by Zane Grey
Sydney’s husky, failing voice trailed off. For several moments there was silence.
“She fascinated me,” went on Sydney. “And then she changed somehow. The scorn — the earnestness — the sweetness all fled. ‘Now for your new lover, Leavitt,’ she began, with a terrible look at me. ‘I’ll make short work of him — and the rest of this job.... Rand Leavitt is two-faced, and one of his faces — the one I know — is that of a dog. I know he made way with Kalispel’s brother and jumped his claim. But I can’t prove it. He sold your father two worthless claims, which I can prove. If your father has been robbed, as I’ve heard, one of Leavitt’s men did it. But that side of Leavitt is the least vile. All this time that he’s been making love to you he’s been trying to get me. Oh, you needn’t glare at me! — I can prove that, if you need proof. Any of the girls at Borden’s will corroborate my statement.... Leavitt played the gallant lover to you. He vilified poor Kal and talked marriage to you. To me he showed the beast. In many ways you couldn’t understand if I told you. But you’ll understand this. He beat me when he couldn’t get the best of me. He has beaten other of the girls. He likes to beat women.’” Sydney panted in her agitation, and for a moment could not continue.
“She saw I was faint,” she presently went on. “‘I could tell you more, Miss Blair,’ she continued. ‘But unless you are mad indeed I’ve told enough. That is the kind of man Rand Leavitt is.’... She left me without another word.”
Kalispel paced to and fro in the confined space of the cabin, and tried to avert his face from his visitor. He divined that the most trying part of this interview might yet come. “I have told you — about all,” said the girl, haltingly. “Shore. An’ it’s been hard on you.”
“Can you — forgive me?”
He was silent and stared fixedly at the smouldering fire. The wind outside moaned under the eaves and roared hollowly down the chimney.
“I was a proud, egotistical, conceited thing,” she went on, humbly. “And out here only a tenderfoot. I love the beauty of this wilderness. But I hate the raw, the crude, the toil, the blood. I thought I could stand it. I fear now I never can.... Please forgive me!”
“I reckon.... All except last night. That I can’t forget.... Maybe in time.”
“Kalispel, I do not know myself. I am weak or crazy — or both. I was jealous of that girl Nugget. I despised myself. But I was. And yesterday I grew furious at you. I wanted to hurt you, drive you insane with jealousy. I had loved you. I thought you’d killed it.... And in the end all I did was — promise to marry — Rand Leavitt.”
“There was one thing I didn’t understand, Sydney,” queried Kalispel. “Why did you get Leavitt to tell you where he hid his gold, knowing I might be there to hear? You didn’t think Leavitt was a thief then.”
Sydney’s face flamed scarlet. “I don’t know, Kalispel. It was just part of my madness. Maybe I had an idea it might prove to me if you were a bandit. I wanted to believe the worst of you. Can’t you understand? Or maybe I just wanted to show you how much Leavitt cared for me — to tell me where he hid his fortune. Oh, I don’t know what it was — I was just out of my head.”
Kalispel nodded. “I guess — I understand, Sydney,” he said, slowly. Then, “Sydney, what will you do?” he queried, as if suddenly released.
“Is there nothing — for you — and me?” she faltered. “Hopeless,” he burst out, with dry lips. “I am a gunman, a killer. I mean to do for Leavitt an’ Borden before I leave here.... You are a lady, far above me, too fine for this bloody West.... Wherever I go my name will follow me. If you — you married me you’d be a pioneer’s wife. You’d have to pitch hay, bake bread, cut off the turkey’s head, milk the cows — an’, as Jake said, look after a brood of kids.... You see it isn’t a pleasin’ prospect.”
“It would be if I were woman enough,” she replied, and rising faced him with eloquent eyes that made him weak. Then she moved toward the door.
“Aw! — I’ll see you home, Sydney,” he replied, hurriedly, and followed her out.
The night was dark and windy, with storm in the warm air. He led the way for her among the boulders, and once had to take her hand. She clung to his a moment and then let go. They reached her porch without speaking again. She started up, then turned to him, so that her face gleamed pale, with shadowy eyes.
“No woman like me could ever love you like that girl does. No other woman could ever have such cause.... It was a revelation to me.”
“Aw, Sydney, you exaggerate. Nugget is grateful, of course, but—”
“She blazed with it,” interrupted Sydney. “And out of this ghastly lesson I’ll get most from that.”
“I’m awful glad you see the kid fair an’ straight now. She never was bad!”
“Thank God you saved her!” returned Sydney, with deep emotion. “Good night, Kalispel.”
He bade her good night and wended a thoughtful and sad way among the boulders, while the old black mountain rumbled its low thunder.
Chapter Twelve
There had been humility, remorse, and scorn of self in Sydney’s capitulation. Like a pendulum she had swung over to the other extreme. She had all but killed something beautiful and wonderful in Kalispel, and now it struggled to rise again and live. Under the dark and threatening sky, where he walked his beat, he was to find that love did not die so easily. His survived, and he was glad that was so, for he hated hate. Sydney still cared for him, in some degree, enough to sue for his forgiveness and his allegiance.
But in the light of all her vacillation Kalispel realized that he was not the man to make her happy. One wild hope shook him to the core — to take her and his gold, and go back where she belonged, where his fateful gun-play would never be called upon again. This idea, however, was untenable. He belonged to the West. They were incompatible. The biggest thing he could do for Sydney was to conquer his longing for her, to renounce her beauty, and to let her go to a better and more suitable mate. He succeeded, but it was the bitterest victory of his life.
It did not leave him peace. The long strife wore his nerves raw. What seemed left was a stern duty to expel these softer emotions which had made him weak, and get back to the grim and hard passion that had obsessed him before this upheaval.
Jake returned to the cabin late, to find Kalispel burning the midnight oil.
“Hello!” he said. “I allowed I’d let you have plenty of time with your lady-love.”
“Wal, I had plenty, believe me,” replied Kalispel, gruffly.
“Peaches an’ cream, thet girl, an’ sweet on you, Kal, or I’m a born fool.”
“You are a born fool, Jake.”
“Reckon I better change the subject or get bored.... Lots of talk downtown.”
“What about?”
“Masters an’ Leavitt have locked horns, it seems. You know Leavitt has been sore about Masters’ election. Wal, they’re at odds now about a vigilante committee. Masters wants one elected by the miners, with him, of course, at the head. An’ Leavitt holds that he has power to appoint the vigilantes.”
“Whew! — That’ll make a hell of a mess. — Jake, keep this under your hat. Leavitt is the boss of these bandits.”
“Thunderation an’ damnation! — Is it possible? But I’d believe anythin’ of thet man.... Are you shore, Kal?”
“Absolutely positive.”
“Can you prove it?”
“I could to honest, fair-minded men. Not to Leavitt’s crowd.”
“An’ that’s the rub. — Son, look here. If Leavitt organizes a band of vigilantes to catch an’ hang his own outfit — that will be a hell of a mess.”
“Worse. They’d hang me.”
“I wish you’d bored thet — long ago,” declared Jake, thoughtfully. “What’re we goin’ to do?”
“Hang on an’ see what comes off. But I’m bound to say, if this news of yours isn’t just camp gossip, it’s gettin’ sort of hot around here.”
“I should smile it is.”
“An�
� I’m at the end of my rope.”
“Wal, thet’s good. Just so long as you’ll not be at the end of their rope!”
“How’s the weather?” asked Kalispel, as he began to pull off his boots.
“Mistin’ a little. But clouds breakin’ some. It’ll rain shore, sooner or later. Then it’ll turn off cold an’ winter will set in colder’n blue blazes.”
Kalispel lay awake for a long while, and then slept late, far into the morning. Upon arising he shaved and then partook of a belated breakfast which Jake threatened he would not keep hot any longer. Kalispel did not waste words that morning. From the open door he saw that the storm still held aloof. Securing Blair’s wallet, he wrapped the bulky thing in a burlap sack and set out.
“Mind camp,” he said to Jake. “From now on one of us must be here all day.”
The hour was about noon. He found the kitchen door of Blair’s cabin open. Father and daughter were at lunch. “Howdy! Excuse me, but this is sort of ticklish,” said Kalispel, as he went in and closed the door.
Blair’s greeting was cordial and curious. Sydney had been weeping. Her smile was something to conjure with.
“Can you be trusted — now?” he asked Sydney, with strong emphasis on the last word.
Sydney submerged the old outraged dignity, but it took an effort. Kalispel unwrapped the burlap sack and laid the wallet on the table.
“Can you be trusted to take care of this yourself?” demanded Kalispel.
Blair leaped up in great excitement. “For the land’s sake! — My wallet!... Let me feel — let me look!”
“No, I will,” declared Sydney, after a gulp, and she snatched the wallet away from Blair’s clutching hands. She opened it. “Yes — yes — the money appears to be all here. Oh, how glad I am!... Kalispel, where did you get this wallet?”
“Where do you suppose?” he launched at her, keenly.
She flushed. “I — I did not mean anything.... But where?”
“I stole it from Leavitt.”
Blair betrayed his excitement by cursing prodigiously.
“Sydney, it’s not likely Leavitt will suspect you or search your house,” said Kalispel. “But hide the wallet in your bed or on your person. An’ never forget it. Pack your belongin’s an’ plan to leave the valley with one of these freighters as soon as this storm is over. I wouldn’t advise it till then. You might get caught up on top. An’ that’d shore not be any fun.”
“Pack!... Are you leaving, too?” she inquired, tremulously.
“No. Not unless I get chased out.”
“Oh!” she exclaimed, and dropped her tell-tale eyes. “Come back and let me thank you.”
“Kal, I just noticed you’re wearing two guns,” said Blair, his eyes popping. “Must be going to a prayer-meeting.”
“Ornamental, that’s all, Blair. So long,” drawled Kalispel, and cautiously opening the door, he saw that the coast was clear and went out.
Once at the gateway of the town it seemed to Kalispel that he was entering Laramie or Medicine Bow or Butte or Kalispel. It was not a happy nor an easy mood. Thunder City did not look as if it had lost half of its inhabitants, for the thoroughfare was as crowded, as loud, as bustling as usual. But the fact was that at least half of the miners had decided against being snowed in on a bonanza diggings the bright bubble of which had burst.
Kalispel had no particular objective just then except to ascertain the facts about the Masters-Leavitt controversy. If the argument developed into a dispute, that would be favorable to Kalispel. He went into one place after another. The business of buying, selling, freighting, eating, drinking, gambling, gossiping, prevailed as always. Kalispel received his meed of greetings and avoidances. Far ahead he espied Haskell and Selby, the latter still with his arm in a sling, standing in front of the Dead Eye Saloon. They crossed the wide street, obviously to let Kalispel pass.
At length he ran straight into Masters, who emerged from his office with no other than Borden.
“Hello! Just the man I’m lookin’ for,” ejaculated the sheriff.
“Wal, if you want anythin’ short of arrestin’ me you got to keep better company,” replied Kalispel, curtly.
Borden broke out of his rigidity; his swarthy face paled, his jaw bulged, his big eyes dilated, and with an imprecation he strode swiftly away up the street. Kalispel turned deliberately to watch him.
“Chip on yore shoulder, eh? An’ packin’ double hardware?” drawled Masters. “Will you come in an’ have a little talk?”
Kalispel followed him into the little board shack without troubling to reply. The room contained a rude table piled high with papers, two boxes for seats, a sawed-off shotgun, and a rifle.
“I needn’t tell you that walls have ears,” warned Masters, dryly, as he fastened his searching, eagle eyes upon his guest. “Our little plan to locate the bandits didn’t work, eh?”
“Not yet. An’ I reckon I’ll lay off that,” replied Kalispel.
“Just as wal. It might have turned out embarrassin’ for me.”
“Masters, I don’t need to make bluffs to get a line on the bandits,” declared Kalispel, pointedly, as he sized up his man. “Do you want to know who’s their chief?”
“Emerson, I’m not so damn keen as I was,” drawled the sheriff.
“Gettin’ cold feet?” queried Kalispel, just a little sarcastic.
“No. My feet air always warm an’ they stay on the ground. I’m leary, Emerson. I want to find out more before I act.”
“More about what — or who?”
“I reckon you could tell me, Emerson.”
“I reckon I could. But it looks like I’m playin’ a lone hand.”
“You mean I’ve got to show my hand, heah? Declare myself for Kalispel Emerson or against him?”
“You savvy.”
“Wal, I’ll do that. I’d stack yore friendship against the enmity of Borden an’ Leavitt any day. They’re the men buckin’ me heah.”
“Straight talk from a Texan,” returned Kalispel. “Shore you’ve heard this low-down hint about me bein’ a bandit?”
“Yes. I’ve been asked to arrest you.”
“Wal, I reckon if you go hobnobbin’ all over town with me it’ll offset thet talk.”
“Yes, an’ raise a hell of a lot more. But I’ll do it.”
“All right. Now what’s this vigilante deal?”
“Wal, it’s the queerest deal I ever stacked up against,” declared the Texan, dragging at his mustache. “I proposed to elect a vigilante committee. Judge Leavitt overruled me an’ appointed the men himself.”
“Has he already done it?”
“Shore. This mawnin’.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t say. Borden, who I had in heah pumpin’, didn’t know, either. An’ he didn’t care a damn. He’s out with Leavitt.”
“Take a hunch from me, Masters,” rejoined Kalispel, impressively. “Appoint another vigilante committee from the miners you know an’ do it pronto.”
“Youngster, I hadn’t thought of thet. You got the jump on me.... What you drivin’ at?”
“Masters, I’m not ready to come clean yet with all I know.”
“Wal, you’ve made one thing damn plain,” declared the sheriff, gravely. “If I cain’t trust Leavitt’s vigilante committee, I cain’t trust Judge Rand Leavitt.”
“Take it as you like,” said Kalispel, coolly. “Come out now an’ make good your friendliness for me.”
“Son, I’ll do thet little thing with genuine pleasure.”
They went out together, and Kalispel was about to lead his companion up the street when a young, heavy-booted miner halted to accost him.
“Ha, Emerson — hyar you — are,” he panted. He was livid of face and sweating. Kalispel recognized one of Sloan’s friends and sensed calamity.
“What’s come off?”
“Sloan! — He’s been beat — and knifed. Bad shape — I’m awful worried.... Nugget sent me. I — run all �
�� way to your cabin. Come.”
“Holy — !” Kalispel leaped as one under the leash. “Masters, trail in on this...
They had almost to run to keep up with the young miner, whose incoherent tongue worked as fast as his legs.
“Get yore breath — an’ then talk,” suggested the Texan, brusquely.
By the time they reached the log bridge over the stream the miner had recovered sufficiently to be understood.
“I got it — this way,” he said. “Sloan had a new claim — over in the brush. He laid off workin’ it — an’ this mornin’ when he went there — it had been jumped by three men. Argument ended in a fight. Sloan was hurt serious. He crawled till he got help. They took him home — did all thet was possible for him. But we reckon he’ll cash from the lung stab alone.”
“Ah-huh,” breathed Kalispel, as if a weight were on his chest.
“Did Sloan recognize his assailants?” asked the practical Masters.
“I didn’t hear thet.”
They turned up the trail which ran between tents and cabins and the stream. A knot of miners stood outside Sloan’s cabin.
“You go in, Emerson,” said the sheriff. “I’ll talk to these men heah.”
Kalispel entered. Besides Nugget, and Sloan, who lay on the bed, there were two others present — a neighbor miner whom Kalispel knew by sight, and a serious-faced woman, evidently his wife.
“Kal! — It took you so long,” said Nugget. “He wanted you so badly. And he’s sinking now.”
“I’m shore sorry,” replied Kalispel, not wanting to face her then. “I was downtown.”