CHAPTER XXIII
BETH'S DESPERATION
The following day in Goldite was one of occurrences, all more or lessintimately connected with the affairs of Van and Beth.
Bostwick succeeded in making an early start to the southward in hiscar. McCoppet had provided not only a couple of men as guides to thefield where Lawrence was working, but also a tent, provisions, andblankets, should occasion arise for their use.
Beth was informed by her fiance that word had arrived from her brother,to whom Searle said he meant to go. The business of buying Glenmore'smine, he said, required unexpected dispatch. Perhaps both he and Glenmight return by the end of the week.
By that morning's train the body of Culver was shipped away--and thecamp began to forget him. The sheriff was after Cayuse.
Early in the afternoon the body of the girl who had never been known inGoldite by any name save that of Queenie, was buried on a hillside,already called into requisition as a final resting place for such assuccumbed in the mining-camp, too far from friends, or too far lost, tobe carried to the world outside the mountains. Half a dozen womenattended the somewhat meager rites. There was one mourner only--theman who had run to summon Van, and who later had waited by the door.
At four o'clock the Goldite _News_ appeared upon the streets. Itcontained much original matter--or so at least it claimed. The accountof the murder of Culver, the death of Queenie, and the threatenedlynching of Van Buren made a highly sensational story. It was giventhe prominent place, for the editor was proud to have made it so fullin a time that he deemed rather short. On a second page was a taleless tragic.
It was, according to one of its many sub-headings, "A Humorous Outcropconcerning two Maids and a Man." It related, with many gay sallies of"wit," how Van had piloted Mr. J. Searle Bostwick into the hands of theconvicts, recently escaped, packed off his charges, Miss Beth Kent andher maid, and brought them to Goldite by way of the Monte Cristo mine,in time to behold the discomfited entrance of the said J. SearleBostwick in prisoner's attire. Mr. Bostwick was described as havingbeen "on his ear" towards Van Buren ever since.
In the main the account was fairly accurate. Gettysburg, Napoleon, andold Dave had over-talked, during certain liquifying processes. Thematter was out beyond repair.
Mrs. Dick was prompt in pouncing on the story, hence Beth was soonpresented with a copy. In the natural annoyance she felt when it wasread, there was one consolation, at least: Searle was away, to be goneperhaps two or three days. He might not see the article, which wouldsoon be forgotten in the camp.
To culminate the day's events, that evening Elsa ran away. She wentwith a "gentleman" lodger, taking the slight precaution to be marriedby the Justice of the Peace.
Beth discovered her loss too late to interfere. She felt herselfalone, indeed, with Bostwick away, her brother off in the desert, andVan--she refused to think of Van. Fortunately, Mrs. Dick was more thanmerely a friend. She was a staunch little warrior, protecting thechampion, to anger whom was unhealthy. Despite the landlady's attitudeof friendliness, however, Beth felt wretchedly alone. It was aterrible place. She was cooped up all day within the lodging house,since the street full of men was more than she cared to encounter; andwith life all about her, and wonderful days spreading one after anotheracross the wide-open land, her liberties were fairly in a cage.
From time to time she thought of the horse, awaiting her order at thehay-yard. She tried to convince herself she would never accept or ridethe animal. She was certain she resented everything Van had done. Shefelt the warmest indignation at herself for breaking into bits of song,for glowing to the tips of her ears, for letting her heart leap wildlyin her breast whenever she thought of the horseman.
Two days went by and she chafed under continued restraints. No wordhad come from Bostwick, none from Glen--and not a sign from the"Laughing Water" claim. From the latter she said to herself she wishedno sign. But Searle had no right to leave her thus and neglect her inevery respect.
The morning of the third long day Mrs. Dick brought her two thinletters. One had been mailed in Goldite, by a messenger down from the"Laughing Water" claim. It came from Van. He had written the briefestof notes:
"Just to send my love. I want you to wear my nugget."
Folded into the paper was a spray of the wild peach bloom.
Beth tried to think her blushes were those of indignation, whichlikewise caused the beat of her heart to rise. But her hand flutteredprettily up to her breast, where the nugget was pinned inside herwaist. Also his letter must have been hard to understand--she read itseventeen times.
Then she presently turned to the other. It was addressed intypewritten characters, but the writing inside she knew--her brotherGlen's.
"Dear Old Sis: Say, what in the dickens are you doing out here in themines, by all that's holey?--and what's all this story in the Goldite_News_ about one Bronson Van Buren doing the benevolent brigand stuntwith you and your maid, and shunting Searle off with the Cons? Whycouldn't you let a grubber know you were hiking out here to the desert?Why all this elaborate surprise--this newspaper wireless to your fondand lonesome?
"What's the matter with your writing hand? Is this Van-brigand holdingthem both? What's the matter with Searle? I wrote him two or threeaeons ago, when he might have been of assistance. Now I'm doing myeight hours a day in an effort to sink down to China. I'm on theblink, in a way, but not for long, for this is the land whereopportunity walks night and day to thump on your door--and I'll grabher by the draperies yet.
"But _me_!--working as a common miner!--though I've got a few days offto go and look at a claim with a friend of mine, so you needn't answertill you hear again.
"If Searle is dead, why don't he say so? I only touched him for a fewodd dollars--I only needed a grub-stake--fifty would have done thetrick--and he doesn't come through. And nobody writes. I guess it'sme for the Prodigal, but when I do get next to the fatted calf I'll getinside and eat my way out by way of his hoofs and horns. Why couldn'tyou and Searle and the maid come down and have a look at me--working?_It's worth it_. Come on. Maybe it's easier than writing. Yours forthe rights of labor, GLEN."
Astonished by the contents of this communication, Beth read it again,in no little bewilderment, to make sure she had made no mistake. Noletter from herself? No word from Searle? No answer to Glen's requestfor money? And he had only asked for a "few odd dollars?" There mustbe something wrong. He had sent the most urgent requirement for sixtythousand dollars. And she herself had written, at once. Searle hadassured her he had sent him word by special messenger. Starlight wasless than a long day's ride away. Glen had already had time to seethat account in the paper and write.
She had no suspicions of Bostwick. She had seen Glen's letter and readit for herself. And Searle had responded immediately with an offer tolend her brother thirty thousand dollars. There must be some mistake.Glen might be keeping his news and plans from herself, as men so oftenwill. Searle might even have overlooked the importance of keeping Glenfully posted, intending to go so soon to Starlight. Her own lettermight have miscarried.
She tried to fashion explanations--but they would not entirely fit.Searle had been gone three days. He had gone before the Goldite _News_was issued. The paper had arrived at Glen's while the man in his carhad failed.
For a moment she sickened with the reflection that Searle might oncemore have fallen captive to the convicts, still at large--and with allthe money! Then she presently assured herself that news so sinister asthis would have been very prompt to return.
It was all too much to understand--unless Glen were ill--or out of hisreason. His two letters, the one to Searle and this one to herself,were so utterly conflicting. It was not to be solved from such adistance. Moreover, Glen wrote that he was off on a trip, and askedher to wait before replying. It was irritating, all this waiting,alone here in Goldite, but there seemed to be nothing else to do.
The long morning passed
, and she fretted. In the afternoon the Goldite_News_ broke its record. It printed an extra--a single sheet, inglaring type, announcing the capture of the convicts. By a bold anddaring coup, it said, the entire herd of criminals, all half starvedand weakened by privations, had been rounded up and transported back toprison. Unfortunately, the report was slightly inaccurate. MattBarger, the leader in the prison delivery, and the most desperate manin the lot, had escaped the posse's vigilance. Of this importantfactor in the welcome story of the posse's work Goldite was ignorant,and doomed to be in ignorance a week.
The news to Beth was a source of great relief. But her troubles inother directions were fated to increase. That evening three men calledformally--formally, that is to say, in so far as dressing in their bestwas concerned and putting on their "company manners." But Beth andcourtship were their objects, a fact that developed, somewhat crudelywith the smallest possible delay.
One of these persons, Billy Stitts by name, was fairly unobjectionableas a human being, since he was a quaint, slow-witted, bird-like littlecreature, fully sixty years of age and clearly harmless. The otherswere as frankly in pursuit of a mate as any two mountain animals.
Beth was frightened, when the purport of their visit flashed upon her.She felt a certain sense of helplessness. Mrs. Dick was too busy to beconstantly present; Elsa was gone; the ways of such a place were newand wholly alarming. She felt when she made her escape from the threethat her safety was by no means assured. Her room was her onlyretreat. Except for Mrs. Dick, there was not another woman in thehouse. She was wholly surrounded by men--a rough, womanless lot whoseexcitements, passions, and emotions were subjected to changesconstantly, as well as to heats, by the life all around them in themines.
That night was her first of real terror. Every noise in the building,and some in the streets, made her start awake like a hunted doe, withimaginings of the most awful description. She scarcely slept at all.
The following day old Billy Stitts called again, very shortly afterbreakfast. He proved such an amiable, womanly old chap that he wasalmost a comfort to the girl. She sent him to the postoffice, for apossible letter from Glen. He went with all the pleasure and alacrityof a faithful dog, apologizing most exuberantly on his return for thefact that no letter had come.
She remained in the house all day. The afternoon brought the two roughsuitors of the night before, and two more equally crude. Mrs. Dick, toBeth's intense uneasiness, regarded the matter as one to be expected,and quite in accord with reason and proper regulations. A good-lookinggirl in camp, with her men-folks all giving her the go-by--and whatcould you expect? Moreover, as some of these would-be courtiers werehusky and in line for fortune's smile, with chances as good as anyother man's, she might do worse than let them come, and hear what theyhad to say. It was no girl's need to be neglected as Searle and Vanwere patently neglecting Beth.
This was the stage in which Beth at length began to meditate on Spartanremedies. The situation was not to be endured. No word had come fromSearle. The world might have swallowed him up. She was sick ofhim--sick of his ways of neglect. And as for Van----
There was no one to whom she could turn--unless it were Glen. If onlyshe could flee to her brother! She thought about it earnestly. Shetried to plan the way.
Her horse was at the hay-yard. Starlight was only one day off in thedesert. The convicts were no longer about. If only she could ridethere--even alone! An early start--a little urging of the pony--shecould fancy the journey accomplished with the utmost ease; thenscornful defiance, both of Bostwick and of Van.
But a woman--riding in this lawless land alone! She was utterlydisheartened, disillusionized at the thought. It would be no less thanmadness. And yet, it seemed as if she must presently go. Searle'ssilence, coupled to conditions here, was absolutely intolerable.
With plans decidedly hazy--nothing but a wild, bright dream reallyclear--she questioned Billy Stitts concerning the roads. He wasfamiliar with every route in miles, whether roadway, trail, or "courseby compass," as he termed trackless cruising in the desert. He gaveher directions with the utmost minutae of detail as to every highway toStarlight. He drew her a plan. She was sure that she could almostride to Starlight in the dark. What branches of the road to shun,which trails to choose, possibly, for gaining time, what places towater a famishing horse--all these and more she learned with feverishinterest.
"Now a man would do this," and "a man would do that," said Billy timeafter time, till a new, fantastic notion came bounding full-fledgedinto Beth's anxious brain and almost made her laugh with delight. Shecould _dress as a man_ and ride as a man and be absolutely safe on thejourney! She knew a dozen unusual arts for dying the skin andconcealing the hair and making the hands look rough. Make-up inprivate theatricals, at professional hands, she had learned withexceptional thoroughness.
She would need a suit of kahki, miners' books, a soft, big hat, andflannel shirt. They were all to be had at the store. She could orderher horse to be saddled for a man. She could readily dress and escapeunseen from the house. In a word, she could do the trick!
The plan possessed her utterly. It sent her blood bounding through herveins. Her face was flushed with excitement. She loved adventure--andthis would be something to do!
Nevertheless, despite all her plans, she had no real intention ofattempting a scheme so mad. Subconsciously she confessed to herself itwas just the merest idle fancy, not a thing to be actually ventured, oreven entertained.
That night, when she was more beset, more worried than before, however,desperation was increasing upon her. The plan she had made no longerseemed the mere caprice of one in pursuit of pleasure--it appeared tobe the only possible respite from conditions no longer to be borne.
When the morning came, after a night of mental torture and bodily fear,her patience had been strained to the point of breaking, and resolvewas steeling her courage.
The word that should have come from Searle was still delinquent. Butold Billy Stitts brought her a letter from Glen.
"Dear Sis: I can only write a line or two. Had a thump on the head,but it didn't knock off my block. Don't worry. All right in a fewdays, sure. Guess you couldn't come, or you'd be here, in response tomy last. But Searle might show up, anyhow. You can write me now.Hope you're well and happy. Is the brigand still on the job? Can'treally write. With love, GLEN."
Her heart stood still as she; read her brother's lines, in a scrawledhand indicative of weakness. She resolved in that instant to go.
"Mr. Stitts," she raid in remarkable calm, for all that she felt, "mybrother needs some clothing--everything complete, boots, shirts, andall. He's just about my size. I wish you'd go and buy them."
"Lord, I know the best and the cheapest in camp!" said Billy eagerly."I'll have 'em here before you can write him your letter--but the stagedon't go back till Friday."
She had given no thought to the tri-weekly stage. She dismissed itnow, with a wave of gratitude towards Van for the horse--gratitude, orsomething, surging warmly in her veins. She almost wished he couldride at her side, but checked that lawlessness sternly. She would rideto Glen alone!
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