CHAPTER XV
MARY'S DESPAIR
Justin had found Sloan Jasper one of the most troublesome of the waterusers. Jasper was almost as hard to please as William Sanders; andonly the day before Sanders had denounced Justin as being in leaguewith the company to defraud the farmers. For these reasons Justinalways approached the farms of these men with trepidation. Trouble wasbrewed on each visit.
The trouble which brewed at Sloan Jasper's on this particular occasionwas, however, wholly unexpected, and of quite a different kind. Jaspercame out to the trail with an anxious air.
"Mary is in the house and wants you to stop in and see her."
Justin dismounted to enter the house. He had not known that Mary wasat home.
"It's about Ben," said Jasper, "and I wish he was in hell! The way heis carryin' on is killin' my girl by inches."
With this stout denunciation of Ben ringing in his ears Justin went into see Mary. She had been crying. Jasper followed him into the houseand stood within the doorway, in an uneasy, angry attitude, holdinghis soiled hat in his hands.
"I wanted to see you about Ben," said Mary, rising to greet Justin.
Her cheeks were pale and her eyes lacked lustre. With that rose-leafcolor gone, her face was so pallid that it deepened by contrast thedarkness of her eyes and her hair. She was rather handsome, in spiteof all, in one of those Denver dresses chosen by Sibyl Dudley, whichserved to make her look taller and more stately than she was.
Mary's desire was to have Justin do something to induce Ben to letliquor alone. She acknowledged that she had lost all control over him,if she had ever had any. More than once he had treated her brutallywhile in a fit of intoxication. Yet she had clung to him. Having wonher girlish love, he still held it. She had long hoped that he wouldabandon his wild ways after awhile and become a sober, sensible man,to whom she could trust her life and happiness. She admitted that thehope was growing faint.
"I don't see what I can do," said Justin, touched by her unhappiness,and perplexed. "If I go to Ben and say anything to him he will onlyinsult me. He hasn't liked me for a long time, as you know."
"Perhaps if you would speak to Mr. Davison," Mary urged, with patheticpersistence.
Justin was sure that would present almost as many difficulties. Heknew that Philip Davison had long reasoned with Ben, and raved at him,in vain.
"Since it's known that you are his half-brother, I thought possiblyyou could do something. I've tried until I don't know what to trynext."
"Give the scamp the go-by," said Jasper hotly. "Throw him over. Havesome spunk about you, can't ye? Why, if I was a woman, and a manshould treat me as he has you, I'd send him hummin' in a jiffy; Iwouldn't stand it."
"But you don't understand, father."
"Don't I? I understand too tarnal well. If I had my way I'd kick hisornery carcass out of this house, if he ever ventured to set foot init ag'in. That'd be my way. Any other way is a fool's way, and youought to know it."
"Don't listen to him, Justin," said Mary, tearfully. "You must knowhow I feel, even if he doesn't. And if you can do anything to get Bento stop drinking and running around with Clem Arkwright I wish youwould."
Never more than at that moment did Justin long for some influence withBen. He knew he had none. He made what promises he could, but theywere not very assuring. Mary followed him to the door, still urginghim.
Riding on, thinking of Mary, Justin encountered Lucy. She joined him,and they rode together along the homeward trail. When she rallied himon his depressed manner, he told her of Mary's appeal.
"Yes," she admitted, "I had heard she was at home, and I know only toowell that Ben has been drinking more than ever of late. I can see thatit is hurting Uncle Philip very much. He has always believed that whenBen sows what he calls his wild oats he will change and be a man, butI've doubted it. There isn't anything you can do, not a thing; but Ishall go to see Mary, and try to make her feel better."
She looked earnestly at Justin, riding beside her. He had put asidethe checked business suit of gray, and was clad roughly, as became hismuddy calling. Yet how manly he was, however he dressed; how broad hisshoulders, how sturdy and well-knit his frame, how clear and open hiscountenance, and how intelligent and attractive the flash of his eyes,as he conversed with her! She knew that she loved him more than ever.
"One would never dream that you are related to Ben!"
"I hope I am not like him, even though he is my half-brother."
"You aren't, not in the least; I don't think I could like you so wellas I do if you were."
"Then you do like me?"
He looked at her, smiling.
"It would be only natural for me to like the man I have promised tomarry, wouldn't it?"
"I was merely hoping that you love me; like is too mild a word."
Then they began to talk again of that delightful day, ever hasteningnearer, as they believed, when they should be not merely lovers, buthusband and wife. It was a pleasant dream, and they lingered by theway, as they contemplated its beauties.
As they thus talked and loitered, Ben Davison came driving by in hisclog-cart, with Clem Arkwright. Arkwright's pudgy form was not quiteso pudgy, for he had not lived as well of late, but his face and nosewere as red as ever, and his old manner had not forsaken him. He bowedelaborately to both Lucy and Justin.
"A great day," he called, "a glorious day, and the old mountain isgrand; just take a glance at it now and then as you ride along; you'llnever see anything finer!"
Ben did not look at Justin; but to Lucy he shouted:
"I'm going to town to sell the horse and dogcart. I told you I would.Arkwright knows a man who will buy them."
When Lucy called on Mary, she heard details of a story which Mary hadnot ventured to hint to Justin. Mary had made a discovery too longdelayed. Ben's frequent visits to Denver were not merely to see her;the real attraction was Sibyl Dudley. Sibyl was the recipient of mostof the money Ben had been able to wring from his father or gain atgambling. Her calls for money had increased his recklessness. Sibylwas the horse-leech's daughter, crying ever for more, and Ben wasweak.
Mary had pedestaled Sibyl and believed in her, refusing to see aughtbut goodness, until her foolish belief became no longer possible.Then, with her eyes opened, she marveled at her almost incomprehensibleblindness. Why had she not seen before? If she had seen before shemight have saved Ben, she thought. She recalled the genial Mr.Plimpton. Had Sibyl, by incessant demands for money, wrought thefinancial overthrow of Plimpton? Every suggestion that came to her nowwas sickening and horrible. Such an awakening is often disastrous inits results. Doubt of humanity itself is a fruit of that tree ofknowledge, and that doubt had come to Mary.
Lucy took the unhappy girl in her arms. She was herself grieved andshocked.
"You poor dear!" was all she was able to say at first.
"And, oh, I am to blame for it all!" Mary sobbed, putting her armsabout the neck of her comforter. "I can see what a fool I was, and itwas pride that made me a fool. I went up there as ignorant as a child;I thought it would be fine to live in a city and be a lady and driveround in a carriage. How I hate that carriage! And that coachman. Iknow even he must have thought horrid things about me. And Plimpton! Iknow what Plimpton was now, and I hate him. It seems to me I couldstamp on him if I saw him fall down in the street. And I--I hate--oh,there isn't a word strong enough to tell how I hate Mrs. Dudley! Ithought she was an angel, and she is--is--a brute!"
"You poor dear!" said Lucy, smoothing back the dark hair from thefevered and tear-wet face. "You poor dear! You have been cruellydeceived and abused. It doesn't seem possible! I was as much deceivedas you, for I thought Mrs. Dudley a very pleasant woman. There weresome things about her I didn't like, about the way she dressed andpainted, yet I never thought but that she was a good woman. I didn'tsuspect anything, for you told me she was rich."
"And that's what she told me, but she lied; she's been getting hermoney from fools like Plimpton and Ben. And I used her mone
y, andlived in her house, and rode about in her carriage with all Denvergaping at me, and never knew a thing. Even this dress I have on wasbought with her money. I want to tear it off and stamp it into themud; but I haven't a thing to wear that she didn't get for me, not athing. And my--my silly pride is to blame--is to blame for Ben, andeverything. If I hadn't gone with her Ben might never have met her.But if Ben could only be induced to quit drinking, something could bedone with him yet. I almost wish he would get sick; anything to keephim away from that woman."
"Did he say anything to you?"
"Yes, he did, when I hinted at what I had discovered and told him Ihad left Denver for good and all; he told me I was a little idiot. ButI didn't mind that; I've got so used to his harsh words that I don'tmind them; but this I couldn't stand, this about Sibyl. So then I putaside my shame, and I told him right to his face that I was a sillyidiot or I would never speak to him again; and he confessed to me thathe had been going there to see Mrs. Dudley more than me, and said hewould go as often as he pleased, and that I could help myself; and hesaid, too, that he intended to marry her. But I know that isn't so; hewould never marry her now. I told him he wouldn't, and begged him toremember his promises to me and keep away from her; and he told me toshut my mouth and mind my own business. As if that isn't my ownbusiness!"
She began to cry again; and Lucy, holding her tightly, rocked her asif she were a child.
"And, oh, I was so happy! So happy, until I knew that! It was aselfish happiness I see now but I thought it was true happiness. Ithought everything of Mrs. Dudley--just everything; and I thought sheloved me as much as I loved her; and to have this come! It breaks myheart, it breaks my heart! Oh, Ben, Ben!"
She lay in Lucy's arms. Their tears flowed together. But what could besaid to comfort her?
"Did Mrs. Dudley say anything?"
"When I reproached her she was indignant and denied it; she cried, andsaid I was an ungrateful girl and did not deserve to have a friend.She declared that Ben came only to see me; but in her very confusion Icould see that she was lying, for when my eyes began to open theybecame sharp as needles. Oh, I could see through her, after that! Itold her she had stolen Ben from me, and all for his money, and thatshe was ruining him, and that it would kill me. I don't know what Isaid, for I was crazy, and I was crying so that I thought my heartwould break. And just as soon as I could get out of the house I did,and I came right down here; but even then I had to use her money, alittle money she had given me, to pay car fare, for I hadn't anyother. But just the thought of it made me want to jump off that trainand kill myself."
"You poor dear!"
And Lucy, holding her in a close embrace, kissed the tear-stainedface.
Justin Wingate, Ranchman Page 31