by Max Brand
35
When Nelly Lebrun raised her head from her hands, Donnegan was a farfigure; yet even in the distance she could catch the lilt and easy swayof his body; he rode as he walked, lightly, his feet in the stirrupshalf taking his weight in a semi-English fashion. For a moment she wason the verge of spurring after him, but she kept the rein taut andmerely stared until he dipped away among the hills. For one thing shewas quite assured that she could not overtake that hard rider; and,again, she felt that it was useless to interfere. To step between LordNick and one of his purposes would have been like stepping before anavalanche and commanding it to halt with a raised hand.
She watched miserably until even the dust cloud dissolved and the bare,brown hills alone remained before her. Then she turned away, and hourafter hour let her black jog on.
To Nelly Lebrun this day was one of those still times which come overthe life of a person, and in which they see themselves in relation tothe rest of the world clearly. It would not be true to say that Nellyloved Donnegan. Certainly not as yet, for the familiar figure of LordNick filled her imagination. But the little man was different. LordNick commanded respect, admiration, obedience; but there was aboutDonnegan something which touched her in an intimate and disturbingmanner. She had felt the will-o'-the-wisp flame which burned in him inhis great moments. It was possible for her to smile at Donnegan; it waspossible even to pity him for his fragility, his touchy pride about hissize; to criticize his fondness for taking the center of the stage evenin a cheap little mining camp like this and strutting about, the centerof all attention. Yet there were qualities in him which escaped her, apossibility of metallic hardness, a pitiless fire of purpose.
To Lord Nick, he was as the bull terrier to the mastiff.
But above all she could not dislodge the memory of his strange talk withher at Lebrun's. Not that she did not season the odd avowals of Donneganwith a grain of salt, but even when she had discounted all that he said,she retained a quivering interest. Somewhere beneath his words shesensed reality. Somewhere beneath his actions she felt a selflesswillingness to throw himself away.
As she rode she was comparing him steadily with Lord Nick. And as shemade the comparisons she felt more and more assured that she could pickand choose between the two. They loved her, both of them. With Nick itwas an old story; with Donnegan it might be equally true in spite of itsnewness. And Nelly Lebrun felt rich. Not that she would have beenwilling to give up Lord Nick. By no means. But neither was she willingto throw away Donnegan. Diamonds in one hand and pearls in the other.Which handful must she discard?
She remained riding an unconscionable length of time, and when she drewrein again before her father's house, the black was flecked with foamfrom his clamped bit, and there was a thick lather under the stirrupleathers. She threw the reins to the servant who answered her call andwent slowly into the house.
Donnegan, by this time, was dead. She began to feel that it would behard to look Lord Nick in the face again. His other killings had oftenseemed to her glorious. She had rejoiced in the invincibility of herlover.
Now he suddenly took on the aspect of a murderer.
She found the house hushed. Perhaps everyone was at the gaming house;for now it was midafternoon. But when she opened the door to theapartment which they used as a living room she found Joe Rix and thePedlar and Lester sitting side by side, silent. There was no whisky insight; there were no cards to be seen. Marvel of marvels, these threemen were spending their time in solemn thought. A sudden thought rushedover her, and her cry told where her heart really lay, at least at thistime.
"Lord Nick--has he been--"
The Pedlar lifted his gaunt head and stared at her without expression.It was Joe Rix who answered.
"Nick's upstairs."
"Safe?"
"Not a scratch."
She sank into a chair with a sigh, but was instantly on edge again withthe second thought.
"Donnegan?" she whispered.
"Safe and sound," said Lester coldly.
She could not gather the truth of the statement.
"Then Nick got Landis back before Donnegan returned?"
"No."
Like any other girl, Nelly Lebrun hated a puzzle above all things in theworld, at least a puzzle which affected her new friends.
"Lester, what's happened?" she demanded.
At this Lester, who had been brooding upon the floor, raised his eyesand then switched one leg over the other. He was a typical cowman, wasLester, from his crimson handkerchief knotted around his throat to hisshop-made boots which fitted slenderly about his instep with the care ofa gloved hand.
"I dunno what happened," said Lester. "Which looks like what counts isthe things that didn't happen. Landis is still with that devil, Macon.Donnegan is loose without a scratch, and Lord Nick is in his room with aface as black as a cloudy night."
And briefly he described how Lord Nick had gone up the hill, seen thecolonel, come back, taken a horse litter, and gone up the hill again,while the populace of The Corner waited for a crash. For Donnegan hadarrived in the meantime. And how Nick had gone into the cabin, remaineda singularly long time, and then come out, with a face half white andhalf red and an eye that dared anyone to ask questions. He had strodestraight home to Lebrun's and gone to his room; and there he remained,never making a sound.
"But I'll give you my way of readin' the sign on that trail," saidLester. "Nick goes up the hill to clean up on Donnegan. He sees him;they size each other up in a flash; they figure that if they's a gun itmeans a double killin'--and they simply haul off and say a perlitefare-thee-well."
The girl paid no attention to these remarks. She was sunk in a brownstudy.
"There's something behind it all," she said, more to herself than to themen. "Nick is proud as the devil himself. And I can't imagine why he'dlet Donnegan go. Oh, it might have been done if they'd met alone in thedesert. But with the whole town looking on and waiting for Nick to cleanup on Donnegan--no, it isn't possible. There must have been a showdownof some kind."
There was a grim little silence after this.
"Maybe there was," said the Pedlar dryly. "Maybe there was ashowdown--and the wind-up of it is that Nick comes home meek as asix-year-old broke down in front."
She stared at him, first astonished, and then almost frightened.
"You mean that Nick may have taken water?"
The three, as one man, shrugged their shoulders, and met her glance withcold eyes.
"You fools!" cried the girl, springing to her feet. "He'd rather die!"
Joe Rix leaned forward, and to emphasize his point he stabbed one dirtyforefinger into the fat palm of his other hand.
"You just start thinkin' back," he said solemnly, "and you'll rememberthat Donnegan has done some pretty slick things."
Lester added with a touch of contempt: "Like shootin' down Landis oneday and then sittin' down and havin' a nice long chat with you the next.I dunno how he does it."
"That hunch of yours," said the girl fiercely, "ought to be roped andbranded--lie! Lester, don't look at me like that. And if you think Nickhas lost his grip on things you're dead wrong. Step light, Lester--andthe rest of you. Or Nick may hear you walk--and think."
She flung out of the room and raced up the stairs to Lord Nick's room.There was an interval without response after her first knock. But whenshe rapped again he called out to know who was there. At her answer sheheard his heavy stride cross the room, and the door opened slowly. Hisface, as she looked up to it, was so changed that she hardly knew him.His hair was unkempt, on end, where he had sat with his fingers thrustinto it, buried in thought. And the marks of his palms were red upon hisforehead.
"Nick," she whispered, frightened, "what is it?"
He looked down half fiercely, half sadly at her. And though his lipsparted they closed again before he spoke. Fear jumped coldly in NellyLebrun.
"Did Donnegan--" she pleaded, white-faced. "Did he--"
"Did he bluff me out?" finished Nick. "No, h
e didn't. That's whateverybody'll say. I know it, don't I? And that's why I'm staying here bymyself, because the first fool that looks at me with a question in hisface, why--I'll break him in two."
She pressed close to him, more frightened than before. That Lord Nickshould have been driven to defend himself with words was almost too muchfor credence.
"You know I don't believe it, Nick? You know that I'm not doubting you?"
But he brushed her hands roughly away.
"You want to know what it's all about? Then go over to--well, toMilligan's. Donnegan will be there. He'll explain things to you, Iguess. He wants to see you. And maybe I'll come over later and joinyou."
Seeing Lord Nick before her, so shaken, so gray of face, so dull of eye,she pictured Donnegan as a devil in human form, cunning, resistless.
"Nick, dear--" she pleaded.
He closed the door in her face, and she heard his heavy step go backacross the room. In some mysterious manner she felt the Promethean firehad been stolen from Lord Nick, and Donnegan's was the hand that hadrobbed him of it.