CHAPTER X
A NEW ALLIANCE
Her eyes blinded by a strange mist of tears, Beth Norvell clung to thelatch of the closed door, fearful lest the man within might decide tofollow, endeavoring to gaze about, while gaining control over hersorely shattered nerves. Strong as she had appeared when nerved byindignation and despair, that stormy interview with Farnham--hisscarcely veiled threats, his heartless scoffing--had left her a wreck,for the moment scarcely mistress of her own mind. One thing alonestood forth as a rallying point for all her benumbed energies--she mustsave Winston from a real danger, the nature of which she did not in theleast doubt. The gambler's boast was no idle one; she, who had beforetasted of his depravity, felt fully convinced of his intention now.Yet what could she hope to do? How best might she accomplish thatimperative duty of rescue?
There occurred to her only one feasible plan--a complete surrender ofher womanly pride, an immediate acceptance of the young man's profferedaid to Denver, with an insistence that he also accompany her. Womanenough to realize her power, she could not but have faith in theresults. The color crept back in her cheeks at this daring conception,for, after those hastily uttered words of the previous night, whatconstruction would he be likely to put on this sudden yielding? Aninstant she hesitated, afraid, shrinking back before the sacrifice asfrom fire. Then her fine eyes darkened, the clinging tears vanishingwhile her fingers clinched in passionate resolve. Do it? Why, ofcourse she must do it! What was her pitiful pride in the balanceagainst his life? He might never dream what so great a sacrifice costher; might even despise her for such an exhibition of weakness; but shewould know, and be the stronger in her own soul from the braveperformance of duty. Besides, she intended to tell him the wholemiserable story of her wrecked life--not now, not even to-night, butsome time, on their way back into the world,--as they were nearingDenver, perhaps, and at the moment of final parting. It almost seemedeasy as she faced the stern necessity, so easy that her parted lipssmiled sarcastically when she heard Farnham rise and leave the darkenedbox through the opposite entrance. Perhaps, when he comprehended itall, this other, who had spoken love words to her, would understandwhere the real blame lay, and so prove manly enough to absolve her fromany conception of evil. This hope was sweet, strengthening, yet itfaded immediately away. Ah, no; such result was not natural, as sheunderstood the world--it was always the woman who bore the burden ofcondemnation. Far safer to expect nothing, but do the right simplybecause it was right. She no longer questioned what that would be. Itstood there before her like a blazing cross of flame; she must holdthose two men apart, even though they both trampled her heart beneaththeir feet. This was her destiny, the payment she must return theworld for having once made a mistake. One out of the multitude, shefelt strong enough in the crisis to choose deliberately the straightand narrow path leading through Gethsemane.
And this very choosing gave back her womanhood, cleared her dazed brainfor action, and sent the red blood throbbing through her veins. Herimmediate surroundings began to take definite form. To the left thegreat, deserted stage extended, wrapped in total darkness, silent,forsaken, the heavy drop-curtain lowered to the floor. Through itsobscuring folds resounded noisily a crash of musical instruments, theincessant shuffling of feet, a mingled hum of voices, evidencing thatthe dance was already on in full volume. Far back, behind muchprotruding scenery, a single light flickered like a twinkling star, itsdim, uncertain radiance the sole guide through the intricacies ofcluttered passageways leading toward the distant stage entrance. Halffrightened at this gloomy loneliness, the girl moved gingerly forward,her skirts gathered closely about her slender figure, with anxious eyesscanning the gloomy shadows in vague suspicion. Suddenly a handgripped her extended wrist, and she gazed for a startled instant intofiercely burning eyes, her own heart throbbing with nervous excitement.
"Vat vas he to you? Answer me! Answer me quick!"
The blood came back into her blanched cheeks with a sudden rush ofanger. Instantly indignation swept back the mists of fear. Withunnatural strength she wrenched free her captured hand, and sternlyfronted the other, a barely recognized shadow in the gloom.
"Permit me to pass," she exclaimed, clearly. "How dare you hide hereto halt me?"
The other exhibited her teeth, gleaming white and savage behind partedlips, yet she never stirred.
"Dare? Pah! you vaste time to talk so," she cried brokenly, her voicetrembling from passion. "You no such fine lady now, senorita. You seedis knife; I know how use eet quick. Bah! you go to him like all derest, but I vill know de truth first, if I have to cut eet out you. Sovat ees de Senor Farnham to you? Say quick!"
The American remained silent, motionless, her breath quickening underthe threat, her eyes striving to see clearly the face of the oneconfronting her.
"Do you expect to frighten me?" she asked, coldly, her earlier angerstrangely changing to indifference. "It is you who wastes time,senorita, for I care little for your knife. Only it would be anextremely foolish thing for you to do, as I have not come between youand your lover."
The impulsive Mexican dancer laughed, but with no tone of joyperceptible.
"My lofer! Mother of God! sometime I think I hate, not lofe. He vaslike all you Americanos, cold as de ice. He play vis Mercedes, andhurt--gracious, how he hurt! But I must be told. Vat vas he to you?Answer me dat."
Beth Norvell's eyes softened in sudden pity. The unconscious appealwithin that broken voice, which had lost all semblance of threat,seemed to reveal instantly the whole sad story, and her heart gaveimmediate response. She reached out, touching gently the hand in whichshe saw the gleam of the knife-blade. There was no fear in her now,nothing but an infinite womanly sympathy.
"He is nothing to me," she said, earnestly, "absolutely nothing. Idespise him--that is all. He is unworthy the thought of any woman."
The slender figure of the Mexican swayed as though stricken by a blow,the fierce, tigerish passion dying out of her face, her free handseeking her throat as though choking.
"Nothing?" she gasped, incredulously. "_Sapristi_, I think you lie,senorita. Nothing? Vy you go to him in secret? Vy you stay and talkso long? I not understand."
"He sent for me; he wished me to aid him in a business matter."
The other stared incredulous, her form growing rigid with gatheringsuspicion that this fair American was only endeavoring to make her afool through the use of soft speech. The white teeth gleamed againmaliciously.
"You speak false to Mercedes," she cried hotly, her voice trembling."Vy he send for you, senorita? You know him?"
There was a bare instant of seeming hesitation, then the quiet, bettercontrolled voice answered soberly:
"Yes, in the East, three years ago."
Like a flash of powder, the girl of the hot-blooded South burst intofresh flame of passion, her foot stamping the floor, her black eyesglowing with unrestrained anger.
"_Dios de Dios_! Eet ees as I thought. He lofe you, not Mercedes. VyI not kill you?--hey?"
Miss Norvell met her fiercely threatening look, her single step ofadvance, without tremor or lowering of the eyes. She even released hergrasp upon the uplifted knife, as if in utter contempt. For a momentthey confronted each other, and then, as suddenly as she had brokeninto flame, the excitable young Mexican burst into tears. As thoughthis unexpected exhibition of feeling had inspired the action, theother as quickly decided upon her course.
"Listen to me, girl," she exclaimed gravely, again grasping the loweredknife hand. "I am going to trust you implicitly. You feel deeply; youwill understand when I tell you all. You call me a fine lady because Ihold myself aloof from the senseless revelry of this mining camp; andyou believe you hate me because you suppose I feel above you. But youare a woman, and, whatever your past life may have been, your heartwill respond to the story of a woman's trouble. I 'm going to tell youmine, not so much for my sake as for your own. I am not afraid of yourknife; why, its sharp point would
be almost welcome, were it not that Ihave serious work to do in the world before I die. And you are goingto aid me in accomplishing it. You say you do not really know nowwhether you truly love or hate this man, this Farnham. But I know formyself beyond all doubt. All that once might have blossomed into lovein my heart has been withered into hatred, for I know him to be a moralleper, a traitor to honor, a remorseless wretch, unworthy the tenderremembrance, of any woman. You suppose I went to him this nightthrough any deliberate choice of my own? Almighty God, no! I wentbecause I was compelled; because there was no possible escape. Now, Iam going to tell you why."
Mercedes, the tears yet clinging to her long, black lashes, stoodmotionless, gazing at the other with fascination, her slender,scarlet-draped figure quivering to the force of these impetuous words.She longed, yet dreaded, to hear, her own lips refusing utterance. ButBeth Norvell gave little opportunity; her determination made, she sweptforward unhesitatingly. As though fearful of being overheard, even inthe midst of that loneliness, she leaned forward, whispering one quick,breathless sentence of confession. The startled dancer swayed backwardat the words, clutching at her breast, the faint glimmer of lightrevealing her staring eyes and pallid cheeks.
"Mother of God!" she sobbed convulsively. "No, no! not dat! He couldnot lie to me like dat!"
"Lie?" in bitter scornfulness. "Lie! Why, it is his very life tolie--to women. God pity us! This world seems filled with just suchmen, and we are their natural victims. Love? Their only conception ofit is passion, and, that once satiated, not even ordinary kindness isleft with which to mock the memory. In Heaven's name, girl, in yourlife have you not long since learned this? Now, I will tell you whatthis monster wanted of me to-night." She paused, scarcely knowing howbest to proceed, or just how much of the plot this other might alreadycomprehend.
"Have you ever heard of the 'Little Yankee' mine?" she questioned.
"Si, senorita," the voice faltering slightly, the black eyes drooping."Eet is up in de deep canyon yonder; I know eet."
"He told me about it," Miss Norvell continued more calmly. "He ishaving trouble with those people out there. There is something wrong,and he is afraid of exposure. You remember the young man who walkedhome with me last night: Well, he is a mining engineer. He has agreedto examine into the claims of the 'Little Yankee' people, andthis--this Farnham wants him stopped. You understand? He sent for meto use my influence and make him go away. I refused, and thenthis--this creature threatened to kill Mr. Winston if he remained incamp, and--and I know he will."
The Mexican's great black eyes widened, but not with horror. Suddenlyin the silent pause she laughed.
"Si, si; now I know all--you lofe dis man. _Bueno_! I see eet as eetvas."
The telltale red blood swept to the roots of Miss Norvell's hair, buther indignant reply came swift and vehement.
"No, stop! Never dare to speak such words. I am not like that! Canyou think of nothing except the cheap masquerade of love? Have younever known any true, pure friendship existing between man and woman?This mining engineer has been good to me; he has proved himself agentleman. It is not love which makes me so anxious now to serve him,to warn him of imminent danger--it is gratitude, friendship, commonhumanity. Is it impossible for you to comprehend such motives?"
The other touched her for the first time with extended hand, her facelosing much of its previous savagery.
"I know so ver' leettle 'bout such kinds of peoples, senorita," sheexplained regretfully, her voice low, "de kind vat are good and gentleand vidout vantin' somting for eet. Eet ees not de kinds I meet visver' much. Dey be all alike vis me--lofe, lofe, lofe, till I get seekof de vord--only de one, an' I not know him ver' vell yet. Maybe heteach me vat you mean some day. He talk better, not like a fool, an'he not try to make me bad. Is dat eet, senorita?"
"Yes; who is it you mean?"
"He? Oh! it vas most odd, yet I do not laugh, senorita, I know notvy, but he make me to feel--vat you calls eet?--si, de respect; I tinkhim to be de good man, de gentle. He was at de 'Little Yankee' too. Ivonder vas all good out at de 'Little Yankee'? _Sapristi_! he vas sucha funny man to talk--he sputter like de champagne ven it uncorked. Ilaugh at him, but I like him just de same, for he act to me like I vasde lady, de ver' fine lady. I never forget dat. You know him,senorita? So big like a great bear, vis de beautiful red hair like decolor of dis dress. No? He so nice I just hate to have to fool him,but maybe I get chance to make eet all up some day--you tink so?Merciful saints! Ve are queer, ve vomens! Eet vas alvays de voman vatdoes like de vay you do, hey? Ve vas mooch fools all de time."
"Yes, we are 'much fools'; that seems ordained. Yet there are true,noble men in this world, Mercedes, and blessed is she who can boast ofsuch a friendship. This Mr. Winston is one, and, perhaps, yourstuttering giant may prove another." She caught at a straw of hope inthus interesting the girl. "So he is at the 'Little Yankee'? and youwish to serve him? Then listen; he is in danger also if this scheme ofrevenge carries--in danger of his life. Dynamite does not pick out onevictim, and permit all others to escape."
"Dynamite?"
"That was Farnham's threat, and God knows he is perfectly capable ofit. Now, will you aid me?"
The young Mexican girl stood staring with parted lips.
"Help you how? Vat you mean?"
"Warn the men of the 'Little Yankee.'"
The other laughed behind her white teeth, yet with no mirth in thesound.
"Ah, maybe I see, senorita; you try make a fool out me. No, I not playyour game. You try turn me against Senor Farnham. I tink you notcatch Mercedes so."
"You do not believe me?"
"_Sapristi_! I know not for sure. Maybe I help, maybe I not. First Italk vis Senor Farnham, an' den I know vether you lie, or tell true.Vatever ees right I do."
"Then permit me to pass."
Miss Norvell took a resolute step forward, clasping her skirts closelyto keep them from contact with the dusty scenery crowding the narrowpassage. The jealous flame within the black eyes of the Mexican dimmed.
"You can no pass dat vay," she explained swiftly, touching the other'ssleeve.
"Not through the stage door?"
The other shook her head doggedly.
"Eet is alvay locked, senorita."
Beth Norvell turned about in dismay, her eyes pleading, her breathquickening.
"You mean we are shut in here for the night? Is n't there any wayleading out?"
"Oh, si, si," and Mercedes smiled, waving her hands. "Zar is vayyonder vare de orchestra goes. Eet leads to de hall; I show you."
"Did he know?"
"Vat? Senor Farnham? No doubt, senorita. Come, eet ees but de step."
The bewildered American hung back, her eyes filled with dread restingupon the black shadow of the curtain, from behind which clearly arosethe strains of a laboring orchestra, mingling with the discordant noiseof a ribald crowd. Farnham understood she was locked in; knew shemight hope to escape only through that scene of pollution; beyonddoubt, he waited in its midst to gloat over her degradation, possiblyeven to accost her. She shrank from such an ordeal as though shefronted pestilence.
"Oh, not that way; not through the dance hall!" she exclaimed.
Mercedes clapped her hands with delight. To her it appeared amusing.
"Holy Mother! Vy not? Eet make me laugh to see you so ver' nice. Vatyou 'fraid 'bout? Vas eet de men? Pah! I snap my fingers at all ofdem dis vay. Dey not say boo! But come, now, Mercedes show you vayout vere you no meet vis de men, no meet vis anybody. Poof, eet eeseasy."
She danced lightly away, her hand beckoning, her black eyes aglow witharoused interest. Reluctantly the puzzled American slowly followed,dipping down into the black labyrinth leading beneath the stage. Amidsilence and darkness Mercedes grasped her arm firmly, leadingunhesitatingly forward. Standing within the glare of light streamingthrough the partially open door. Miss Norvell drew a sudden breath ofrelief. The chairs
and benches, piled high along the side of the greatroom, left a secluded passageway running close against the wall. Alongthis the two young women moved silently, catching merely occasionalglimpses of the wild revelry upon the other side of that rude barrier,unseen themselves until within twenty feet of the street door. ThereMiss Norvell hesitated her anxious eyes searching the mixed crowd ofdancers now for the first time fully revealed. Even as she gazed uponthe riot, shocked into silence at the inexpressible profligacydisplayed, and ashamed of her presence in the midst of it, a merry pealof laughter burst through the parted lips of the Mexican dancer.
"_Dios de Dios_, but I had all forgot dis vas your night for de dance,senor. But you no so easy forget Mercedes, hey?"
He stood directly before them, plainly embarrassed, gripping hisdisreputable hat in both hands like a great bashful boy, his facereddening under her smiling eyes, his voice appearing to catch withinhis throat. Mercedes laughed again, patting his broad shoulder withher white hand as though she petted a great, good-natured dog. Thenher sparkling black eyes caught sight of something unexpected beyond,and, in an instant, grew hard with purpose.
"Holy Mother! but eet 's true he ees here, senorita--see yonder by desecond vindow," she whispered fiercely. "Maybe it vas so he tink toget you once more, but he not looked dis vay yet. _Bueno_! I make himdance vis me. Dis man Stutter Brown, an' he go vis you to de hotel;ees eet not so, _amigo_?"
"I-I have no t-t-time," he stuttered, totally confused. "Y-you see, I'm in a h-hell of a h-h-hurry."
"Pah; eet vill not take five minute, an' I be here ven you come back.Si, senor, I vait for you for de dance, sure." She turned eagerly toMiss Norvell. "You go vis him, senorita; he ver' good man, I,Mercedes, know."
The American looked at them both, her eyes slightly smiling inunderstanding.
"Yes," she assented quietly, "I believe he is."
Beth Norvell: A Romance of the West Page 10