Ben Blair

by Will Lillibridge

  CHAPTER XVI

  THE QUICK AND THE DEAD

  When Ben Blair again woke to consciousness the sunlight was pouring uponhim steadily. He was in a strange bed in a strange room; and he lookedabout him perplexedly. Amid the unfamiliarity his eye caught an objecthe recognized,--the broad angular back of a man. Memory slowly adjusteditself.

  "Grannis--"

  The back reversed, showing a rather surprised face.

  "Where am I, Grannis?"

  The foreman came over to the bed. "In the hotel. In the bridal chamber,they informed me, to be exact."

  Ben did not smile. Memory was clear now. "What happened after they--gotme last night?"

  Grannis's face showed distinct animation. "A lot of things--and mightyfast. You missed the best part." Of a sudden he paused and looked at hischarge doubtfully. "But I forgot. You're not to talk: the doctor saidso."

  Ben made a grimace. "But I can listen, can't I?"

  "I suppose so," still doubtfully.

  "Well--"

  Grannis hearkened equivocally. No one was about, likely to overhear himdisobeying instructions, and the temptation was strong.

  "You know McFadden?" he queried suddenly.

  Blair nodded.

  "Well, say, that Scotchman is a tiger. He got to the front somehow whenyou called for reinforcements, and when you went down he wasJohnny-on-the-spot taking your place. Some of the rest of us got inthere pretty soon, and for a bit things was lively. It was rather closerange for gun-work, but knives were as thick as frogs after a shower."With a sudden movement Grannis slipped up the sleeve of his left arm,showing a bandage through which the blood had soaked and dried. "All ofus got scratched some. One fellow of the opposition--Mick Kennedy--metwith an accident."

  "Serious?"

  "Rather. We planted him after things had quieted down."

  For a moment the two men looked at each other steadily, and the subjectwas dropped.

  "Well," suggested Blair once more.

  "That's all, I guess--except that Ralston has the prisoner." A grimreminiscent smile came to the speaker's lips. "That is, he's got him ifthe floors of the cells here are paved good and thick. Last time I sawT. Blair he was fairly shaking post-holes into the ground with hisfeet."

  Ben tried to shift in bed, but with the movement a sudden pain made himgrit his teeth to keep from uttering a groan. For the first time hethought of himself.

  "How much am I hurt, Grannis?" he queried directly.

  The foreman busied himself doing nothing about the room. "You?"cheerfully. "Oh, you're all right."

  Ben looked at the other narrowly. "Nothing to bother about, I judge?"

  "No, certainly not."

  Beneath the bedclothes the long body lifted, but despite anything itcould do the face went pale.

  "Very well, I guess I'll get up then."

  Instantly Grannis was beside him, motioning him back, genuine concernupon his face.

  "No, please don't. Not yet."

  "But if I'm not hurt much--"

  Grannis fingered his forelock in obvious discomfort.

  "Well, between you and me, it's this way. They ripped a seam for you--sofar," he indicated, "and it's open yet."

  Turning his free left arm, Ben touched the bandage at his side, and thehand came back moist and red. Now that it occurred to him, he wasridiculously weak.

  "I see. I'm liable to rip it more," he commented slowly.

  The other nodded. "Yes; don't talk. I ought to have stopped you beforethis."

  "Grannis!" There was no escaping the blue eyes this time. "Honestly,now, am I liable to be--done for, or not?"

  The foreman became instantly serious. "Honest, if you keep quiet you'reall right. Doc said so not an hour ago. At first he thought different,that you'd never wake up; you bled like a pig with its throat cut; butthis is what he told me when he left. 'Keep him quiet. It may take amonth for that gap to heal, but if you're careful he'll pull through.'"Again the look of concern, and this time of contrition as well. "I oughtto be ashamed of myself for letting you talk at all; but this isstraight. Now don't say any more."

  This time Ben obeyed. He couldn't well do otherwise. He had suddenlygrown weak and drowsy, and almost before Grannis was through speaking hewas again asleep.

  The doctor was right about the time of healing. During the remainder ofthat month and well into the next, despite his restless protests, BenBlair was a prisoner in that dull little room; and through it allGrannis remained with him.

  "You don't have to stay with me unless you like," Ben had said more thanonce; but each time Grannis had displayed his own wound, at firstopenly, at last, carefully concealed by bandages, whimsically.

  "Got to take good care of this arm of mine," he explained. "Bloodpoisoning's liable to set in at any minute, and that's something awful,they tell me."

  The invalid made no comment.

  * * * * *

  It was the evening following the afternoon of Blair's return to the BoxR ranch. In the cosey kitchen, around the new range which Rankin hadimported the previous Fall, sat three people,--Grannis, Graham, and MaGraham. The two men were smoking steadily and silently. The woman, herhands folded in her lap, her eyes glued to the floor, was breathingloudly with the difficulty of the very corpulent. Of a sudden,interrupting, the door connecting with the room adjoining opened and BenBlair appeared.

  "Grannis," he requested, "come here a moment, please."

  In silence Blair closed the door behind them, motioned his companion toa seat, and took another opposite him. He was very quiet, even for histaciturn self; and, glancing at a heap of papers on a nearby table,Grannis understood. For a long minute the two men eyed each othersilently. Not without result had they lived the events of the lastmonths together. It was the younger man who first spoke.

  "Grannis," he said impassively, "I'm going to ask you a question, and Iwant an honest answer. Whatever you may think it leads to must cut nofigure. Will you give it?"

  Equally impassively the elder man nodded, "Yes."

  Blair selected a paper from the litter, and looked at it steadily. "WhatI want to know is this: have I, has anyone, no matter what the incentivemay be, the right to make known after another's death things whichduring that person's life were carefully concealed?"

  The steady gaze shifted to his companion, held there compellingly. "Inother words, is a tragedy any less a tragedy, any more public property,because the actors are dead? Answer me honest, Grannis."

  Impassively as before the overseer shook his head. "No, I think not,"he said. "Let the dead past bury its dead."

  A moment longer the other remained motionless, then, before hiscompanion realized what he was doing, Ben had opened the door of thesheet-iron heater and tossed the paper in his fingers fair among theglowing coals.

  "Thank you, Grannis," he said, "I agree with you." He stood a secondlooking into the suddenly kindled blaze. "As you say, to the living,life. Let the dead past bury its dead."

  The flame died down until upon the coals lay a thin, curling film ofcarbon. Grannis shifted in his seat.

  "Nevertheless," he commented indifferently, "you've done a foolish act."A pause; then he went on deliberately as before. "You've destroyed theonly evidence that proves you Rankin's son."

  Involuntarily Blair stiffened, seeming about to speak. But he did not.Instead, he closed the stove and resumed his former seat.

  "By the way," he digressed, "I just received a letter from Scotty Baker.I wrote him some time ago about--Mr. Rankin. He answered from England."

  Grannis made no comment, and, the conversation being obviously at anend, after a bit he rose, and with a taciturn "Good-night," left theroom.

  * * * * *

  Days and weeks passed. The dead rigor of Winter gave way to traces ofSpring. On the high places the earth began to turn brown, the buffalograss to peep into view. By day the water slushed under the feet of thecattle, and ran merrily in the draws of the rolling
country. By nightit froze into marvellous frost-work; daintier and more intricate ofpattern than any made by man. Overhead, flocks of wild ducks inirregular geometric patterns sailed north at double the speed of expresstrains. With their mellow "Honk--honk," sweetest sound of all to afrontiersman's ears, harbingers of Spring indeed, far above the level ofthe ducks, amid the very clouds themselves, the geese, in regulartriangles, winged their way toward the snow-lands. At first they seemedto pass only by day; then, as the season advanced, the nights weremelodious with the sound of their voices. Themselves invisible, farbelow on the surface of earth the swish of their migratory wings soundedso distinctly that to a listening human ear it almost seemed it were atroop of angels passing overhead.

  After them came the myriad small birds of the prairie,--the countlessflocks of blackbirds, whose "fl-ee-ce," in continuous chorus filled allthe daylight hours; the meadow-larks, singly or in pairs, announcingtheir arrival with a guttural "tuerk" and a saucy flit of the tail, oradmonishing "fill your tea-kettle, fill your tea-kettle" with apersistence worthy a better cause.

  Ere this the earth was bare and brown. The chatter of the snow streamshad ceased. In the high places, on southern slopes, there was even asuggestion of green. At last, on the sunny side of a knoll, there peepedforth the blue face of an anemone. The following day it had severalcompanions. Within a week a very army of blue had arrived, stood erectat attention so far as the eye could reach and beyond. No longer wasthere a doubt of the season. Not precursors of Spring, but Springitself had come.

  Meanwhile, on the Box R ranch everything moved on as of yore. Save onthat first night, Ben Blair made no man his confidant, accepted withoutquestion his place as Rankin's successor. Most silent of these silentpeople, he did his work and did it well, burying deep beneath animpenetrable mask his thoughts and feelings. Not until an early Summerwas almost come did he make a move. Then at last a note of threesentences went eastward:

  "Miss Baker: I'll be in New York in a few days, and if convenient to you will call. The prairies send greetings in advance. I saw the first wild rose of the season to-day.

  "Ben Blair."

  A week later, after giving directions for the day's work to Grannis onemorning, Ben added some suggestions for the days to follow. As to time,they were rather indefinite, and the overseer looked a question.

  "I'm going away for a bit," explained Ben, simply, in answer. Then heturned to Graham. "Hitch up the buckboard right away, please. I want youto take me to town in time to catch the afternoon train East."