[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
from Waggoner's breast. It was a wooden haft. Shefford had seen it before
somewhere.
Then he was struck with what perhaps Joe meant him to see the singular
impression the haft gave of one sweeping, accurate, powerful stroke. A strong
arm had driven that blade home. The haft was sunk deep; there was a little
depression in the cloth; no blood showed; and the weapon looked as if it could
not be pulled out. Shefford's thought went fatally and irresistibly to Fay
Larkin's strong arm. He saw her flash that white arm and lift the heavy bucket
from the spring with an ease he wondered at. He felt the strong clasp of her
hand as she had given it to him in a flying leap across a crevice upon the
walls. Yes, her fine hand and the round, strong arm possessed the strength to
have given that blade its singular directness and force. The marvel was not in
the physical action. It hid inscrutably in the mystery of deadly passion
rising out of a gentle and sad heart.
Joe Lake drew up the blanket and shut from Shefford's fascinated gaze that
spare form, that accusing knife, that face of strange, cruel power.
"Anybody been sent for?" asked Lake of Beal.
"Yes. An Indian boy went for the Piute. We'll send him to Stonebridge,"
replied the Mormon.
"How soon do you expect any one here from Stonebridge?"
"To-morrow, mebbe by noon."
"Meantime what's to be done with this?"
"Elder Smith thinks the body should stay right here where it fell till they
come from Stonebridge."
"Waggoner was found here, then?"
"Right here."
"Who found him?"
"Mother Smith. She came over early. An' the sight made her scream. The women
all came runnin'. Mother Smith had to be put to bed."
"Who found Mary?"
"See here, Joe, I told you all I knowed once before," replied the Mormon,
testily.
"I've forgotten. Was sort of bewildered. Tell me again. . . . Who found her?"
"The women folks. She laid right inside the door, in a dead faint. She hadn't
undressed. There was blood on her hands an' a cut or scratch. The women
fetched her to. But she wouldn't talk. Then Elder Smith come an' took her.
They've got her locked up."
Then Joe led Shefford away from the cabin farther on into the village. When
Page 128
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
they were halted by the somber, grieving women it was Joe who did the talking.
They passed the school-house, and here Shefford quickened his step. He could
scarcely bear the feeling that rushed over him. And the Mormon gripped his arm
as if he understood.
"Shefford, which one of these younger women do you reckon your best friend?
Ruth?" asked Lake, earnestly.
"Ruth, by all means. Just lately I haven't seen her often. But we've been
close friends. I think she'd do much for me."
"Maybe there'll be a chance to find out. Maybe we'll need Ruth. Let's have a
word with her. I haven't seen her out among the women."
They stopped at the door of Ruth's cabin. It was closed. When Joe knocked
there came a sound of footsteps inside, a hand drew aside the window-blind,
and presently the door opened. Ruth stood there, dressed in somber hue. She
was a pretty, slender, blue-eyed, brown-haired young woman.
Shefford imagined from her pallor and the set look of shock upon her face,
that the tragedy had affected her more powerfully than it had the other women.
When he remembered that she had been more friendly with Fay Larkin than any
other neighbor, he made sure he was right in his conjecture.
"Come in," was Ruth's greeting.
"No. We just wanted to say a word. I noticed you've not been out. Do you
know all about it?"
She gave them a strange glance.
"Any of the women folks been in?" added Joe.
"Hester ran over. She told me through the window. Then I barred my door to
keep the other women out."
"What for?" asked Joe, curiously.
"Please come in," she said, in reply.
They entered, and she closed the door after them. The change that came over
her then was the loosing of restraint.
"Joe what will they do with Mary?" she queried, tensely.
The Mormon studied her with dark, speculative eyes. "Hang her!" he rejoined
in brutal harshness.
"O Mother of Saints!" she cried, and her hands went up.
"You're sorry for Mary, then?" asked Joe, bluntly.
"My heart is breaking for her."
"Well, so's Shefford's," said the Mormon, huskily. "And mine's kind of damn
shaky."
Ruth glided to Shefford with a woman's swift softness.
"You've been my good my best friend. You were hers, too. Oh, I know! . . .
Page 129
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Can't you do something for her?"
"I hope to God I can," replied Shefford.
Then the three stood looking from one to the other, in a strong and subtly
realizing moment drawn together.
"Ruth," whispered Joe, hoarsely, and then he glanced fearfully around, at the
window and door, as if listeners were there. It was certain that his dark face
had paled. He tried to whisper more, only to fail. Shefford divined the weight
of Mormonism that burdened Joe Lake then. Joe was faithful to a love for Fay
Larkin, noble in friendship to Shefford, desperate in a bitter strait with his
own manliness, but the power of that creed by which he had been raised struck
his lips mute. For to speak on meant to be false to that creed. Already in his
heart he had decided, yet he could not voice the thing.
"Ruth" Shefford took up the Mormon's unfinished whisper "if we plan to save
her if we need you will you help?"
Ruth turned white, but an instant and splendid fire shone in her eyes.
"Try me," she whispered back. "I'll change places with her so you can get her
away. They can't do much to me."
Shefford wrung her hands. Joe licked his lips and found his voice: "We'll
come back later." Then he led the way out and Shefford followed. They were
silent all the way back to camp.
Nas Ta Bega sat in repose where they had left him, a thoughtful, somber
figure. Shefford went directly to the Indian, and Joe tarried at the
camp-fire, where he raked out some red embers and put one upon the bowl of his
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]