CHAPTER XIX
SOME MEMORIES
When Sheila recovered consciousness she was in Dakota's cabin--in the bunkin which she had lain on another night in the yesterday of her life inthis country. She recognized it instantly. There was the candle on thetable, there were the familiar chairs, the fireplace, the shelves uponwhich were Dakota's tobacco tins and matches; there was the guitar, withits gaudy string, suspended from the wall. If it had been raining, shemight have imagined that she was just awakening from a sleep in that othertime. She felt a hand on her forehead, a damp cloth, and she opened hereyes to gaze fairly into Dakota's.
"Don't, please," she said, shrinking from him.
It occurred to her that she had uttered the same words to him before, and,closing her eyes for a moment, she remembered. It had been when he hadtried to assist her out of the water at the quicksand crossing, and as onthat occasion, his answer was the same.
"Then I won't."
She lay for a long time, looking straight up at the ceiling, utterlytired, wondering vaguely what had become of her father, Duncan, Allen, andthe others. She would have given much to have been able to lie there for atime--a long time--and rest. But that was not to be thought of. Shestruggled to a sitting position, and when her eyes had become accustomedto the light she saw her father sitting in a chair near the fireplace. Thedoor was closed--barred. Sheila glanced again at her father, and thenquestioningly at Dakota, who was watching her from the center of the room,his face inscrutable.
"What does this mean? Where are the others?" she demanded.
"Allen and his men have gone back to Lazette," returned Dakota quietly."This means"--he pointed to Langford--"that we're going to have a littletalk--about things."
Sheila rose. "I don't care to hear any talk; I am not interested."
"You'll be interested in _my_ talk," said Dakota.
Curiously, he seemed to be invested with a new character. Just now he wasmore like the man he had been the night she had met him the firsttime--before he had forced her to marry him--than he had been since. Only,she felt as she watched him standing quietly in the middle of the room,the recklessness which had marked his manner that other time seemed tohave entirely disappeared, seemed to have been replaced by somethingelse--determination.
Beneath the drooping mustache Sheila saw the lines of his lips; they hadalways seemed hard to her, and now there were little curves at the cornerswhich hinted at amusement--grim amusement. His eyes, too, were different;the mockery had departed from them. They were steady and unwavering, asbefore, and though they still baffled her, she was certain that she saw aslumbering devil in them--as though he possessed some mysterious knowledgeand purposed to confound Sheila and her father with it, though in his ownway and to suit his convenience. Yet behind it all there lurked a certaingravity--a cold deliberation that seemed to proclaim that he was in nomood to trifle and that he proposed to follow some plan and would brook nointerference.
Fascinated by the change in him Sheila resumed her seat on the edge of thebunk, watching him closely. He drew a chair over near the door, tilted itback and dropped into it, thus mutely announcing that he intended keepingthe prisoners until he had delivered himself of that mysterious knowledgewhich seemed to be in his mind.
Glancing furtively at her father, Sheila observed that he appeared to haveformed some sort of a conclusion regarding Dakota's actions also, for hesat very erect on his chair, staring at the latter, an intense interest inhis eyes.
Sheila had become interested, too; she had forgotten her weariness. Andyet Dakota's first words disappointed her--somehow they seemedirrelevant.
"This isn't such a big world, after all, is it?" He addressed both Sheilaand her father, though he looked at neither. His tone was quietlyconversational, and when he received no answer to his remark he looked upwith a quiet smile.
"That has been said by a great many people, hasn't it? I've heard it manytimes. I reckon you have, too. But it's a fact, just the same. The world_is_ a small place. Take us three. You"--he said, pointing toLangford--"come out here from Albany and buy a ranch. You"--he smiled atSheila--"came with your father as a matter of course. You"--he lookedagain at Langford--"might have bought a ranch in another part of thecountry. You didn't need to buy this particular one. But you did. Take me.I spent five years in Dakota before I came here. I've been here fiveyears.
"A man up in Dakota wanted me to stay there; said he'd do most anythingfor me if I would. But I didn't like Dakota; something kept telling methat I ought to move around a little. I came here, I liked the place, andI've stayed here. I know that neither of you are very much interested inwhat has happened to me, but I've told you that much just to prove mycontention about the world being a small place. It surely isn't so verybig when you consider that three persons can meet up like we've met--ourtrails leading us to the same section of the country."
"I don't see how that concerns us," said Langford impatiently.
"No," returned Dakota, and now there was a note of sarcasm in his voice,"you don't see. Lots of folks don't see. But there are trails that leadeverywhere. Fate marks them out--blazes them. There are trails that leadus into trouble, others that lead us to pleasure--straight trails, crookedones, trails that cross--all kinds. Folks start out on a crooked trail,trying to get away from something, but pretty soon another trail crossesthe one they are on--maybe it will be a straight one that crosses theirs,with a straight man riding it.
"The man riding the crooked trail and the man riding the straight one meetat the place where the trails cross. Such trails don't lead to anyto-morrow; they are yesterday's trails, and before the man riding thecrooked trail and the man riding the straight trail can go any furtherthere has got to be an accounting. That is what has happened here.You"--he smiled gravely as he looked at Langford--"have been riding acrooked trail. I have been hanging onto the straight one as best I could.Now we've got to where the trails cross."
"Meaning that you want an explanation of my action in burning that signedagreement, I suppose?" sneered Langford, looking up.
"Still trying to ride the crooked trail?" smiled Dakota, with the firstnote of mockery that Sheila had heard in his voice since he had begunspeaking. "I'm not worrying a bit about that agreement. Why, man, I'd haveshot myself before I'd have shot Doubler. He's my friend--the only realfriend I've had in ten years."
"Then when you signed the agreement you didn't mean to keep it?"questioned Langford incautiously, disarmed by Dakota's earnestness.
"Ten years ago a boy named Ned Keegles went to Dakota. I am glad to seethat you are familiar with the name," he added with a smile as Langfordstarted and stiffened in his chair, his face suddenly ashen. "You knowingKeegles will save me explaining a lot," continued Dakota. "Well, Keegleswent to Dakota--where I was. He was eighteen and wasn't very strong, asyoung men go. But he got a job punching cows and I got to know him prettywell--used to bunk with him. He took a liking to me because I took aninterest in him.
"He didn't like the work, because he had been raised differently. He livedin Albany before he went West. His father, William Keegles, was in thehardware business with a man named Langford--David Dowd Langford. You see,I couldn't be mistaken in the name of the man; it's such an uncommonone."
He smiled significantly at Sheila, and an odd expression came into herface, for she remembered that on the night of her coming he had made thesame remark.
"One day Ned Keegles got sick and took me into his confidence. He wasn'tin the West for his health, he said. He was a fugitive from the law,accused of murdering his father. It wasn't a nice story to hear, but hetold it, thinking he was going to die."
Dakota smiled enigmatically at Sheila and coldly at the now shrinking manseated in the chair beside the fireplace.
"One day Keegles went into his father's office. His father's partner,David Dowd Langford, was there, talking to his father. They'd had hardwords. Keegle's father had discovered that Langford had appropriated alarge sum of the firm's money. By forging his partne
r's signature he hadescaped detection until one day when the elder Keegles had accidentallydiscovered the fraud--which was the day on which Ned Keegles visited hisfather. It isn't necessary to go into detail, but it was perfectly plainthat Langford was guilty.
"There were hard words, as I have said. The elder Keegles threatened toprosecute. Langford seized a sample knife that had been lying on the elderKeegle's desk, and stabbed him, killing him instantly. Then, while NedKeegles stood by, stunned by the suddenness of the attack, Langford coollywalked to a telephone and notified the police of the murder. Hanging upthe receiver, he raised the hue and cry, and a dozen clerks burst into theoffice, to find Ned Keegles bending over his father, trying to withdrawthe knife.
"Langford accused Ned Keegles of the murder. He protested, of course, butseeing that the evidence was against him, he fought his way out of theoffice and escaped. He went to Dakota--where I met him." He hesitated andlooked steadily at Langford. "Do you see how the trails have crossed? Thecrooked one and the straight one?"
Langford was leaning forward in his chair, a scared, wild expression inhis eyes, his teeth and hands clenched in an effort to control hisemotions.
"It's a lie!" he shouted. "I didn't kill him! Ned Keegles----"
"Wait!" Dakota rose from his chair and walked to a shelf, from which hetook a box, returning to Langford's side and opening it. He drew out aknife, shoving it before Langford's eyes and pointing out some rust spotson the blade.
"This knife was given to me by Ned Keegles," he said slowly. "These rustspots on the blade are from his father's blood. Look at them!" he saidsharply, for Langford had turned his head.
At the command he swung around, his gaze resting on the knife. "That's apretty story," he sneered.
Dakota's laugh when he returned the knife to the box chilled Sheila asthat same laugh had chilled her when she had heard it during her firstnight in the country--in this same cabin, with Dakota sitting at thetable--a bitter, mocking laugh that had in it a savagery controlled by aniron will. He turned abruptly and walked to his chair, seating himself.
"Yes," he said, "it's a pretty story. But it hasn't all been told. With abesmirched name and the thoughts which were with him all the time, lifewasn't exactly a joyful one for Ned Keegles. He was young, you see, and itall preyed on his mind. But after a while it hardened him. He'd hit townwith the rest of the boys, and he'd drink whiskey until he'd forget. Buthe couldn't forget long. He kept seeing his father and Langford; nightshe'd start from his blankets, living over and over again the incident ofthe murder. He got so he couldn't stay in Dakota. He came down here andtried to forget. It was just the same--there was no forgetfulness.
"One night when he was on the trail near here, he met a woman. It wasraining and the woman had lost the trail. He took the woman in. Sheinterested him, and he questioned her. He discovered that she was thedaughter of the man who had murdered his father--the daughter of DavidDowd Langford!"
Langford cringed and looked at Sheila, who was looking straight at Dakota,her eyes alight with knowledge.
"Ned Keegles kept his silence, as he had kept it for ten years," resumedDakota. "But the coming of the woman brought back the bitter memories, andwhile the woman slept in his cabin he turned to the whiskey bottle forcomfort. As he drank his troubles danced before him--magnified. He thoughtit would be a fine revenge if he should force the woman to marry him, forhe figured that it would be a blow at the father's pride. If it hadn'tbeen for a cowardly parson and the whiskey the marriage would never haveoccurred--Ned Keegles would not have thought of it. But he didn't hurt thewoman; she left him pure as she came--mentally and physically."
Langford slowly rose from his chair, his lips twitching, his face workingstrangely, his eyes wide and glaring.
"You say she married him--Ned Keegles?" he said, his voice high keyed andshrill. He turned to Sheila after catching Dakota's nod. "Is this true?"he demanded sharply. "Did you marry him as this man says you did?"
"Yes; I married him," returned Sheila dully, and Langford sank limply intohis chair.
Dakota smiled with flashing eyes and continued:
"Keegles married the woman," he said coldly, "because he thought she wasLangford's real daughter." He looked at Sheila with a glance ofcompassion. "Later, when Keegles discovered that the woman was onlyLangford's stepdaughter, he was mighty sorry. Not for Langford, however,because he could not consider Langford's feelings. And in spite of what hehad done he was still determined to secure revenge.
"One day Langford came to Keegles with a proposal. He had seen Keegleskill one man, and he wanted to hire him to kill another--a man namedDoubler. Keegles agreed, for the purpose of getting Langford into----"
Dakota hesitated, for Langford had risen to his feet and stood looking athim, his eyes bulging, his face livid.
"You!" he said, in a choking, wailing voice; "you--you, are Ned Keegles!You--you---- Why----" he hesitated and passed a hand uncertainly over hisforehead, looking from Sheila to Dakota with glazed eyes. "You--you are aliar!" he suddenly screamed, his voice raised to a maniacal pitch. "Itisn't so! You--both of you--have conspired against me!"
"Wait!" Dakota got to his feet, walked to a shelf, and took down a smallglass, a pair of shears, a shaving cup, and a razor. While Langfordwatched, staring at him with fearful, wondering eyes, Dakota deftlysnipped off the mustache with the shears, lathered his lip, and shaved itclean. Then he turned and confronted Langford.
The latter looked at him with one, long, intense gaze, and then with a drysob which caught in his throat and seemed to choke him, he covered hisface with his hands, shuddered convulsively, and without a sound pitchedforward, face down, at Dakota's feet.
CHAPTER XX
INTO THE UNKNOWN
After a time Sheila rose from the bunk on which she had been sitting andstood in the center of the floor, looking down at her father. Dakota hadnot moved. He stood also, watching Langford, his face pale and grim, andhe did not speak until Sheila had addressed him twice.
"What are you going to do now?" she said dully. "It is for you to say, youknow. You hold his life in your hands."
"Do?" He smiled bitterly at her. "What would you do? I have waited tenyears for this day. It must go on to the end."
"The end?"
"Yes; the end," he said gravely. "He"--Dakota pointed to the prostratefigure--"must sign a written confession."
"And then?"
"He will return to answer for his crime."
Sheila shuddered and turned from him with bowed head.
"Oh!" she said at last; "it will be too horrible! My friends in theEast--they will----"
"Your friends," he said with some bitterness. "Could your friends say morethan my friends said when they thought that I had murdered my own fatherin cold blood and then run away?"
"But I am innocent," she pleaded.
"I was innocent," he returned, with a grave smile.
"Yes, but I could not help you, you know, for I wasn't there when you wereaccused. But you are here, and you can help me. Don't you see," she said,coming close to him, "don't you see that the disgrace will not fall onhim, but on me. I will make him sign the confession," she offered, "youcan hold it over him. He will make restitution of your property. But donot force him to go back East. Let him go somewhere--anywhere--but let himlive. For, after all, he is my father--the only one I ever knew."
"But my vengeance," he said, the bitterness of his smile softening as helooked down at her.
"Your vengeance?" She came closer to him, looking up into his face. "Arewe to judge--to condemn? Will not the power which led us threetogether--the power which you are pleased to call 'Fate'; the power thatblazed the trail which you have followed from the yesterday of yourlife;--will not this power judge him--punish him? Please," she pleaded,"please, for my sake, for--for"--her voice broke and she came forward andplaced her hands on his shoulders--"for your wife's sake."
He looked down at her for an instant, the hard lines of his face breakinginto gentle, sympathetic c
urves. Then his arms went around her, and sheleaned against him, her head against his shoulder, while she wept softly.
* * * * *
An hour later, standing side by side in the open doorway of the cabin,Sheila and Dakota watched in silence while Langford, having signed aconfession dictated by Dakota, mounted his pony and rode slowly up theriver trail toward Lazette.
He slowly passed the timber clump near the cabin, and with bowed headtraveled up the long slope which led to the rise upon which, in anothertime, Sheila had caught her last glimpse of the parson. It was in thecold, bleak moment of the morning when darkness has not yet gone and thedawn not come, and Langford looked strangely desolate out there on thetrail alone--alone with thoughts more desolate than his surroundings.
Sheila shivered and snuggled closer to Dakota. He looked down at her witha sympathetic smile.
"It is so lonesome," she said.
"Where?" he asked.
"Out there--where he is going."
Dakota did not answer. For a long time they watched the huddled form ofthe rider. They saw him approach the crest of the rise--reach it. Thenfrom the mountains in the eastern distance came a shaft of light, strikingthe summit of the rise where the rider bestrode his pony--throwing bothinto bold relief. For a moment the rider halted the pony, turned, glancedback an instant, and was gone.
THE END
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