CHAPTER XXXVI
THE PASSING OF ELIA
Peter Blunt paused, staggered, then with a great effort pulled himselftogether. Mighty man as he was, he had reached the limits of hisstrength, for he had run nearly a mile, carrying Elia in his arms. Evenow clung to his great arm for support.
Peter set the boy on his feet and supported him. A great fear was inhim that a perverse fate would yet rob them of justice. Elia wasdying, and he knew it. He needed no examination to tell him so. It wasthere, written in the glazing eyes, in the hideous blue pallorstealing over the lad's face.
"We're in time, laddie," he said hoarsely, with his mouth close toElia's ear. "Speak up and say the truth."
Then he looked up to encounter the keen eyes of the doctor.
"What's all this?" the latter demanded harshly. But there was a suddenlight of hope in his fierce eyes.
"It's him. He's got something to say. It's the truth about thekilling." Peter indicated the boy. "Speak up, laddie, they're allfriends. Speak up--for Jim's sake." Eve looked on with hands clasped.She was still breathing painfully from her exertions.
The crowd gathered round. All but Smallbones, who never for a momentremoved his eyes from Jim's face. It was a bitter moment for him. Hefelt he was about to be robbed of his prey, and he resented it withall that was mean in him. But Elia did not speak. His eyes were halfclosed, and a terrible helplessness seemed to have suddenly seizedhold of him.
Peter urged him again with a sinking heart.
"Aren't you going to tell them, laddie? Aren't you going to tell themall you've told me--and save Jim?"
It was Jim's voice that answered him.
"Don't bother the lad," he said. He could not see, but instinctivelyhe knew that Elia was in a bad way.
Peter caught at his words.
"Do you hear, laddie? That's Jim talking. You've come to tell thetruth and save him. They've got him all bound up, and the rope'shanging over him. Eh? I didn't rightly hear."
He had seen the boy's lips move, and he strove by every means in hispower to encourage him to a dying effort.
But in the pause that followed Smallbones' mean voice was suddenlyheard.
"This ain't no sort o' justice. Wot's these folks buttin' in fer?They've stuffed him full o' lies 'cause he's sick an' dying. I tellyer it's a trick, an' when he speaks it'll be to tell his usuallies----"
"It ain't lies, I tell yer it ain't lies." It was Elia speaking,suddenly roused from his stupor by the vicious charge. His words camein a high, shrill voice. "I don't need to tell no lies. I killed WillHenderson. I killed him! I killed him! He's kicked me to death, an' Ikilled him with Jim's knife. It was lyin' ther' wher' he'd left itafter he'd fixed them rags on his face. I killed him, I tell yer. An'I'm glad. 'Cos I--I--hate him, an'--he's--killed--me."
The boy's voice had risen to a shriek, and then died suddenly away toa whisper as he fell back into Peter's arms. It was the final effort,which Peter had been unable to rouse him to, but which, to his ownchagrin, Smallbones had achieved.
The boy was dead. The one honest action of his life had been performedwith his last breath. Such was the overmastering cruelty of his naturethat, in comparative health, and with all his faculties alert, the onespark of good, somewhere deep down in his heart, had had no power toshine. The flesh had been too strong for him--and now, now perhaps hehad fulfilled his mission, and that one little step forward wouldcarry him beyond the jaws of evil which had been so tightly shut abouthis poor, weakly spirit. Peter laid him gently upon the ground.
Then he stood up about to speak. There were tears in his eyes, andwithout shame he dashed them away with the back of his hand. But Evestayed him with a gesture. She took a step forward. Her eyes wereshining as she glanced round upon the familiar faces. Her mind wasmade up. There was no shrinking now at the disgrace she had in hercowardice so feared before. Jim had shown her the way to a loyalcourage. She understood now why he had gone to his death shielding thereal murderer. He had done it to save her, he had done it as oncebefore he had sought to help her. She loved him, and no longer fearedto tread the path he had so willingly, so readily trodden for hersake.
"I want to tell you all the things that I should have told youlong ago," she began, in clear ringing tones, "but I couldn't,because--because he was my husband."
A startled sound went round the listeners. The doctor's eyes flashedsuddenly in Jim's direction. But before she could continue, thelatter suddenly urged her to silence.
"There's no need to speak of him, Eve," he cried. "Leave it to me, andI'll tell them how Will came by his death--now."
But the doctor interfered. He signed to one of the men to release theprisoner.
"We'll have Mrs. Henderson's story first," he said decidedly. "You'llplease get right ahead, ma'am."
There was just the briefest possible hesitation. For a second Eve'seyes wandered over the faces now gathered so closely about. It was notthat she was any longer afraid. It was merely that she looked for onefriendly glance. She found it in the round face of Angel Gay. He wassmiling on her. And at once she plunged into her story.
"Will Henderson--my husband, was the cattle-thief," she said. And fora moment she could go no further. Had she desired to create asensation, she amply succeeded. The doctor had to call for silence sothat she might proceed.
Having made the plunge, her story came clearly and concisely. She toldeverything without sparing either herself or her husband. She beganfrom the time when Will had been ordered out of Barnriff, and told allthe pitiful, sordid details, right down to his final return afterescaping from the doctor's men at the Little Bluff River. Everythingshe told as she knew it, except the part Jim had played in his actualescape. This she could not bring herself to speak of.
The story took some time in the telling, but there was not a manamongst those assembled that did not hungrily take in every detail ofit. And as it unrolled, to the final scene of Will's return, whenagain he ill-used her and departed in search of Elia to kill him, andhis final promise to return later and kill her, a fierce light ofunderstanding grew on the swarthy, rough faces, and mutteredimprecations flew from lip to lip. All bitterness for Jim had passedfrom their thoughts, all except, perhaps, from the thoughts ofSmallbones.
And Jim remained silent all the time. He, too, was listening. He, too,shared again in the thoughts which now assailed the others. Thehideous brutality, as it appeared, told in Eve's simple words, set hisblood boiling afresh against the dead man. Though he knew it all onlytoo well, it still had power to rouse the worst side of his nature.
At the conclusion, Doc Crombie suddenly turned to Jim. He offered nocomment, no sympathy.
"Now, I guess, you'll talk some," he said, in his usual harsh tone.But somehow his words seemed to contain a smile.
"The boy has told you who killed Will Henderson," Jim answered atonce. "I can't, because I didn't see him killed. I'll tell you thepart I had in the affair. It's not pretty." He paused, but went onalmost at once. "I happened along to Mrs. Henderson's house directly Icame in to town. I had news for her. You know the news. Will hadescaped."
"Yes," cried Smallbones, unable to keep silent longer, "because youhelped him, an' bluffed the Doc. Oh, I'm wise to you."
"You look wise to a good deal," retorted Jim, with a cold smile. Thenwithout further concern he went on with his story. "I came to herhouse and found her bound and gagged. Will had not long left her. Shetold me what had happened, that he had gone off to kill Elia, and Irode out at once to the bluff. I found Will kicking the life out ofthe poor boy. I jumped from my horse and hit him with my fist. Ifrankly admit I desired to kill him, and my whole intent was in thatblow. He fell to the ground with his jaw badly smashed, and--and I wasglad. I left him there and looked to Elia. He was in a pretty bad way,but he did not seem so bad as I now realize he must have been.However, when I saw that I had been in time to save him, my angerbegan to pass, and I felt I could not leave the wretched man lyingthere with his wound dripping, and--well, I thought I'd better do w
hatI could for him. So I sent Elia over to my horse--I intended that heshould ride home--while I fixed Will's face up some.
"Well, I had nothing much to do it with except my handkerchiefs," hewent on, "so I knelt down beside him, took out my sheath-knife andripped up my white handkerchief into a bandage and folded myneck-scarf into a pad, and bound it on his broken jaw. Then I got up,and now I know I must have left my knife on the ground beside him. Ididn't know it at the time. Anyway, I left him and went back to myhorse expecting to find Elia. But he was not there. I was alarmed atonce, and began to search round for him, calling at the same time. Yousee, I thought he'd maybe collapsed somewhere near by. But I got noanswer, and so circling round and round I again came to where WillHenderson was lying. At first I didn't notice anything, it was fairlydark; then, of a sudden, I saw he was lying on his back, where beforehe had been on his side. The next thing was that I realized thebandages were off his face. Then, as I knelt down beside him again, Ifound that--other. My knife was sticking up in his chest. Then I knewthe reason of Elia's absence, and--what he had done."
Jim ceased speaking, and presently his eyes sought Eve's face with alook of trouble in their dark depths. He had wanted to spare her allthis, and now--
The doctor's voice was questioning him.
"And you come right into the village, wher' your flavor was mightystrong, to tell us he was dead?" he asked almost incredulously.
Jim shrugged. All eyes were upon him, silently echoing their leader'squestion.
"Why not?" he said. "I hadn't killed him. Besides, what else was thereto do? The evidence was damning anyway. And I sure couldn't run away.I guessed I'd best trust to circumstances. Y'see my last words to Mrs.Henderson were a threat to kill her husband--if he'd killed Elia."
The doctor shook his head.
"Them things sure may have influenced you, but----"
"I think I can tell you."
Doc Crombie turned at the interruption. It was Eve who spoke. Her eyeswere shining, and she looked fearlessly into his face.
"Yes," she cried, with rising emotion, "I think I can see the rest. Itwas to shield Elia, and, shielding him, to save me from pain and thedisgrace which he knew I was too cowardly to face. He did it as he didthat other thing, when he set out to carry a warning to Will, simplyto help me, and save me from my troubles. Oh, doctor, haven't youheard and seen sufficient? Must you stand here demanding all theinmost secrets and motives of two people's lives? Let us go. Let Jimgo. I have yet to bury my dead."
The woman suddenly turned to Peter and buried her face against hisrough flannel shirt, while the long-pent tears at last broke forth,and her body shook with sobs. Peter put his arm about her shouldersand patted her gently with his great rough hand.
"This thing is played right out, Doc," he said. "You've got the facts.Let them be sufficient." He turned to the boys, and his great kindlyface was lit with something like a derisive smile. "Do you want ahanging, lads?" he asked them. "Because, out of all this racket, itseems to me there's only one needs the rope, an' that's Smallbones."
He needed no other answer than the harsh laugh which greeted hiswords. He had done it purposely. He meant to clip Smallbones' wingsfor him, and, at the same time, put an end to the scene for Eve andhis friend.
His success was ample. Doc Crombie walked straight up to Jim Thorpeand held out his hand.
"I'm sorry for things, Jim," he said, "but you can't rightly blame us.Not even Smallbones."
Jim wrung his hand cordially, but silently. His eyes were still on Eveat Peter's side. The doctor saw his look and understood.
"Guess I'm gettin' right back to the city," he said. "And," he added,authoritatively, "I guess all you'se folks had best git busy that way,too." Then he turned sharply and walked over to his buckboard."Smallbones," he said, as he mounted to his seat, "you'll come rightalong in with me--an' bring that rope."
The One-Way Trail: A story of the cattle country Page 38