The Tragedy of Wild River Valley

by Martha Finley

  CHAPTER XIV.

  It was past noon when Belinda left the raft, carrying a large basketcontaining her husband's clothes and such other articles as there mightbe pressing need of for him or herself. She hoped to make arrangementsfor storing their goods in some safe place, and to return in the courseof the afternoon with a conveyance for them, and some one to assist intheir removal.

  She had not gone far when she met a farmer driving leisurely along theroad.

  "Good-day," he called to her. "If I was goin' your way I'd give ye alift; that basket looks heavy; but I'm comin' from the town and you agoin' toward it. Good deal of excitement there to-day. Did ye hear thenews?"

  "What news?" she asked, her heart leaping into her mouth.

  "Why, that they've nabbed the murderer; leastways, the scoundrel thatattackted that old man on the raft and left him fer dead. They've tookhim to Prairieville to the jail. He'd ought to be strung right up, Isay; fer I've not the least doubt that he's at the head o' the gang o'burglars that's been robbin' here and there till nobody in this wholeregion of country knows when he and his family and goods is safe."

  He had reined in his horses, and she had set down her basket for amoment's rest while listening to what he had to say.

  "But don't you think everybody'd ought to have a fair trial?" sheasked, with some hesitation.

  "That's so, when there's any doubt o' their guilt and any chance o'their gettin' their deserts; which, howsomever, there ain't in thisinstance, seein' that the law's so that they can't nohow mete out tothe murderers the measure they've meted to their victims; and thatain't accordin' to Scriptur', nohow you kin fix it," he said, fleckinga fly off his horse's back with the lash of his whip. "There's somefolks that talk as if 'twas worse than hangin' to be shut up in State'sprison fer life," he went on, "but I always notice that them that's infavor of the criminal is pretty generally o' the opinion that they'vegained a good deal fer him when they get a death sentence commuted tothat; because, you see, there's always a chance o' some governor thatwants to secure the votes o' that class pard'nin' him out."

  "Yes; but it's an awful thing to put a man to death, because if youfind out afterward that he was innocent, you can't make it up to himnohow at all," she said, taking up her basket; and with a parting nodshe went on her way.

  On entering the town, she at once perceived evidences of unusualexcitement among the inhabitants: men were grouped together on thesidewalks and about the store doors, neighbor-women talking acrossfences or leaning out of windows, discussing the all-absorbing topic ofthe robbery and attempted murder of old Farmer Himes, and the arrest ofthe supposed leader of the gang of burglars who had been for monthspast the terror of Wild River Valley.

  Occasionally Belinda heard her own name coupled with the remark thatthe old man believed her to be in league with his would-be assassins,the speaker or the one addressed sometimes adding that she, too, oughtto be arrested and put in prison for trial.

  She hurried on her way, growing more and more frightened at every step,till by the time she had gained the door of the tavern whither herhusband had been conveyed she was ready to drop with fatigue and alarm.

  And the reception she met with there was not calculated to reassureher; evidently every one regarded her with suspicion; and the landlord,on learning who she was, coldly informed her that he had no room forher; she would have to find accommodation elsewhere.

  "Didn't they bring my husband here? and isn't he a lyin' now in one o'them bedrooms o' yours?" she asked, trying to put on a bold, defiantair.

  "Yes; but what of that?"

  "Why, I've come to nurse him; and of course I'll share his room; so youneedn't tell me you haven't got one for me."

  "Not so fast, woman," returned Mr. Strong. "The old man says you havemore love for O'Rourke than for him--in fact, he accuses you ofbetraying him into the hands of his would-be assassins, and swears thathe will henceforward have nothing whatever to do with you--neither letyou nurse him nor pay any bills of your contracting. So, as I don'tboard folks for nothing, there's no place for you here."

  She was opening her lips to offer her services as cook or chambermaid,when a thought of the danger of arrest on suspicion of having beenaccessory to the attempt on her husband's life caused a suddenabandonment of that idea.

  "It's a lie!" she cried, with a show of great indignation, "a wickedlie that I had anything to do with them robbers tryin' to git a holt o'his money and kill him. If it hadn't been fer me a runnin' with all mymight fer help, he'd been a dead man hours ago, a bleedin' there on theraft, without a soul to do nothin' fer him. But I'll go and leave theongrateful old idyot to git along the best he kin without me."

  She stooped, and taking a small parcel from the basket which she hadset down on the floor beside her, "These is my clo'es; t'others ishisn," she said, and without so much as a parting salutation stalkedinto the street and away faster than she had come, anger and the fearof pursuit lending her strength.

  She returned to the raft, but by a roundabout way, with the design ofthrowing any possible pursuer off the scent. She reached it well-nighspent with exertion and the agitation of mind she had undergone for somany hours; indeed, for many days and weeks she had been ill at ease,torn by conflicting emotions--hatred of the man who tyrannized overher, reproached by conscience for that and the guilty love indulged forO'Rourke, tempted to abet him in his intended crime, yet at timesfilled with horror at thought of the awful deed, and terror of the morethan possible consequences to him and herself.

  Standing on the grassy bank below which the raft was moored, she sent ahasty, searching glance around. There was neither sight nor sound ofpursuit, and leaping on board, she threw herself down on its floor andlay there for some minutes, panting and trembling.

  What should she do? where fly for refuge? there was no safety here;people would presently be flocking to look upon the scene of theattempted murder; she thought, as she lifted her head and glancedabout, that she perceived evidences that some had already been there;doubtless news of Phelim's arrest had called them in another direction,but surely they would soon return, bringing others with them.

  Some, if not all, believing the old man's story, would hoot and jeer ather, perhaps offer her personal violence--throw her into the river,drag her ashore, and, maybe, hang her to the nearest tree; she hadheard of such things, had read in the newspapers of suspected criminalsbeing lynched by furious mobs, who utterly refused to listen to theirprotestations of innocence.

  It behooved her to fly instantly; but, ah! whither could she go? Shehad neither relative nor friend. Phelim's parents detested her onaccount of her marriage to Himes; his associates would be very likelyto make away with her, should the chance offer, lest she should becomea witness against them. She had not been long in the neighborhood whenhired by Himes, and had always lived a lonely life on the farm.

  Despair was taking possession of her when there came to herrecollection the fact that Phelim had told her of a little cave in therocky bank of the river only a short distance higher up the stream thanshe now was.

  He believed its existence to be known only to himself, and had givenher a very particular description of its location, remarking that shemight have occasion to conceal herself there in case suspicion shouldarise of her complicity in his crime, or her presence be required as awitness against him in court, should he be caught and brought to trial.

  She had a horror of caves--their dampness and darkness, and thepossibility of reptiles and wild beasts harboring there--but such ahiding-place seemed her last hope in this hour of fear and peril. Sheremembered its existence with a thrill of something akin to joy, andwondering that she could have forgotten it for even a moment, rose,gathered together a few necessaries--some food, candles, a box ofmatches, a few articles of clothing, and a blanket to lie upon--and setout at once in search of the spot.

  So well had Phelim described it that she found it with but littledifficulty, though the entrance was concealed from view by a
thickgrowth of bushes and creeping vines. It could be reached only by a verysteep climb up the almost perpendicular face of the high, rocky bank.

  Her first ascent was made slowly and with much toil and fear offalling, and when at last she had gained the rocky ledge in front ofthe opening, pushed aside the overhanging vines, and looked within,nothing but the blackness of darkness met her gaze, and she shrank backwith a shudder, in terror of all kinds of venomous and savage creatures.

  But quickly she nerved herself to enter, struck a match, lighted acandle, and sent a searching glance around from side to side and upoverhead. It was a small, irregularly shaped room, the ceiling barelyhigh enough to enable her to stand upright in it, the walls of solidrock showing no crevice wherein beast or even snake could hide.

  She drew a long breath of relief, stuck her candle in a little niche inthe wall, climbed down again to the base of the cliff, and gathering upthe articles she had brought, made the ascent a second time, anddeposited them in the cave.

  She was compelled to refresh herself with rest and food before shecould attempt any further exertion; it was near sundown when she againventured to the vicinity of the raft, approaching with great cautiontill, from the shelter of a clump of bushes, she could obtain a view ofit.

  She had already heard the sound of human voices coming from thatdirection, so was not surprised, though very much disturbed, at sightof a crowd of men and boys, with here and there a woman or girl, uponit and the adjacent bank.

  They seemed to be making free with whatever was to be found on board,and with a sigh and a muttered, "There won't be nothin' left o' ourgoods and things; they'll carry 'em all off or break 'em up; and oh,my, but won't Himes be mad!" She dropped down upon the grass behind thebushes, and there waited and watched for their departure.

  But the last did not leave till the glow of the sunset had quite fadedfrom the sky, and night's sable pall was slowly settling down over theearth. It was already too dark to board the raft with safety; almosttoo dark to make her way back to the cavern; but moving slowly and withextreme caution she accomplished the task.

  She passed a most uncomfortable night; the blanket spread upon the rockmade but a hard bed; the air of the cave was damp, close, and stifling;a guilty conscience, remorse, and terror were but poor bedfellows.

  The hours dragged wearily along, seeming as if they would never end;again and again she pushed aside the overhanging vines and peered outto see if the dawn had not come; and with the first streak of light inthe east she crept from her hiding-place and back to the raft.

  She found it stripped of everything valuable. In fact, a part of thecrowd she had seen there the previous afternoon were men sent by Mr.Himes to remove his goods and chattels to a place of safety.

  Thus she was cut off from the supplies she had hoped to secure, andstarvation would soon be staring her in the face if she remained inhiding, while to leave her retreat seemed too perilous a move to becontemplated for a moment. Yet loathing and dreading its darkness andcloseness, she lingered where she was till the sun grew hot and shethought she descried in the distance a man approaching from thedirection of the town. That sight sent her hurrying back to her poorrefuge in a panic of fear.