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There was no argument against such an attitude as the boy took. Besides, Peter began to understand. Here was an unique study in psychology. The boy either fancied he possessed––or did possess––such unusual powers of observation that they almost amounted to the prophetic, where that which was bad was concerned. He saw Will in a light in which no one else saw him, although already he, Peter, and Jim had witnessed unpleasant dashes of that side of the man’s character which Elia seemed to read like an open book. However, he could not abandon his task yet, but he changed his tactics.
“Maybe you’re right, laddie,” he said. “I was thinking of poor Eve. I was wondering if you wouldn’t like to try and make her happy, seeing she’s always been so good to you. I do believe you’d rather she was happy.”
The boy nodded his head, and an impish light crept into his eyes.
“And you’re going to try and make her––happy?”
Peter was smiling with simple eager hope. The impish light deepened in the boy’s eyes.
“Maybe,” he said. “Guess I’ll do what I ken. When Will treats me fair I’ll treat him fair. I can’t do a heap of work, seein’ I’m as I am, but if he wants me to do things I’ll do ’em––if he treats me fair. I’ll do what I ken, but I hate him. Maybe you’re guessin’ that’ll be makin’ things fair for Eve. You best guess agin.” Then the impish light left his eyes, and they became quite serious again. “Say, tell me some more ’bout that gold?”
But Peter laughed and shook his head.
“Time enough, laddie,” he said, pleased with the result145of his first essay on behalf of peace between Elia and Will. “You’re going to get that gold when we find it, sure, so come right along and let’s get to work––and find it.”
146CHAPTER XIIIAFTER ONE YEAR
Scandal was rampant in Barnriff. But it was not of an open nature. That is to say, it was scandal that passed surreptitiously from lip to lip, and was rarely spoken where more than two people foregathered. For small as Barnriff was, ignorant as were the majority of its people, scandal was generally tabooed, and it was only in bad cases where it was allowed to riot.
The reason of this restraint was simple enough. It was not that the people of the village were any different to those of other small places. They loved gossip as dearly as anybody else––when to gossip was safe. But years ago Barnriff had learned that gossip was not always safe in its midst.
The fact was that the peace laws of the place were largely enforced by a process which might be called the “survival of the strong.” There were no duly authorized peace officers, and the process had evolved out of this condition of things. Quarrels and bloodshed were by no means frequent in the village, rather the reverse, and this was due to the regulations governing peace.
If two men quarreled it was on the full understanding of the possible and probable consequences; namely, a brief and effective life and death struggle, followed by a sudden and immediate departure from the fold of the survivor. Hence, scandal was held in close check, and traveled slowly, with the slow twistings and windings147of a venemous snake. But for this very reason it was the more deadly, and was the more surely based upon undeniable fact. The place was just now a-simmer with suppressed scandal.
And its object. It was only a year since Eve and Will Henderson’s marriage. A sufficiently right and proper affair, said public opinion. There were of course protestors. Many of the women had expected Eve to marry Jim Thorpe. But then they were of the more mature section of the population, those whose own marriages had taught them worldly wisdom, and blotted out the early romance of their youths. It had been a love match, a match where youth runs riot, and the madness of it sweeps its victims along upon its hot tide. Now the tide was cooling, some said it was already cold.
After their brief honeymoon the young people had returned to the village. The understanding was that Eve should again take up her business, while Will continued his season up in the hills, hunting with his traps and gun. He was to visit Barnriff at intervals during the season, and finally return and stay with Eve during the months when the furs he might take would be unfit for the market. This was the understanding, and in theory it was good, and might well have been carried out satisfactorily. All went passably well until the close of the fur season.
Eve returned to the village a bright and happy woman. She took up her business again, and, perhaps, the novelty of her married state was the reason that at first her trade increased. Then came Will’s visits. At first they were infrequent, with the arranged-for laps of time between them. But gradually they became more frequent and148their duration longer. The women wagged their heads. “He is so deeply in love, he can’t stay away,” they said. And they smiled approval, for they were women, and women can never look on unmoved at the sight of a happy love match. But against this the men shrugged their shoulders. “He’s wastin’ a heap o’ time,” they said; “pelts needs chasin’ some, an’ y’ can’t chase pelts an’ make love to your own wife or any one else’s, for that matter.” And this was their way of expressing a kindly interest.
The men were right and the women were wrong. Will did more than waste time. He literally pitched it away. He prolonged his stays in the village beyond all reason, and as Eve, dutifully engaged upon her business, could not give him any of her working hours, he was forced to seek his pleasures elsewhere. That elsewhere, in a man prone to drink, of necessity became the saloon. And the saloon meant gambling, gambling meant money. Sometimes he won a little, but more often he lost.
Being a reckless player, fired by the false stimulation of Rocket’s bad whiskey, he began to plunge to recoup himself, and, as ever happens in such circumstances, he got deeper into the mire. At first these heavy losses had a salutary effect upon him, and he would “hit the trail” for the hills, and once more ply his trade with a feverish zest.
This sort of thing went on until the close of his fur season. Then he made up his bales of pelts, and, to his horror, discovered that his year’s “catch” was reduced by over fifty per cent., while, in place of a wad of good United States currency in his hip pocket, he had floated a perfect fleet of I. O. U.’s, each in itself for a comparatively149small amount, but collectively a total of no inconsiderable magnitude. And each I. O. U. was dated for payment immediately after he had marketed his pelts.
This stress, and the life he had been living in Barnriff, caused his mercurial temper to suffer. And as his nature soured, so all that was worst in him began to rise to the surface. He did not blame himself. Did ever one hear of a man blaming himself when things went wrong? No. He blamed the fur season. The hills were getting played out. The furs were traveling north, and, in consequence were scarce. Besides, how could he be in Barnriff and the hills at the same time? The position was absurd. Eve must join him and give up her business, and they must make their home up in the hills where she could learn to trap. Or they must live in Barnriff and he must find fresh employment.
Yes, he would certainly find out how Eve’s business was prospering. If she had shown a better turnover than he, perhaps it would be as well for him to go into Barnriff for good. The idea rather pleased him. Nor could he see any drawback to it except those confounded I. O. U.’s.
The next news that Barnriff had was that Will and Eve were settled for good in the village, and that he had no intention of returning to the hills. Barnriff’s comment was mixed. The women said, “Poor dears, they can’t live apart.” Again the men disagreed. Their charity was less kind, especially amongst those who had yet to collect the payment of their I. O. U.’s. They said with sarcastic smile, “Wants to live on his woman, and play ‘draw.’” And time soon showed them to be somewhere near the mark.
Will sold his furs, paid his debts, sighed his relief, and150settled down to a life in Barnriff. A month later he found to his profound chagrin that the small margin of dollars left over after paying off his I. O. U.’s had vanished, and a fresh crop of paper was beginning to circulate. Whiskey and “draw” had got into his blood, and all unconsciously he found himself pledged to it.
It was during this time that scandal definitely laid its clutch upon the village. But it was not until later that its forked tongue grew vicious. It was at the time that word got round the village that there was trouble in Eve’s little home that the caldron began to seethe. No one knew how it got round; yet it surely did. Scandal said that Eve and Will quarreled, that they quarreled violently, that Will had struck her, that money was the bottom of the trouble, that Will had none to meet his gambling debts, and that Eve, who had been steadily supplying him out of her slender purse, had at last refused to do so any more.
It went on to say that Will was a drunken sot, that his methods at cards were not above suspicion, and that altogether he was rapidly becoming an undesirable.
Peter Blunt heard the scandal; he had watched things himself very closely. Jim Thorpe heard, but, curiously enough, rumor about these two did not seem to reach the “AZ” ranch easily.
However, what did reach Jim infuriated him almost beyond words. It was this last rumor that sent him riding furiously into the village late one night, and drew him up at Peter Blunt’s hut.
He found the gold seeker reading a well-known history of the Peruvian Aztecs, but without hesitation broke in upon his studies.
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“What’s this I hear, Peter?” he demanded, without any preamble. “I mean about the––the Hendersons.”
His dark eyes were fierce. His clean-cut features were set and angry. But these signs didn’t seem to hurry Peter’s answer. He laid his book aside and folded his hands behind his head, while he searched the other’s face with his calm blue eyes.
“We’ve just got it out on the ranch,” Jim went on. “He’s––he’s knocking her about––they say.”
“And so you’ve come in. What for?”
The big man’s words had a calming effect.
“Peter, can’t you tell me?” Jim went on, with a sudden change of manner that became almost pleading. “It’s awful. I can’t bear to think of Eve suffering. Is it, as they say, money? Has he––gone to the dogs with drink and gambling? Peter,” he said, with sudden sternness, his feelings once more getting the better of him, “I feel like killing him if–––”
But the other’s face was cold, and he shook his head.
“I’m not going to talk this scandal,” he said. “You’ve no right to feel like that––yet.” And his words were an admission of his own feelings on the subject.
Peter’s eyes wandered thoughtfully from his friend to the book shelves; and after a moment the other stirred impatiently. Then his eyes came back to Jim’s face. He watched the passionate straining in them, that told of the spirit working within. Nor could he help thinking what a difference there might have been had Eve only married this man.
“You better go back to the ranch,” he said presently.
But the light that suddenly leaped to Jim’s eyes gave him answer without the words which followed swiftly.
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“I can’t,” he cried. “I can’t without seeing her, and learning the truth from her own lips.”
“That you’ll never do, boy, if I know Eve.”
But Jim became obstinate.
“I’ll try,” he declared, with an ugly threat in his passionate eyes. “And if it’s Will––if he’s–––”
“You’re talking foolish.” The sharpness of Peter’s voice silenced him. But it was only for a moment, and later he broke out afresh.
“It’s no use, Peter, I can’t and won’t listen to reason on this matter. Eve is before all things in my life. I can’t help loving her, even if she is another’s wife, and I wouldn’t if I could. See here,” he went on, letting himself go as his feelings took fresh hold of him, “if Eve’s unhappy there must be some way of helping her. If he’s ruining her life he must be dealt with. If he’s brutal to her, if he’s hurting her, I mean knocking her about, Peter, I’ll––I’ll––smash him, if I swing for it! She’s all the world to me, and by Heavens I’ll rid her of him!”
Peter suddenly drew out his watch; he seemed wholly indifferent to the other’s storming.
“We’ll go and see her now,” he said. “Will ’ll be down at the saloon playing ‘draw.’ He don’t generally get home till Rocket closes down. Come on.”
And the two passed out into the night.
153CHAPTER XIVTHE BREAKING POINT
Eve and Will were at supper. The girl’s brown eyes had lost their old gentle smile. Their soft depths no longer contained that well of girlish hope, that trusting joy of life. It seemed as if the curtain of romance had been torn aside, and the mouldering skeleton of life had been laid bare to her. There was trouble and pain in her look, there was fear, too; nor was it quite plain the nature of her fear. It may have been that fear of the future which comes to natures where love is the mainspring of responsibility. It may have been the fear of the weaker vessel, where harshness and brutality are threatened. It may have been a fear inspired by health already undermined by anxiety and worry. The old happy light was utterly gone from her eyes as she silently partook of the frugal supper her own hands had prepared.
Will Henderson moodily devoured his food at the opposite end of the table. The third of their household was not there. Elia rarely took his meals with them. He preferred them by himself, for he hated and dreaded Will’s tongue, which, though held in some check when he was sober, never failed to sting the boy when Silas Rocket’s whiskey had done its work.
The meal was nearly finished, and husband and wife had exchanged not a single word. Eve wished to talk; there was so much she wanted to say to him. The flame of her love still burned in her gentle bosom, but it was a154flame sorely blown about by the storm winds of their brief married life. But somehow she could not utter the words she wanted to. There was no encouragement. There was a definite but intangible bar to their expression. The brutal silence of the man chilled her, and frightened her.
Finally it was he who spoke, and he made some sort of effort to hide the determination lying behind his words.
“How much money have you got, Eve?” he demanded, pushing his plate away with a movement which belied his tone. It was a question which had a familiar ring to the ears of the troubled girl.
“Thirty dollars,” she said patiently. Then she sighed.
The man promptly threw aside all further mask.
“For God’s sake don’t sigh like that! You’ll be sniveling directly. One would think I was doin’ you an injury asking you a simple question.”
“It’s not that, Will. I’m thinking of what’s going to happen when that’s gone. It’s got to last us a month. Then I get my money from Carrie Horsley and Mrs. Crombie. They owe me seventy dollars between them for their summer suits. I’ve got several orders, but folks are tight here for money, and it’s always a matter of waiting.”
“Can’t you get an advance from ’em?”
That frightened look suddenly leaped again into the girl’s eyes.
“Oh, Will!”
“Oh, don’t start that game!” the man retorted savagely. “We’ve got to live, I s’pose. You’ll earn the money. That sort of thing is done in every business. You make me sick.” He lit his pipe and blew great clouds of smoke across the table. “I tell you what it is,155we can’t afford to keep your brother doing nothing all the time. If you insist on keeping him you must find the money––somewhere. It’s no use being proud. We’re hard up, and if people owe you money, well––dun ’em for it. I don’t know how it is, but this darned business of yours seems to have gone to pieces.”
“It’s not gone to pieces, Will,” Eve protested. “I’ve made more money this last four months than ever before.” The girl’s manner had a patience in it that came from her brief but bitter experiences.
“Then what’s become of the money?”
But Eve’s patience had its limits. The cruel injustice of his sneering question drove her beyond endurance.
“Oh, Will,” she cried, “and you can sit there and ask such a question! Where has it gone?” She laughed without any mirth. “It’s gone with the rest, down at the saloon, where you’ve gambled it away. It’s gone because I’ve been a weak fool and listened to your talk of gambling schemes which have never once come off. Oh, Will, I don’t want to throw this all up at you. Indeed, indeed, I don’t. But you drive me to it with your unkindness, which––which I can’t understand. Don’t you see, dear, that I want to make you happy, that I want to help you? You must see it, and yet you treat me worse––oh, worse than a nigger! Why is it? What have I done? God knows you can have all, everything I possess in the world. I would do anything for you, but––but––you––– Sometimes I think you have learned to hate me. Sometimes I think the very sight of me rouses all that is worst in you. What is it, dear? What is it that has come between us? What have I done to make you like this?”
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She paused, her eyes full of that pain and misery which her tongue could never adequately express. She wanted to open her heart to him, to let him see all the gold of her feelings for him, but his moody unresponsiveness set her tongue faltering and left her groping blindly for the cause of the trouble between them.
It was some moments before Will answered her. He sat glaring at the table, the smoke of his pipe clouding the still air of the neat kitchen. He knew he was facing a critical moment in their lives. He saw dimly that he had, for his own interests, gone a shade too far. Eve was not a weakling, she was a woman of distinct character, and even in his dull, besotted way he detected at last that note of rebellion underlying her appeal. Suddenly he looked up and smiled. But it was not altogether a pleasant smile. It was against his inclination, and was ready to vanish on the smallest provocation.
“You’re taking things wrong, Eve,” he said, and the strain of attempting a conciliatory attitude made the words come sharply. “What do I want your money for, but to try and make more with it? Do you think I want you to keep me? I haven’t come to that yet.” His tone was rapidly losing its veneer of restraint. “Guess I can work all right. No, no, my girl, you haven’t got to keep me yet. But money gets money, and you ought to realize it. I admit my luck at ‘draw’ has been bad––rotten!” He violently knocked his pipe out on a plate. “But it’s got to change. I can play with the best of ’em, an’ they play a straight game. What’s losing a few nights, if, in the end, I get a big stake? Why Restless helped himself to a hundred dollars last night. And I’m going to to-night.”
He sat glaring at the table, the smoke of his pipe clouding the still air of the neat kitchen.
He sat glaring at the table, the smoke of his pipe clouding the still air of the neat kitchen.
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“But, Will, you’ve said that every night for the last month. Why not be fair with yourself? Your luck is out; give it up. Will, give up the saloon for––for my sake. Do, dear.” Eve rose and went round to the man’s side, and laid a tenderly persuasive hand upon his shoulder. She was only waiting for a fraction of encouragement. But that fraction was not forthcoming. Instead he shook her off. But he tried to do it pleasantly.
“Here, sit you down, Eve, and listen to me. I’m going to tell you something that I hadn’t intended to, only––only you’re bothering such a hell of a lot.”
His language passed. She was used to it now. And she sat shrinking at his rebuff, but curious and half fearful at what he might have to tell her.
“I’m going to have a flutter to-night, no matter what comes, make your mind up to that. And, win or lose, it’s my last. Get that? But I’ve got a definite reason for it. You see I haven’t been as idle as you think. I’ve been hunting around on the trail of Peter Blunt. Folks all think him a fool, and cranky some. I never did. He’s been a gold prospector most of his life. And it’s not likely he don’t know. Well, I’m not giving you a long yarn, and to cut it short, I’m right on to a big find. At least I’ve got color in a placer up at the head waters, and to-morrow I go out to work it for all it’s worth. No, I’m not going to tell even you where it is. You see it’s a placer, and anybody could work it, and I’d be cut clean out if others got to know where it was. You savvee?”
Eve nodded, but without conviction. The man detected her lack of belief, and that brutal light which was so often in his eyes now suddenly flamed up. But after158a moment of effort he banished it, and resorted to an imitation of jocularity.
“So now, old girl, hand over that thirty dollars. I’m going to make a ‘coup,’ and to-morrow begins a period of––gold. I give you my word you shall get it––sure as I’m a living man. I’m not talking foolish. The shining yellow stuff is there for the taking. And so easy, too.”
He waited with a grin of cunning on his lips. He was intoxicated with his own surety. And, curiously, well as Eve knew him, that certainty communicated itself to her in spite of her reason. But the matter of handing over the thirty dollars was different.
A hard light crept into her eyes as she looked down at him from where she stood. Though he did not know it, he was rapidly killing all the love she had for him. Eve was one of those women who can love with every throb of their being. Self had no place in her. The man she loved was, as a natural consequence, her all. Kill her love and she could be as cold and indifferent as marble. At one time in their brief married life those dollars would never have been considered. They would have been his without the asking. Now–––
She shook her head decidedly.
“You can’t have them,” she said firmly. “They’ve got to keep us for a month. If you depend on them for a game, you had better wait till you get the gold from your placer.” She moved away, talking as she went. “There’s not only ourselves to consider. There’s Elia. I–––”
But she got no further. The mention of her brother’s name suddenly infuriated the man.
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“Don’t talk to me of that little devil!” he cried. “I want those thirty dollars, d’you understand?” He crashed his fist on the table and set the supper things clattering. “You talk to me of Elia! That devil’s imp has been in the way ever since we got married. And d’you think I’m going to stand for him now?” He sprang to his feet, his eyes blazing with that fury which of late he rarely took the trouble to keep in check. “See here,” he cried, “you’ve preached to me enough for one night, and, fool-like, I’ve listened to you. I listen to no more. So, just get busy and hand over those dollars.”
But if he was in a fury, he had contrived to stir Eve as he had never stirred her before.
“You’ll not get a cent of them,” she cried, her eyes lighting with sudden cold anger.
For a moment they stood eyeing each other. There was no flinching in Eve now, no appeal, no fear. And the man’s fury was driving him whither it would. He was gathering himself for a final outburst, and when it came it was evident he had lost all control of himself.
“You –––! I’ll have those dollars if I have to take ’em!”
“You shall not!”
Will flung his pipe to the ground and dashed at Eve like a madman. He caught her by the shoulders, and gripped the warm rounded flesh until the pain made her writhe under his clutch.
“Where are they?” he demanded, with another furious oath. “I’m going to have ’em. Speak! Speak, you ––– or I’ll–––”
But Eve was obdurate. Her courage was greater than160her strength. He shook her violently, clutching at her shoulders as though to squeeze the information he needed out of her. But he got no answer, and, in a sudden access of demoniacal rage, he swung her round and hurled her across the room with all his strength. She fell with a thud, and beyond a low moan lay quite still. Her head had struck the sharp angle of the coal box.
In a moment the man had passed into the bedroom in search of the money. Nor did he have to search far. Eve kept her money in one place always, and he knew where it was. Having possessed himself of the roll of bills he came out into the kitchen. He looked about him, and his furious eyes fell upon the prostrate form of his wife. She was lying beside the coal box in the attitude in which she had fallen. He went over to her, and stood for a second gazing down at the result of his handiwork.
But there was neither pity nor remorse in his heart. For the time at least he hated her. She had dared to defy him, she had twitted him with his gaming, she had refused him––in favor of Elia. He told himself all this, and, as he looked down at the still figure, he told himself it served her right, and that she would know better in the future. But he waited until he detected the feeble rise and fall of her bosom. Then he went out, conscious of a certain feeling of relief in spite of his rage.
161CHAPTER XVA “PARTY CALL”
Peter led the way up the path from the gate of Eve’s garden. He had taken the lead in this visit; he felt it was necessary. Jim Thorpe’s frame of mind was not to be trusted, should they encounter Henderson. He knocked at the door, reassured that Eve was within by the light in her parlor window.
At first he received no reply, and in silence the two men waited. Then Peter knocked again. This time Elia’s voice was heard answering his summons.
“Come in.”
Peter raised the latch, and, closely followed by Jim, passed directly into the parlor. He glanced swiftly round at the litter of dressmaking, but Eve was not there. Jim’s eyes, too, wandered over the familiar little room. It was the first time he had entered it since the day he had ridden over to ask her to marry him.
He saw Eve now in every detail of the furnishing; he saw her in the work he had watched her at so often; he saw her in the very atmosphere of the place, and the realization of all he had lost smote him sorely. Then there came to him the object of his present visit, and he grew sick with the intensity of his feelings.
But the room was empty, and yet it had been Elia’s voice that summoned them to enter. With only the briefest hesitation Peter started toward the kitchen door, and Jim, his thoughts running riot over the past, mechanically162followed him. And as they reached it, and Peter’s great bulk filled up the opening, it was the latter’s sharp exclamation that brought Jim to matters of the moment. He drew close up behind his companion and looked over his shoulder, and a startled, horror-stricken cry broke from him.
“Look!” he cried, and the horror in his voice was in his eyes, and the expression of his face.
The scene held them both for a second, and for years it lived in Jim’s memory. The ill-lit kitchen with its single lamp; the yellow rays lighting up little more than the untidy supper-table with the misshapen figure of Elia sitting on the far side of it, calmly devouring his evening meal. The rest of the room was shadowy, except where the light from the cook-stove threw its lurid rays upon the white face and crumpled figure of Eve lying close beside it upon the floor. Her eyes were closed, and a great wound upon her forehead, with blood oozing slowly from it, suggested death to the horrified men.
In an instant Jim was at Eve’s side, bending over her, seeking some signs of life. Then, as Peter came up, he turned to him with a look of unutterable relief.
“She’s alive,” he said.
“Thank God!”
“Quick,” Jim hurried on, “water and a sponge, or towel or something.”
Peter crossed the room to the barrel, and dipped out some water; and, further, he procured a washing flannel, and hastened back with them to Jim, who was kneeling supporting the girl’s wounded head upon his hand.
And all the time Elia, as though in sheer idle curiosity, watched the scene, steadily continuing his meal the163while. There was no sort of feeling expressed in his cold eyes. Nor did he display the least relief when Jim assured him Eve was alive. Peter watched the boy, and while Jim bathed her wounded forehead with a tenderness which was something almost maternal, he questioned him with some exasperation.
“How did it happen?” he demanded, his steady eyes fixed disapprovingly on the lad’s face.
“Don’t know. Guess she must ha’ fell some. Ther’s suthin’ red on the edge o’ the coal box. Mebbe it’s her blood.”
The cold indifference angered even Peter.
“And you sit there with her, maybe, dying. Say, you’re pretty mean.”
The boy’s indifference suddenly passed. He glanced at Eve, then at the door, and he stirred uneasily.
“I didn’t know wher’ Will ’ud be. If I’d called folks, an’ he’d got around an’ found ’em here–––”
“Why didn’t you fetch him?” Peter broke in.
“I come in jest after he’d gone out, an’–––”
“Found––this?” Peter indicated Eve.
“Yes.”
Jim suddenly looked up, and his fierce eyes encountered Peter’s. The latter’s tone promptly changed.
“How is she?” he asked gently, and it was evident he was trying to banish the thoughts which Elia’s statement had stirred in Jim’s mind.
“Coming to,” he said shortly, and turned again to his task of bathing the injured woman’s forehead.
But it was still some minutes before the flicker of the girl’s eyelids proved Jim’s words. Then he sighed his relief and for a moment ceased the bathing and examined164the wound. Then he reached a cushion from one of the kitchen chairs and folded it under her head.
The wound on her forehead was an ugly place just over her right temple, and there was no doubt in his mind had it been half an inch lower it would have proved fatal. He knelt there staring at it, wondering and speculating. He glanced at the corner of the box, and the thought of Eve’s height suggested the impossibility of a tumble causing such a wound. Suspicion stirred him to a cold, hard rage. This was no accident, he told himself, and his mind flew at once to the only person who, to his way of thinking, could have caused it. Will had left her just as Elia came in; but Peter’s voice called him to himself.
“Best keep on with the bathing,” he said.
And without a sign Jim bent to his task once more. A moment later Eve stirred, and her eyes opened. At first there was no meaning in her upward stare. Then the eyes began to move, and settled themselves on Jim’s face. In a moment consciousness returned, and she struggled to sit up. It was then the man’s arm was thrust under her shoulders, and he gently lifted her.
“Feeling better, Eve?” he asked gently.
There was a moment’s pause; then a whispered, “Yes,” came from her lips. But her wound began to bleed afresh, and Jim turned at once to Elia.
“Go you and hunt up Doc Crombie,” he said hastily. And as the boy stirred to depart, he added in a tone that was curiously sharp set, “Then go on to the saloon and tell Will Henderson to come right up here.”
But Peter interfered.
“Let him get the Doc,” he said. “I’ll see to him––later.”
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The two men exchanged glances, and Jim gave way.
“Very well. But hurry for Crombie.”
After that Eve’s voice demanding water held all Jim’s attention. And while Peter procured a cupful, he lifted her gently in his arms and carried her into the parlor, and laid her on an old horsehair settee, propping her carefully into a sitting position. When the water was brought she drank thirstily, and then, closing her eyes, sank back with something like a sigh of contentment.
But with the first touch of the wet flannel which Jim again applied to her head she looked up.
“I fell on the coal box,” she said hastily. And before Jim could answer Peter spoke.
“That’s how we guessed,” he said kindly. “Maybe you were stooping for coal––sure.”
“Yes, yes. I was stooping for coal for the kitchen stove. I must have got dizzy. You needn’t send for the doctor. I’m all right, and the bleeding will stop. I’ve just got a headache. Please don’t send for Will; I’m glad you haven’t. He’d only be alarmed for––for nothing––and really I’m all right. Thank you, Jim, and you too, Peter. You can’t do anything more. Really you can’t and I don’t want to spoil your evening. I–––”
“We’re going to wait for the Doc, Eve,” said Jim, firmly.
Her eagerness to be rid of them was painfully evident, and so unlike her.
“Yes,” agreed Peter, “we better wait for the Doc, Eve. You see we came down to pay you a party call.”
“A party call?”
“Yes. Y’see Jim rode in from the ‘AZ’s’ to pay you a––party call.”
166
The girl’s eyes steadied themselves on Jim’s face. He had drawn himself up a chair, and was sitting opposite her. Peter was still standing, his great bulk shutting the glare of the lamplight out of her eyes. She looked long and earnestly into the man’s face, as though she would fathom the meaning of his visit before she in any way committed herself. But she learned nothing from it.
“A party call––after all this time, Jim?” she asked, with something like a wistful smile.
Jim turned away. He could not face the pathos in her expression. His eyes wandered round the little room. Not one detail of it was forgotten, yet it seemed ages and ages since he had seen it all. He nodded.
“You see,” he said lamely, “new married folks don’t–––”
Eve checked his explanation quickly. She didn’t want any. All she wanted was for them to go before Will returned.
“Yes; I know. And, besides, the ranch is a long way. Yet––why did you come to-night?” She pressed her hand to her forehead lest the fear in her eyes should betray her.
The pause which followed was awkward. Somehow neither of the men was prepared for it. Neither had thought that such a question would be put to him. Peter looked at Jim, who turned deliberately away. He was struggling vainly for a way of approaching all he had to say to this girl, and now that he was face to face with it he realized the impossibility of his position. Finally it was the girl herself who helped him out.
“It’s very, very kind of you, anyway,” she said, in a167low voice. “It’s good to think that I’ve got friends thinking about me–––”
“That’s just it, Eve,” cried Jim, seizing his opportunity with a clumsy rush. “I’ve been thinking a heap––lately. You see––Will Henderson’s not working and––and––folks say–––”
“And gossip says we’re ‘hard up,’” Eve added bitterly. She knew well enough the talk that was rife. “So you’ve come in to see––if it is true.” She again pressed a hand to her forehead. This time it was the pain of her head which had become excruciating.
Jim nodded, and Peter’s smiling eyes continued to watch him.
“But it wasn’t exactly that,” the former went on in his straightforward way. “Yet it’s so blazing hard to put it so you can understand. You see, I’ve been doing very well, and––you know I’ve got a big bunch of cattle running up in the foot-hills now––I thought, maybe, seeing Will isn’t working, money might be a bit tight with you. You see, we’re folks of the world, and there’s no fool sentiment about us in these things; I mean no ridiculous pride. Now, if I was down, and you’d offered to help me out, I’d just take it as a real friendly act. And I just thought––maybe–––”
How much longer he would have continued to flounder on it was impossible to tell, but Peter saw his trouble and cut him short.
“You see, Eve,” he said, “Jim wants to help you out. Some folks have got busy, and he’s heard that you’re hard pushed for ready dollars. That’s how it is.”
Jim frowned at his bluntness, but was in reality immensely relieved. Eve had been listening with closed168eyes, but now opened them, and they were full of a friendliness.
“Thanks, Peter; thanks, Jim,” she said softly. “You’re both very good to me, but––don’t worry about money. If things go right we have enough.”
“That’s it, Eve,” Jim exclaimed eagerly. “If things go right. Are they going right? Will they go right? That’s just it. Say, can’t you see it hurts bad to think you’ve got to pinch, and that sort of thing? You can surely take a loan from me. You–––”
But Eve shook her head decidedly.
“Things will go right, believe me. Will has got something up––in the hills. He says it’s going to bring us in a lot.” She turned wistful eyes upon Peter’s rugged face. “It’s something in your line,” she said. “Gold. And he says–––” She broke off with a look of sudden distress. “I forgot. I wasn’t to say anything to––to anybody. Please––please forget about it. But I only wanted to show you that––we are going to do very well.”
“So Will’s struck it rich.” It was Peter’s astonished voice that answered her. The news had a peculiar interest for him. “Placer?” he inquired.
“Yes––and easy to work. But you won’t say a word about it, will you? He told me not to speak of it. And if he knew he would be so angry. I–––”
“Don’t worry, Eve,” broke in Jim, gently. “Your secret is safe with us––quite safe.”
Peter said nothing. The news had staggered him for a moment, and he was vainly trying to digest it. Jim rose from his seat and leaned against the table. His attempt had failed. She would have none of his help.169But his coming to that house had told him, in spite of Eve’s reassurance, that the gossip was well founded. There was trouble in Eve’s home, and it was worse than he had anticipated.
The girl eyed them both for a moment with a return of that fear in her eyes.
“Are you going now?” she inquired, with an anxiety she no longer tried to conceal. She felt so ill that it didn’t seem to matter what she said.
“We’re going to wait till Doc Crombie’s fixed you up,” said Peter, steadily. Then he added thoughtfully, “After that I’m going to fetch Will.”
Eve gasped. Swift protest rose to her lips, but it remained unspoken, for at that moment there came the sound of footsteps outside, and Elia led the forceful doctor into the room.
“Hey, Mrs. Henderson,” he cried, nodding at the two men. “Winged your head some. Let’s have a look,” he added, crossing to Eve’s side and glancing keenly at her wound. “Whew!” he whistled. “How did you do it? Eh?” he demanded, and Peter explained. The explanation was made to save Eve what both he and Jim knew to be a lie.
The doctor’s blunt scorn was withering.
“Pooh! Leanin’ over the coal box? Fell on the corner? Nonsense! Say, if you’d fell clear off o’ the roof on to that dogone box, mebbe you could ha’ done that amount o’ damage. But–––”
Eve’s eyes flashed indignantly.
“I’d be glad if you’d fix me up,” she said coldly.
The rough doctor grinned and got to work. She had made him suddenly realize that he was dealing with a170woman, and not one of the men of the village. He promptly waived what had, in the course of years, become a sort of prerogative of his: the right to bully. In half an hour he had finished and the three prepared to take their departure.
“Guess you’ll be all right now,” Crombie said, in his gruff but not unkindly way. Then, unable to check entirely his hectoring, he went on with a sarcastic grin. “An’, say, ma’m, if you’ve a habit o’ leanin’ so heavy over the coal box, I’d advise you to git the corners rounded some. When falls sech as you’ve jest bin takin’ happen around they don’t generly end with the first of ’em. I wish you good-night.”
Peter also bade her good-night, and he and the doctor passed out. Jim was about to follow when Eve stayed him. She waited to speak till the others had passed out of ear-shot.
“Jim, you’re real good,” she said in a low voice. “And I can never thank you enough. No,” as he made an attempt to stop her, “I must speak. I didn’t want to, but––but I must. It isn’t money we want––truth. Not yet. But maybe you can help me. I don’t rightly know. You do want to, don’t you? Sure––sure?”
Jim nodded. His eyes told her. At that moment he would have done anything for her.
“Well, if you want to help me there’s only one way. Help him. Oh, Jim, he needs it. I don’t know how it’s to be done, but––for my sake––help him. Jim, it’s drink––drink and poker. They’re ruining him. You can only help me––by helping him. No, don’t promise anything. Good-night, Jim. God bless you!”