them about his neck, while Bayard, heart pounding, gathered her +body close against his as the tears came and great convulsions of grief +shook her. + +He leaned back against the rock, holding her entire weight in his arms, +and they were there for minutes, his lips caressing her hair, her +temples, her cheeks. Her crying quieted, and, when she no longer sobbed +aloud, he turned his head to look downward. + +Benny Lynch was just then straightening from a stooping posture beside +Lytton. He turned away, took a cartridge from his belt, slipped it into +the chamber from which the empty piece of smoky brass had been removed +and shoved the gun back into his holster. As it went home, he looked +down at it curiously, stared a moment, drew it out again and examined it +slowly, first one side, then the other. He shook his head and threw the +weapon down the gulch, where it clattered on the rocks. After that, he +walked toward the house, and about his movements was an indication of +the sense of finality, of accomplishment, that filled him. + +"I'll take you away, Sweetheart," Bayard whispered, gently. "But it +won't be necessary to take you ... away from Ned...." + +She shrank closer against him. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE TRAILS UNITE + + +So it was that Ned Lytton ceased to be and with his going went all +barriers that had existed between Ann and Bruce. Each had played a part +in the grim drama which ended with violence, yet to neither could any +echo of blame for Ned's death be attached. Their hands and hearts were +clean. + +Ann's appeal to Bruce for help when Ned led her away from the ranch had +been made because she knew that real danger of some sort awaited Ned at +the Sunset mine; she had not considered herself or her own safety at +all. + +Bruce, for his part, had concentrated his last energy on averting the +tragedy. He had looked for the moment on his love of Ann only as a +factor which had helped bring about the crisis, thereby making him +accountable. To play the game as he saw it, to be squared with his own +conscience, he had risked everything, even his life, in his attempt to +save Lytton. + +Ned's true self had come to the surface just long enough to answer all +questions that might have been raised after his death. In that last +experience of his life he had risen above his cowardice. After hearing +Ann's warning scream, he must have known that to fire on Bayard the +second time meant his own death. Yet he was not dissuaded, just kept on +attempting to satiate his lust for the rancher's life. So, utterly +revealed, he died. + +The fourth individual was to be considered--Benny Lynch. Through the +months that he had brooded over the injustice which sent his father to a +quick end, through the weeks that he had planned to administer his own +justice, through the straining days that he had waited to kill, a part +of him had been stifled. That part was the kindly, deliberate, peace +loving Benny, and so surely as he was slow to anger he would have lived +to find himself tortured by regret had he slain for revenge. As it was, +he shot to save the life of a friend ... and only that. He lived to +thank the scheme of things that had called on him to untangle the skein +which events had snarled about Bruce and the woman he loved ... for it +took from him the stain of killing for revenge. + +Somehow, Bruce got Ann away from the Sunset mine that day. She was brave +and struggled to bear up, but after the strain of those last weeks the +fatigue of the ride Ned had forced her to take unnerved her and she was +like a child when they gained the Boyd ranch where she was taken to the +maternal arms of the mistress of that house, to be petted and cried over +and comforted. + +In his rattling, jingling buckboard Judson Weyl drove out to the mining +camp and beside a rock-covered grave murmured a prayer for the soul +which had gone out from the body buried there; when he drove away, his +chin was higher, his face brighter, reflecting the thought within him +that an ugly past must be forgotten, that the future assured those +qualities which would make it forgettable. + +News of the killing roused Yavapai. In the first hour the community's +attention was wholly absorbed in the actual affair at the mine, but, as +the story lost its first edge of interest, inquisitive minds commenced +to follow it backward, to trace out the steps which had led to the +tragedy. + +Ann's true identity became known. The fact that Bayard had sheltered +Lytton was revealed. After that the gossip mongers insinuated and +speculated. No one had known what was going on; when men hide their +relationships with others and with women it must be necessary to hide +something, they argued. + +And then the clergyman, waiting for this, came forward with his story. +He had known; his wife had known. Nora, the girl who had gone, had +known. No, there had been no deception in Bayard's attitude; merely +discretion. With that the talk ceased, for Yavapai looked up to its +clergy. + +Within the fortnight Ann boarded a train bound for the East. Her face +had not regained its color, but the haunted look was gone from her eyes, +the tensity from about her lips. She was in a state of mental and +spiritual convalescence, with hope and happiness in sight to hasten the +process of healing. Going East for the purpose of explaining, of making +what amends she could for Ned's misdeeds, was an ordeal, but she +welcomed it for it was the last condition she deemed necessary to set +her free. + +"It won't be long," she said, assuringly, when Bruce stood before her to +say farewell, forlorn and lonely looking already. + +"It can't be too quick," he answered. + +"Impatient?" + +"I'd wait till 'th' stars grow old an' th' sun grows cold'" he quoted +with his slow smile, "but ... it wouldn't be a pleasant occupation." + +She looked at him earnestly. + +"You might; you could," she whispered, "but _I_ wouldn't wait ... that +long...." + + * * * * * + +Weeks had passed and October was offering its last glorious days. Not +with madly colored leaves and lazy hazes of Indian summer that are gifts +to men in the hardwood belt, but with the golden light, the infinite +distances, the super silence which comes alone to Northern Arizona. The +green was gone from grasses and those trees which drop their foliage +were clothed only in the withered remains of leaves, but color of +incredible variety was there--the mauves, the lavendars, the blues and +purples and ochres of rock and soil, changing with the swinging sun, +becoming bold and vivid or only a tint and modest as the light rays +played across the valley from various angles. The air, made crystal by +the crisp nights, brought within the eyes' register ranges and peaks +that were of astonishing distance. The wind was most gentle, coming in +leisurely breaths and between its sighs the silence was immaculate, +ravished by no jar or hum; even the birds were subdued before it. + +On a typical October morning, before the sun had shoved itself above the +eastern reaches of the valley, two men awoke in the new bunkhouse that +had been erected at the Circle A ranch. They were in opposite beds, and, +as they lifted their heads and stared hard at one another with that +momentary bewilderment which follows the sleep of virile, active men, +the shorter flung back his blankets and swung his feet to the floor. He +rubbed his tousled hair and yawned and stretched. + +"Awake!" he said, sleepily, and shook himself, "... +awake,"--brightening. "Awake, for 'tis thy weddin' morn!" + +The speaker was Tommy Clary and on his words Bruce Bayard grinned +happily from his pillow. + +"... weddin' morn ..." he murmured, as he sat up and reached for his +boots at the head of his bunk. + +"Yes, you wake up this mornin', frisky an' young an' full of th' love of +life an' liberty, just like them pictures of th' New Year comin' in! An' +by sundown you'll be roped an' tied for-good-an'-for-all-by-God, an' t' +won't be long before you look like th' old year goin' out!" + +He grinned, as he drew on his shirt, then dodged, as Bayard's heavy hat +sailed at him. + +"It's goin' to be th' other way round, Tommy," the big fellow cried. +"We're going to turn time backward to-day!" + +"Yes, I guess _you_ are, all right," deliberated Tommy. "Marriage has +always seemed to me like payin' taxes for somethin' you owned or goin' +to jail for havin' too much fun; always like payin' for somethin'. But +yourn ain't. Not much." + +Bruce laughed. They talked in a desultory way until they had dressed. +Then Bayard walked to the other side of the room where a sheet had been +tacked and hung down over bulky objects. He pulled it aside and stood +back that Tommy might see the clothing that hung against the wall. + +"How's that for raiment?" he demanded. + +Tommy approached and lifted the skirt of the black sack coat gingerly, +critically. He turned it back, inspected the lining and then put his +hand to his lips to signify shock. + +"Oh, my gosh, Bruce! Silk linin'! You'll be curlin' your hair next!" + +"Nothing too good for this fracus, Tommy. Best suit of clothes I could +get made in Prescott. Those shoes--patent leather!" He picked up one and +blew a fleck of dust from it carefully. "Cost th' price of a pair of +boots an' don't look like they'd wear a mile." He reached into the +pocket of the coat and drew out a small package, unrolling it to +display a necktie. "Pearl gray, they call it, Tommy. An' swell as a city +bartender's!" He waved it in triumph before the sparkling eyes of his +pug-nosed friend. + +"Gosh, Bruce, you're goin' to be done out like a buck peacock, clean +from your toes up. You-- + +"Say, what are you goin' to wear on your head?" + +Bayard's hand dropped to his side and a crestfallen look crossed his +features. + +"I'm a sheepherder, if I didn't forget," he muttered. + +"Holy Smoke, Bruce, you can't wear an ordinary cowpuncher hat with them +varnished shoes an' that there necktie an' that dude suit!" + +"I guess I'll have to, or go bareheaded." + +Tommy looked at him earnestly for he thought that this oversight +mattered, and his simple, loyal heart was touched. + +"Never mind, Bruce," he consoled. "It'll be all right, prob'ly. She +won't--" + +"You go out and make me a crown of mistletoe, Tommy. Why, she wouldn't +like me not to be somethin' of my regular, everyday self. She'll like +these clothes, but she'll like my old hat, too!" + +Tommy seemed to be relieved. + +"Yes, maybe she will," he agreed. "She's kinda sensible, Bruce. She +ain't th' kind of a woman to jump her weddin' 'cause of a hat." + +Bayard, in a sudden ecstasy of animal spirits, picked the small cowboy +up in his arms and tossed him toward the ceiling, as if he were a child, +and stopped only when Tommy wound his arms about his neck in a +strangling clasp. + +"Le'me down, an' le'me show you my outfit!" he cried. "Don't get stuck +on yourself an' think you're goin' to be th' only city feller at this +party!" + +Breathlessly Bayard laughed as he put him down and followed him to the +bunk where he had slept with his war-bag for a pillow. Tommy seated +himself, lifted the sack to his lap and, with fingers to his lips for +silence, untied the strings. + +"Levi's!" he whispered, hoarsely, as he drew out a pair of brand new +overalls and shook them out proudly. "I ain't a reg'lar swell like you +are," he exclaimed, "but even if I am poor I wear clean pants at +weddin's!" + +He groped in the bag again and drew out a scarf of gorgeous pink silk. + +"Ain't that a eligent piece of goods?" he demanded, holding it out in +the early sunlight. + +"It is that, Tommy!" + +"But that ain't all. Hist!" + +He shifted about, hiding the bag behind his body that the surprise might +be complete. Then, with a swift movement he held aloft proudly a +stiff-bosomed shirt. + +"Ah!" he breathed as it was revealed entirely. "How's that for tony?" + +"That's great!" + +"Reg'lar armor plate, Bruce! I've gentled th' damn thing, too! Worked +with him 'n hour yesterday. He bucked an' rared an' tried to fall over +backwards with me, but I showed him reason after a while! Just proves +that if a man sets his mind on anythin' he can do it ... even if it's +bein' swell!" + +Bruce laughed his assent and remarked to himself that the array of +smudgy thumb prints about the collar band was eloquent evidence of the +struggle poor Tommy had experienced. + +"But this!" the other breathed, plunging again into the bag. "This here +is--" + +He broke short. "Why, you pore son-of-a-gun!" he whispered as he +produced his collar. + +Originally it had been a three-inch poke collar, but it was bent and +broken and smeared on one side with a broad patch of dirty brown. + +"Gosh a'mighty, Tommy, you've gone an' crippled your collar!" Bruce said +in rebuke. + +"Crippled is right, an' that ain't all! Kind of a sick lookin' pinto, he +is, with that bay spot on him." He looked up foolishly. "I ought to put +that plug in my pocket. You see, I rode out fast, an' this collar an' my +eatin' tobacco was in th' bottom of th' bag tied on behind my saddle. +Nig sweat an' it soaked through an' wet th' tobacco an' ... desecrated +my damn collar!" + +He rose resolutely. + +"A li'l thing like that can't make me quit!" he cried. "I rode this here +thing with its team-mate yesterday. I won't be stampeded by no change +in color. I've done my family wash in every stream between th' Spanish +Peaks an' California. I won't stop at this!" + +He strode from the bunk house and Bruce, looking through the window, saw +him lift a bucket of water from the well and commence to scrub his +daubed collar vigorously. + +Smoke rose from the chimney of the ranch house and through the kitchen +doorway Bayard saw a woman pass with quick, intent stride. It was Mrs. +Boyd. She and Mrs. Weyl had arrived the day before to set the house +aright and to deck the rooms in mountain greenery--mistletoe, juniper +berries and other decorative growth. + +The new bunkhouse, erected when plans for the wedding were first made, +had been occupied for the first time by Bruce and Tommy that night. +Tommy was to return in the spring and put his war-bag under the bunk for +good, because Bruce was going in for more cattle and would be unable to +handle the work alone. + +A half hour later the men presented themselves for breakfast, to be +utterly ignored by the bustling women. They were given coffee and steak +and made to sit on the kitchen steps while they ate, that they might not +be in the way. Bruce was amused and rebuked the women gently for the +seriousness with which they went about their work, but for Tommy the +whole procedure was a grave matter. He ate distractedly, hurriedly, +covering his embarrassment by astonishing gastronomic feats, glancing +sidelong at Bayard whenever the rancher spoke to the others, as though +those scarcely heeded remarks were something which made heavy demands +upon human courage. + +The interior of the house had been changed greatly. The kitchen range +was new, the walls were papered instead of covered with whitewash. The +room in which Ned Lytton had slept and fretted and come back toward +health was no longer a bed chamber. Its windows had been increased to +four that the light might be of the best. Its floor was painted and +carpeted with new Navajo blankets and a bear skin. A piano stood against +one wall and on either side of the new fireplace were shelves weighted +with books that were to be opened and read and discussed by the light of +the new reading lamp which stood on the heavy library table. + +Tommy was obviously relieved when his meal was finished. He drew a long +sigh when, wiping his mouth on a jumper sleeve, he stepped from the +house and followed Bruce toward the corral where the saddle horses ate +hay. + +"It's a wonder you ain't ruined that horse, th' way you baby him," Clary +remarked, when Bayard, brush in hand, commenced grooming Abe's sleek +coat. "Now, with my Nig horse there, I figure that if he's full inside, +he's had his share. I'm afraid that if I brushed him every day he'd get +dudish an' unreliable, like me.... I'm ready to do a lot of rarin' an' +runnin' every time I get good an' clean!" + +"I guess th' care Abe's had hasn't hurt him much," Bruce replied. "He +was ready when the pinch came; th' groomin' I'd been givin' him didn't +have much to do with it, I know, but th' fact that we were pals ... that +counted." + +His companion sobered and answered. + +"You're right, there, Bruce, he sure done some tall travelin' that day." + +"If he hadn't been ready ... we wouldn't be plannin' a weddin' this +noon. That's how much it counted!" + +Tommy moved closer and twined his fingers in the sorrel's mane. Neither +spoke for a moment; then Clary blurted: + +"She's got th' same kind of stuff, Bruce, or she wouldn't come through +neither. Abe made th' run of his life and wasn't hurt by it; she went +through about four sections of hell an'.... She looked like a Texas rose +when she got off th' train last week!" + +Bayard rapped the dust from his brush and answered: + +"You're right; they're alike, Tommy. It takes heart, courage, to go +through things that Ann an' Abe went through ... different kinds. It +wasn't so much what happened at th' mine. It was th' years she'd put in, +abused, fearin', tryin' not to hate. That was what took th' sand, th' +nerve. If she hadn't been th' right sort, she'd have crumpled up under +it." + +Clary said nothing for a time but eyed Bruce carefully, undisguised +affection in his scrutiny. Then he spoke, + +"My guess is that you two'll set a new pace on this here trail to +happiness!" + + * * * * * + +The forenoon dragged. Bruce completed the small tasks of morning and +hunted for more duties to occupy his hands. The women would not allow +him in the house, and beneath his controlled exterior he was in a fury +of impatience. From time to time he glanced speculatively at the sun; +then referred to his watch to affirm his judgment of the day's growth. + +Ann was still at the Boyd ranch and old Hi was to drive her to her new +home before noon. Judson Weyl, who was to marry them, had been called +away the day before but had given his word that he would leave Yavapai +in time to reach the ranch with an ample margin, for Bruce insisted that +there be no hitch in the plans. Long before either was due the big +rancher frequently scanned the country to the north and east for signs +of travelers. + +"You're about as contented as a hen with a lost chicken," Tommy +observed. + +Bruce smiled slightly and scratched his chin. + +"Well, I'd hate to have anything delay this round-up." + +Another hour dragged out before his repeated gazing was rewarded. Then, +off in the east, a smudge of dust resolved itself into a team and wagon. + +"That's Hi with Ann!" he said excitedly. "Our sky pilot ought to be here +soon." + +"Lots of time yet," Tommy assured. "He won't be leavin' town for a +couple of hours." + +"Maybe not, Tommy, but I don't trust that chariot of fire. I'm afraid +it'll give its death rattle almost any time, dump our parson in th' road +an' stop our weddin'. That'd be bad!" + +Tommy roused to the dire possibilities of the situation. + +"It would," he agreed. "It takes a preacher, a fool or a brave man to +trust himself in a ve-hicle like that. He ought to come horseback. He-- + +"Say, Bruce, why can't I saddle up an' lead a horse in after him? I can +make it easy. That'd keep you from worryin'. Matter of fact, between th' +women in th' house an' you with your fussin' outdoors I'm afraid my +nerves won't stand it all! I've been through stampedes on th' Pecos, an' +blizzards in Nebraska; I've been lost in Death Valley an' I've had a +silver tip try to box my ears, but I just naturally can't break myself +to p'lite society!" + +"I don't believe you, but your idea wins," Bayard laughed. "Go on after +him. Take ... Say, you take Abe for him to ride back! That's th' thing +to do. You put th' parson on Abe an' we'll be as certain to start this +fracas on time as I am that his 'bus is apt to secede from itself on th' +road any minute!" + +Bruce sent Abe away with Tommy. Ann arrived. Twenty minutes before the +time set for the simple ceremony Abe brought the clergyman through the +big gate of the Circle A with his swinging trot, ears up, head alert, as +though with conscious pride. + +"The fact is, Bruce, I'd have been late, if Tommy hadn't come after me," +Weyl confessed as he dismounted. + +"So? I've been expectin' somethin' would happen to you. What was it?" + +"Why, Nicodemus, my off horse, kicked four spokes out of a front wheel +and, when we were putting on another, we found that the axle was +hopelessly cracked." + +"I knew that chariot would quit sometime, but this horse, th' stallion +shod with fire ... he don't know what quittin' is!" + + * * * * * + +The sun was slipping toward the western horizon when the last of the few +who had attended the ceremony passed from sight. For a long time Bruce +and Ann stood under the ash tree, watching them depart, hearing the last +sounds of wheel and hoof and voice break in on the evening quiet. + +The girl was wonderfully happy. The strained look about her eyes, the +quick, nervous gestures that had characterized her after the tragedy of +Ned Lytton's death and before her return to the East, were gone. A +splendid look of peace was upon her; one life was gone, thrown away as a +piece of botched work; another was opening. + +Far away to the north and eastward snow-covered peaks, triplets, rose +against the bright blue of the sky. As Bruce and Ann looked they lost +the silver whiteness and became flushed with the pink of dying day. The +distant, pine-covered heights had become blue, the far draws were +gathering their purple mists of evening. The lilac of the valley's +coloring grew fainter, more delicate, while the deep mauves of a range +of hills to the southward deepened towards a dead brown. Over all, that +incomparable silence, the inexplicable peace that comes with evening in +those big places. No need to dwell further on this for you who have +watched and felt and become lost in it; useless to attempt more for the +uninitiate. + +Ann's arm slipped into her husband's and she whispered: + +"Evening on Manzanita! Is there anything more beautiful?" + +Bayard smiled. + +"Not unless it's daytime," he said. "You know, Ann, for a long, long +time it's seemed to me as though there's been a shadow on that valley. +Even on the brightest days it ain't looked like it should. But now.... +Why, even with the sun goin' down, it seems to me as if that shadow's +lifted! + +"I feel freer, too. This fenced-in feelin' that I've had is gone. I ... +Why, I feel like life, the world, was all open to me, smilin' at me, +waitin' for me, just like that old valley out there. + +"What do you s'pose makes it so?" + +"Must I tell you?" she asked, reaching her arms upward for his neck. + +"Tell me," he said. "With your lips, but without words. That's a kind of +riddle, I guess! Do you know the answer?" + +Indeed, she did! + + +THE END + + * * * * * + +The Beacon Biographies + +_Edited by M. A. DeWOLFE HOWE_ + + +A Series of short biographies of eminent Americans, the aim of which is +to furnish brief, readable, and authentic accounts by competent writers +of the lives of those Americans whose personalities have impressed +themselves most deeply on the character and history of their country. + + Louis Agassiz, by Alice Bache Gould + John James Audubon, by John Burroughs + Edwin Booth, by Charles Townsend Copeland + Phillips Brooks, by M. A. DeWolfe Howe + John Brown, by Joseph Edgar Chamberlin + Aaron Burr, by Henry Childs Merwin + James Fenimore Cooper, by W. B. Shubrick Clymer + Stephen Decatur, by Cyrus Townsend Brady + Frederick Douglass, by Charles W. Chesnutt + Ralph Waldo Emerson, by Frank B. Sanborn + David G. Farragut, by James Barnes + John Fiske, by Thomas Sergeant Perry + Benjamin Franklin, by Lindsay Swift + Ulysses S. Grant, by Owen Wister + Alexander Hamilton, by James Schouler + James Russell Lowell, by Edward E. Hale, Jr. + Samuel Finley Breese Morse By John Trowbridge + Thomas Paine, by Ellery Sedgwick + Edgar Allan Poe, by John Macy + George Washington, by Worthington C. Ford + Daniel Webster, by Norman Hapgood + Walt Whitman, by Isaac Hull Platt + John Greenleaf Whittier, by Richard Burton + Nathaniel Hawthorne, by Mrs. James T. Fields + Father Hecker, by Henry D. Sedgwick, Jr. + Sam Houston, by Sarah Barnwell Elliott + Stonewall Jackson, by Carl Hovey + Thomas Jefferson, by Thomas E. Watson + Robert E. Lee, by William P. Trent + Abraham Lincoln, by Brand Whitlock + Henry Wadsworth Longfellow By George Rice Carpenter + + +With a photogravure frontispiece. Each volume has a chronology of the +salient features of the life of its subject, and a critical bibliography +giving the student the best references for further research. Sold +separately. + + * * * * * + +Business + +The Psychology of Advertising + +The Theory and Practice of Advertising + +By WALTER DILL SCOTT + + +Practical books based on facts, painstakingly ascertained and +suggestively compared. "The Psychology of Advertising" and "The Theory +and Practice of Advertising" together form a well-rounded treatment of +the whole subject, a standard set for every man with anything to make +known to the public. The author is Director of the Bureau of +Salesmanship Research, Carnegie Institute of Technology, Director of the +psychological laboratory of Northwestern University, and President of +the National Association of Advertising Teachers. He has written many +other important books, including "The Psychology of Public Speaking," +"Influencing Men in Business," and "Increasing Human Efficiency in +Business." + +Professor Scott's books "will be found of value both by the psychologist +and the advertiser, and of unique interest to the general public that +reads advertisements."--_Forum_. + +"Ought to be in the hands of everyone who cares whether or not his +advertising brings returns."--_Bankers' Magazine._ + + * * * * * + +Cookery + +Over 2000 Recipes Completely Indexed Illustrated + +[Illustration] + +OFFICIAL LECTURER United States Food Administration + + +_The_ LITERARY DIGEST _says_: + +Of all the books that have been published which treat of the culinary +art, few have came so near to presenting a complete survey of the +subject as Mrs. Allen's. If evidence were needed to prove that cookery +is so much of a practical art as to have become a noble science, Mrs. +Allen has supplied it. There are more than two thousand recipes in this +book! No reader need be an epicure to enjoy the practical information +that is garnered here. The burden of the author's message is, "Let every +mother realize that she holds in her hands the health of the family and +the welfare and the progress of her husband ... and she will lay a +foundation ... that will make possible glorious home partnership and +splendid health for the generations that are to be." + +In times of Hooverized economy, such a volume will find a welcome, +because the author strips from her subject all the camouflage with which +scientists and pseudoscientists have invested in. The mystery of the +calory, that causes the average housewife to throw up her hands, is +tersely solved. The tyro may learn how to prepare the simplest dish or +the most elaborate. The woman who wants to know what to do and how to do +it will find the book a master-key to the subject of which it treats. + + * * * * * + +Drama + +Play-Making + +A Manual of Craftsmanship + +By WILLIAM ARCHER + + +"I make bold to say," says Brander Matthews, Professor of Dramatic +Literature in Columbia University, "that Mr. Archer's is the best book +that has yet been written in our language, or in any other, on the art +and science of play-making. A score of serried tomes on this scheme +stand side by side on my shelves, French and German, American and +British; and in no one of them do I discern the clearness, the +comprehensiveness, the insight, and the understanding that I find in Mr. +Archer's illuminating pages. + +"He tells the ardent aspirant how to choose his themes; how to master +the difficult art of exposition--that is, how to make his first act +clear; how to arouse curiosity for what is to follow; how to hang up the +interrogation mark of expectancy; how to combine, as he goes on, tension +and suspension; how to preserve probability and to achieve logic for +construction; how to attain climax and to avoid anti-climax; and how to +bring his play to a close." + + * * * * * + +Educational + +The Land We Live In + +_The Book of Conservation_ + +By OVERTON W. PRICE + +_With an Introduction by_ + +GIFFORD PINCHOT + + +"This book will have a very wide distribution, not only in libraries, +but also in the schools." ROBERT P. BASS + +(Former Governor of New Hampshire, and President of the American +Forestry Association) + +"It is the best primer on general conservation for older people that I +have ever seen, and the good it will do will be measured only by the +circulation it receives." + +J. B. WHITE + +(President of the National Conservation Congress) + +"I wish it were possible to have the volume made a text book for every +public school." + +WILLIAM EDWARD COFFIN + +(Vice-President and Chairman of the Committee on Game Protective +Legislation and Preserves, Camp Fire Club of America) + +_With 136 illustrations selected from 50,000 photographs_ + +BOY SCOUT EDITION--JACKET IN COLORS + + * * * * * + +Fiction + +The Best Short Stories of 1915, 1916, 1917 + +Edited by EDWARD J. O'BRIEN + +From every point of view--from that of the actual probabilities of +reading enjoyment to be derived from it by all sorts of readers; from +that of the vivid and varied, but always valid, concernment with life +that it maintains; from that of technical literary interest in American +letters, and from that of sheer esthetic response to artistic +quality--THE BEST SHORT STORIES warrants an emphatic and unconditional +recommendation to all.--_Life._ + +Indispensable to every student of American fiction, and will furnish +each successive year a critical and historical survey of the art such as +does not exist in any other form.--_Boston Transcript._ + + * * * * * + +War + +Beyond the Marne + +By HENRIETTE CUVRU-MAGOT + +Mademoiselle Henriette is the little friend and neighbor of Miss Mildred +Aldrich (author of "A Hilltop on the Marne," "On the Edge of the War +Zone," etc.), who came to Miss Aldrich the day after the Germans were +driven away on the other side of the Marne to suggest that they visit +the battlefield. Her book might be called truly a companion volume to "A +Hilltop on the Marne." + + * * * * * + +War + +Covered With Mud and Glory + +_A Machine Gun Company in Action_ + +By GEORGES LAFOND + +Sergeant-Major, Territorial Hussars, French Army; Intelligence Officer, +Machine Gun Sections, French Colonial Infantry. + +_Translated by_ EDWIN GILE RICH + +_With an Introduction by_ MAURICE BARRES of the French Academy + +The Book with GEORGES CLEMENCEAU'S Famous "Tribute to the Soldiers of +France" + + +_Illustrated_ + + * * * * * + +War + +On the Edge of the War Zone + +From the Battle of the Marne to the Entrance of the Stars and Stripes + +By MILDRED ALDRICH + + +The long-awaited continuation of "A Hilltop on the Marne." + +Portrait frontispiece in photogravure and other illustrations. Cloth, +bound uniformly with the same author's "A Hilltop on the Marne" and +"Told in a French Garden." + +Miss Aldrich tells what has happened from the day when the Germans were +turned back almost at her very door, to the never-to-be-forgotten moment +when the news reached France that the United States had entered the war. + + * * * * * + +Told in a French Garden: August, 1914 + +By MILDRED ALDRICH + + +With a portrait frontispiece in photogravure from a sketch of the author +by Pierre-Emile Cornillier. + +Unlike Miss Aldrich's other books, "Told in a French Garden" is a +venture in fiction. + + * * * * * + +War + +The White Flame of France + +By MAUDE RADFORD WARREN + +Author of "Peter Peter," "Barbara's Marriages," etc. + + +The front-line trenches at Rheims during a bombardment when the shells +were whistling over, two Zeppelin raids in London, the heroic services +of devoted actors and actresses when they played for the soldiers of +Verdun, the irony of the mad slaughter, the indestructibility of human +courage and ideals, the spirit and soul of suffering France, the real +meaning of the war--all these things are interpreted in this remarkable +book by a novelist with a brilliant record in the art of writing, who +spent more than half a year "over there." + + +You Who Can Help + +Paris Letters of an American Army Officer's Wife, from August, 1916, to +January, 1918 + +By MARY SMITH CHURCHILL + + +The writer of these letters is the wife of Lieutenant-Colonel +Marlborough Churchill, who, the year before the entrance of the United +States into the war, was an American military observer in France, and +later became a member of General Pershing's staff. Mrs. Churchill +volunteered her services in Paris in connection with the American Fund +for the French Wounded--"the A. F. F. W."--and these are her letters +home, written with no thought of publication, but simply to tell her +family of the work in which she was engaged. + + * * * * * + +War Camps + +Camp Devens + +Described and Photographed by + +ROGER BATCHELDER + +_Author of "Watching and Waiting on the Border"_ + +"An accurate and complete description by pen and lens of Camp +Devens."--Roger Merrill, Major, A. G. R. C., 151st Infantry Brigade. + +With 77 illustrations. + + +Camp Upton + +Described and Photographed by + +ROGER BATCHELDER + +A companion volume to "Camp Devens," and like it, a book that fills a +long-felt want. + +Illustrated with photographs + + +_Other volumes in the AMERICAN CAMPS SERIES in preparation_ + + * * * * * + +War Poetry + +Buddy's Blighty and other Verses from the Trenches + +By LIEUTENANT JACK TURNER, M. 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