CHAPTER VIII
"A GAME OF BLUFF AND THE GAMBLER WINS!"
The spirit of unrest which Wanda had felt vaguely the night before didnot depart with the passing of the darkness. Something was wrong,radically wrong at the Echo Creek ranch house. Since the unexpectedhome coming of Red Reckless there had been a subtle difference, aruffling of the waters which usually ran so placidly at the countryhome, a darkening and disturbation of the surface which hinted athidden whirlpools and cross currents.
It was from the master of the household that the day took its colour.In his own room last night he had been restless, sleepless until verylate. Mrs. Leland had heard him walking up and down, had heard thenoise of his pipe against his tobacco jar many times after the hourwhen Martin was in the habit of having his last smoke. In the morninghe was up and dressed before Julia had built her fire. All day he wasstrangely pre-occupied and silent. He seemed scarcely to notice Wandawhen she came into the dining room to give him his good morning kiss.That was unlike him. Both women noticed it.
After breakfast he did not go out. Instead he went immediately to hisstudy, telling Julia sharply that she need not come in to sweep thismorning as he was going to be busy. It was one of the few times he hadspoken at all that morning, but not the first time he had spokenirritably. Mrs. Leland's eyes, following him were troubled.
In his private room he sat long at his big oaken table, his brows drawnthoughtfully, his eyes narrowed in deep speculation. The tenseness ofthe man's still figure, the gleam of the darkening eyes, the obviousmoody abstraction told that some vital question had come to him for itsanswer, that he was fighting it out sternly, that the issue was one ofthose great issues of life which come soon or late and which must bedecided, yes or no, upon the battle ground of a man's soul.
Three months ago he had done a thing from which, at first, his finermanhood had drawn back rebelliously. But--he had done it. There hadbeen a struggle then between the two nicely balanced qualities which goto make up a human personality. The nice balance had been disturbed byclever generalship rather than by open battle. Specious reasoning,aided and abetted by the temptation of a rare opportunity, furtherreinforced by an emotion which was more or less selfish even while itmasked itself as a public and private duty, had routed the sternersense of justice of which the man was, not without reason, proud. Hehad in the end taken the step; being done it had since then beendismissed to a shadowy corner of his mind by his own strength ofcharacter; when he had thought of it had only grown stronger in hisbelief that he had done rightly. And now a man whom he had neverexpected to see again had come home; the question closed three monthsago was still an open question.
A grave, strong minded man, calm by nature, after sixty years of thelife of the mountains and forests, he thought to decide each actionupon its own merit or demerit and to see that quality clearly, keepinghis vision free of emotional mists. With such a man right and wrongare two distinct entities, sharply separate, with no debateable land.An action may not partake of each; it must stand forth black or white.A motive may not be enshrouded in uncertainty; it must be right or itmust be wrong.
He questioned himself sternly to-day, frowningly concentrating his mindupon each point as he struggled with it. The time had come now whenthe decision he made must be one of absolute finality.
"What I am doing is a grave thing," he told himself over and over. "Anunscrupulous man would do it in a flash; a weak man might be afraid ofit. I must be neither unscrupulous nor cowardly; I must be just. Andis not justice with me? Would I not be punishing the guilty, would Inot be in a position to reward Garth Conway for a life of faithfulservice, would I not be justified in protecting my own interests, theinterests of my wife and daughter?"
Already, unconsciously, he was seeking to discover for his groping mindthe arguments which would acquit him in his own judgment and justifyhim.
"I hate him," he muttered, "God knows I hate him. But is that thereason I am striking at him? I should be wrong if for purely personalmotives I sought to wreck vengeance upon him. But he is guilty, asguilty as hell! It would not be vengeance, it would be retribution. Ishould but be taking into my hands the work which God had set at myfingers' ends."
His problem instead of clarifying became complicated with involvedmotives. He told himself grimly that the thing which he had begun wasjust, merely just. If the courts of law did what he was doing andstopped with it men's voices would cry out against a retribution goneblind and decrepit, maudlin with mercy.
He went once to his safe in the corner, took out a document and stoodlooking at it thoughtfully for a long time. Finally he replaced it.
"I can ruin him, I can break him utterly," he said slowly. "I canwrest from him the thing which he took brutally with bloody hands.Because I am to profit where he loses must I hold back? The law maynever reach him. Is it right then that he should go unpunished? Thefortune which one day I shall leave to Wanda will be either swelled ordiminished as I decide. Have I the right to draw back now?"
The day dragged on, the conflict within the man's soul continued.Until noon he was in his study. At the dinner table he was silent,morose, and ate little. He made no comment upon Wanda's absence;perhaps he did not notice it. Mrs. Leland, understanding readily thatWayne Shandon's return had its bearing upon her husband's heavy mood,found little to say. She could only hope wistfully that for a littleWayne would come to the house seldom, that Martin would grow used tohaving him in the neighbourhood, and that in the end he would contenthimself with ignoring the man whom she knew he disliked, distrusted andsuspected. She thought that she understood fully what she grasped onlyin part.
In the afternoon again, Leland withdrew to his private room, again thebattle between motives and desires raged hotly. It so happened thatWayne Shandon, appearing at a critical moment, brought about a decision.
Leland was standing before his window, his smouldering eyes frowning atthe meadow down which Spring had come, scattering buttercups to markher passing. He had not noticed the glossy chalices brimming withsunlight; the springtime had had no softening effect upon his absorbedand troubled mood. But presently the sight of two figures riding sideby side down through the pasture whipped a new look into his eyes.
He watched them sharply as they rode toward the house. Their gayvoices came to him lifted into soft laughter; their light merriment, soin tune with the springtime, fell jarringly on Leland's ears.
"The fellow has the insolence of Satan," he muttered angrily.
For a moment he lost sight of them as they passed behind the stable.Then, walking, Wanda's face lifted in rosy happiness, Wayne's like aboy's, eager and glad, they came on to the house. Leland stood stonestill at the window; Wanda, catching sight of him, threw him a kiss.Wayne, with a brief word to Wanda left her under the cedars in the yardand came swiftly to the study, the light buoyancy of his stepbespeaking the exhilaration that danced through his blood. He sweptoff his hat, put out his hand eagerly as he came into the room, hiseyes filled with the brightness of a supreme happiness.
"I am glad that I found you in," he began impetuously. "I don't knowhow I could have waited . . . What's the matter, Mr. Leland?"
For Martin Leland, directing at him a piercing glance whose meaning wasunmistakable, did not unclasp the hands behind his back.
"You had something to say to me," Leland reminded him briefly. "Whatis it?"
Shandon met his stare with silent surprise. Then, forcing himself tospeak quietly, as though the insult of Leland's attitude had beenunnoticed, he said:
"I wanted to tell you that I love Wanda, that some day I hope to makeher my wife."
"What!" shouted Leland incredulously. "You--_you_ want to marry mydaughter! _You_!"
"Yes," said Wayne steadily. "I."
Martin's scornful laugh, forced and hard, drove the happiness fromShandon's eyes and a quick hot flush into his cheeks.
"I knew that you didn't like me," he said sharply. "But I didn'tknow--"
"That I have no feeling but utter loathing for you," Leland cut incoldly. "That I'd kill you like a dog before I'd allow you to disgracemy name, to wreck my daughter's life. Are you crazy or drunk?"
"I don't understand you," replied Shandon bluntly.
"Then I'll explain so that you will have no difficulty inunderstanding." Leland's voice, lifted a little, was hard and bitter."I don't desire the continuance of your acquaintance. I don't wantever to see you again if it can be helped. I don't want you to come tomy home, to speak to my wife or my daughter. I don't want yourpresence sullying the air they breathe. I don't want to have anydealings whatever with you. Have I explained?" he concluded withcutting sharpness.
"Everything and nothing!" Shandon returned, the flush seeping out ofhis face, leaving it grey. "What has happened? Why do you say suchthings to me? Good God, man, what have I done?"
For a moment Martin Leland made no reply; nor did his steady gaze waverfrom the eyes now as stern as his own which looked straight back at him.
"I don't care to discuss the thing with you, Shandon. You know as wellas I do why I say them. When you pretend not to know you are at once aliar and a hypocrite."
"I am not a trouble seeker, Mr. Leland." Shandon's voice had grownhusky as he strove with the anger within him. "But I think you knowthat you are the first man who has talked to me like that and got awaywith it. If I did not know that you are a fair minded man, and thatthere has been some hideous mistake somewhere, I'd not listen to thosewords even from you. Tell me what you mean."
A contemptuous smile broke the rigid line of Leland's set lips.
"Your theatrical ranting won't get you anywhere with me, Shandon. Itis the thing to be expected. I am the master of my own house and it isquite enough when I say that your presence is not wanted here. If youwant more you can supply it yourself. Idler, spendthrift, gambler,brawler, I have until now tolerated you. But there are some thingsthat no man can tolerate. You have said that I am fair minded; themore reason I should wish to be rid of you."
"But," cried Shandon hotly, "the man accused has a right to know--"
"I am not accusing you," interrupted Martin coldly. "I do nothing buttell you that you are not the kind of man I want my womenfolk toassociate with, not the kind I want to associate with, and that I wantthis to be the last time you set foot on my property. If you are notabsolutely without pride of any sort you will not make it necessary forme to have you put off the ranch!"
"And you won't tell me--"
"So far as I am concerned the conversation is closed. And," drily,"the door is open."
The anger in Wayne Shandon's heart, unchecked at last, blazed in hiseyes.
"I'll go now," he said shortly. "I have no wish to enter a man's housewhere I am not welcome. But what I have said I have meant. I shallsee Wanda when I can, and when she will come to me as she will someday, I shall marry her."
"You are a fool as well as a scoundrel," shouted Leland as he saw theother turn toward the door. "Wanda, when she marries, will marry agentleman, and not a cur and a coward!"
"Those are hard names, Mr. Leland!"
"Not so hard as another which belongs to you," came the vibrantrejoinder. "If you dare speak to her again--"
"As I most certainly shall," coolly.
"By God!" cried the old man, his clenched fist raised. "You leave mygirl alone or--"
Caught in a sudden gust of rage such as had not half a dozen times inhis lifetime touched his blood, he strode to his table, snatched openthe drawer and whipped out a revolver.
"Go!" he shouted, his face a fiery red. "Go now, without another word,or I'll shoot you."
Wayne Shandon's head was flung up with the old gesture, his eyes grewsteely and steady, and his answer was a cool contemptuous laugh.
"You have called me a coward," he said. "You called me a liar." Hecame back into the room and sat down upon the edge of the table, notthree feet from Martin Leland. "Now, prove me the coward--or yourselfthe liar!"
It was a challenge of sheer reckless impudence, the tempting of a manwhose reason was blind drunk with rage. He looked coolly into Leland'seyes ignoring the deadly weapon in Leland's hand.
"I am going to roll a cigarette," he said quietly. "I'll stay justthat long."
The fingers which brought out tobacco and papers were unhurried. Heopened the muslin bag, poured the tobacco into the trough of his paper,and his hands were steady. His eyes left Leland's a moment to makesure that he was not spilling any of the brown particles; he liftedthem again as he sealed his finished cigarette with the tip of histongue. He swept a match along his thigh; then he went out, closingthe door softly, leaving a thin wisp of smoke trailing behind him.
Leland, alone in the study, put his hand to his forehead. It came awaywet with sweat.
"A game of bluff and the gambler wins!" he muttered fiercely. "Andnow--God curse me if I spare him!"
His buoyant stride carried Red Reckless swiftly down into the yardwhere he had left Wanda. She looked up eagerly as he came swinging on.Then suddenly her heart stood still, chilled with the quick fear of herpremonition. The smile which Shandon summoned was at once a braveattempt and a pitiful failure.
"What is it, Wayne?" asked Wanda quickly.
"Your father has forbidden me the ranch," he told her bitterly. "Idon't know exactly why. It came out of a clear sky so far as I amconcerned. He does not want me to come here again; he does not wantyou to see me at all, anywhere."
"Wayne!"
"He called me an idler, a spendthrift, a gambler and a brawler," hewent on swiftly. "As I suppose I have been.--There has never beenanything to make me care--until to-day! You won't let what he saysmake any difference, Wanda?"
She came closer to him, her eyes brilliant.
"I don't have to answer that question, Wayne," she whispered.
He took her into his arms and kissed the mouth turned up to him, and soleft her. She watched him go down to the stable, watched the tall,upright form until Lady Lightfoot carried him out of sight through thepines. Then, her head as erect as her lover's had been, she wentslowly to the house.
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