The Trail Horde

by Charles Alden Seltzer

  CHAPTER XIX

  DEATH AT A DOOR

  Lawler smiled. "Then I reckon we're both surprised, ma'am," he said. "Icertainly wasn't expecting the norther to bring you. You had a mightynarrow squeeze. You were pretty near all in when I opened the door andsaw you."

  The girl drew a long, quavering breath and leaned back against the wallof the bunk, closing her eyes.

  Her hair had fallen about her shoulders, showing the white throatthrough the damp, glistening folds; and when she again opened her eyes,they were big and luminous--and brown, Lawler took note of that, for theglare from the lamp was directly upon them.

  Renewed life--animation--certainly beautified her. While Lawler had beenworking with her to restore her suspended vitality he had felt noemotion beyond an eagerness to restore her to consciousness. Now he wasvibrant with sympathy, with pity, and with wonder.

  Why had she come here? It was quite evident that she had comeintentionally, for her words: "I got here, didn't I?" seemed to be proofof that. Also, she had not anticipated finding him at the cabin, for shehad said so in as many words.

  She gathered the blanket closer around her, noting that her feet werewrapped in it and that one end of it covered her throat. Lawler saw theblushes come and go in her face as she worked with the blanket, and hesecretly applauded her modesty.

  When she had arranged the blanket she looked straight at him. Shestudied his face long before she spoke, and his eyes gleamed withsatisfaction when he saw her lips form a faint, half-smile. She haddecided she was not afraid of him.

  She was embarrassed, but not to the point of prudishness. Her gaze wasdirect, frankly grateful. But there was something else in her eyes--avague uneasiness, curiosity, repressed eagerness. She glanced swiftlyaround the interior of the cabin, and into the other bunks. And when shesaw Lawler watching her keenly she blushed. And now, as she dropped hergaze, he saw her start as her eyes rested on the tangled ropes thatLawler had torn from the two fence cutters when he had released themafter he had carried her into the cabin. The ropes were lying on thefloor where he had thrown them in his haste.

  "Has--has anything happened?" she asked, looking swiftly at him,blushing again.

  "Plenty," he said; "you came."

  "I--I mean--that is, has anything else happened?" she added. She seemedto hold her breath, for his answer.

  "I caught two fence cutters."

  "Did they cut the fence?" She was rigid, tense.

  Lawler nodded, and he saw her hands clench.

  "But there wasn't any damage done. I caught them just after they cut it,and I made them repair it before the cattle got through."

  "And the two men?" she questioned, breathlessly.

  "They're in the dugout--with the horses. They were in here, until youcame."

  She leaned back, breathing fast. Her color was high, her eyes wereshining with satisfaction. And while Lawler watched her she laughedquaveringly.

  "Then I had that long, cold ride for nothing," she said.

  Lawler looked straight at her. "You knew the fence was to be cut?"

  Her color receded and she met his gaze unflinchingly, resolutely.

  "Yes. I overheard Gary Warden telling two of the Two Diamond men--Linkand Givens--to cut it. Warden wanted to destroy all your cattle. Itseems he has had men watching them--and your men. And he learned theherd was on the level near here. He told the men to wait until a stormthreatened. Gary didn't know I overheard him telling the men to cut thefence; and I said nothing to him. But I waited until I saw anopportunity, and then I came, to warn the men I expected would be here.I didn't expect to find you here; and I intended to keep silentregarding what I had heard."

  "Why are you telling it, now?"

  She blushed again and gazed downward. Then she looked at him withdirect, puzzled eyes.

  "I--I really don't know," she said, hesitatingly. "I expect it wasbecause I felt guilty--or because I thought I saw something in your eyesthat made me think you knew that I hadn't ridden over here for the funof it. It was a very cold and disagreeable ride.

  "And, somehow, I--I think you ought to know it. When I overheard Garytelling those men to cut the fence it seemed to me that it was themeanest scheme I ever had heard of. I was so angry I could havehorse-whipped Gary. At the time I believe I wasn't thinking of you atall--I just kept seeing those poor cows wandering away in the storm, tofreeze to death in the open. And I determined to ride over here andprevent it. I suppose what I have told you will make trouble for Gary. Isuppose I shouldn't have told you."

  "Givens and Link told me."

  "Oh! You made them tell, of course--_you_ would do that. What are yougoing to do about it?"

  "What would you do--Miss--" Lawler paused.

  "I am Della Wharton," smiled the girl.

  "Well, what would _you_ do, Miss Wharton?"

  The girl flashed a quick glance at him. "Considering that the plandidn't succeed, and that I rode clear over here to tell you aboutit--don't you think you ought to keep silent, Mr. Lawler?"

  Whatever Lawler intended to do later, he was silent now. He was puzzled,amazed, over the startling frankness the girl had exhibited. He hadheard, from Blackburn--or somebody--it wasn't important whom--that thisgirl was staying at the Two Diamond. He believed Blackburn had hinted atrelations more intimate. And she was at this moment betrayingWarden--delivering him into the hands of a man the latter hated.

  "Miss Wharton," said Lawler gravely; "I confess I am puzzled. You acceptWarden's hospitality, and yet you come here to betray him."

  She laughed. "I am not accepting Gary's hospitality. My father is amember of the company that bought the Two Diamond, and I have as muchright to be there as Gary has. We live East--in New York. I came Westout of curiosity. I wanted to see the ranch. And now that I am here Iintend to stay. I have always been eager to live in the West."

  "Then you don't like Gary Warden?"

  The girl's face sobered. "I like him. That is all."

  Lawler's eyes were still grave. "Miss Wharton," he said slowly; "do youknow what Gary Warden is doing--what the company with which your fatheris connected, is doing?"

  "Yes," said the girl, frankly; "they--all of them--are trying to controlthe western cattle market." She looked straight at him, with no sign ofembarrassment.

  "That is business, isn't it? It is what men are beginning to call 'bigbusiness.' It means centralization of power, resources--and a number ofthings that go with it. It is an admirable scheme--don't you think? Iteliminates uncertainty, risk of loss. It means the stabilizing of thecattle industry; it means gigantic profits to the men who have brainsbig enough to control it."

  Lawler smiled. "Also, Miss Wharton, it means the complete subjection ofthe cattle raiser. It means that competition will be stifled; that thecattle owner will be compelled to take what prices the buyers offer. Itmeans that the incentive to raise cattle will be destroyed. It means theend of the open market--which has always been a spur to industry. It isevil."

  The girl laughed. "How tragic!" she mocked. "One would think we werefacing a cataclysm, whereas business men are merely just beginning totake advantage of some of the opportunities that are everywhere aroundthem. It is all perfectly legal, isn't it? I have heard my father saythat it is."

  Lawler's smile grew slightly bitter. He saw that the girl's mind wasmerely skipping over the surface of the commercial sea upon which herfather sailed a pirate craft; she had not plunged into the depths whereshe might have found the basic principles of all business--fairness; shehad taken no account of the human impulse that, in just men, impels themto grant to their fellows a fighting chance to win.

  Watching her closely, Lawler saw in her the signs of frivolity andvanity that he had failed to see that day when he had met her inWillets. Her attitude now revealed her as plainly as though he had knownher all her days. She comprehended none of life's big problems; therelations of men to one another had not compelled her attention; thefine, deep impulses of sympathy had not touched her. She was selfish,self-ce
ntered, light, inconsequential--a woman who danced from under theburdens of life and laughed at those who were forced to bear them forher.

  And yet she was a woman, demanding respect from his sex. He smiled ashe turned from her to fix the fire, wondering at the courage that haddriven her to ride to the cabin in the storm. His smile broadened whenhe remembered she had said she sympathized with the "cows"--that motive,while not a high one, was as good as another since the pursuing of ithad meant good for him in the end.

  "Do _you_ like this country?" she asked, as he turned.

  "It isn't a half bad place. If it wasn't for some persons--andnorthers----"

  She laughed. "There are bad people everywhere. As for the 'norther'--Ienjoyed it very much until--until it got so bad that I just couldn't seewhere I was going. I began to be afraid that I was lost and that I'dfreeze to death. And then I saw the light in the window--a little squarethat flickered feebly in the distance, and which sometimes seemed todisappear completely." She smiled, tremulously.

  "It seemed that--after I got here--I was to freeze to death, anyway. ForI couldn't make you hear me. I rode close to the door and pounded on it.I was afraid to get off, for fear I would fall in that big drift nearthe door and not be able to get up again. I was so cold and stiff----"

  She hesitated, and Lawler saw tears in her eyes.

  It was the reaction, delayed by their talk. Self-accusation shone inLawler's eyes as he started toward her.

  "I'm a box-head, Miss Wharton, for standing here, talking about nothingat all, and you nearly freezing to death."

  And then he halted, midway of the distance toward her, aware that hecould do nothing when he did reach her. And her manner warned him ofthat, too, for she pulled the blanket closer around her and crowded asfar back into the bunk as she could get, looking at him with embarrassedeyes.

  "If you could get your clothes fixed," he began. "You see, Miss Wharton,there wasn't much time, and we had to get them off mighty rapid. You cansee that we were none too gentle about it."

  She blushed, and he abruptly turned his back and walked to thefireplace. He stuck close to it until he heard her say:

  "Won't you please hang my stockings up somewhere? They are so wet Ican't get them on."

  The stockings, wet and limp, fell close beside him. He snatched them up,grinning widely, though fearful that she might see the grin, andcarefully laid them over the back of a chair, pulling the chair close tothe fire.

  Then he got out a frying-pan and began to prepare supper for her. Whenthe aroma of the sizzling bacon was wafted to her, he heard her exclaim:

  "U-um, that smells good! Why, I am almost famished!"

  Five minutes later, with a plate in her lap and a cup of steaming coffeeresting on the rail of the bunk, she was eating. Her eyes were brightand her color high as she watched Lawler, who was seated at the tablewith his back to her.

  "You don't feel much like talking, do you?"

  "No," he said. "According to the way this norther is whooping it upwe'll run out of talk before we can break trail out of here."

  "Do you mean that the storm may last some days?"

  "There is no telling. At this time of the year they are mightyuncertain. I've known them to stick around for a month or more."

  She sat very silent, and for a time did not even move her lips. Stealinga swift glance at her, expecting to see a worried light in her eyes,Lawler noted that there was a slight--a very slight smile on her lips.

  He was amazed, incredulous, and he stole another glance at her to makecertain. There was no denying it--there was a smile in the eyes thatwere gazing meditatively past him into the fire; a smile on herlips--giving him proof that the prospect of remaining alone in the cabinwith him had not crushed her--had not brought the hysterical proteststhat he had feared. She was plainly pleased, possibly considering thething an adventure which would have no damaging consequences.

  With a malice in his eyes that she did not see--for he looked gravely ather, he said, slowly:

  "Listen, Miss Wharton!"

  He raised a hand and looked at the north window. Following his gaze shesaw the snow whipping against the glass, rattling against the panes likesmall hailstones hurled with frightful velocity. The incessant droningwhine of the wind reached their ears, deep in volume as though it wouldtell them of its interrupted sweep across the vast plains; as though toconvince them of its unlimited power and ferocity. She knew as well ashe that the big drifts around the cabin had grown bigger; that otherdrifts were forming around the walls. For the sounds were muffled, and agreat, weird calm had settled inside the cabin. The walls, snow-banked,were deadening outside sound.

  "A man couldn't go half a mile in that, now, Miss Wharton. And it willbe days before anybody can reach us. I am afraid we are in for a longspell of monotony."

  "Well," she said, gazing straight at him; a glow in her eyes thatpuzzled him; "we can't help it, can we? And I suppose we shall have tomake the best of it."

  Lawler, however, did not expect the storm to last more than a day or so.They seldom did, at this time of the year. He had drawn the gloomypicture merely in an attempt to force Miss Wharton to realize theindelicacy of her position. He had thought she would have exhibitedperturbation. Instead, she was calm and plainly unworried.

  Puzzled, Lawler leaned an elbow on the table and scowled into the fire.There was no apparent reason why he should object to remaining in thecabin with a pretty woman who did not seem eager to leave it. And yet hewas afflicted with a grave unrest.

  Givens and Link were in the dugout, and presently they would return tothe cabin. They would have to remain in the cabin, for it would beinhuman of him to compel them to stay very long in the dugout with thehorses. Thus was Miss Wharton shielded against the impropriety ofstaying for any length of time in the cabin with him, alone.

  But the safeguard of propriety was also a danger. Because Link hadpermitted a certain light to glow in his eyes Lawler had knocked himdown. If the four of them were to remain in the cabin for any length oftime, there would be periods when he must sleep. And then Link----

  Lawler's thoughts broke off here, for he heard a sound at thedoor--Givens' voice, saying hoarsely:

  "For God's sake, Boss, let us in! We're freezin' to death!"

  Lawler got up and walked to the door. He hesitated as he lifted the bar,telling Miss Wharton to wrap the blanket tightly around her inanticipation of the rush of wind. When he saw that she obeyed him, heswung the door open.

  As Lawler opened the door he stepped back with it, escaping by inchesthe sweep of an axe blade that caught the light from the lamp andshimmered brightly in a half-circle as it was swung with the malignantforce of Link's arms.

  The blade of the axe struck the floor, sinking deep into the boards;while Link, hurled off balance by the viciousness of his attack, tumbledheadlong after the axe, sprawling on his hands and knees on the cabinfloor, muttering curses.