CHAPTER XXIII
DE SPAIN WORRIES
They parted that evening under the shadow of Music Mountain. Nanbelieved she could at least win her Uncle Duke over from any effort ofGale's to coerce her. Her influence over her uncle had never yetfailed, and she was firm in the conviction she could gain him to herside, since he had everything to win and nothing to lose by sidingagainst Gale, whom he disliked and distrusted, anyway.
For de Spain there was manifestly nothing to do but doubtfully to letNan try out her influence. They agreed to meet in Calabasas just assoon as Nan could get away. She hoped, she told him, to bring goodnews. De Spain arranged his business to wait at Calabasas for her, andwas there, after two days, doing little but waiting and listening toMcAlpin's stories about the fire and surmises as to strange men thatlurked in and about the place. But de Spain, knowing Jeffries wasmaking an independent investigation into the affair, gave no heed toMcAlpin's suspicions.
To get away from the barn boss, de Spain took refuge in riding. Theseason was drawing on toward winter, and rain clouds drifting atintervals down from the mountains made the saddle a less dependableescape from the monotony of Calabasas. Several days passed with nosight of Nan and no word from her. De Spain, as the hours and dayswent by, scanned the horizon with increasing solicitude. When he wokeon the sixth morning, he was resolved to send a scout into the Gap tolearn what he could of the situation. The long silence, de Spain knew,portended nothing good. And the vexing feature of his predicament wasthat he had at hand no trustworthy spy to despatch for information; tosecure one would be a matter of delay. He was schooled, however, tomaking use of such material as he had at hand, and when he had made uphis mind, he sent to the stable for Bull Page.
The shambling barn man, summoned gruffly by McAlpin, hesitated as heappeared at the office door and seemed to regard the situation withsuspicion. He looked at de Spain tentatively, as if ready either forthe discharge with which he was daily threatened or for a renewal ofhis earlier, friendly relations with the man who had been queer enoughto make a place for him. De Spain set Bull down before him in thestuffy little office.
"Bull," he began with apparent frankness, "I want to know how you likeyour job."
Wiping his mouth guardedly with his hand to play for time and as anintroduction to a carefully worded reply, Bull parried. "Mr. de Spain,I want to ask you just one fair question."
"Go ahead, Bull."
Bull plunged promptly into the suspicion uppermost in his mind. "Hasthat slat-eyed, flat-headed, sun-sapped sneak of a Scotchman beencomplaining of my work? _That_, Mr. de Spain," emphasized Bull,leaning forward, "is what I want to know first--is it a fairquestion?"
"Bull," returned de Spain with corresponding and ceremonial emphasis,"it is a fair question between man and man. I admit it; it is a fairquestion. And I answer, no, Bull. McAlpin has had nothing on the faceof the desert to do with my sending for you. And I add this because Iknow you want to hear it: he says he couldn't complain of your work,because you never do any."
"That man," persisted Bull, reinforced by the hearty tone and notclearly catching the drift of the very last words, "drinks more liquorthan I do."
"He must be some tank, Bull."
"And I don't hide it, Mr. de Spain."
"You'd have to crawl under Music Mountain to do that. What I want toknow is, do you like your job?"
On this point it was impossible to get an expression from Bull. Hefelt convinced that de Spain was pressing for an answer only as apreliminary to his discharge. "No matter," interposed the latter,cutting Bull's ramblings short, "drop it, Bull. I want you to dosomething for me, and I'll pay for it."
Bull, with a palsied smile and a deep, quavering note of gratitude,put up his shaky hand. "Say what. That's all. I've been paid."
"You know you're a sot, Bull."
Bull nodded. "I know it."
"A disgrace to the Maker whose image you were made in."
Bull started, but seemed, on reflection, to consider this a point onwhich he need not commit himself.
"Still, I believe there's a man in you yet. Something, at any rate,you couldn't completely kill with whiskey, Bull--what?"
Bull lifted his weak and watery eyes. His whiskey-seamed facebrightened into the ghost of a smile. "What I'm going to ask you todo," continued de Spain, "is a man's job. You can get into the Gapwithout trouble. You are the only man I can put my hand on just now,that can. I want you to ride over this morning and hang out aroundDuke Morgan's place till you can get a chance to see Miss Nan----"
At the mention of her name, Bull shook his head a moment inaffirmative approval. "She's a queen!" he exclaimed with admiring butpungent expletives. "A queen!"
"I think so, Bull. But she is in troublesome circumstances. You knowNan and I----"
Bull winked in many ways.
"And her Uncle Duke is making us trouble, Bull. I want you to findher, speak with her, and bring word to me as to what the situation is.That doesn't mean you're to get drunk over there--in fact, I don'tthink anybody over there would give you a drink----"
"Don't believe they would."
"And you are to ride back here with what you can find out just asquick, after you get into the clear, as a horse will bring you."
Bull passed his hand over his mouth with a show of resolution. Itindicated that he was pulling himself together. Within half an hour hewas on his way to the Gap.
For de Spain hours never dragged as did the hours between his startingand the setting of the sun that night without his return. And the sunset behind Music Mountain in a drift of heavy clouds that broughtrain. All evening it fell steadily. At eleven o'clock de Spain hadgiven up hope of seeing his emissary before morning and was sittingalone before the stove in the office when he heard the sound of hoofs.In another moment Bull Page stood at the door.
He was a sorry sight. Soaked to the skin by the steady downpour; raindripping intermittently from his frayed hat, his ragged beard, andtattered coat; shaking with the cold as if gripped by an ague, Bull,picking his staggering steps to the fire, and sinking in a heap into achair, symbolized the uttermost tribute of manhood to the ravages ofwhiskey. He was not drunk. He had not even been drinking; but hisvitality was gone. He tried to speak. It was impossible. His tonguewould not frame words, nor his throat utter them. He could only lookhelplessly at de Spain as de Spain hastily made him stand up on hisshaking knees, threw a big blanket around him, sat him down, kickedopen the stove drafts, and called to McAlpin for more whiskey tosteady the wreck of it crouching over the fire.
McAlpin after considerable and reluctant search produced a bottle, andunwilling, for more reasons than one, to trust it to Bull's uncertainpossession, brought a dipper. Bull held the dipper while de Spainpoured. McAlpin, behind the stove, hopped first on one foot and thenon the other as de Spain recklessly continued to pour. When the liquorhalf filled the cup, McAlpin put out unmistakable distress signals,but Bull, watching the brown stream, his eyes galvanized at the sight,held fast to the handle and made no sign to stop. "Bull!" thunderedthe barn boss with an emphatic word. "That is Elpaso's bottle. Whatare you dreaming of, man? Mr. de Spain, you'll kill him. Don't ye seehe can't tell ye to stop?"
Bull, with the last flickering spark of vitality still left withinhim, looked steadily up and winked at de Spain. McAlpin, outraged,stamped out of the room. Steadying the dipper in both hands, Bull withan effort passed one hand at the final moment preliminarily over hismouth, and, raising the bowl, emptied it. The poison electrified himinto utterance. "I seen her," he declared, holding his chin well downand in, and speaking in a pardonably proud throat.
"Good, Bull!"
"They've got things tied up for fair over there." He spoke slowly andbrokenly. "I never got inside the house till after supper. Towardnight I helped Pardaloe put up the stock. He let me into the kitchenafter my coaxing for a cup of coffee--he's an ornery, cold-bloodedguy, that Pardaloe. Old Duke and Sassoon think the sun rises and setson the top of his head--funny, ain't it?"
"Who gave it to you?"
"Old Bunny, the Mex. Pardaloe goes out to the bunk-house; I sits downto my supper, alone, with Bunny at the stove. All of a sudden whocomes a-trippin' in from the front of the house but Nan. I jumped upas strong as I could, but I was too cold and stiff to jump up realstrong. She seen me, but didn't pay no attention. I dropped my spoonon the floor. It didn't do no good, neither, so I pushed a hot plateof ham gravy off the table. It hit the dog 'n' he jumped like kingdomcome. Old Bunny sails into me, Nan a-watchin', and while Mex waspickin' up and cleanin' up, I sneaks over to the stove and winks atNan. Say, you oughter seen her look mad at me. She was hot, but I kepta-winkin' and I says to her kind of husky-like: 'Got any letters forCalabasas to-night?' Say, she looked at me as if she'd bore holes intome, but I stood right up and glared back at the little girl. 'Comefrom there this mornin',' says I, low, 'going back to-night. Some onewaiting there for news.'
"By jing! Just as I got the words out o' my mouth who comesa-stalking in but Gale Morgan. The minute he seen me, he lit on me tobeat the band--called me everything he could lay his tongue to. I leton I was drunk, but that didn't help. He ordered me off the premises.'N' the worst of it was, Nan chimed right in and began to scold Bunnyfor lettin' me in--and leaves the room, quick-like. Bunny put it onPardaloe, and she and Gale had it, and b'jing, Gale put me out--saidhe'd pepper me. But wait till I tell y' how she fooled him. It wasrainin' like hell, 'n' it looked as if I was booked for a ride throughit and hadn't half drunk my second cup of coffee at that. I starts forthe barn, when some one in the dark on the porch grabs my arm, spinsme around like a top, throws a flasher up into my face, and there wasNan. 'Bull,' she says, 'I'm sorry. I don't want to see you ride out inthis with nothing to eat; come this way quick.'
"She took me down cellar from the outside, under the kitchen. WhenGale goes out again she flings up the trap-door, speaks to Mex, pullsall the kitchen shades down, locks the doors, and I sets down on thetrap-door steps 'n' eats a pipin' hot supper; say! Well, I reckon Idrank a couple o' quarts of coffee. 'Bull,' she says, 'I never doneyou no harm, did I?' 'Never,' says I, 'and I never done you none,neither, did I? And what's more, I never will do you none.' Then I upand told her. 'Tell him,' says she, 'I can't get hold of a horse, nora pen, nor a piece of paper--I can't leave the house but what I amwatched every minute. They keep track of me day and night. Tell him,'she says, 'I can protect myself; they think they'll break me--make medo what they want me to--marry--but they can't break me, and I'llnever do it--tell him that.'
"'But,' says I, 'that ain't the whole case, Miss Nan. What he'll askme, when he's borin' through me with _his_ eyes like the way you'reborin' me through with yours, is: When will you see him--when will hesee you?'
"She looked worrit for a minit. Then she looks around, grabs up thecover of an empty 'bacco box and a fork and begins a-writing inside."Bull, with as much of a smile as he could call into life from hisbroken nerves, opened up his blanket, drew carefully from an insidecoat pocket an oilskin package, unwrapped from it the flat, square topof a tin tobacco box on which Nan had scratched a message, and handedit triumphantly to de Spain.
He read her words eagerly:
"Wait; don't have trouble. I can stand anything better than bloodshed,Henry. Be patient."
While de Spain, standing close to the lantern, deciphered the briefnote, Bull, wrapping his blanket about him with the air of one whoseresponsibility is well ended, held out his hands toward the blazingstove. De Spain went over the words one by one, and the letters againand again. It was, after all their months of ardent meetings, thefirst written message he had ever had from Nan. He flamed angrily atthe news that she was prisoner in her own home. But there was much toweigh in her etched words, much to think about concerning herfeelings--not alone concerning his own.
He dropped into his chair and, oblivious for a moment of hiscompanion's presence, stared into the fire. When he started from hisrevery Bull was asleep. De Spain picked him up, carried him in hisblanket over to a cot, cut the wet rags off him, and, rolling him in asecond blanket, walked out into the barn and ordered up a team andlight wagon for Sleepy Cat. The rain fell all night.
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