Judith of Blue Lake Ranch

by Jackson Gregory

  XXV

  THE TOOLS WHICH TREVORS USED

  To Judith life had changed from a pleasant game in the sunshine to ahideous nightmare. In a few dragging hours she had come to knowincredulity, anxiety, misery, dejection, black hopelessness, and icyterror. She had come to look through a man's eyes at that which lay inhis heart, to feel for the first time in her fearless life that thefortitude was slipping out of her bosom, that the strength was meltingin her.

  She lay on a rude bed of fir-boughs, an utter, impenetrable blacknesslike a palpable weight on her eyeballs. When it was silent about her,and for the most part silence reigned with the oppressive gloom, sheyearned so for a little sound that she moved her foot along the rockfloor under her or snapped a dry twig between her fingers or evenlistened eagerly for the coming of the terrible woman who was herjailer.

  Gropingly, again and again she went over in her thoughts the longjourney here, seeking fruitlessly to know whether she had come north,south, or east from the ranch-house. It was one of these threedirections, for there were no such mountains as these to the west, nosuch monster cliffs, no deep cavern reaching into the bowels of theearth The sense that, even were she freed, she had no slightest ideawhere she was, which way she must go, stunned her.

  "Will I go mad after a while?" she wondered miserably. "Am I alreadygoing mad? Oh, God, have mercy on me----"

  From the instant when, Saturday night, she had been gripped suddenly ina man's strong arms, when another man had smothered her outcry, she hadknown in her heart that Bayne Trevors was taking his desperate chancein the game. But in the darkness she had had only the two vague blursof their bodies to guess at. They had been masked; her own eyes werecovered, a bandage brought tightly over them, her mouth gagged, herhands tied behind her, her body lifted into the saddle--all in amoment. Neither man had spoken. Then, tied in the saddle, she onlyknew that she was riding, that one man rode in front of her, leadingher horse, the other following close behind. The sense of directionwhich she had lost in those first five minutes she had never been givenopportunity to regain. She might, even now, be a gunshot from her ownranch; she might be twenty miles from it.

  For the greater part of that Saturday night they had ridden; and whentrails died under them and rocks rose steeply, they walked, she and oneman. The other stayed with the horses. Not once did she hear a man'svoice; she did not know whether it was Trevors himself, or Quinnion, orsome utter stranger who forced her into this hiding.

  They had climbed cliffs, now going down into chasms, now followingroaring creeks or making their way along the spine of some rocky ridge.The one man with her was masked, his eyes rather guessed at than seenthrough the slits of his bandanna handkerchief. He had jerked thebandage from her eyes, since blindfolded she would make such poorprogress. But still he guarded his tongue.

  "He would speak," she thought, "but that I would recognize his voice.Trevors or Quinnion? Which?"

  Feeling the first quick spurt of hope when she saw that there was butone man to deal with, she was aquiver to seize the first opportunityfor flight. But that hope died swiftly as she recognized that no suchopportunity was to be granted her. Once she paused, looking to apossible leap over a low ledge and escape in a thick bit of timber.But the two eyes through the slits in the improvised mask had been keenand quick, a heavy hand was laid on her arm, she felt the fingers biteinto her flesh as he sought to drive into her a full comprehension ofhis grim determination that she should not escape.

  It was when they had clambered high upon a mass of tumbled boulders,topping a ridge, that Judith had seen the man's face. Docilely she hadobeyed his gestures for an hour; now, suddenly maddened at the silenceand the mask over his face, she sprang unexpectedly upon him, shovinghim from the rock on which he had stepped, snatching off his mask asshe did so. For the first time she heard his voice, cursing her coollyas he gripped and held her.

  It was Bayne Trevors, at last come out the open, his eyes hard on hers.

  "It's just as well that you know whom you are up against," he said ashe held her with his hand heavy on her shrinking shoulder.

  Summoning all of the reckless fearlessness which was her birthright,she laughed at him coolly, laughed as the two stood against thesky-line, upon the barren breast of a lonesome land.

  "So you are a fool, after all, Bayne Trevors!" she jeered at him."Fool enough to mix first-hand in a dangerous undertaking."

  Trevors shrugged.

  "Yes?" He slipped the handkerchief into his pocket and stared at herwith a glint of anger in the blue-gray of his eyes. He lifted hisbroad shoulders. "Or wise man enough to do my own work when needs be,and when I'd have no bungling? I'm going to square with you, girl.Square with you for meddling, for a bullet-hole in each shoulder. Ifthere's a fool in our little junketing party, it's a girl who thoughtshe could handle a man's-size job."

  They went on, over the ridge and down. Judith made no second attemptto surprise him, for always his eyes watched her. Nor did she seek tohold back or in any way to hamper him now. For, swiftly adjustingherself to the new conditions, she made her first decision: Trevors didthink her a "fool of a girl," Trevors did sneer at her helplessness inthat man's way of his. Let him think her a little fool; let him holdher in his contempt; let him grow to think her cowed and afraid andhelpless. Then, when the time came----

  Again she had been blindfolded; seeing the look in Trevors's eyes, shehad offered no objection. Again she had followed him in a darknessmade at sunrise by a bandage across her eyes. Again, the bandageremoved, she winked at the sunlight. Again they climbed ridges,dropped down into tiny valleys, fought their way along thunderousravines where the water was lashed into white foam. Again blindfolded,again trudging on, her whole body beginning to tremble with fatigue,the weakness of hunger upon her. And at length, out of a canon, makinga perilous way up the steep walls of rock, they came to the mouth ofthe black cavern in which she lay now, waiting for the sound of astirring foot.

  Only an instant had Judith stood upon the ledge outside the cave beforeshe was thrust into the black interior. But in that instant her eagereyes had made out, upon a tiny bit of table-land across the chasm ofthe gorge, a cabin, sending aloft a plume of smoke.

  Then, after an hour, the terrible woman had come to whom Trevors hadintrusted her, bringing food and water in her hard, blackened hands,carrying the flickering fires of madness in her unfathomable eyes. Alantern set on the floor made rude shadows, and out of them crept thiswoman, leering at Trevors, peering at Judith, licking her thin lips,and chuckling to herself.

  "I have brought her back to you, Ruth," he said, speaking softly, moresoftly than Judith had thought the man could speak. "You will knowwhat to do with her. And you will not let her escape you again."

  The mad woman, for only too plainly was her reason strangely misshapen,stood in silence, her great muscular body looming high above Judith's,a giant of a woman, bigger than Trevors even, broad and heavy, herforearms thick and corded, her bare throat like the bull neck of aprize-fighter.

  "I will know, I will know," she said, her eyes filled with cunning, hervoice a strange singsong oddly at variance with the coarse bigness ofher body. "Oh, no, she will never escape from me again."

  "I will have a man on the ledge outside night and day," went onTrevors. "But we cannot be so sure of others as we are of ourselves,Ruth. You know that, don't you?"

  "Oh, yes, I know," she answered quickly. As she spoke she suddenlyshot out her long arm so that her great, bony hand fastened like a bigclaw on the girl's shoulder. "I have got her again! She is mine, allmine. Oh, I will keep her well."

  In a little while Trevors left. He had not returned. Mad Ruth, stillgripping Judith's shoulder, half led her, half thrust her farther backin the cavern. Judith made no resistance. Always, even when terrorwas uppermost she held one thought in mind: "If I can make them thinkme a little fool and a weakling, my chance may come after a while."

  As the two women passed around a bend in
the sinuous tunnel-like cave,the faint rays of the lantern they had left behind them died out, andheavy darkness shut them in. Judith could barely make out the hugeform towering over her. But Ruth, whether her eyes were like a cat'sand accustomed to this sombre place, or whether a hand on a rock wallor a foot on the uneven floor under her told her which way to go, movedon without hesitation. Judith estimated roughly that they had comefifty yards from the outside ledge in front of the cave when she waspushed down and felt the rude bed of fir-boughs under her.

  "So," grunted the woman, for the first time removing her hard hand fromthe girl's shoulder, "I've got you again, my pretty. And this time youdon't play any more little tricks on your old mother."

  She was gone swiftly, all but silently, through the gloom, her formvaguely outlined against the lantern's glimmer, to bring the food andwater which she had set down when she came in. Judith drank and ate.

  It was only little by little, in fragments which she obtained duringthe slow days which followed, that she came to understand Trevors'sscheme. And the scheme was in keeping with the man; so far as it waspossible, Bayne Trevors was still playing safe.

  Mad Ruth was an odd mixture of crazed suspicion, shrewd cunning,cruelty, and madness. Perhaps very long ago--Judith came to believethat it had occurred at the time when she had gone mad, for God knowswhat reason--Mad Ruth had had a little daughter. The girl had beenlost to her, whether through death when an infant, or some tragicaccident when a young girl, Judith never knew. But Ruth's heart hadbeen bound up in that baby of hers; when madness came, it centred andturned upon the return of her child, "Who had run away from her, butwho would come back some time." Trevors, having learned of her madpassion, had shaped it to his purpose.

  But that was not all. Judith had been brought to the cave early Sundaymorning. Sunday afternoon there came to the cave a well-dressed mancarrying a little black bag in his hand. He talked with Ruth; he tookup the lantern and came to look at Judith.

  "So I'll know you again," he laughed. Then he went away. In fragmentswhich through long, empty hours her busy mind pieced together, bridgingthe gaps, she grasped the rest of Trevors's plan. This man was aphysician, sent here from some one of the many mining towns in themountains, probably from a camp twenty or thirty miles away. He, too,was a Trevors hireling. Should Judith ever accuse Trevors of havingbrought her here, there was another story to be told. And this manwould tell it: How he had been summoned here to attend a girl who hadhad a fall, who had wandered delirious through the mountains until Ruthhad found her; whom he had treated here, not daring at first to moveher for fear of permanent shock to her reason; who could give them nohelp to establish her identity; who had a thousand absurd fears andfancies and accusations to make; who in her babbling had at one timeaccused Bayne Trevors of having forcibly abducted her; who at anotherhad cried that it was a man named Carson, a man named Lee, who hadbrought her here.

  Judith spent many a long hour exploring her prison, hoping to find away out. So far as she knew she had but one person to reckon with, MadRuth. True, Trevors had said that he'd have a man on the ledge outsideday and night; Judith had never seen such a person, had never heard hisvoice, and began to believe that it was a bit of bluff on Trevors'spart. But she had never again been where she could look out of thecave's mouth, since Mad Ruth had her own pallet on the floor at thenarrowest part of the cave where it was like the neck of a monsterbottle, and always at the first sound of the girl's approach, was onher feet to thrust her back. Clearly there was no way out of thisplace of shadows except that through which she had come.

  Judith sought an explanation of her imprisonment, and after longgroping she came very near the truth: Trevors would work his will withHampton through Hampton's faith in him and admiration for him. And, inher absence, Hampton was the head of Blue Lake ranch.

  Sunday night, hearing Mad Ruth moving cautiously, Judith raised herselfon her elbow, listening. She was confident that the woman was movingtoward the cave's mouth; she hoped wildly that Mad Ruth was trickedinto believing her asleep and was going out. Her shoes in her hands,her stockinged feet falling lightly, Judith moved toward the madwoman's couch.

  Ruth was going out; was in fact even now slipping out of the narrowthroat of the cave and to the ledge. But Judith could not see her.For a new, unexpected obstacle was in her way. Her outthrust handstouched not rock walls but heavy wooden panels; she knew then that thenarrow neck of the cave was fitted with a heavy door and that it hadbeen drawn shut, fastened from without. In a sudden access of fury anddespair she beat at it with her two hands, crying out bitterly.

  It was so dark, so inky black, and as still, save for her own outcry,as a tomb sealed and forgotten. Such darkness, smothering hope,suddenly was filled with vague terrors; for one worn-out and nervous asJudith was, the darkness seemed to harbor a thousand ugly things whichwatched her and mocked at her despair and reached out vile hands towardher. She called loudly, and for answer had the crazed laugh of MadRuth which floated in to her from without, but which seemed to dropdown from the void above.

  "Judith, Judith," the girl whispered after the first outburst, when shefound that she was shaking pitifully. "You've got to do better thanthis; I'm ashamed of you."

  She went back to her couch, where she sat down seeking to hold herjangling nerves in check. But, despite her intention, she sat shaking,listening, listening--praying for even the footfall of her jailer.

  When Ruth was with her she attempted in a hundred ways to gauge thewoman's warped brain, to seek some way to get the better of her, togain her trust and so to slip away. But she found that here was theusual cunning born of madness, and that Ruth's one idea was to keep thegirl who had escaped her once but who must never escape again. Therewere times when suspicion awakened in Ruth's mind, and she broke intoviolent rage, so that her big body shook and her eyes in thelantern-light were cruel and murderous, when Judith shrank back, andtried to change the woman's thoughts. For more than once had Mad Ruthcried out:

  "I'll kill you! Kill you with my own hands to keep you here. To keepyou mine, mine, mine!"

  The woman carried no weapon, but after her two hands had once grippedthe girl's shoulders, shaking her, Judith knew that Ruth needed noweapon. Hers was a strength greater than Trevors's, greater than twomen's. If Mad Ruth saw fit to kill Judith with her two hands, shecould do it.

  Sunday passed and Sunday night; Monday and Monday night. Judith knewthat she had accomplished nothing, except perhaps to make Ruth believethat she was very much of a coward. In Ruth's mad brain that waslittle enough, since this did not allay her cunning watchfulness. ThenJudith began to do something else, something actively. Just to beoccupied, was something. Her fingers selected the largest, thickestbranch from her bed of fir-boughs. It was perhaps a couple of inchesin diameter and heavy, because it was green. Silently, cautious of atwig snapped, she began with her fingers to strip the branch, tough andpliable. Then the limb must be cut into a length which would make it aclub to be used in a cramped space. She found a bit of stone, hardgranite, which had scaled from the walls and which had a rough edge.With this, working many a quiet hour, she at last cut in two thefir-bough. She lifted it in her hands, to feel the weight of it,before she thrust it under her bed to lie hidden there against possibleneed. Poor thing as it was, she felt no longer utterly defenseless.

  Once Mad Ruth, lighting the lantern, had dropped a good match. Whenshe had gone, Judith secured it hastily, hiding it as if it were gold.She knew that now and then Mad Ruth went down the cliffs and to thecabin across the chasm. Always at night and at the darkest hour. Whenshe heard her go, Judith rose swiftly and went to the heavy door.Always she found it locked; her shaking at it hardly budged the heavytimbers. But though she could not see it, she studied it with herfingers until she had a picture of it in her mind. A picture that onlyincreased her hopelessness. Barehanded she could never hope to breakit down or push it aside. And above it and below, and on each side,were the solid walls
of stone.

  She no longer knew what day it was. She scarcely knew if it were dayor night. But, setting herself something to do so that she would notgo mad, mad as Mad Ruth, she secured for herself another weapon.Another bit of stone which her groping fingers had found and hiddenwith her club; a jagged, ugly rock half the size of a man's head. Somelittle scraps of bread and meat, hoarded from her scanty meals, she hidin her blouse.

  "If I could stun her, just stun her," she got into the way ofwhispering to herself. "Not kill her outright--just stun her----"

  At last, seeing that she must work her own salvation with the crudeweapons given her, Judith told herself that she could wait no longer.Another day and another and she would be weak from the confinement andpoor food and nervous, wakeful hours. She must act while the strengthwas in her. And, if Trevors had spoken the truth, if there were a manto deal with outside--well, she must shut her mind to that until shecame to it.

  Mad Ruth was gone again, and Judith stood by the thick door, her heartbeating furiously while she waited. It seemed to her eager impatiencethat Ruth would never come back. Then after a long, long time sheheard a little scraping sound upon the rock ledge outside, the sound ofa quick step. And then, before she heard the snarling, ugly voicewhich she had heard once and had never forgotten, she knew that thistime she had waited too long, that it was not Ruth coming.

  One man--and there might be others. She stepped back to her bed, hidthe two weapons and waited. She must make no mistakes now.

  The door was flung open. Outside it was dark, pitch-dark. Butevidently the man entering had no fear of being seen. He threw down abundle of dry fagots, and set fire to them. The blaze, leaping up,casting wavering gleams to where Judith stood, showed her plainly thetwisted, ugly face of Quinnion, his red-rimmed eyes peering at her,filled with evil light.