Justin Wingate, Ranchman

by John Harvey Whitson

  CHAPTER IX

  SANDERS TELLS HIS STORY

  The evening before the day set for the election of United Statessenator Lemuel Fogg received this message from Sibyl Dudley:

  "Remember our agreement. I am prepared to do what I promised. I shallnot fail, and you must not."

  At a late hour that same evening a messenger handed Justin a note. Itwas from Sibyl. She was waiting for him in the lobby, and had acarriage in the street.

  "I want to take you home with me," she said, in her pleasantestmanner.

  "Is Lucy there?" was his eager question.

  "What a mind reader you are!" She laughed playfully. "She is there,and if you are good I will permit you to have a look at her."

  She led the way to the carriage.

  "You may see her, after you have seen some one else who is there," shesupplemented, as the carriage moved away from the hotel.

  "Who may that be?"

  Justin did not desire to see any one else.

  "Wait!" she said, mysteriously.

  Justin thought of Mary, of Ben, and even of Doctor Clayton. But hethought most of Lucy. But for his desire to see Lucy he would not havegone with Mrs. Dudley.

  When he arrived and was shown into the parlor he beheld WilliamSanders. He could not believe that he had been summoned to meetSanders, and glanced about the room to ascertain if it held any oneelse. Sanders was alone. Sibyl, following hard on Justin's heels, camein while he was greeting Sanders. The latter, having risen to takeJustin's hand, moved his jaws nervously. At home he would have cheweda grass blade or a broom straw. His cunning little eyes glanced awayfrom Justin's, instead of meeting them squarely.

  "I have come upon the strangest piece of information!" said Sibyl,speaking to Justin with simulated sympathy. "I could have brought youthe news, or told you about it as we drove up, but I wanted you tohear it from Mr. Sanders himself. It is really the strangest and mostromantic thing I ever listened to. I simply couldn't believe it whenMr. Sanders told it to me first, but when he explained fully I sawthat it must be true."

  "And it come about in a mighty curious way; that is, my bein' hyerdid. 'Twas through a fortune teller. I've gone to a good many of 'emin my time, but this was the best one I ever found."

  Sanders had dropped back into his chair, where he sat limply, hisloose shabby garments contrasting strangely with the furnishings ofthe room. He clicked his teeth together, with a chewing motion, whenhe was not speaking, and looked at Justin with shifting gaze. He wasnot easy in his unfamiliar surroundings, and his manner showed it. Nowand then he glanced at Sibyl, as if for help, as he proceeded with hisnarrative.

  "I ain't been feelin' jist right toward Philip Davison, as you know,and you an' me had some trouble one't; but you know I voted fer ye, erI reckon you know it. Anyway, I did. Well, I come up to Denver notlong ago, and this fortune teller I spoke of told me all about thattrouble I had with Davison, and about how I was put out that time byyou, and everything. She was a clairvoy'nt; went into a trance an'seen the whole thing, and a lot more that I can't tell you now, andwhen she come out of the trance we had a long talk and she give mesome good advice. Charged me two dollars, but it was worth ten, andI'd 'a' paid that ruther than missed it. And when Mrs. Dudley calledon her----"

  Sibyl affected a very clever confusion.

  "I suppose you will think me very foolish, Mr. Wingate, and we womenare foolish! I have always refused to believe in fortune tellers, buta friend of mine who had visited this one heard such strange thingsthat----"

  "That she went, too," said Sanders, with an expression ofgratification, "and I reckon she'll be believin' in fortune tellin'from this on."

  "Well, it was very strange," Sibyl admitted with apparent hesitation."The things she told me caused me to write to Mr. Sanders, and now heis here to tell you what he knows."

  "And it's a sing'lar story. And not so sing'lar either, when you lookit up one side and down t'other. I'd 'a' told you all about it longago, but fer certain things that took place."

  Justin, thinking of Lucy and disappointed at not seeing herimmediately, had not listened with much attention at first, but now hewas becoming interested. It began to dawn on him that this storyconcerned him. So he looked at Sanders more attentively, with a glancenow and then at Sibyl Dudley. He had never admired Mrs. Dudley and hedid not admire her now; recalling the things he knew and the things heguessed about her and Clayton, he almost felt at times that he hatedher. She was a handsome woman, but even his ignorance discounted theassumed value of rouge and fine raiment. He wondered some times thatClayton could ever have cared for her. He was sure he never could havedone so; for, compared with Sibyl, Lucy Davison was as a modest violetto a flaunting tiger lily.

  "I set out to ask Doc Clayton some questions about you, the first timeI come to his house. You'll remember that time, fer me and Fogg cometogether. But Clayton made me mad, when he told me that lie about hiscrooked arm; instid of answerin' me, he made fun of me, and I wentaway without sayin' anything."

  He chewed energetically on this old memory.

  "I didn't come back fer a good while after that, you'll reck'lect; Igot land at Sumner, an' farmed there a spell. Finally I sold out, an'thought I'd take another look at Paradise Valley. I'd been thinkin'about it all that time, and allowin' I'd go back when I got ready. Imight have writ to you, but I wasn't any hand to write in them days;and I hadn't got over bein' mad at Doc Clayton."

  Sibyl, turning her rings on her shapely fingers, was anxious that heshould reach the real point, but she withheld any manifestation ofimpatience. In the school of experience she had learned to wait.Justin was also anxious, and he had not learned so well how to concealit. But Sanders went on unheeding, stopping now and then to masticatea fact before proceeding further.

  "When I come back, intendin' to tell you all I knowed, which I'd begunto feel was due ye, I got into that quarrel with Davison about thefence before I could; and then you and me had that trouble. After thatI wouldn't tell; and I wouldn't tell it now but fer certain things.But I reckon you'd ought to know. I dunno whether you'll be pleased ernot when you do know; but I'm calculatin' that Davison won't bepleased, and that suits me. I don't make any bones of sayin' that Idon't like Davison; but Davison is your paw!"

  After all this slow preliminary, the revelation came like a shot froma rifle. Not realizing this, Sanders twisted round in his chair andbegan to draw from his hip pocket a grimy memorandum book of ancientappearance. Justin was too astonished to speak. He could hardlybelieve that he had heard aright, and he was prepared to dispute theassertion, for it seemed incredible.

  "Sanders twisted round in his chair and began to drawfrom his pocket a grimy memorandum book"]

  "Do you mean that Mr. Davison is my father?" he cried.

  "That's jist what I mean!"

  Sanders chewed again, and putting the memorandum book on his kneeopened it carefully. Sibyl Dudley, though she had seen the bookbefore, came forward softly from her chair to look. Her dark eyes hadkindled. Justin stared at Sanders and the book. The shock ofastonishment was still on him. He did not know what to think or say.Sanders appeared the least concerned of all.

  "That's jist what I mean, and hyer's the little book in which yourmother writ down the things I know about it; you can see it yerself,and you needn't believe me. You was brought to that preacher, Mr.Wingate, by me, and left there. I took you and your mother into mywagon. She was too sick to walk even, and she died in it; and then,not knowin' what to do with you, fer you was jist a baby, and I wasonly a kid myself, I took you to the preacher. I had left thismem'randum book behind, through a mistake; but I give him the Bible,and some other things, and calc'lated to bring this to him. But Ididn't right away, and then I lost track of him."

  Justin was trembling now. Though still unable to grasp the fullmeaning of this revelation, he saw that Sanders was recounting thingshe knew. There was no deception. He took the book in his shakinghands, when Sanders passed it to him. It was grimy and disreputable inappearance, but
if Sander's story were true it had been hallowed byhis mother's touch.

  "When I heard the name of Wingate the first time that I come to thevalley and stopped all night at Clayton's I was goin' to ask him allabout you and tell him what I knowed; but he made me mad, when he cutme off that way, and I didn't. 'Tain't no good excuse fer not tellin',I reckon, an' you may think I hadn't any better excuse later on, butthat's why I didn't, anyway. Davison's treatin' me the way he did andthat trouble I had with you made me keep my head shet till now. Butthat fortune teller, when I seen her the second time, said fer me totell you the whole thing, and so I'm doin' it, though mebbe it won'tplease you."

  Sander's tone was apologetic.

  Justin heard in amazed bewilderment. Philip Davison his father! Thething was incredible, impossible. But he opened the memorandum bookwith reverent fingers, as Sanders wandered on with his explanationsand excuses. This little diary at least was real. The first glanceshowed him the familiar handwriting which he knew to be his mother's.He knew every curve and turn of the letters penned in the littleBible, which at that moment was in his trunk at the hotel. There shehad written:

  "Justin, my baby boy, is now six months old. May God bless andpreserve him and may he become a good man."

  Here was the same handwriting, a portion of it in pencil so worn inplaces as to be almost illegible. Hardly hearing what Sanders was nowsaying Justin began to read. The dates were far apart. Some of thethings set down had been written before Justin was born; others musthave been penciled shortly before her death. Many were unrelated andtold of trivial things. Others concerned her husband and her child.The details were more complete in the later pencilled notes, where shehad sought to make a record for the benefit of her boy in the event ofher death, which she seemed to foresee or fear. There was sadness hereand tears and the story of a pitiful tragedy; and here also in fullwere the names of her husband and her son.

  She was the wife of Philip Davison, and her son Justin was born a yearafter her marriage. Davison was then a small farmer, with a fewcattle, living in a certain valley, which she named. Davison, asJustin knew, had come from that valley to the valley of Paradise.Davison's habit of occasional intoxication was known to her before hermarriage, as was also his violent outbursts of temper; but love hadtold her the old lie, that she could save him from himself. The resulthad been disaster. In a fit of drunken rage he had so abused her thatshe had fled from him in the night with her child. A terrible stormarose as she wandered through the foothills. But she had stumbled on,crazed by fear and more dead than alive. How she lived through theweek that followed she declared in this yellowed writing that she didnot know, but she had lived. She was journeying toward the distantrailroad. Now and then some kind-hearted man gave her a seat in hiswagon, and now and then she found shelter and food in the home of somelonely settler. She would not return to Davison, and she hoped hebelieved she had died in the storm.

  The brief record ended in a blank, which had never been filled.Sanders--his name was not mentioned by her--had taken her into hisprairie schooner--he was but a fatherless boy himself--and there shehad died, worn out by suffering and exhaustion. But her baby hadlived, and was now known as Justin Wingate.

  A deep sense of indignation burned in Justin's breast against PhilipDavison, as he read the pathetic story. Against Sanders he could notbe indignant, in spite of the wrong the man had done him bywithholding this information through all the years; for Sanders hadsoothed the last moments of his mother, and Sanders' wagon had givenher the last shelter she had known. Justin's fingers shook, and in hiseyes there was a blinding dash of tears.

  Sanders was still drawling on, stopping occasionally to chew at anunwilling sentence. It was an old story to him, and so had lostinterest. Sibyl was standing expectantly by, watching Justin withsolicitude for her plans. His feelings did not reach her.

  "So I am Philip Davison's son!"

  Justin drew a long breath. His voice was choked and the words soundedhoarse and strange.

  "I reckon I ought to 'a' told you a good while ago," Sandersapologized; "but I kinder felt that it would please Davison, and afterthat trouble you an' me had I didn't want to tell it; and, so, Ididn't."

  His cunning gray eyes shone vindictively.

  "I don't mind sayin' to you that I wouldn't turn my hand over to saveDavison from the pit, if he is your father; he didn't do right by me,an' you didn't do right by me. It won't please him to know that you'rehis son, fer you're fightin' him teeth an' nail; and so I'm willin' totell it now."

  Sanders' ulterior motive was exposed. First and last hatred of PhilipDavison and of Justin had guided him.

  "It must be a pleasure to you to know who your father really is," saidSibyl, sweetly.

  Justin regarded her steadily, without actually seeing her. Hisfaculties were turned inward.

  "Yes, that is true; I am glad to know who my father is. I havewondered about it many times. But I never dreamed it could be Mr.Davison. It doesn't seem possible now."

  Yet in his hands he held the unimpeachable record.

  Sanders rose, shuffling and awkward.

  "I'll turn the mem'randum over to you; I reckon it belongs by rightsmore to you than to Davison, and I don't keer even to speak to him;he's never done right by me."

  Justin aroused as Sanders moved toward the door.

  "Sanders," he said, "I'm obliged to you for this. I recognize this asmy mother's handwriting. You ought to have given it to me long ago,but I'm glad to get it now. And I thank you from the bottom of myheart for what you did for her. I shall never forget it."

  "Oh, 'twasn't nothin' at all," Sanders declared, glad to escape thedenunciation he had feared.

  "And I want you to tell me more about my mother," Justin urged; "whatshe said when she came to you, and how she looked, and everything."

  Sanders sat down again, chewing the quid of reflection, and gave thedetails Justin demanded, for they had held well in his tenaciousmemory. Justin, listening with breathless interest, asked manyquestions, while Sibyl sat by in silent attention and studied hisstrong beardless face. He thanked Sanders again, when the story wasended.

  Sanders appeared anxious to depart, now that he had performed hismission, and Sibyl was glad to have him go. Justin remained in theroom. He was thinking of Lucy and desired to see her.

  "When I got on the track of that story and understood what it meant, Ifelt it to be my duty to bring you and Mr. Sanders together and letyou hear it from his own lips," said Sibyl, regarding Justinattentively. "And I told him to be sure to bring that diary, for Iknew you would want to see it and would prize it highly."

  It was in Justin's pocket, but he took it out again, still handling itreverently.

  "I thank you for that, Mrs. Dudley," he said with deep sincerity. "Thewhole thing is so new, so unexpected, that I am not yet able to adjustmyself to it; but it was a kindness on your part, and this book Ishall hold beyond price."

  He studied again the yellowed writing.

  "It is beyond price, for my mother wrote it!"

  He put the book away and looked at Sibyl.

  "The way I chanced to hear of the story was very queer," Sibylexplained. "And the way it has turned out justifies the superstitiousspasm which took me to that fortune teller. Sanders was coming out ofher room as I went in. I had seen him in Paradise Valley, and sorecognized him, though he did not notice me. When I passed in I spoketo the woman about him, telling her that I knew him; and then she gaveme the story she had drawn from him, or which in a confidential momenthe had told her. I saw the value of it to you, if true. I had aninterview with him for the purpose of verifying it; and then Iarranged this meeting, for I thought you ought to receive it straightfrom him."

  Justin thanked her again.

  "I think I should like to see Lucy now," he said, "if you have noobjection."

  Sibyl seemed embarrassed, as she answered:

  "I'm sorry to have to say that the servants inform me that she hasgone out with Mary to spend the night with a friend in
another part ofthe city. I thought she would be here, and I was sure you would wantto have a talk with her after that."

  Justin was disappointed.

  "I might as well be going then. It is late; too late I suppose to callon her at the place where she is stopping. I will see her to-morrowevening."

  He got out of his chair unsteadily. His emotions had been touched sostrongly that he felt exhausted, though he had not realized it untilhe arose. Then he took his hat and went out, after again thankingSibyl for her kindness.