He saw Neb drop down before the blazing fireplace, and curl up like atired dog, and observed her take the lamp, open the door into the otherroom a trifle, and slip silently out of sight. He remembered staringvaguely about the little room, still illumined by the flames, only halfcomprehending, and then the reaction from his desperate struggle withthe elements overcame all resolution, and he dropped his head forwardon the table, and lost consciousness. Her hand upon his shoulder arousedhim, startled into wakefulness, yet he scarcely realized the situation.
"I have placed food for the negro beside him," she said quietly, and forthe first time Keith detected the soft blur in her speech.
"You are from the South!" he exclaimed, as though it was a discovery.
"Yes--and you?"
"My boyhood began in Virginia--the negro was an old-time slave in ourfamily."
She glanced across at the black, now sitting up and eating voraciously.
"I thought he had once been a slave; one can easily tell that. I didnot ask him to sit here because, if you do not object, we will eat heretogether. I have also been almost as long without food. It was so lonelyhere, and--and I hardly understood my situation--and I simply could notforce myself to eat."
He distinguished her words clearly enough, although she spoke low, asif she preferred what was said between them should not reach the ears ofthe negro, yet somehow, for the moment, they made no adequate impressionon him. Like a famished wolf he began on the coarse fare, and for tenminutes hardly lifted his head. Then his eyes chanced to meet hersacross the narrow table, and instantly the gentleman within him reawoketo life.
"I have been a perfect brute," he acknowledged frankly, "with no thoughtexcept for myself. Hunger was my master, and I ask your forgiveness,Miss Maclaire."
Her eyes smiled.
"I am so very glad to have any one here--any one--in whom I feel even alittle confidence--that nothing else greatly matters. Can you both eat,and listen?"
Keith nodded, his eyes full of interest, searching her face.
"Whoever I may be, Mr. Keith, and really that seems only of smallimportance, I came to Fort Larned seeking some trace of my onlybrother, whom we last heard from there, where he had fallen into evilcompanionship. On the stage trip I was fortunate enough to form anacquaintance with a man who told me he knew where I could meet Fred,but that the boy was hiding because of some trouble he had lately gotteninto, and that I should have to proceed very carefully so as not to leadthe officers to discover his whereabouts. This gentleman was engaged insome business at Carson City, but he employed a man to bring me to thisplace, and promised to get Fred, and meet me here the following day.There must have been some failure in the plans, for I have been hereentirely alone now for three days. It has been very lonesome, and--andI've been a little frightened. Perhaps I ought not to have come, and Iam not certain what kind of a place this is. I was so afraid when youcame, but I am not afraid now."
"You have no need to be," he said soberly, impressed by the innocentcandor of the girl, and feeling thankful that he was present to aid her."I could not wrong one of the South."
"My father always told me I could trust a Southern gentleman under anycircumstance. Mr. Hawley was from my own State, and knew many of our oldfriends. That was why I felt such unusual confidence in him, although hewas but a travelling acquaintance."
"Mr. Hawley?"
"The gentleman whom I met on the stage."
"Oh, yes; you said he was in business in Carson City, but I don't seemto remember any one of that name."
"He was not there permanently; only to complete some business deal."
"And your brother? I may possibly have known him."
She hesitated an instant, her eyes dropping, until completely shaded bythe long lashes.
"He--he was rather a wild boy, and ran away from home to enlist in thearmy. But he got into a bad set, and--and deserted. That was part ofthe trouble which caused him to hide. He enlisted under the name of FredWilloughby. Mr. Hawley told me this much, but I am afraid he did nottell me all."
"And he said you would meet him here?"
Keith gazed about on the bare surroundings wonderingly. What was thisplace, hidden away in the midst of the desert, isolated in a spot wherenot even Indians roamed. Could it be a secret rendezvous of crime, theheadquarters of desperadoes, of cattle-rustlers, of highwaymen of theSanta Fe Trail--a point to which they could ride when hard pressed,certain of hiding here in safety? He began to suspect this, but, if so,who then was this Hawley, and with what object had he sent this girlhere? Every way he turned was to confront mystery, to face a new puzzle.Whatever she might be--even the music hall singer he believed--she hadbeen inveigled here innocently enough. Even now she possessed only themost vague suspicion that she had been deceived. The centre of the wholeplot, if there was a plot, must be Hawley.
"Yes," she replied, "he said that this was one of the stations of a bigranch on which Fred was employed, and that he would certainly be herewithin a day or two."
"You met Hawley on the stage coach? How did you become acquainted?"
"We were alone for nearly fifty miles," her voice faltering slightly,"and--and he called me what you did."
"Christie Maclaire?"
"Yes; he--he seemed to think he knew me, and I needed help so much thatI let him believe so. I thought it could do no harm, and then, when Ifound he actually knew Fred, I didn't think of anything else, only howfortunate I was to thus meet him. Surely something serious must havehappened, or he would have been here before this. Do you--do you supposethere is anything wrong?"
Keith did not smile nor change posture. The more he delved into thematter, the more serious he felt the situation to be. He knew all thoseranches lying south on the Canadian, and was aware that this was noout-station. No cattle ever came across that sandy desert unless drivenby rustlers, and no honest purpose could account for this isolated hut.There had been frequent robberies along the trail, and he had overheardtales of mysterious disappearances in both Larned and Carson City. Couldit be that he had now, accidentally, stumbled upon the rendezvous of thegang? He was not a man easily startled, but this thought sent his heartbeating. He knew enough to realize what such a gang would naturallyconsist of--deserters, outlaws, rustlers; both Indians and whites, nodoubt, combined under some desperate leadership. Gazing into the girl'squestioning eyes he could scarcely refrain from blurting out all hesuspected. Yet why should he? What good could it do? He could not hopeto bear her south to the "Bar X" Ranch, for the ponies were already toothoroughly exhausted for such a journey; he dared not turn north withher, for that would mean his own arrest, leaving her in worse conditionthan ever. If he only knew who this man Hawley was, his purpose, andplans! Yet what protection could he and Neb prove, alone here, andwithout arms? All this flashed through his mind in an instant, leavinghim confused and uncertain.
"I hope not," he managed to say in answer to her query. "But it israther a strange mix-up all around, and I confess I fail to comprehendits full meaning. It is hardly likely your friends will show upto-night, and by morning perhaps we can decide what is best to do. Letme look around outside a moment."
Her eyes followed him as he stepped through the door into the darkness;then her head dropped into the support of her hands. There was silenceexcept for the crackling of the fire, until Neb moved uneasily. At thesound the girl looked up, seeing clearly the good-natured face of thenegro.
"Yo' don't nebber need cry, Missus," he said soberly, "so long as MassaJack done 'greed to look after yo'."
"Have--have you known him long?"
"Has I knowed him long, honey? Ebber sence befo' de wah. Why I doneknowed Massa Jack when he wan't more'n dat high. Lawd, he sho' was alively youngster, but mighty good hearted to us niggers."
She hesitated to question a servant, and yet felt she must uncover thetruth.
"Who is he? Is he all he claims to be--a Virginia gentleman?"
All the loyalty and pride of slavery days was in Neb. "He sho' am,Missus; dar
ain't nuthin' higher in ol' Virginia dan de Keiths. Deyain't got much money sence the Yankees come down dar, but dey's qualityfolks jest de same. I was done born on de ol' Co'nel's plantation, and Ireck'n dar wan't no finer man ebber libed. He was done killed in de wah.An' Massa Jack he was a captain; he rode on hossback, an' Lawdy, but hedid look scrumptuous when he first got his uniform. He done fought allthrough de wah, an' dey say Ginral Lee done shook hands wid him, an'said how proud he was ter know him. You kin sutt'nly tie to Massa Jack,Missus."
The negro's voice had scarcely ceased when Keith came in again, closingthe door securely behind him.
"All quiet outside," he announced, speaking with new confidence."I wanted to get an understanding of the surroundings in case ofemergency," he explained, as if in answer to the questioning of thebrown eyes gravely uplifted to his face. "I see there is quite a corralat the lower end of this island, safely hidden behind the fringe ofcottonwoods. And a log stable back of the house. Is the creek fordableboth ways?"
"I think so; the man who brought me here rode away south."
"And are you going to trust yourself to my care?"
She came around the table with hands extended. He took them into hisgrasp, looking down into her eyes.
"Yes," she said softly, "I am going to trust you, Captain Keith."
He laughed.
"Captain, hey? You must have been talking with that black rascal there."
The swift color flooded her face, but her hands remained imprisoned.
"I just done tol' her who de Keiths was down in ol' Virginia, sah,"burst in Neb indignantly. "I sho' don't want nobody to think I gotrapsin' 'round wid any low white trash."
The gray eyes and the brown, gazing into one another, smiled withunderstanding.
"Oh, well," Keith acknowledged, genially, "I cannot say I am sorry youknow something of my past glories; if one can't have a future, it issome source of pride to have a past to remember. But now about thepresent. We're not much protection to any one, the way we're fixed, aswe are unarmed."
"There is a big revolver hanging in a holster in the other room," sheanswered, "and a short, sawed-off gun of some kind, but I don't knowabout ammunition."
"May we investigate?"
"Most certainly," and she threw open the intervening door. As the twostepped into the other apartment she held the lamp in aid of theirsearch. "There is the revolver on the wall, and the gun is in theopposite corner. Isn't it strange you should be out in this countrywithout arms?"
Keith glanced up, the revolver in his hands. The radiance of the lightwas full upon her face, revealing the clearness of her skin, the darkshadows of her lashes. There was the faintest tinge of suspicion to thequestion, but he answered easily.
"We left Carson in something of a hurry. I'll tell you the storyto-morrow."
Chapter X. Mr. Hawley Reveals Himself
Keith of the Border: A Tale of the Plains Page 9
