the figure was silent, motionless upon the veranda. the eyes were dull and lifeless. it was as though paralysis held the woman in its grip.
"tchah!"
the echo of that fierce expletive remained. it rang through heart and brain. its sting was hot. it seared its way through the life channels and blasted all hope.
was there ever such contempt, such scorn, such repulsion, concentrated in one single ejaculation! it told the woman everything. it told of a failure so complete that hope became an emotion driven forever from her heart. it told her that the usury of life was beyond all belief. it told her that the interest demanded for every pledged moment was without pity, or mercy, or justice. now she knew how she had pawned, and, oh god, the interest which was being torn from her!
her gaze remained upon the angle of the barn around which her husband had vanished. she was waiting for him to reappear. she was waiting to see if he would ride off in spite of her warning. but she was unaware of the thought prompting her. all she knew, all she felt, was the contempt, the scorn, the distrust he had hurled at her.
the western sky had faded to a pallid yellow. the distance was losing itself in the rising purple shadows. already the dark patches of woodlands were assuming that ghostly vagueness which belongs to twilight. the ranch was wrapped in a deep repose. a sense of rest had fallen upon the great valley. all life seemed satisfied with its long day's effort and desired only the peace of night.
but the quiet suddenly gave way before a fresh clatter of movement. hoofs once more beat on the sun-baked soil. two figures grew out of the twilight from behind the barn, and the woman knew that her warning had gone for naught. she watched them until they were swallowed up by the growing dusk. the last dim outline blurred itself into the pasture. then she stirred.
a deep sigh was heavily breathed. then, in a moment, the paralysis fell from her. the dullness of her eyes gave place to a sheen of excitement, and her perfect cheeks assumed a faint, hectic flush.
for one brief moment she glanced back into the house. then she glanced down at her own clothing. she was still clad in the riding suit which had become her daily wear. the survey seemed to satisfy her, for she left the veranda at a run, and made her way toward the barn.
perhaps five minutes later she, too, became lost in the growing twilight, and her horse's hoofs awoke anew the echoes of the place. but her way did not lie in the track of the others. her horse was racing headlong in the direction of nan's home.
bud and nan were just finishing their supper when elvine broke in upon them. she came with a rush and a clatter which brought nan out on to the veranda in hurry of anxious inquiry. bud was behind her, but his movements lacked her impulse.
elvine was out of the saddle. she stood on the veranda, a figure of wild-eyed appeal.
"jeff! oh, he's gone. nan, they'll--they'll kill him! i know it. i'm certain. and i warned him. i warned him. but--oh!"
she covered her face with her hands. it was a movement inspired by the memory of his scorn.
nan's responsive heart was caught by the other's emotion. but above it leaped a fear which she was powerless to deny. jeff? jeff in danger? she flung out an arm. her small hand gripped the other with a force that was incredible.
"what d'you mean?" she cried, almost fiercely. "don't stand there like a fool. who is going to harm jeff?"
the sharp authority, so prompt, so unexpected, dragged the distraught woman into some command of herself. she raised her head. her eyes were hot with unshed tears. they looked into nan's, so urgent, yet so full of a steadfast sanity.
"it's sikkem," she cried, steadying herself. "he's sent in to say he's badly shot up. he says he's located the rustlers' camp and must hand jeff the news before--while he has time. jeff's gone out there, and--sikkem's one of the gang and escaped from orrville four years ago."
"how d'you know?" it was bud's heavy voice put the question. it was full of stern command.
"i've seen him. i know him, and--he knows me. he--he wrote this and sent it me."
elvine thrust the crumpled note at bud. her gesture was almost desperate.
"when did he send it?" again came bud's command.
"days ago."
"an' jeff--didn't know till--now?"
"i was afraid to tell him--then."
bud and nan read the note by the parlor lamplight. a bitter imprecation broke from the man's lips.
"guess i don't get it--yet," he said.
but nan was quicker.
"he's gone to spruce crossing--to sikkem?" she cried, her eyes hot as they dwelt on the shaking woman before her. "don't wait talking. it don't matter the right of things. you, daddy, get our horses fixed and round up a bunch of boys from the bunkroom. jeff's in danger, an' it's up to us. maybe evie'll tell me while you go."
something of the great bud's feelings was displayed in the celerity of his movements. he was gone before nan had finished speaking.
the two women were left facing each other.
seconds passed without a word. the gentle nan no longer looked out of the brown eyes. they were hot, resentful. nor would any one have recognized in the anxious-eyed woman before her the beautiful creature who had first stirred jeffrey masters out of his years of celibate thought.
without a word nan turned back to the parlor. when she reappeared she was buckling a revolver belt about her slim waist. the two heavy holsters it supported were almost incongruous on so slight a figure.
elvine watched her. the girl's deliberation was in deep contrast to her own emotions. then, too, the sympathy which had fled from nan's brown eyes left them full of hard resolve.
"you--are not going?" elvine said, pointing at the weapons.
nan's surprise was genuine.
"jeff's in danger."
"but you--a woman? you can't help. you might even----"
"jeff's in danger."
nan repeated the words with an emphasis there could be no mistaking. and as the final syllable escaped her pretty lips became firmly compressed.
elvine regarded her for a silent moment or two. a strange new sensation was stirring within her. nan's attitude had brought it into being. her earlier emotions receded before this new feeling. and, strangely enough, she remembered some words her mother had once spoken to her. it was at a time before she had engaged herself to her husband.
"but jeff--is nothing to you," she said abruptly.
there was a new ring in the voice in which she spoke.
"is he?"
nan's eyes looked straight into the wife's. there was no smile in them. there was no emotion lying behind them that elvine could read. they were steady, unflinching. that was all.
sounds came up from the ranch buildings. voices reached them plainly. and among them bud's dominating tones were raised above all.
nan's eyes were drawn in the direction, but her gaze only encountered the moonless night.
"what is he--to you?" elvine's demand was strident. she was roused from her sense of her own sufferings, her own misery. the newly awakened emotion had leaped to proportions which threatened to overwhelm all others.
nan's eyes came back to her face. there was something almost reckless in their regard. there was even a suggestion of derision in them, a suggestion of triumph. but it was not the triumph over a rival. it was the triumph of one who realizes her conquest over self.
"everything!" she cried. then she added almost to herself: "everything i can think of, have ever dreamed of in life." then suddenly her voice rose to a ring of ecstasy. it was the abundance, the purity of her love, the certainty of victory over self which inspired it. "ah, evie, don't be rattled with what i'm telling you. ther' surely is no need. you want to be mad with me. guess you needn't to be. jeff don't know it. he never will know it. i've never had a hope of him since he met you. he's always been just yours. i don't guess you need to worry a thing that way. the worrying's for me. i've loved him since ever i was a child: since ever he came here. well, you figure he's in danger--so it's up to those who love him to do. you see, i--well, i just love him with my whole soul."
she turned away. the reception of her confession seemed to concern her not at all.
out of the darkness loomed her father's great figure. he was leading nan's horse as well as his own. the girl leaped into the saddle, and he passed his own reins up to her.
"i shan't be haf a minit," he said. "i need my guns. the boys are waitin' by the barn."
he passed into the house. then nan observed elvine. she, too, had leaped into the saddle. nor could the girl help being struck by the manner of her action.
"you're goin' back home?" she cried.
elvine shook her head resolutely.
"how--then?"
the wife suddenly urged her horse. it came right up to nan's with an almost spasmodic jump, driven by a vicious jab of the woman's spurred heel.
the dark eyes were lit with an angry fire as she leaned forward in the saddle. her words came in a voice of passionate jealousy.
"you love him, so you go to him, ready to face anything--for him. do you think i don't love him? do you think i'm not ready to dare for him--anything? your love gives you that right. what of mine? does mine give me no right? say, child, your fool conceit runs away with you. i tell you you don't know what love is. you say you love him with your whole soul. and you are content to live without him. psha! your soul must be a poor enough thing. i tell you life means nothing to me without him. i can't and won't live without him."
* * * * * *
the black earth sped under the horses' hoofs. the stars shone like dew on the velvet pall of night. bud led, as he always led in the things practical which belonged to his life.
he needed no thought for guidance on that night journey. unerring instinct served him across those wide plains. spruce crossing might have possessed a beacon light, so straight, so unerring was the lead he offered those behind him.
now, perhaps, more than ever, all his great skill was put forth. for he had listened to the complete, if halting, story of the man's wife, and shared with her the conviction of treachery. for the time, at least, all consideration for the woman was thrust aside. he offered no words of blame. his concern was simply the succor of his friend.
nan was ready to follow him whithersoever he led. she was ready to obey his lightest command, for she understood his skill. she had no thought for anything but the man she loved. no possibilities of mischance, no threat to herself could find place in her thought. for her jeff's well-being was her single concern.
elvine rode beside her, step for step. she had told her story as they rode. after that silence between them prevailed. it was a silence fraught with an emotion too deep for any words. a fierce jealousy mingled with her passionate longing. her world was empty of all but two figures. the man she loved, and the girl who had confessed her love with all the strength of a great, simple courage.
whatever the night might bring forth, whatever tragedy might be in store, she scarcely had thought for anything but her own almost mad resolve. this girl, this child of the plains, should obtain no advantage. she was prepared to yield all for the succor of the husband who had scorned her--even to life itself.
