XIII
CAVANAGH ASKS FOR HELP
Lee Virginia waited with increasing impatience for Ross Cavanagh's return,expecting each noon to see him appear at the door; but when three dayspassed without word or sign from him, her uneasiness deepened into alarm.The whole town was profoundly excited over the murder, that she knew, andshe began to fear that some of the ranger's enemies had worked their evilwill upon him.
With this vague fear in her heart, she went forth into the street toinquire. One of the first men she met was Sifton, who was sitting, asusual, outside the livery-barn door, smiling, inefficient, content. Of himshe asked: "Have you seen Mr. Cavanagh?"
"Yes," he answered, "I saw him yesterday, just after dinner, down at thepost-office. He was writing a letter at the desk. Almost immediatelyafterward he mounted and rode away. He was much cut up over his chief'sdismissal."
"Why has he not written to me," she asked herself, "and why should he havegone away without a word of greeting, explanation, or good-bye? It wouldhave taken but a moment's time to call at the door."
The more she dwelt upon this neglect the more significant it became. Afterthe tender look in his eyes, after the ardent clasp of his hand, thethought that he could be so indifferent was at once a source of pain andself-reproach.
With childish frankness she went to Lize and told her what she hadlearned, her eyes dim with hot tears. "Ross came to town, and went awayback to his cabin without coming to see me."
"Are you sure he's been here?"
"Yes. Mr. Sifton saw him go. He came in, got some letters at thepost-office, and then rode away--" Her voice broke as her disappointmentand grief overcame her.
Lize struggled to a sitting position. "There's some mistake about this.Ross Cavanagh never was the whifflin' kind of man. You've got to rememberhe's on duty. Probably the letter was some order that carried him rightback to his work."
"But if he had really cared, he could have ridden by to say just a word;but he didn't, he went away without a sign, after promising to come." Sheburied her face in the coverlet of her mother's bed, and wept in childishgrief and despair.
Lize was forced to acknowledge that the ranger's action was inexplicable,but she did her best to make light of it. "He may have hurried to town onsome errand, and hadn't a moment to spare. These are exciting days forhim, remember. He'll be in to-morrow sure."
With a faint hope of this, the girl rose and went about her daily tasks;but the day passed, and another, without word or sign of the recreantlover, and each day brought a deeper sense of loss, but her pride wouldnot permit her to show her grief.
Young Gregg, without knowing in the least the cause of her troubled face,took this occasion to offer comfort. His manner toward her had changedsince she no longer had a part in the management of the eating-house, andfor that reason she did not repulse him as sharply as she had been wont todo. He really bore Cavanagh no ill-will, and was, indeed, shrewd enough tounderstand that Lee admired the ranger, and that his own courtship wasrather hopeless; nevertheless, he persisted, his respect for her growingas he found her steadfast in her refusal to permit any familiarity.
"See here, Miss Virginia," he cried, as she was passing him in the hall,"I can see you're worried about Lize (I mean your mother), and if I can beof any use I hope you'll call on me." As she thanked him withoutenthusiasm, he added: "How is she to-night?"
"I think she's better."
"Can I see her?"
His tone was so earnest that the girl was moved to say: "I'll ask her."
"I wish you would; I want to say something to her."
Lize's voice reached where they stood. "Come in, Joe, the door's open."
He accepted her invitation rather awkwardly, but his face was impassive ashe looked down upon her.
"Well, how about it?" she asked. "What's doing in the town?"
"Not much of anything--except talk. The whole country is buzzing over thisdismissal of the Chief Forester."
"They'd better be doing something about that murder."
"They are; they're going up there in streams to see where the work wasdone. The coroner's inquest was held yesterday." He grinned. "'Partiescame to their death by persons unknown.'"
Lize scowled. "It's a wonder they don't charge it up to Ross Cavanagh orsome other ranger."
"That would be a little too raw, even for this country. They're allfeeling gay over this change in the forestry head; but see here, don't youwant to get out for a ride? I've got my new machine out here; it rideslike silk."
"I reckon a hearse is about my kind," she replied, darkly. "If you couldtake me up to Cavanagh's cabin, I'd go," she added. "I want to see him."
"I can take you part way," he instantly declared. "But you'd have to ridea horse the last ten miles."
"Couldn't do it, Joe," she sighed. "These last few days I've been about asboneless as an eel. Funny the way a fellow keeps going when he's gotsomething to do that has to be done. I'll tell you what, if you want totake me and Lee up to Sulphur, I'll go ye."
"Sure thing. What day?"
"Not for a day or two. I'm not quite up to it just now; but by SaturdayI'll be saddle-wise again."
Joe turned joyously to Lee. "That will be great! Won't you come out for aspin this minute?"
For a moment Lee was tempted. Anything to get away from this horriblelittle den and the people who infested it was her feeling, but shedistrusted Gregg, and she knew that every eye in the town would be uponher if she went, and, besides, Ross might return while she was away. "No,not to-day," she replied, finally; but her voice was gentler than it hadever been to him.
The young fellow was moved to explain his position to Lize. "You don'tthink much of me, and I don't blame you. I haven't been much use so far,but I'm going to reform. If I had a girl like Lee Virginia to live up to,I'd make a great citizen. I don't lay my arrest up against Cavanagh. I'mready to pass that by. And as for this other business--this free-range warin which the old man is mixed up--I want you to know that I'm against it.Dad knows his day is short; that's what makes him so hot. But he's abluff--just a fussy old bluff. He knows he has no more right to theGovernment grass than anybody else, but he's going to get ahead of thecattle-men if he can."
"Does he know who burned them sheep-herders?"
"Of course he knows, but ain't going to say so. You see, that old Basquewho was killed was a monopolist, too. He went after that grass withoutasking anybody's leave; moreover, he belonged to that Mexican-Dago outfitthat everybody hates. The old man isn't crying over that job; it's moneyin his pocket. All the same it's too good a chance to put the hooks intothe cattle-men, hence his offering a reward, and it looks as if somethingwould really be done this time. They say Neill Ballard was mixed up in it,and that old guy that showed me the sheep, but I don't take much stock inthat. Whoever did it was paid by the cattle-men, sure thing." The youngfellow's tone and bearing made a favorable impression upon Lize. She hadnever seen this side of him, for the reason that he had hitherto treatedher as a bartender. She was acute enough to understand that her socialstatus had changed along with her release from the cash-register, and shewas slightly more reconciled, although she could not see her way toproviding a living for herself and Lee. For all these reasons she wasunwontedly civil to Joe, and sent him away highly elated with the successof his interview.
"I'm going to let him take us up to Sulphur," she said to Lee. "I want togo to town."
Lee was silent, but a keen pang ran through her heart, for she perceivedin this remark by her mother a tacit acknowledgment of Ross Cavanagh'sdesertion of them both. His invitation to them to come and camp with himwas only a polite momentary impulse. "I'm ready to go," she announced, atlast. "I'm tired of this place. Let us go to-morrow."
On the following morning, while they were busy packing for this journey,Redfield rolled up to the door in company with a young man in the uniformof a forester.
"Go ask Reddy to come in," commanded Lize. "I want to see him."
Redfield met the girl at th
e door and presented his companion as "Mr.Dalton, District Forester." Dalton was a tall young fellow with a markedSouthern accent. "Is Cavanagh, the ranger, in town?" he asked.
"No," Lee replied, with effort; "he was here a few days ago, but he's goneback to the forest."
Redfield studied the girl with keen gaze, perceiving a passionaterestraint in her face.
"How is your mother?" he asked, politely.
Lee smiled faintly. "She's able to sit up. Won't you come in and seeher?"
"With pleasure," assented Redfield, "but I want to see you alone. I havesomething to say to you." He turned to his superior. "Just go into thecafe, Dalton. I'll see you in a moment."
Lee Virginia, hitherto ashamed of the house, the furniture, thebed--everything--led the way without a word of apology. It was alldetached now, something about to be left behind, like a bad garmentborrowed in a time of stress. Nothing mattered since Ross did not return.
Lize, looking unwontedly refined and gentle, was sitting in a bigrocking-chair with her feet on a stool, her eyes fixed on the mountains,which showed through the open window. All the morning a sense of profoundchange, of something passing, had oppressed her. Now that she was about toleave the valley, its charm appealed to her. She was tearing up amultitude of tiny roots of whose existence she had hitherto remainedunaware. "I belong here," she acknowledged, silently. "I'd be homesickanywhere else on God's earth. It's rough and fly-bit, and all that, but soam I. I wouldn't fit in anywhere that Lee belonged."
She acknowledged an especial liking for Redfield, and she had penetrationenough, worldly wisdom enough, to know that Lee belonged more to his worldthan to her own, and that his guidance and friendship were worth more,much more, than that of all the rest of the country, her own included.Therefore, she said: "I'm mighty glad to see you, Reddy. Sit down. You'vegot to hear my little spiel this time."
Redfield, perched on the edge of a tawdry chair, looked about (like thecharity visitor in a slum kitchen) without intending to express disgust;but it was a dismal room in which to be sick, and he pitied the woman themore profoundly as he remembered her in the days when "all out-doors" wasnone too wide for her.
Lize began, abruptly: "I'm down, but not out; in fact, I was coming up tosee you this afternoon. Lee and I are just about pulling out for good."
"Indeed! Why not go back with me?"
"You can take the girl back if you want to, but now that I'm getting mychance at you I may not go."
Redfield's tone was entirely cordial as he turned to Lee. "I came hopingto carry you away. Will you come?"
"I'm afraid I can't unless mother goes," she replied, sadly.
Lize waved an imperative hand. "Fade away, child. I want to talk with Mr.Redfield alone. Go, see!"
Thus dismissed, Lee went back to the restaurant, where she found theForester just sitting down to his luncheon. "Mr. Redfield will be out in afew minutes," she explained.
"Won't you join me?" he asked, in the frank accent of one to whom womenare comrades. "The Supervisor has been telling me about you."
She took a seat facing him, feeling something refined in his long,smoothly shaven, boyish face. He seemed very young to be DistrictForester, and his eyes were a soft brown with small wrinkles of laughterplaying round their corners.
He began at once on the subject of his visit. "Redfield tells me you are afriend of Mr. Cavanagh's; did you know that he had resigned?"
She faced him with startled eyes. "No, indeed. Has he done so?"
"Yes, the Supervisor got a letter yesterday enclosing his resignation, andasking to be relieved at once. And when I heard of it I asked theSupervisor to bring me down to see him; he's too good a man to lose."
"Why did he resign?"
"He seemed very bitter over the chief's dismissal; but I hope to persuadehim to stay in the service; he's too valuable a man to lose just now whenthe war is so hot. I realize that his salary is too small; but there areother places for him. Perhaps when he knows that I have a special note tohim from the chief he will reconsider. He's quite capable of theSupervisor's position, and Mr. Redfield is willing to resign in his favor.I'm telling you all this because Mr. Redfield has told me of your interestin Mr. Cavanagh--or rather his interest in you."
Sam Gregg, entering the door at this moment, came directly to theForester's table. He was followed by the sheriff, a bearded old man with asoiled collar and a dim eye.
Gregg growled out, "You'd better keep your man Cavanagh in the hills, Mr.Forester, or somebody will take a pot-shot at him."
"Why, what's new?"
"His assistant is down with smallpox."
"_Smallpox_!" exclaimed Dalton.
Every jaw was fixed and every eye turned upon the speaker.
"Smallpox!" gasped Lee.
Gregg resumed, enjoying the sensation he was creating. "Yes, that Basqueherder of mine--the one up near Black Tooth--sent word he was sick, so Ihunted up an old tramp by the name of Edwards to take his place. Edwardsfound the dago dying of pox, and skipped out over the range, leaving himto die alone. Cavanagh went up and found the dago dead, and took care ofhim--result is, he's full of germs, and has brought his apprentice downwith it, and both of 'em must be quarantined right where they are."
"Good heavens, man!" exclaimed Dalton. "This is serious business. Are yousure it's smallpox?"
"One of my men came from there last night. I was there myself on Monday,so was the deputy. The sheriff missed Tom this morning, but I reached himby 'phone, and Cavanagh admitted to us that the Basque died of smallpox,and that he buried him with his own hands."
The sheriff spoke up. "The criminal part of it is this, Mr. Dalton:Cavanagh didn't report the case when he came down here, just went aboutleaving a trail of poison. Why didn't he report it? He should bearrested."
"Wait a moment," said Dalton. "Perhaps it wasn't pox, perhaps it was onlymountain-fever. Cavanagh is not the kind of man to involve others in apestilence. I reckon he knew it was nothing but a fever, and, not wishingto alarm his friends, he just slid into town and out again."
A flash of light, of heat, of joy went through Lee's heart as she listenedto Dalton's defence of Cavanagh. "That was the reason why he rode away,"she thought. "He was afraid of bringing harm to us." And this convictionlighted her face with a smile, even while the Forester continued hissupposition by saying, "Of course, proper precautions should be taken, andas we are going up there, the Supervisor and I will see that a quarantineis established if we find it necessary."
Gregg was not satisfied: "Cavanagh admitted to the deputy and to me thathe believed the case to be smallpox, and said that he had destroyed thecamp and everything connected with it except the horse and the dog, andyet he comes down here infectin' everybody he meets." He turned to Lee."You'd better burn the bed he slept on. He's left a trail of germswherever he went. I say the man is criminally liable, and should be jailedif he lives to get back to town."
Lee's mind was off now on another tangent. "Suppose it is true?" she askedherself. "Suppose he has fallen sick away up there, miles and miles fromany nurse or doctor--"
"There's something queer about the whole business," pursued Gregg. "Forinstance, who is this assistant he's got? Johnson said there was an oldman in ranger uniform potterin' round. Why didn't he send word by him? Whydid he let me come to the door? He might have involved _me_ in thedisease. I tell you, if you don't take care of him the people of thecounty will."
The Forester looked grave. "If he _knew_ it was pox and failed to reportit he certainly did wrong; but you say he took care of this poorshepherd--nursed him till he died, and buried him, taking allprecautions--you can't complain of that, can you? That's the act of a goodranger and a brave man. _You_ wouldn't have done it!" he ended, addressingGregg. "Sickness up there two full miles above sea-level is quite adifferent proposition from sickness in Sulphur City or the Fork. I shallnot condemn Mr. Cavanagh till I hear his side of the story."
Lee turned a grateful glance upon him. "You must be right. I don't believeMr. Ca
vanagh would deceive any one."
"Well, we'll soon know the truth," said Dalton, "for I'm going up there.If the ranger has been exposed, he must not be left alone."
"He ain't alone," declared the sheriff. "Tom 'phoned me that he had anassistant."
"Swenson, I suppose," said Redfield, who entered at this moment. "Swensonis his assistant."
"I didn't see him myself," Gregg continued, "but I understood the deputyto say that he was an old man."
"Swenson is a young man," corrected Redfield.
The sheriff insisted. "Tom said it was an old man--a stranger tohim--tall, smooth-shaven, not very strong, he said--'peared to be a cook.He had helped nurse the dago, so Tom said."
"That's very curious," mused Redfield. "There isn't an old man in theservice of this forest. There's a mistake somewhere."
"Well," concluded Gregg, "that's what he said. I thought at first it mightbe that old hobo Edwards, but this feller being in uniform andsmooth-shaven--" His face changed, his voice deepened. "Say, by the Lord!I believe it was Edwards, and, furthermore, Edwards is the convict thatTexas marshal was after the other day, and this man Cavanagh--your prizeranger--is harborin' him."
"What nonsense!" exclaimed Redfield.
The sheriff banged his hand upon the table. "That's the whole mystery. Isee it all now. He's up there concealing this man. He's given out thissmallpox scare just to keep the officers away from him. Now you've gotit!"
The thunder in his voice drew toward him all those who remained in thedining-room, and Lee found herself ringed about by a dozen excited men.But she did not flinch; she was too deeply concerned over Cavanagh's fateto be afraid, and, besides, Redfield and the Forester were beside her.
The Supervisor was staggered by Gregg's accusation, and by certainconfirmatory facts in his own possession, but he defended Cavanaghbravely. "You're crazy," he replied. "Why should Ross do such a foolishthing? What is his motive? What interest would he have in this manEdwards, whom you call a tramp? He can't be a relative and certainly not afriend of Cavanagh's, for you say he is a convict. Come, now, your hatredof Cavanagh has gone too far."
Gregg was somewhat cooled by this dash of reason, but replied: "I don'tknow what relation he is, but these are facts. He's concealing an escapedconvict, and he knows it."
Dalton put in a quiet word. "What is the use of shouting a judgmentagainst a man like Cavanagh before you know the facts? He's one of thebest and ablest rangers on this forest. I don't know why he has resigned,but I'm sure--"
"Has he resigned?" asked Gregg, eagerly.
"He has."
"A damn good job for him. I was about to circulate a petition to have himremoved."
"If all the stockmen in the valley had signed a petition against him, itwouldn't have done any good," replied Dalton. "We know a good man when wesee him. I'm here to offer him promotion, not to punish him."
Lee, looking about at the faces of these men, and seeing disappointment intheir faces, lost the keen sting of her own humiliation. "In the midst ofsuch a fight as this, how can he give time or thought to me?" Painful asthe admission was, she was forced to admit that she was a very humblefactor in a very large campaign. "But suppose he falls ill!" Her face grewwhite and set, and her lips bitter. "That would be the final, tragictouch," she thought, "to have him come down of a plague from nursing oneof Sam Gregg's sheep-herders." Aloud she said: "His resignation comes justin time, doesn't it? He can now be sick without loss to the service."
Dalton answered her. "The Supervisor has not accepted his resignation. Onthe contrary, I shall offer him a higher position. His career as aforester is only beginning. He would be foolish to give up the work now,when the avenues of promotion are just opening. I can offer him very soonthe supervision of a forest."
As they talked Lee felt herself sinking the while her lover rose. It wasall true. The Forester was right. Ross was capable of any work they mightdemand of him. He was too skilled, too intelligent, too manly, to remainin the forest, heroic as its duties seemed.
Upon this discussion, Lize, hobbling painfully, appeared. With a cry ofsurprise, Lee rose to meet her.
"Mother, you must not do this!"
She waved her away. "I'm all right," she said, "barring the big marbles inmy slippers." Then she turned to Dalton. "Now what's it all about? Is ittrue that Ross is down?"
"No. So far as we know, he is well."
"Well, I'm going to find out. I don't intend to set here and have him upthere without a cook or a nurse."
At this moment a tall, fair young fellow, dressed in a ranger's uniform,entered the room, and made his way directly to the spot where Lee, hermother, and Redfield were standing. "Mr. Supervisor, Cavanagh has sent meto tell you that he needs a doctor. He's got a sick man up at The Station,and he's afraid it's a case of smallpox." He turned to Lee. "He told me totell you that he would have written, only he was afraid to even send aletter out."
"What does he need?" asked Redfield.
"He needs medicine and food, a doctor, and he ought to have a nurse."
"That's my job," said Lize.
"Nonsense!" said Redfield. "You're not fit to ride a mile. I won't hear ofyour going."
"You wait and see. I'm goin', and you can't stop me."
"Who is the man with him?" asked the Forester.
"I don't know. An old herder, he said. He said he could take care of himall right for the present, but that if he were taken down himself--"
Lee's mounting emotion broke from her in a little cry. "Oh, Mr. Redfield,please let me go too! I want to help--I must help!"
Redfield said: "I'll telephone to Sulphur City and ask Brooks to get anurse, and come down as soon as possible. Meanwhile I'll go out to seewhat the conditions are."
"I'm going too, I tell you," announced Lize. "I've had the cussed disease,and I'm not afraid of it. We had three sieges of it in my family. You getme up there, and I'll do the rest."
"But you are ill?"
"I was, but I'm not now." Her voice was firmer than it had been for days."All I needed was something to do. Ross Cavanagh has been like a son to mefor two years; he's the one man in this country I'd turn my hand overfor--barrin' yourself, Reddy--and it's my job to see him through thispinch."
In spite of all opposition, she had her way. Returning to her room to getsuch clothing as she needed for her stay in the hills, she waited forRedfield to send a carriage to her. "I can't ride a horse no more," shesorrowfully admitted.
Lee's secret was no secret to any one there. Her wide eyes and heavingbreast testified to the profound stir in her heart. She was in an anguishof fear lest Ross should already be in the grip of his loathsome enemy.That it had come to him by way of a brave and noble act only made thesituation the more tragic.
Cavanagh, Forest Ranger: A Romance of the Mountain West Page 14