The Hunted Woman

by James Oliver Curwood

  CHAPTER XII

  For an hour after Donald MacDonald had pledged himself to accompany Joanneand Aldous on their pilgrimage to the grave in the Saw Tooth Range the twomen continued to discuss the unusual complications in which they hadsuddenly become involved, and at the same time prepared themselves a supperof bacon and coffee over the fire. They agreed upon a plan of action withone exception. Aldous was determined to return to the town, arguing therewas a good strategic reason for showing himself openly and without fear.MacDonald opposed this apprehensively.

  "Better lay quiet until morning," he expostulated. "You'd better listen tome, an' do that, Johnny. I've got something in my shoulder that tells meyou'd better!"

  In the face of the old hunter's misgiving, Aldous prepared to leave. It wasnearly ten o'clock when he set back in the direction of Tete Jaune, Donaldaccompanying him as far as the moonlit amphitheatre in the forest. Therethey separated, and Aldous went on alone.

  He believed that Joanne and the Blacktons would half expect him to returnto the bungalow after he had seen MacDonald. He was sure that Blackton, atleast, would look for him until quite late. The temptation to takeadvantage of their hospitality was great, especially as it would bring himin the company of Joanne again. On the other hand, he was certain that thisfirst night in Tete Jaune held very large possibilities for him. Thedetective instinct in him was roused, and his adventurous spirit was alivefor action. First of all, he wanted proof of what MacDonald had told him.That an attempt had been made to assassinate the old mountaineer he did notfor an instant doubt. But had Joe DeBar, the half-breed, actually betrayedthem? Had he sold himself to Culver Rann, and did Rann hold the key to thesecret expedition they had planned into the North? He did not, at first,care to see Rann. He made up his mind that if he did meet him he would stopand chat casually with him, as though he had heard and seen nothing torouse his suspicions. He particularly wanted to find DeBar; and, next toDeBar, Quade himself.

  The night carnival was at its height when Aldous re-entered the long,lighted street. From ten until eleven was the liveliest hour of the night.Even the restaurants and soup-kitchens were crowded then. He strolledslowly down the street until he came to a little crowd gathered about thebear equestrienne. The big canvas dance-hall a few doors away had luredfrom her most of her admirers by this time, and Aldous found no difficultyin reaching the inner circle. He looked first for the half-breed. Failingto find him, he looked at the woman, who stood only a few feet from him.Her glossy black curls were a bit dishevelled, and the excitement of thenight had added to the vivid colouring of her rouged lips and cheeks. Herbody was sleek and sinuous in its silken vesture; arms and shoulders werestartlingly white; and when she turned, facing Aldous, her black eyesflashed fires of deviltry and allurement.

  For a moment he stared into her face. If he had not been looking closely hewould not have caught the swift change that shot into the siren-like playof her orbs. It was almost instantaneous. Her slow-travelling glancestopped as she saw him. He saw the quick intake of her breath, a suddencompression of her lips, the startled, searching scrutiny of a pair of eyesfrom which, for a moment, all the languor and coquetry of her trade weregone. Then she passed him, smiling again, nodding, sweeping a hand and armeffectively through her handsome curls as she flung a shapely limb over thebroad back of the bear. In a garish sort of way the woman was beautiful,and this night, as on all others, her beauty had nearly filled the silkencoin-bag suspended from her neck. As she rode down the street Aldousrecalled Blackton's words: She was a friend of Culver Rann's. He wonderedif this fact accounted for the strangeness of the look she had given him.

  He passed on to the dance-hall. It was crowded, mostly with men. But hereand there, like so many faces peering forth from living graves, he saw theLittle Sisters of Tete Jaune Cache. Outnumbered ten to one, their voicesrang out in shrill banter and delirious laughter above the rumble of men.At the far end, a fiddle, a piano, and a clarinet were squealing forthmusic. The place smelled strongly of whisky. It always smelled of that, formost of the men who sought amusement here got their whisky in spite of thelaw. There were rock-hogs from up the line, and rock-hogs from down theline, men of all nationalities and of almost all ages; teamsters,trail-cutters, packers, and rough-shod navvies; men whose daily task was toplay with dynamite and giant powder; steel-men, tie-men, and men whodrilled into the hearts of mountains. More than once John Aldous had lookedupon this same scene, and had listened to the trample and roar and wildrevelry of it, marvelling that to-morrow the men of this saturnalia wouldagain be the builders of an empire. The thin, hollow-cheeked faces thatpassed and repassed him, rouged and smiling, could not destroy in his mindthe strength of the picture. They were but moths, fluttering about in theirown doom, contending with each other to see which should quickest achievedestruction.

  For several minutes Aldous scanned the faces in the big tent-hall, andnowhere did he see DeBar. He dropped out, and continued leisurely along thelighted way until he came to Lovak's huge black-and-white stripedsoup-tent. At ten o'clock, and until twelve, this was as crowded as thedance-hall. Aldous knew Lovak, the Hungarian.

  Through Lovak he had found the key that had unlocked for him many curiousand interesting things associated with that powerful Left Arm of the EmpireBuilders--the Slav. Except for a sprinkling of Germans, a few Italians, andnow and then a Greek or Swiss, only the Slavs filled Lovak's place!--Slavsfrom all the Russias and the nations south: the quick and chattering Polak;the thick-set, heavy-jowled Croatian; the silent and dangerous-eyedLithuanian. All came in for Lovak's wonderful soup, which he sold in bigyellow bowls at ten cents a bowl--soup of barley, rice, and cabbage, ofbeef and mutton, of everything procurable out of which soup could be made,and, whether of meat or vegetable, smelling to heaven of garlic.

  Fifty men were eating when Aldous went in, devouring their soup with theutter abandon and joy of the Galician, so that the noise they made was likethe noise of fifty pigs at fifty troughs. Now and then DeBar, thehalf-breed, came here for soup, and Aldous searched quickly for him. He wasturning to go when his friend, Lovak, came to him. No, Lovak had not seenDeBar. But he had news. That day the authorities--the police--hadconfiscated twenty dressed hogs, and in each porcine carcass they had foundfour-quart bottles of whisky, artistically imbedded in the leaf-lard fat.The day before those same authorities had confiscated a barrel of"kerosene." They were becoming altogether too officious, Lovak thought.

  Aldous went on. He looked in at a dozen restaurants, and twice as manysoft-drink emporiums, where phonographs were worked until they were crackedand dizzy. He stopped at a small tobacco shop, and entered to buy himselfsome cigars. There was one other customer ahead of him. He was lighting acigar, and the light of a big hanging lamp flashed on a diamond ring. Overhis sputtering match his eyes met those of John Aldous. They were darkeyes, neither brown nor black, but dark, with the keenness and strangeglitter of a serpent's. He wore a small, clipped moustache; his hands werewhite; he was a man whom one might expect to possess the _sang froid_ of adevil in any emergency. For barely an instant he hesitated in the operationof lighting his cigar as he saw Aldous. Then he nodded.

  "Hello, John Aldous," he said.

  "Good evening, Culver Rann," replied Aldous.

  For a moment his nerves had tingled--the next they were like steel. CulverRann's teeth gleamed. Aldous smiled back. They were cold, hard, rapierlikeglances. Each understood now that the other was a deadly enemy, for Quade'senemies were also Culver Rann's. Aldous moved carelessly to the glass casein which were the cigars. With the barest touch of one of his slim whitehands Culver Rann stopped him.

  "Have one of mine, Aldous," he invited, opening a silver case filled withcigars. "We've never had the pleasure of smoking together, you know."

  "Never," said Aldous, accepting one of the cigars. "Thanks."

  As he lighted it, their eyes met again. Aldous turned to the case.

  "Half a dozen 'Noblemen,'" he said to the man behind the counter; then, toRann: "Will you ha
ve one on me?"

  "With pleasure," said Rann. He added, smiling straight into the other'seyes, "What are you doing up here, Aldous? After local colour?"

  "Perhaps. The place interests me."

  "It's a lively town."

  "Decidedly. And I understand that you've played an important part in themaking of it," replied Aldous carelessly.

  For a flash Rann's eyes darkened, and his mouth hardened, then his whiteteeth gleamed again. He had caught the insinuation, and he had scarcelybeen able to ward off the shot.

  "I've tried to do my small share," he admitted. "If you're after localcolour for your books, Aldous, I possibly may be able to assist you--ifyou're in town long."

  "Undoubtedly you could," said Aldous. "I think you could tell me a greatdeal that I would like to know, Rann. But--will you?"

  There was a direct challenge in his coldly smiling eyes.

  "Yes, I think I shall be quite pleased to do so," said Rann."Especially--if you are long in town." There was an odd emphasis on thoselast words.

  He moved toward the door.

  "And if you are here very long," he added, his eyes gleaming significantly,"it is possible you may have experiences of your own which would make veryinteresting reading if they ever got into print. Good-night, Aldous!"

  For two or three minutes after Rann had gone Aldous loitered in the tobaccoshop. Then he went out. All at once it struck him that he should have kepthis eyes on Quade's partner. He should have followed him. With the hope ofseeing him again he walked up and down the street. It was eleven o'clockwhen he went into Big Ben's pool-room. Five minutes later he came out justas a woman hurried past him, carrying with her a strong scent of perfume.It was the Lady of the Bear. She was in a street dress now, her glossycurls still falling loose about her--probably homeward bound after hernight's harvest. It struck Aldous that the hour was early for herretirement, and that she seemed somewhat in a hurry.

  The woman was going in the direction of Rann's big log bungalow, which wasbuilt well out of town toward the river. She had not seen him as he stoodin the pool-room doorway, and before she had passed out of sight he wasfollowing her. There were a dozen branch trails and "streets" on the way toRann's, and into the gloom of some one of these the woman disappeared, sothat Aldous lost her entirely. He was not disappointed when he found shehad left the main trail.

  Five minutes later he stood close to Rann's house. From the side on whichhe had approached it was dark. No gleam of light showed through thewindows. Slowly he walked around the building, and stopped suddenly on theopposite side. Here a closely drawn curtain was illuminated by a glow fromwithin. Cautiously Aldous made his way along the log wall of the houseuntil he came to the window. At one side the curtain had caught againstsome object, leaving perhaps a quarter of an inch of space through whichthe light shone. Aldous brought his eyes on a level with this space.

  A half of the room came within his vision. Directly in front of him,lighted by a curiously shaped iron lamp suspended from the ceiling, was adull red mahogany desk-table. At one side of this, partly facing him, wasCulver Rann. Opposite him sat Quade.

  Rann was speaking, while Quade, with his bullish shoulders hunched forwardand his fleshy red neck, rolling over the collar of his coat, leaned acrossthe table in a tense and listening attitude. With his eyes glued to theaperture, Aldous strained his ears to catch what Rann was saying. He heardonly the low and unintelligible monotone of his voice. A mocking smile wasaccompanying Rann's words. To-night, as at all times, this hawk who preyedupon human lives was immaculate. In all ways but one he was the antithesisof the beefy scoundrel who sat opposite him. On the hand that toyedcarelessly with the fob of his watch flashed a diamond; another sparkled inhis cravat. His dark hair was sleek and well brushed; his bristly littlemoustache was clipped in the latest fashion. He was not large. His hands,as he made a gesture toward Quade, were of womanish whiteness. Casually, onthe street or in a Pullman, Aldous would have taken him for a gentleman.Now, as he stared through the narrow slit between the bottom of the curtainand the sill, he knew that he was looking upon one of the most dangerousmen in all the West. Quade was a villain. Culver Rann, quiet and cool andsuave, was a devil. Behind his depravity worked the brain which Quadelacked, and a nerve which, in spite of that almost effeminateimmaculateness, had been described to Aldous as colossal.

  Suddenly Quade turned, and Aldous saw that he was flushed and excited. Hestruck the desk a blow with his fist. Culver Rann leaned back and smiled.And John Aldous slipped away from the window.

  His nerves were quivering; in the darkness he unbuttoned the pocket thatheld his automatic. Through the window he had seen an open door behindRann, and his blood thrilled with the idea that had come to him. He wassure the two partners in crime were discussing himself and MacDonald--andJoanne. To hear what they were saying, to discover their plot, would bethree quarters of the fight won, if it came to a fight. The open door wasan inspiration.

  Swiftly and silently he went to the rear of the house. He tried the doorand found it unlocked. Softly he opened it, swinging it inward an inch ata time, and scarcely breathing as he entered. It was dark, and there was asecond closed door ahead of him. From beyond that he heard voices. Heclosed the outer door so that he would not be betrayed by a current of airor a sound from out of the night. Then, even more cautiously and slowly, hebegan to open the second door.

  An inch at first, then two inches, three inches--a foot--he worked the doorinward. There was no light in this second room, and he lay close to thefloor, head and shoulders thrust well in. Through the third and open doorhe saw Quade and Culver Rann. Rann was laughing softly as he lighted afresh cigar. His voice was quiet and good humoured, but filled with abanter which it was evident Quade was not appreciating.

  "You amaze me," Rann was saying. "You amaze me utterly. You've gonemad--mad as a rock-rabbit, Quade! Do you mean to tell me you're on thesquare when you offer to turn over a half of your share in the gold if Ihelp you to get this woman?"

  "I do," replied Quade thickly. "I mean just that! And we'll put it down inblack an' white--here, now. You fix the papers, same as any other deal, andI'll sign!"

  For a moment Culver Rann did not reply. He leaned back in his chair, thrustthe thumbs of his white hands in his vest, and sent a cloud of smoke abovehis head. Then he looked at Quade, a gleam of humour in his eyes.

  "Nothing like a woman for turning a man's head soft," he chuckled. "Nothingin the world like it, 'pon my word, Quade. First it was DeBar. I don'tbelieve we'd got him if he hadn't seen Marie riding her bear. Marie andher curls and her silk tights, Quade--s'elp me, it wouldn't have surprisedme so much if you'd fallen in love with _her!_ And over this other womanyou're as mad as Joe is over Marie. At first sight he was ready to sell hissoul for her. So--I gave Marie to him. And now, for some other woman,you're just as anxious to surrender a half of your share of what we'vebought through Marie. Good heaven, man, if you were in love with Marie----"

  "Damn Marie!" growled Quade. "I know the time when you were bugs over heryourself, Rann. It wasn't so long ago. If I'd looked at her then----"

  "Of course, not then," interrupted Rann smilingly. "That would have beenimpolite, Quade, and not at all in agreement with the spirit of ourbrotherly partnership. And, you must admit, Marie is a devilishgood-looking girl. I've surrendered her only for a brief spell to DeBar.After he has taken us to the gold--why, the poor idiot will probably havebeen sufficiently happy to----"

  He paused, with a suggestive shrug of his shoulders.

  "--go into cold storage," finished Quade.

  "Exactly."

  Again Quade leaned over the table, and for a moment there was silence, asilence in which Aldous thought the pounding of his heart must betray him.He lay motionless on the floor. The nails of his fingers dug into the barewood. Under the palm of his right hand lay his automatic.

  Then Quade spoke. There must have been more in his face than was spoken inhis words, for Culver Rann took the cigar from between his lips, and al
ight that was deadly serious slowly filled his eyes.

  "Rann, we'll talk business!" Quade's voice was harsh, deep, and quivering."I want this woman. I may be a fool, but I'm going to have her. I might gether alone, but we've always done things together--an' so I made you thatproposition. It ain't a hard job. It's one of the easiest jobs we ever had.Only that fool of a writer is in the way--an' he's got to go anyway. We'vegot to get rid of him on account of the gold, him an' MacDonald. We've gotthat planned. An' I've showed you how we can get the woman, an' no one everknow. Are you in on this with me?"

  Culver Rann's reply was as quick and sharp as a pistol shot.

  "I am."

  For another moment there was silence. Then Quade asked:

  "Any need of writin', Culver?"

  "No. There can't be a written agreement in this deal because--it'sdangerous. There won't be much said about old MacDonald. But questions, agood many of them, will be asked about this man Aldous. As for thewoman----" Rann shrugged his shoulders with a sinister smile. "She willdisappear like the others," he finished. "No one will ever get on to that.If she doesn't make a pal like Marie--after a time, why----"

  Again Aldous saw that peculiar shrug of his shoulders.

  Quade's head nodded on his thick neck.

  "Of course, I agree to that," he said. "After a time. But most of 'em havecome over, ain't they, Culver? Eh? Most of 'em have," he chuckled coarsely."When you see her you won't call me a fool for going dippy over her,Culver. And she'll come round all right after she's gone through what we'vegot planned for her. I'll make a pal of her!"

  In that moment, as he listened to the gloating passion and triumph inQuade's brutal voice, something broke in the brain of John Aldous. Itfilled him with a fire that in an instant had devoured every thought orplan he had made, and in this madness he was consumed by a singledesire--the desire to kill. And yet, as this conflagration surged throughhim, it did not blind or excite him. It did not make him leap forth inanimal rage. It was something more terrible. He rose so quietly that theothers did not see or hear him in the dark outer room. They did not hearthe slight metallic click of the safety on his pistol.

  For the space of a breath he stood and looked at them. He no longer sensedthe words Quade was uttering. He was going in coolly and calmly to killthem. There was something disagreeable in the flashing thought that hemight kill them from where he stood. He would not fire from the dark. Hewanted to experience the exquisite sensation of that one first moment whenthey would writhe back from him, and see in him the presence of death. Hewould give them that one moment of life--just that one. Then he would kill.

  With his pistol ready in his hand he stepped out into the lighted room.

  "Good evening, gentlemen!" he said.