by Max Brand
Even by starlight, had Donnegan been there to look, he would have seen the divinity which comes in the face of a woman when she loves.
CHAPTER 26
HAD HE BEEN there to see, even in the darkness he would have known, and he could have crossed the distance between their lives with a single step, and taken her into his heart. But he did not see. He had thrown himself upon his bunk and lay face down, his arms stretched rigidly out before him, his teeth set, his eyes closed.
For what Donnegan had wanted in the world, he had taken; by force when he could, by subtlety when he must. And now, what he wanted most of all was gone from him, he felt, forever. There was no power in his arms to take that part of her which he wanted; he had no craft which could encompass her.
Big George, stealing into the room, wondered at the lithe, slender form of the man in the bed. Seeing him thus, it seemed that with the power of one hand, George could crush him. But George would as soon have closed his fingers over a rattler. He slipped away into the kitchen and sat with his arms wrapped around his body, as frightened as though he had seen a ghost.
But Donnegan lay on the bed without moving for hours and hours, until big George, who sat wakeful and terrified all that time, was sure that he slept. Then he stole in and covered Donnegan with a blanket, for it was the chill, gray time of the night.
But Donnegan was not asleep, and when George rose in the morning, he found the master sitting at the table with his arms folded tightly across his breast and his eyes burning into vacancy.
He spent the day in that chair.
It was the middle of the afternoon when George came with a scared face and a message that a “gen’leman who looks riled, sir,” wanted to see him. There was no answer, and George perforce took the silence as acquiescence. So he opened the door and announced: “Mr. Lester to see you, sir.”
Into the fiery haze of Donnegan’s vision stepped a raw-boned fellow with sandy hair and a disagreeably strong jaw.
“You’re the gent that’s here with the colonel, ain’t you?” said Lester.
Donnegan did not reply.
“You’re the gent that cleaned up on Landis, ain’t you?” continued the sandy-haired man.
There was still the same silence, and Lester burst out: “It don’t work, Donnegan. You’ve showed you’re man-sized several ways since you been in The Corner. Now I come to tell you to get out from under Colonel Macon. Why? Because he’s crooked, because we know he’s crooked; because he played crooked with me. You hear me talk?”
Still Donnegan considered him without a word.
“We’re goin’ to run him out, Donnegan. We want you on our side if we can get you; if we can’t get you, then we’ll run you out along with the colonel.”
He began to talk with difficulty, as though Donnegan’s stare unnerved him. He even took a step back toward the door.
“You can’t bluff me out, Donnegan. I ain’t alone. They’s others behind me. I don’t need to name no names. Here’s another thing: you ain’t alone yourself. You got a woman and a cripple on your hands. Now, Donnegan, you’re a fast man with a gun and you’re a fast man at thinkin’, but I ask you personal: have you got a chance runnin’ under that weight?”
He added fiercely: “I’m through. Now, talk turkey, Donnegan, or you’re done!”
For the first time Donnegan moved. It was to make to big George a significant signal with his thumb, indicating the visitor. However, Lester did not wait to be thrown bodily from the cabin. One enormous oath exploded from his lips, and he backed sullenly through the door and slammed it after him.
“It kind of looks,” said big George, “like a war, sir.”
And still Donnegan did not speak, until the afternoon was gone, and the evening, and the full black of the night had swallowed up the hills around The Corner.
Then he left the chair, shaved, and dressed carefully, looked to his revolver, stowed it carefully and invisibly away among his clothes, and walked leisurely down the hill. An outbreak of cursing, stamping, hair-tearing, shooting could not have affected big George as this quiet departure did. He followed, unordered, but as he stepped across the threshold of the hut he rolled up his eyes to the stars.
“Oh, heavens above,” muttered George, “have mercy on Mr. Donnegan. He ain’t happy.”
And he went down the hill, making sure that he was fit for battle with knife and gun.
He had sensed Donnegan’s mental condition accurately enough. The heart of the little man was swelled to the point of breaking. A twenty-hour vigil had whitened his face, drawn in his cheeks, and painted his eyes with shadow; and now he wanted action. He wanted excitement, strife, competition; something to fill his mind. And naturally enough he had two places in mind — Lebrun’s and Milligan’s.
It is hard to relate the state of Donnegan’s mind at this time. Chiefly, he was conscious of a peculiar and cruel pain that made him hollow; it was like homesickness raised to the nth degree. Vaguely he realized that in some way, somehow, he must fulfill his promise to the girl and bring Jack Landis home. The colonel dared not harm the boy for fear of Donnegan; and the girl would be happy. For that very reason Donnegan wanted to tear Landis to shreds.
It is not extremely heroic for a man tormented with sorrow to go to a gambling hall and then to a dance hall to seek relief. But Donnegan was not a hero. He was only a man, and, since his heart was empty, he wanted something that might fill it. Indeed, like most men, suffering made him a good deal of a boy.
So the high heels of Donnegan tapped across the floor of Lebrun’s. A murmur went before him whenever he appeared now, and a way opened for him. At the roulette wheel he stopped, placed fifty on red, and watched it double three times. George, at a signal from the master, raked in the winnings. And Donnegan sat at a faro table and won again, and again rose disconsolately and went on. For when men do not care how luck runs it never fails to favor them. The devotees of fortune are the ones she punishes.
In the meantime the whisper ran swiftly through The Corner.
“Donnegan is out hunting trouble.”
About the good that is in men rumor often makes mistakes, but for evil she has an infallible eye and at once sets all of her thousand tongues wagging. Indeed, any man with half an eye could not fail to get the meaning of his fixed glance, his hard set jaw, and the straightness of his mouth. If he had been a ghost, men could not have avoided him more sedulously, and the giant servant who stalked at his back. Not that The Corner was peopled with cowards. The true Westerner avoids trouble, but cornered, he will fight like a wildcat.
So people watched from the corner of their eyes as Donnegan passed.
He left Lebrun’s. There was no competition. Luck blindly favored him, and Donnegan wanted contest, excitement. He crossed to Milligan’s. Rumor was there before him. A whisper conveyed to a pair of mighty-limbed cow-punchers that they were sitting at the table which Donnegan had occupied the night before, and they wisely rose without further hint and sought other chairs. Milligan, anxious-eyed, hurried to the orchestra, and with a blast of sound they sought to cover up the entry of the gunman.
As a matter of fact that blare of horns only served to announce him. Something was about to happen; the eyes of men grew shadowy; the eyes of women brightened. And then Donnegan appeared, with George behind him, and crossed the floor straight to his table of the night before. Not that he had forethought in going toward it, but he was moving absent-mindedly.
Indeed, he had half forgotten that he was a public figure in The Corner, and sitting sipping the cordial which big George brought him at once, he let his glance rove swiftly around the room. The eye of more than one brave man sank under that glance; the eye of more than one woman smiled back at him; but where the survey of Donnegan halted was on the face of Nelly Lebrun.
She was crossing the farther side of the floor alone, unescorted except for the whisper about her, but seeing Donnegan she stopped abruptly. Donnegan instantly rose. She would have gone on again in a flurry; but that
would have been too pointed.
A moment later Donnegan was threading his way across the dance floor to Nelly Lebrun, with all eyes turned in his direction. He had his hat under his arm; and in his black clothes, with his white stock, he made an old-fashioned figure as he bowed before the girl and straightened again.
“Did you send for me?” Donnegan inquired.
Nelly Lebrun was frankly afraid; and she was also delighted. She felt that she had been drawn into the circle of intense public interest which surrounded the red-headed stranger; she remembered on the other hand that her father would be furious if she exchanged two words with the man. And for that very reason she was intrigued. Donnegan, being forbidden fruit, was irresistible. So she let the smile come to her lips and eyes, and then laughed outright in her excitement.
“No,” she said with her lips, while her eyes said other things.
“I’ve come to ask a favor: to talk with you one minute.”
“If I should — what would people say?”;
“Let’s find out.”
“It would be — daring,” said Nelly Lebrun. “After last night.”
“It would be delightful,” said Donnegan. “Here’s a table ready for us.”
She went a pace closer to it with him.
“I think you’ve frightened the poor people away from it. I mustn’t sit down with you, Mr. Donnegan.”
And she immediately slipped into the chair.
CHAPTER 27
SHE QUALIFIED HER surrender, of course, by sitting on the very edge of the chair. She had on a wine-colored dress, and, with the excitement whipping color into her cheeks and her eyes dancing, Nelly Lebrun was a lovely picture.
“I must go at once,” said Nelly.
“Of course, I can’t expect you to stay.”
She dropped one hand on the edge of the table. One would have thought that she was in the very act of rising.
“Do you know that you frighten me?”
“I?” said Donnegan, with appropriate inflection.
“As if I were a man and you were angry.”
“But you see?” And he made a gesture with both of his palms turned up. “People have slandered me. I am harmless.”
“The minute is up, Mr. Donnegan. What is it you wish?”
“Another minute.”
“Now you laugh at me.”
“No, no!”
“And in the next minute?”
“I hope to persuade you to stay till the third minute.”
“Of course, I can’t.”
“I know; it’s impossible.”
“Quite.” She settled into the chair. “See how people stare at me! They remember poor Jack Landis and they think — the whole crowd—”
“A crowd is always foolish. In the meantime, I’m happy.”
“You?”
“To be here; to sit close to you; to watch you.”
Her glance was like the tip of a rapier, searching him through for some iota of seriousness under this banter.
“Ah?” and Nelly Lebrun laughed.
“Don’t you see that I mean it?”
“You can watch me from a distance, Mr. Donnegan.”
“May I say a bold thing?”
“You have said several.”
“No one can really watch you from a distance.”
She canted her head a little to one side; such an encounter of personal quips was a seventh heaven to her.
“That’s a riddle, Mr. Donnegan.”
“A simple one. The answer is, because there’s too much to watch.”
He joined her when she laughed, but the laughter of Donnegan made not a sound, and he broke in on her mirth suddenly.
“Ah, don’t you see I’m serious?”
Her glance flicked on either side, as though she feared someone might have read his lips.
“Not a soul can hear me,” murmured Donnegan, “and I’m going to be bolder still, and tell you the truth.”
“It’s the last thing I dare stay to hear.”
“You are too lovely to watch from a distance, Nelly Lebrun.”
He was so direct that even Nelly Lebrun, expert in flirtations, was given pause, and became sober. She shook her head and raised a cautioning finger. But Donnegan was not shaken.
“Because there is a glamour about a beautiful girl,” he said gravely. “One has to step into the halo to see her, to know her. Are you contented to look at a flower from a distance? That’s an old comparison, isn’t it? But there is something like a fragrance about you, Nelly Lebrun. Don’t be afraid. No one can hear; no one shall ever dream I’ve said such bold things to you. In the meantime, we have a truth party. There is a fragrance, I say. It must be breathed. There is a glow which must touch one. As it touches me now, you see?”
Indeed, there was a faint color in his cheeks. And the girl flushed more deeply; her eyes were still bright, but they no longer sharpened to such a penetrating point. She was believing at least a little part of what he said, and her disbelief only heightened her joy in what was real in this strangest of lovemakings.
“I shall stay here to learn one thing,” she said. “What deviltry is behind all this talk, Mr. Donnegan?”
“Is that fair to me? Besides, I only follow a beaten trail in The Corner.”
“And that?”
“Toward Nelly Lebrun.”
“A beaten trail? You?” she cried, with just a touch of anger. “I’m not a child, Mr. Donnegan!”
“You are not; and that’s why I am frank.”
“You have done all these things — following this trail you speak of?”
“Remember,” said Donnegan soberly. “What have I done?”
“Shot down two men; played like an actor on a stage a couple of times at least, if I must be blunt; hunted danger like — like a reckless madman; dared all The Corner to cross you; flaunted the red rag in the face of the bull. Those are a few things you have done, sir! And all on one trail? That trail you spoke of?”
“Nelly Lebrun—”
“I’m listening; and do you know I’m persuading myself to believe you?”
“It’s because you feel the truth before I speak it. Truth speaks for itself, you know.”
“I have closed my eyes — you see? I have stepped into a masquerade. Now you can talk.”
“Masquerades are exciting,” murmured Donnegan.
“And they are sometimes beautiful.”
“But this sober truth of mine—”
“Well?”
“I came here unknown — and I saw you, Nelly Lebrun.”
He paused; she was looking a little past him.
“I came in rags; no friends; no following. And I saw that I should have to make you notice me.”
“And why? No, I shouldn’t have asked that.”
“You shouldn’t ask that,” agreed Donnegan. “But I saw you the queen of The Corner, worshiped by all men. What could I do? I am not rich. I am not big. You see?”
He drew her attention to his smallness with a flush which never failed to touch the face of Donnegan when he thought of his size; and he seemed to swell and grow greater in the very instant she glanced at him.
“What could I do? One thing; fight. I have fought. I fought to get the eye of The Corner, but most of all to attract your attention. I came closer to you. I saw that one man blocked the way — mostly. I decided to brush him aside. How?”
“By fighting?” She had not been carried away by his argument. She was watching him like a lynx every moment.
“Not by that. By bluffing. You see, I was not fool enough to think that you would — particularly notice a fighting bully.”
He laid his open hand on the table. It was like exposing both strength and weakness; and into such a trap it would have been a singularly hard-minded woman who might not have stepped. Nelly Lebrun leaned a little closer. She forgot to criticize.
“It was bluff. I saw that Landis was big and good-looking. And what was I beside him? Nothing. I could only hope that h
e was hollow; yellow — you see? So I tried the bluff. You know about it. The clock, and all that claptrap. But Landis wasn’t yellow. He didn’t crumble. He lasted long enough to call my bluff, and I had to shoot in self-defense. And then, when he lay on the floor, I saw that I had failed.”
“Failed?”
He lowered his eyes for fear that she would catch the glitter of them.
“I knew that you would hate me for what I had done because I had only proved that Landis was a brave youngster with enough nerve for nine out of ten. And I came tonight — to ask you to forgive me. No, not that — only to ask you to understand. Do you?”
He raised his glance suddenly at that, and their eyes met with one of these electric shocks which will go tingling through two people. And when the lips of Nelly Lebrun parted a little, he knew that she was in the trap. He closed his hand that lay on the table — curling the fingers slowly. In that way he expressed all his exultation.
“There is something wrong,” said the girl, in a tone of one who argues with herself. “It’s all too logical to be real.”
“Ah?”
“Was that your only reason for fighting Jack Landis?”
“Do I have to confess even that?”
She smiled in the triumph of her penetration, but it was a brief, unhappy smile. One might have thought that she would have been glad to be deceived.
“I came to serve a girl who was unhappy,” said Donnegan. “Her fiance had left her; her fiance was Jack Landis. And she’s now in a hut up the hill waiting for him. And I thought that if I ruined him in your eyes he’d go back to a girl who wouldn’t care so much about bravery. Who’d forgive him for having left her. But you see what a fool I was and how clumsily I worked? My bluff failed, and I only wounded him, put him in your house, under your care, where he’ll be happiest, and where there’ll never be a chance for this girl to get him back.”
Nelly Lebrun, with her folded hands under her chin, studied him.
“Mr. Donnegan,” she said, “I wish I knew whether you are the most chivalrous, self-sacrificing of men, or simply the most gorgeous liar in the desert.”
“And it’s hardly fair,” said Donnegan, “to expect me to tell you that.”