Beth Norvell: A Romance of the West

by Randall Parrish

  CHAPTER XII

  THE COVER OF DARKNESS

  Beth Norvell did not remember ever having fainted in her life, yet fora moment after these words reached her, all around grew dark, and shewas compelled to grasp the counter to keep from falling. The strain ofthe long night, coupled with such unexpected news proving she hadarrived too late with her warning, served to daze her brain, to leaveher utterly unable either to think or plan. The clerk, alarmed by thesudden pallor of her face, was at her side instantly, holding eagerlyforth that panacea for all fleshly ills in the West, a bottle ofwhiskey.

  "Good Lord, Miss, don't faint away!" he cried excitedly. "Here, justtake a swig of this; there 's plenty of water in it, and it's the stuffto pull you through. There, that's better. Great Scott, but I surethought you was goin' to flop over that time." He assisted her to aconvenient chair, then stepped back, gazing curiously into her face,the black bottle still in his hand. "What's the trouble, anyhow?" hequestioned, his mind filled with sudden suspicion. "That--that fellowdid n't throw you, did he?"

  Miss Norvell, her fingers clasping the chair arm for support, rosehurriedly to her feet, a red flush sweeping into her pallid cheeks.For an instant her intense indignation held her speechless.

  "'Throw' me? What is it you mean?" she exclaimed, her voice faltering."Do you rank me with those shameless creatures out yonder? It is forMr. Winston's sake I sought word with him; it has nothing whatever todo with myself. I chanced to learn news of the utmost importance, newswhich he must possess before morning; yet it is not a message I cantrust to any one else. My God! what can I do?" She paused irresolute,her hands pressing her temples. The boy, his interest aroused, took astep forward.

  "Can I be of service?"

  "Oh, I hardly know; I scarcely seem able to think. Could--could youleave here for just ten minutes--long enough to go to the dance hall atthe Gayety?"

  "Sure thing; there 's nothin' doin'."

  "Then please go; find a big, red-headed miner there namedBrown--'Stutter' Brown they call him--and bring him back here to me.If--if he is n't there any longer, then get Mercedes, the Mexicandancer. You know her, don't you?"

  The clerk nodded, reaching for his hat.

  "Get one of those two; oh, you must get one of them. Tell them I sayit is most important."

  There was a terrible earnestness about the girl's words and manner,which instantly impressed the lad with the necessity for immediatehaste. He was off at a run, slamming the door heavily behind him, andplunging headlong into the black street. As he disappeared, MissNorvell sank back into the vacated chair, and sat there breathingheavily, her eyes fastened upon the drunken man opposite, her naturalcoolness and resource slowly emerging from out the haze ofdisappointment. Brown could surely be trusted in this emergency, forhis interest was only second to her own. But why had she not told himthe entire story before? Why, when she had opportunity, did she failto reveal to him Farnham's threats, and warn him against impendingdanger? She realized fully now the possible injury wrought by hersecrecy. She felt far too nervous, too intensely anxious, to remainlong quiet; her eyes caught the ticking timepiece hanging above theclerk's desk, and noted the hour with a start of surprise. It wasalready after two. Once, twice, thrice she paced across the floor ofthe office and stood for a moment striving to peer through the dirtywindow-glass into the blackness without, faintly splotched with gleamsof yellow light. Finally, she flung back the door and ventured forthupon the shadowed porch, standing behind the low railing, where thosepassing below were little likely to notice her presence. Her headthrobbed and ached, and she loosened her heavy hair, pressing her palmsto the temples. The boy returned at last hurriedly, bare-headed, butunaccompanied, and she met him at the top of the steps, realizing, evenbefore he spoke, that those she sought had not been found.

  "Not there? Neither there?"

  "No, Miss." The clerk was breathing hard from his run, but his tonewas sympathetic. "Darned if I did n't hustle that outfit from pit toboxes, but nobody there seemed to sabe this yere Brown. Mercedes, shewas there all right, 'bout ten minutes ago, but just naturally fadedaway before I hit the shebang. Doorkeeper piped it she had a guy withher when she broke loose, an' he reckoned she must have lit out ferhome."

  "For home?" a faint ray of light breaking from the word. "Where doesthe girl live? Do you know?"

  "Sure; I 'm wise; she has a couple of dandy rooms over at the old fort,just across the creek; you know where that is, don't you?"

  She nodded silently, her eyes brightening with resolution.

  "It 's a blame tough bit of hiking to take alone on a dark night likethis," he commented gravely. "You was n't plannin' to try any suchtrip as that, was you, Miss?"

  "Oh, no; certainly not. I'm going upstairs to wait for daylight. ButI thank you so much," and she cordially extended her hand. "You see,I--I could hardly go to the Gayety myself at such an hour."

  The boy colored, still clasping the extended hand. Something in herlow tone had served to recall to his mind those hasty words uttered inthe office.

  "Sure not, Miss Norvell; it's a bit tough, all right, for anybody likeyou down there at this time o' night."

  She opened the door, the bright light from within shining about herslender figure, yet leaving her face still in shadow.

  "Did--did you chance to notice if Mr. Farnham remained in the dancehall?"

  "Biff Farnham?" in sudden, choking surprise. "Great guns, do you knowhim, too? No, he was n't there, but I can tell you where he is, allthe same. He 's at the Palace Livery, saddling up, along with half adozen other fellows. I saw 'em as I come trottin' along back, andwondered what the dickens was on tap at this time o' night."

  The girl made no attempt to answer. She stood clutching the edge ofthe door for support, her lips tightly compressed, feeling as if herheart would rise up and choke her. She realized instantly that thecrisis had arrived, that Winston's life probably hung upon her nextdecision. Twice she endeavored bravely to speak, and when she finallysucceeded, the strange calmness other voice made her doubt her ownsanity.

  "Thank you," she said gravely, "you have been most kind,--good-night,"and vanished up the stairs.

  Within the privacy of her own securely locked room Beth Norvell flungherself upon the narrow bed, not to sleep, not even to rest, but in anearnest effort to clarify her brain, to gain fresh conception of thisgrim reality which fronted her. She realized now precisely what NedWinston stood for in her life--must ever stand for until the bitterend. There was no upbraiding, no reviling. Not in the slightestdegree did she even attempt to deceive herself; with set, tearlesseyes, and without a sigh of regret, she simply faced the naked truth.She had made the mistake herself; now she must bear the burden ofdiscovery. It was not the dull inertia of fatalism, but rather thesober decision of a woman who had been tried in the fire, whounderstood her own heart, and comprehended the strength of her ownwill. Personal suffering and sacrifice were no new chapters written inher life; these had been met before, and now, in yet another guise,they could be courageously met again. She sat up quickly upon the edgeof the bed, her hands pressing back the heavy hair from off her hotforehead. What right had she to lie there shuddering at destiny whenlives--his life--might be trembling in the balance? She could at leastserve, and, whatever else of weakness may have lurked in Beth Norvell,there was no germ of cowardice. Clearer and more clear she perceivedduty, until it overshadowed love and brought her upon her feet inactive preparation, in burning desire for action.

  Standing before the little mirror, she wondered dimly at those darkcircles beneath her eyes, the unusually sharp lines visible at thecorners of her mouth. She felt hot, feverish, and in hope of thusrelieving the painful throbbing of her temples she buried her face inthe bowl of cool water. Rapidly, almost carelessly, she gathered upher dishevelled locks, fastening them in some simple, yet securefashion back out of the way. From the open trunk standing against thewall, she caught up a plain, soft hat, one she had used i
n characterupon the stage, and drew it down firmly over the mass of soft hair,never noting how coquettishly the wide brim swept up in front, or whatwitchery of archness it gave to her dark eyes. She took a quick steptoward the door, and then, her hand already on the latch, she paused inuncertainty; finally, she drew a small, pearl-handled revolver from thebottom tray, and placed it carefully in a pocket of her jacket.

  "I--I hardly believe I could ever use it," she thought, "but maybe Imight."

  Outside, in the narrow, deserted hall, she stood at the head of thesteep flight of stairs and listened. The snoring of the drunken man inthe office below was the only disturbing sound. Out through the openoffice door a dull bar of yellow light streamed across the lower steps.Like a ghost she stole silently down, treading so softly not a staircreaked beneath her cautious footfalls. The next moment she had openedthe door, and was alone in the dark street.

  Dark it was, but neither deserted nor silent. The unleashed evil ofSan Juan was now in full control, more madly riotous than ever beneaththe cloak of so late an hour. Nothing short of complete return ofdaylight would bring semblance of peace to that carnival of saloons,gambling dens, and dance halls. Through the shadows stalked unrebuked,uncontrolled, the votaries of dissipation and recklessness, of "easymoney" and brutal lust. Yellow rays of light streamed from out dirty,uncurtained windows, leaving the narrow street weirdly illuminated,with here and there patches of dense shadows. Shifting figures, oftenunsteady of step, appeared and disappeared like disembodied spirits,distorted from all human semblance by that uncertain radiance; on everyside the discordant sounds of violins and pianos commingled in onehideous din, punctuated by drunken shouts and every species of noise ofwhich civilized savagery is capable.

  Yet this was not what she feared, this saturnalia of unbridled passion,for the way was comparatively well lighted, and in traversing it shewas reasonably certain to be within call of some one sober enough toprotect her from insult or injury. Even in drink these men remainedcourteous to women of the right sort. No, she had travelled that pathalone at night before, again and again, returning from her work. Sheshrank, womanlike, from the sights and sounds, but was conscious of nopersonal fear. What she dreaded beyond expression was that long, blackstretch of narrow, desolate alley-way leading down toward the creekbridge and the old fort beyond. She had been over that path once inbroad daylight, and it made her shudder to think she must now feel herway there alone through the dark. The growing fear of it got upon hernerves as she stood hesitating; then, almost angry with herself, sheadvanced swiftly down toward the distant glowing lights of the Gayety.It was just beyond there that the alley turned off toward thefoothills, a mere thread of a path wandering amid a maze of unlightedtents and disreputable shacks; she remembered this, and the singlerotten strip of plank which answered for a sidewalk.

  There was an unusually boisterous, quarrelsome crowd congregated infront of the Poodle-Dog, and she turned aside into the middle of thestreet in order to get past undisturbed. Some one called noisily forher to wait and have a drink, but she never glanced about, or gaveslightest heed. At the curb a drunken woman reeled against her,peering sneeringly into her face with ribald laugh, but Beth Norvellpushed silently past, and vanished into the protecting shadows beyond.

  The wide doors of the brilliantly illuminated Gayety were flung open,the bright light from within streaming far across the road. Many ofits patrons, heated with liquor and the dance, had swarmed forth uponthe broad platform outside in search of fresher air. To avoid pushingher way through this noisy crowd the girl swiftly crossed the streetinto the darkness opposite. As she paused there for an instant,scarcely conscious that the glow of the lamps reflected full upon herface, there sounded a sudden clatter of horses' hoofs to her right, anda half-dozen riders swept around the sharp corner, dashing forward intothe glare. She had barely time in which to leap backward out of theirdirect path, when one of the horsemen jerked his mount upon itshaunches, and, uttering an oath of astonishment, leaned forward acrosshis pommel, staring down into her startled face. Then he laughed.

  "Go on, boys," he cried, sitting erect, with a wave of his hand to theothers. "I 'll catch up within half a mile. I 've got a word to sayfirst to this precious dove fluttering here." He struck the flank ofhis horse, causing the sensitive beast to quiver, his own lips curlingmaliciously. The girl, panting between parted lips, never lowered hereyes from his face, and the steady look angered him.

  "Still hunting for Winston?" he questioned, sneeringly. "Well, I caninform you where he may very easily be found."

  "Indeed!"

  "Yes, out at the 'Little Yankee.' It seems you were a trifle late ingetting him word, or else your fascinations failed to move him. Youmust be losing your grip."

  She neither moved nor spoke, her eyes--dark, unwinking beneath the widehat-brim--telling him nothing. Yet her hand closed upon the pearlhandle hidden away in the jacket pocket, and her lips formed a straightline.

  "I 'm damned sorry you did n't land the fellow, Lizzie," he went onbrutally. "He 's about the best catch you 're liable to get, andbesides, it leaves me a rather unpleasant job. Still, I thought I 'dbetter tell you, so you would n't feel it necessary to hang around thestreets here any longer. Fact is, I 'm anxious to shield yourreputation, you know." He looked about carelessly, his glance settlingon the open doors of the Gayety. "Don't strike me this is exactly thesort of place for one of your moral respectability to be discovered in.Lord! but what would the old man or that infernal prig of a brother ofyours say, if they could only see you now? A monologue artist at theGayety was bad enough, but this, this is the limit."

  There was a flash of something white and glittering within six inchesof his face, a sharp click, and an eye looked directly into his ownacross a short steel barrel.

  "Go!" The word was like the spat of a bullet.

  "But, Lizzie--"

  "Go, you cur! or, as God is my witness, if you stay I'll kill you!"

  With a sharp dig of the spur his horse sprang half-way across the road,a black, prancing shadow against the glare of light. She saw the riderfling up one arm, and bring down the stinging quirt on the animal'sflank; the next instant, with a bound, they were swallowed up in thedarkness. A moment she leaned against the shack, nerveless, halffainting from reaction, her face deathly white. Then she inhaled along, deep breath, gathered her skirts closely within one hand, andplunged boldly into the black alley.