by Zane Grey
II. A Secret Kept
Because of that singular reply Madeline found faith to go farther withthe cowboy. But at the moment she really did not think about what hehad said. Any answer to her would have served if it had been kind. Hissilence had augmented her nervousness, compelling her to voice her fear.Still, even if he had not replied at all she would have gone on withhim. She shuddered at the idea of returning to the station, where shebelieved there had been murder; she could hardly have forced herself togo back to those dim lights in the street; she did not want to wanderaround alone in the dark.
And as she walked on into the windy darkness, much relieved that he hadanswered as he had, reflecting that he had yet to prove his words true,she began to grasp the deeper significance of them. There was a revivalof pride that made her feel that she ought to scorn to think at allabout such a man. But Madeline Hammond discovered that thought wasinvoluntary, that there were feelings in her never dreamed of beforethis night.
Presently Madeline's guide turned off the walk and rapped at a door of alow-roofed house.
"Hullo--who's there?" a deep voice answered.
"Gene Stewart," said the cowboy. "Call Florence--quick!"
Thump of footsteps followed, a tap on a door, and voices. Madeline hearda woman exclaim: "Gene! here when there's a dance in town! Somethingwrong out on the range." A light flared up and shone bright through awindow. In another moment there came a patter of soft steps, and thedoor opened to disclose a woman holding a lamp.
"Gene! Al's not--"
"Al is all right," interrupted the cowboy.
Madeline had two sensations then--one of wonder at the note of alarmand love in the woman's voice, and the other of unutterable relief to besafe with a friend of her brother's.
"It's Al's sister--came on to-night's train," the cowboy was saying. "Ihappened to be at the station, and I've fetched her up to you."
Madeline came forward out of the shadow.
"Not--not really Majesty Hammond!" exclaimed Florence Kingsley. Shenearly dropped the lamp, and she looked and looked, astounded beyondbelief.
"Yes, I am really she," replied Madeline. "My train was late, and forsome reason Alfred did not meet me. Mr.--Mr. Stewart saw fit to bring meto you instead of taking me to a hotel."
"Oh, I'm so glad to meet you," replied Florence, warmly. "Do come in.I'm so surprised, I forget my manners. Why, Al never mentioned yourcoming."
"He surely could not have received my messages," said Madeline, as sheentered.
The cowboy, who came in with her satchel, had to stoop to enter thedoor, and, once in, he seemed to fill the room. Florence set the lampdown upon the table. Madeline saw a young woman with a smiling, friendlyface, and a profusion of fair hair hanging down over her dressing-gown.
"Oh, but Al will be glad!" cried Florence. "Why, you are white as asheet. You must be tired. What a long wait you had at the station! Iheard the train come in hours ago as I was going to bed. That stationis lonely at night. If I had known you were coming! Indeed, you are verypale. Are you ill?"
"No. Only I am very tired. Traveling so far by rail is harder than Iimagined. I did have rather a long wait after arriving at the station,but I can't say that it was lonely."
Florence Kingsley searched Madeline's face with keen eyes, and thentook a long, significant look at the silent Stewart. With that shedeliberately and quietly closed a door leading into another room.
"Miss Hammond, what has happened?" She had lowered her voice.
"I do not wish to recall all that has happened," replied Madeline."I shall tell Alfred, however, that I would rather have met a hostileApache than a cowboy."
"Please don't tell Al that!" cried Florence. Then she grasped Stewartand pulled him close to the light. "Gene, you're drunk!"
"I was pretty drunk," he replied, hanging his head.
"Oh, what have you done?"
"Now, see here, Flo, I only--"
"I don't want to know. I'd tell it. Gene, aren't you ever going to learndecency? Aren't you ever going to stop drinking? You'll lose all yourfriends. Stillwell has stuck to you. Al's been your best friend. Mollyand I have pleaded with you, and now you've gone and done--God knowswhat!"
"What do women want to wear veils for?" he growled. "I'd have known herbut for that veil."
"And you wouldn't have insulted her. But you would the next girl whocame along. Gene, you are hopeless. Now, you get out of here and don'tever come back."
"Flo!" he entreated.
"I mean it."
"I reckon then I'll come back to-morrow and take my medicine," hereplied.
"Don't you dare!" she cried.
Stewart went out and closed the door.
"Miss Hammond, you--you don't know how this hurts me," said Florence."What you must think of us! It's so unlucky that you should have hadthis happen right at first. Now, maybe you won't have the heart tostay. Oh, I've known more than one Eastern girl to go home without everlearning what we really are cut here. Miss Hammond, Gene Stewart is afiend when he's drunk. All the same I know, whatever he did, he meant noshame to you. Come now, don't think about it again to-night." She tookup the lamp and led Madeline into a little room. "This is out West,"she went on, smiling, as she indicated the few furnishings; "but you canrest. You're perfectly safe. Won't you let me help you undress--can't Ido anything for you?"
"You are very kind, thank you, but I can manage," replied Madeline.
"Well, then, good night. The sooner I go the sooner you'll rest. Justforget what happened and think how fine a surprise you're to give yourbrother to-morrow."
With that she slipped out and softly shut the door.
As Madeline laid her watch on the bureau she noticed that the time waspast two o'clock. It seemed long since she had gotten off the train.When she had turned out the lamp and crept wearily into bed she knewwhat it was to be utterly spent. She was too tired to move a finger. Buther brain whirled.
She had at first no control over it, and a thousand thronging sensationscame and went and recurred with little logical relation. There werethe roar of the train; the feeling of being lost; the sound of poundinghoofs; a picture of her brother's face as she had last seen it fiveyears before; a long, dim line of lights; the jingle of silver spurs;night, wind, darkness, stars. Then the gloomy station, the shadowyblanketed Mexican, the empty room, the dim lights across the square, thetramp of the dancers and vacant laughs and discordant music, the doorflung wide and the entrance of the cowboy. She did not recall how hehad looked or what he had done. And the next instant she saw him cool,smiling, devilish--saw him in violence; the next his bigness, hisapparel, his physical being were vague as outlines in a dream. The whiteface of the padre flashed along in the train of thought, and it broughtthe same dull, half-blind, indefinable state of mind subsequent to thatlast nerve-breaking pistol-shot. That passed, and then clear and vividrose memories of the rest that had happened--strange voices betrayingfury of men, a deadened report, a moan of mortal pain, a woman'spoignant cry. And Madeline saw the girl's great tragic eyes and thewild flight of the big horse into the blackness, and the dark, stalkingfigure of the silent cowboy, and the white stars that seemed to lookdown remorselessly.
This tide of memory rolled over Madeline again and again, and graduallylost its power and faded. All distress left her, and she felt herselfdrifting. How black the room was--as black with her eyes open as it waswhen they were shut! And the silence--it was like a cloak. There wasabsolutely no sound. She was in another world from that which she knew.She thought of this fair-haired Florence and of Alfred; and, wonderingabout them, she dropped to sleep.
When she awakened the room was bright with sunlight. A cool wind blowingacross the bed caused her to put her hands under the blanket. She waslazily and dreamily contemplating the mud walls of this little room whenshe remembered where she was and how she had come there.
How great a shock she had been subjected to was manifest in a sensationof disgust that overwhelmed her. She even shut her eyes to try and blotout
the recollection. She felt that she had been contaminated.
Presently Madeline Hammond again awoke to the fact she had learned thepreceding night--that there were emotions to which she had heretoforebeen a stranger. She did not try to analyze them, but she exercised herself-control to such good purpose that by the time she had dressed shewas outwardly her usual self. She scarcely remembered when she had foundit necessary to control her emotions. There had been no trouble, noexcitement, no unpleasantness in her life. It had been ordered forher--tranquil, luxurious, brilliant, varied, yet always the same.
She was not surprised to find the hour late, and was going to makeinquiry about her brother when a voice arrested her. She recognized MissKingsley's voice addressing some one outside, and it had a sharpness shehad not noted before.
"So you came back, did you? Well, you don't look very proud of yourselfthis mawnin'. Gene Stewart, you look like a coyote."
"Say, Flo if I am a coyote I'm not going to sneak," he said.
"What 'd you come for?" she demanded.
"I said I was coming round to take my medicine."
"Meaning you'll not run from Al Hammond? Gene, your skull is as thickas an old cow's. Al will never know anything about what you did to hissister unless you tell him. And if you do that he'll shoot you. Shewon't give you away. She's a thoroughbred. Why, she was so white lastnight I thought she'd drop at my feet, but she never blinked an eyelash.I'm a woman, Gene Stewart and if I couldn't feel like Miss Hammond Iknow how awful an ordeal she must have had. Why, she's one of the mostbeautiful, the most sought after, the most exclusive women in New YorkCity. There's a crowd of millionaires and lords and dukes after her.How terrible it'd be for a woman like her to be kissed by a drunkencowpuncher! I say it--"
"Flo, I never insulted her that way," broke out Stewart.
"It was worse, then?" she queried, sharply.
"I made a bet that I'd marry the first girl who came to town. I was onthe watch and pretty drunk. When she came--well, I got Padre Marcos andtried to bully her into marrying me."
"Oh, Lord!" Florence gasped. "It's worse than I feared.... Gene, Al willkill you."
"That'll be a good thing," replied the cowboy, dejectedly.
"Gene Stewart, it certainly would, unless you turn over a new leaf,"retorted Florence. "But don't be a fool." And here she becameearnest and appealing. "Go away, Gene. Go join the rebels across theborder--you're always threatening that. Anyhow, don't stay here and runany chance of stirring Al up. He'd kill you just the same as you wouldkill another man for insulting your sister. Don't make trouble for Al.That'd only make sorrow for her, Gene."
The subtle import was not lost upon Madeline. She was distressed becauseshe could not avoid hearing what was not meant for her ears. She made aneffort not to listen, and it was futile.
"Flo, you can't see this a man's way," he replied, quietly. "I'll stayand take my medicine."
"Gene, I could sure swear at you or any other pig-head of a cowboy.Listen. My brother-in-law, Jack, heard something of what I said to youlast night. He doesn't like you. I'm afraid he'll tell Al. For Heaven'ssake, man, go down-town and shut him up and yourself, too."
Then Madeline heard her come into the house and presently rap on thedoor and call softly:
"Miss Hammond. Are you awake?"
"Awake and dressed, Miss Kingsley. Come in."
"Oh! You've rested. You look so--so different. I'm sure glad. Come outnow. We'll have breakfast, and then you may expect to meet your brotherany moment."
"Wait, please. I heard you speaking to Mr. Stewart. It was unavoidable.But I am glad. I must see him. Will you please ask him to come into theparlor a moment?"
"Yes," replied Florence, quickly; and as she turned at the door sheflashed at Madeline a woman's meaning glance. "Make him keep his mouthshut!"
Presently there were slow, reluctant steps outside the front door, thena pause, and the door opened. Stewart stood bareheaded in thesunlight. Madeline remembered with a kind of shudder the tall form, theembroidered buckskin vest, the red scarf, the bright leather wristbands,the wide silver-buckled belt and chaps. Her glance seemed to runover him swift as lightning. But as she saw his face now she did notrecognize it. The man's presence roused in her a revolt. Yet somethingin her, the incomprehensible side of her nature, thrilled in the look ofthis splendid dark-faced barbarian.
"Mr. Stewart, will you please come in?" she asked, after that longpause.
"I reckon not," he said. The hopelessness of his tone meant that he knewhe was not fit to enter a room with her, and did not care or cared toomuch.
Madeline went to the door. The man's face was hard, yet it was sad, too.And it touched her.
"I shall not tell my brother of your--your rudeness to me," she began.It was impossible for her to keep the chill out of her voice, to speakwith other than the pride and aloofness of her class. Nevertheless,despite her loathing, when she had spoken so far it seemed that kindnessand pity followed involuntarily. "I choose to overlook what you didbecause you were not wholly accountable, and because there must be notrouble between Alfred and you. May I rely on you to keep silence andto seal the lips of that priest? And you know there was a man killed orinjured there last night. I want to forget that dreadful thing. I don'twant it known that I heard--"
"The Greaser didn't die," interrupted Stewart.
"Ah! then that's not so bad, after all. I am glad for the sake of yourfriend--the little Mexican girl."
A slow scarlet wave overspread his face, and his shame was painful tosee. That fixed in Madeline's mind a conviction that if he was a heathenhe was not wholly bad. And it made so much difference that she smileddown at him.
"You will spare me further distress, will you not, please?" His hoarsereply was incoherent, but she needed only to see his working face toknow his remorse and gratitude.
Madeline went back to her room; and presently Florence came for her, anddirectly they were sitting at breakfast. Madeline Hammond's impressionof her brother's friend had to be reconstructed in the morning light.She felt a wholesome, frank, sweet nature. She liked the slow Southerndrawl. And she was puzzled to know whether Florence Kingsley was prettyor striking or unusual. She had a youthful glow and flush, the cleartan of outdoors, a face that lacked the soft curves and lines of Easternwomen, and her eyes were light gray, like crystal, steady, almostpiercing, and her hair was a beautiful bright, waving mass.
Florence's sister was the elder of the two, a stout woman with a strongface and quiet eyes. It was a simple fare and service they gave to theirguest; but they made no apologies for that. Indeed, Madeline felttheir simplicity to be restful. She was sated with respect, sick ofadmiration, tired of adulation; and it was good to see that theseWestern women treated her as very likely they would have treated anyother visitor. They were sweet, kind; and what Madeline had at firstthought was a lack of expression or vitality she soon discovered tobe the natural reserve of women who did not live superficial lives.Florence was breezy and frank, her sister quaint and not given much tospeech. Madeline thought she would like to have these women near herif she were ill or in trouble. And she reproached herself for afastidiousness, a hypercritical sense of refinement that could not helpdistinguishing what these women lacked.
"Can you ride?" Florence was asking. "That's what a Westerner alwaysasks any one from the East. Can you ride like a man--astride, I mean?Oh, that's fine. You look strong enough to hold a horse. We have somefine horses out here. I reckon when Al comes we'll go out to BillStillwell's ranch. We'll have to go, whether we want to or not, for whenBill learns you are here he'll just pack us all off. You'll love oldBill. His ranch is run down, but the range and the rides up in themountains--they are beautiful. We'll hunt and climb, and most of allwe'll ride. I love a horse--I love the wind in my face, and a widestretch with the mountains beckoning. You must have the best horseon the ranges. And that means a scrap between Al and Bill and allthe cowboys. We don't all agree about horses, except in case of GeneStewart's iron-gray."
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p; "Does Mr. Stewart own the best horse in the country?" asked Madeline.Again she had an inexplicable thrill as she remembered the wild flightof Stewart's big dark steed and rider.
"Yes, and that's all he does own," replied Florence. "Gene can't keepeven a quirt. But he sure loves that horse and calls him--"
At this juncture a sharp knock on the parlor door interrupted theconversation. Florence's sister went to open it. She returned presentlyand said:
"It's Gene. He's been dawdlin' out there on the front porch, and heknocked to let us know Miss Hammond's brother is comin'."
Florence hurried into the parlor, followed by Madeline. The door stoodopen, and disclosed Stewart sitting on the porch steps. From downthe road came a clatter of hoofs. Madeline looked out over Florence'sshoulder and saw a cloud of dust approaching, and in it shedistinguished outlines of horses and riders. A warmth spread over her, alittle tingle of gladness, and the feeling recalled her girlish love forher brother. What would he be like after long years?
"Gene, has Jack kept his mouth shut?" queried Florence; and againMadeline was aware of a sharp ring in the girl's voice.
"No," replied Stewart.
"Gene! You won't let it come to a fight? Al can be managed. But Jackhates you and he'll have his friends with him."
"There won't be any fight."
"Use your brains now," added Florence; and then she turned to pushMadeline gently back into the parlor.
Madeline's glow of warmth changed to a blank dismay. Was she to seeher brother act with the violence she now associated with cowboys? Theclatter of hoofs stopped before the door. Looking out, Madeline saw abunch of dusty, wiry horses pawing the gravel and tossing lean heads.Her swift glance ran over the lithe horsemen, trying to pick out the onewho was her brother. But she could not. Her glance, however, caught thesame rough dress and hard aspect that characterized the cowboy Stewart.Then one rider threw his bridle, leaped from the saddle, and camebounding up the porch steps. Florence met him at the door.
"Hello, Flo. Where is she?" he called, eagerly. With that he looked overher shoulder to espy Madeline. He actually jumped at her. She hardlyknew the tall form and the bronzed face, but the warm flash of blue eyeswas familiar. As for him, he had no doubt of his sister, it appeared,for with broken welcome he threw his arms around her, then held her offand looked searchingly at her.
"Well, sister," he began, when Florence turned hurriedly from the doorand interrupted him.
"Al, I think you'd better stop the wrangling out there." He stared ather, appeared suddenly to hear the loud voices from the street, andthen, releasing Madeline, he said:
"By George! I forgot, Flo. There is a little business to see to. Keep mysister in here, please, and don't be fussed up now."
He went out on the porch and called to his men:
"Shut off your wind, Jack! And you, too, Blaze! I didn't want youfellows to come here. But as you would come, you've got to shut up. Thisis my business."
Whereupon he turned to Stewart, who was sitting on the fence.
"Hello, Stewart!" he said.
It was a greeting; but there was that in the voice which alarmedMadeline.
Stewart leisurely got up and leisurely advanced to the porch.
"Hello, Hammond!" he drawled.
"Drunk again last night?"
"Well, if you want to know, and if it's any of your mix, yes, Iwas-pretty drunk," replied Stewart.
It was a kind of cool speech that showed the cowboy in control ofhimself and master of the situation--not an easy speech to follow upwith undue inquisitiveness. There was a short silence.
"Damn it, Stewart," said the speaker, presently, "here's the situation:It's all over town that you met my sister last night at the stationand--and insulted her. Jack's got it in for you, so have these otherboys. But it's my affair. Understand, I didn't fetch them here. They cansee you square yourself, or else--Gene, you've been on the wrong trailfor some time, drinking and all that. You're going to the bad. But Billthinks, and I think, you're still a man. We never knew you to lie. Nowwhat have you to say for yourself?"
"Nobody is insinuating that I am a liar?" drawled Stewart.
"No."
"Well, I'm glad to hear that. You see, Al, I was pretty drunk lastnight, but not drunk enough to forget the least thing I did. I told PatHawe so this morning when he was curious. And that's polite for me tobe to Pat. Well, I found Miss Hammond waiting alone at the station. Shewore a veil, but I knew she was a lady, of course. I imagine, now thatI think of it, that Miss Hammond found my gallantry rather startling,and--"
At this point Madeline, answering to unconsidered impulse, eludedFlorence and walked out upon the porch.
Sombreros flashed down and the lean horses jumped.
"Gentlemen," said Madeline, rather breathlessly; and it did not addto her calmness to feel a hot flush in her cheeks, "I am very new toWestern ways, but I think you are laboring under a mistake, which, injustice to Mr. Stewart, I want to correct. Indeed, he was rather--ratherabrupt and strange when he came up to me last night; but as I understandhim now, I can attribute that to his gallantry. He was somewhat wildand sudden and--sentimental in his demand to protect me--and it was notclear whether he meant his protection for last night or forever; but Iam happy to say be offered me no word that was not honorable. And he sawme safely here to Miss Kingsley's home."
