by Zane Grey
CHAPTER XIV
Then followed the leathery flop of saddles to the soft turf and thestamp, of loosened horses.
Jean heard a noise at the cabin door, a rustle, and then a knock ofsomething hard against wood. Silently he moved his head to look downthrough a crack between the rafters. He saw the glint of a rifleleaning against the sill. Then the doorstep was darkened. Ellen Jorthsat down with a long, tired sigh. She took off her sombrero and thelight shone on the rippling, dark-brown hair, hanging in a tangledbraid. The curved nape of her neck showed a warm tint of golden tan.She wore a gray blouse, soiled and torn, that clung to her lissomeshoulders.
"Colter, what are y'u goin' to do?" she asked, suddenly. Her voicecarried something Jean did not remember. It thrilled into the icyfixity of his senses.
"We'll stay heah," was the response, and it was followed by a clinkingstep of spurred boot.
"Shore I won't stay heah," declared Ellen. "It makes me sick when Ithink of how Uncle Tad died in there alone--helpless--sufferin'. Theplace seems haunted."
"Wal, I'll agree that it's tough on y'u. But what the hell CAN we do?"
A long silence ensued which Ellen did not break.
"Somethin' has come off round heah since early mawnin'," declaredColter. "Somers an' Springer haven't got back. An' Antonio's gone....Now, honest, Ellen, didn't y'u heah rifle shots off somewhere?"
"I reckon I did," she responded, gloomily.
"An' which way?"
"Sounded to me up on the bluff, back pretty far."
"Wal, shore that's my idee. An' it makes me think hard. Y'u knowSomers come across the last camp of the Isbels. An' he dug into agrave to find the bodies of Jim Gordon an' another man he didn't know.Queen kept good his brag. He braced that Isbel gang an' killed thosefellars. But either him or Jean Isbel went off leavin' bloody tracks.If it was Queen's y'u can bet Isbel was after him. An' if it wasIsbel's tracks, why shore Queen would stick to them. Somers an'Springer couldn't follow the trail. They're shore not much good attrackin'. But for days they've been ridin' the woods, hopin' to runacross Queen.... Wal now, mebbe they run across Isbel instead. An' ifthey did an' got away from him they'll be heah sooner or later. IfIsbel was too many for them he'd hunt for my trail. I'm gamblin' thateither Queen or Jean Isbel is daid. I'm hopin' it's Isbel. Because ifhe ain't daid he's the last of the Isbels, an' mebbe I'm the last ofJorth's gang.... Shore I'm not hankerin' to meet the half-breed. That'swhy I say we'll stay heah. This is as good a hidin' place as there isin the country. We've grub. There's water an' grass."
"Me--stay heah with y'u--alone!"
The tone seemed a contradiction to the apparently accepted sense of herwords. Jean held his breath. But he could not still the slowlymounting and accelerating faculties within that were involuntarilyrising to meet some strange, nameless import. He felt it. He imaginedit would be the catastrophe of Ellen Jorth's calm acceptance ofColter's proposition. But down in Jean's miserable heart livedsomething that would not die. No mere words could kill it. Howpoignant that moment of her silence! How terribly he realized that ifhis intelligence and his emotion had believed her betraying words, hissoul had not!
But Ellen Jorth did not speak. Her brown head hung thoughtfully. Hersupple shoulders sagged a little.
"Ellen, what's happened to y'u?" went on Colter.
"All the misery possible to a woman," she replied, dejectedly.
"Shore I don't mean that way," he continued, persuasively. "I ain'tgainsayin' the hard facts of your life. It's been bad. Your dad wasno good.... But I mean I can't figger the change in y'u."
"No, I reckon y'u cain't," she said. "Whoever was responsible for yourmake-up left out a mind--not to say feeling."
Colter drawled a low laugh.
"Wal, have that your own way. But how much longer are yu goin' to belike this heah?"
"Like what?" she rejoined, sharply.
"Wal, this stand-offishness of yours?"
"Colter, I told y'u to let me alone," she said, sullenly.
"Shore. An' y'u did that before. But this time y'u're different....An' wal, I'm gettin' tired of it."
Here the cool, slow voice of the Texan sounded an inflexibility beforeabsent, a timber that hinted of illimitable power.
Ellen Jorth shrugged her lithe shoulders and, slowly rising, she pickedup the little rifle and turned to step into the cabin.
"Colter," she said, "fetch my pack an' my blankets in heah."
"Shore," he returned, with good nature.
Jean saw Ellen Jorth lay the rifle lengthwise in a chink between twologs and then slowly turn, back to the wall. Jean knew her then, yetdid not know her. The brown flash of her face seemed that of an older,graver woman. His strained gaze, like his waiting mind, had expectedsomething, he knew not what--a hardened face, a ghost of beauty, arecklessness, a distorted, bitter, lost expression in keeping with herfortunes. But he had reckoned falsely. She did not look like that.There was incalculable change, but the beauty remained, somehowdifferent. Her red lips were parted. Her brooding eyes, looking outstraight from under the level, dark brows, seemed sloe black andwonderful with their steady, passionate light.
Jean, in his eager, hungry devouring of the beloved face, did not onthe first instant grasp the significance of its expression. He wasseeing the features that had haunted him. But quickly he interpretedher expression as the somber, hunted look of a woman who would bear nomore. Under the torn blouse her full breast heaved. She held herhands clenched at her sides. She was' listening, waiting for thatjangling, slow step. It came, and with the sound she subtly changed.She was a woman hiding her true feelings. She relaxed, and thatstrong, dark look of fury seemed to fade back into her eyes.
Colter appeared at the door, carrying a roll of blankets and a pack.
"Throw them heah," she said. "I reckon y'u needn't bother coming in."
That angered the man. With one long stride he stepped over thedoorsill, down into the cabin, and flung the blankets at her feet andthen the pack after it. Whereupon he deliberately sat down in thedoor, facing her. With one hand he slid off his sombrero, which felloutside, and with the other he reached in his upper vest pocket for thelittle bag of tobacco that showed there. All the time he looked ather. By the light now unobstructed Jean descried Colter's face; andsight of it then sounded the roll and drum of his passions.
"Wal, Ellen, I reckon we'll have it out right now an' heah," he said,and with tobacco in one hand, paper in the other he began theoperations of making a cigarette. However, he scarcely removed hisglance from her.
"Yes?" queried Ellen Jorth.
"I'm goin' to have things the way they were before--an' more," hedeclared. The cigarette paper shook in his fingers.
"What do y'u mean?" she demanded.
"Y'u know what I mean," he retorted. Voice and action were subtlyunhinging this man's control over himself.
"Maybe I don't. I reckon y'u'd better talk plain."
The rustler had clear gray-yellow eyes, flawless, like, crystal, andsuddenly they danced with little fiery flecks.
"The last time I laid my hand on y'u I got hit for my pains. An' shorethat's been ranklin'."
"Colter, y'u'll get hit again if y'u put your hands on me," she said,dark, straight glance on him. A frown wrinkled the level brows.
"Y'u mean that?" he asked, thickly.
"I shore, do."
Manifestly he accepted her assertion. Something of incredulity andbewilderment, that had vied with his resentment, utterly disappearedfrom his face.
"Heah I've been waitin' for y'u to love me," he declared, with agesture not without dignified emotion. "Your givin' in without thatwasn't so much to me."
And at these words of the rustler's Jean Isbel felt an icy, sickeningshudder creep into his soul. He shut his eyes. The end of his dreamhad been long in coming, but at last it had arrived. A mocking voice,like a hollow wind, echoed through that region--that lonely andghost-like hall of his heart whic
h had harbored faith.
She burst into speech, louder and sharper, the first words of whichJean's strangely throbbing ears did not distinguish.
"-- -- you! ... I never gave in to y'u an' I never will."
"But, girl--I kissed y'u--hugged y'u--handled y'u--" he expostulated,and the making of the cigarette ceased.
"Yes, y'u did--y'u brute--when I was so downhearted and weak I couldn'tlift my hand," she flashed.
"Ahuh! Y'u mean I couldn't do that now?"
"I should smile I do, Jim Colter!" she replied.
"Wal, mebbe--I'll see--presently," he went on, straining with words."But I'm shore curious.... Daggs, then--he was nothin' to y'u?"
"No more than y'u," she said, morbidly. "He used to run after me--longago, it seems..... I was only a girl then--innocent--an' I'd not knownany but rough men. I couldn't all the time--every day, everyhour--keep him at arm's length. Sometimes before I knew--I didn'tcare. I was a child. A kiss meant nothing to me. But after I knew--"
Ellen dropped her head in brooding silence.
"Say, do y'u expect me to believe that?" he queried, with a derisiveleer.
"Bah! What do I care what y'u believe?" she cried, with lifting head.
"How aboot Simm Brace?"
"That coyote! ... He lied aboot me, Jim Colter. And any man half a manwould have known he lied."
"Wal, Simm always bragged aboot y'u bein' his girl," asserted Colter."An' he wasn't over--particular aboot details of your love-makin'."
Ellen gazed out of the door, over Colter's head, as if the forest outthere was a refuge. She evidently sensed more about the man thanappeared in his slow talk, in his slouching position. Her lips shut ina firm line, as if to hide their trembling and to still her passionatetongue. Jean, in his absorption, magnified his perceptions. Not yetwas Ellen Jorth afraid of this man, but she feared the situation.Jean's heart was at bursting pitch. All within him seemed chaos--awreck of beliefs and convictions. Nothing was true. He would wakepresently out of a nightmare. Yet, as surely as he quivered there, hefelt the imminence of a great moment--a lightning flash--athunderbolt--a balance struck.
Colter attended to the forgotten cigarette. He rolled it, lighted it,all the time with lowered, pondering head, and when he had puffed acloud of smoke he suddenly looked up with face as hard as flint, eyesas fiery as molten steel.
"Wal, Ellen--how aboot Jean Isbel--our half-breed Nez Perce friend--whowas shore seen handlin' y'u familiar?" he drawled.
Ellen Jorth quivered as under a lash, and her brown face turned a dustyscarlet, that slowly receding left her pale.
"Damn y'u, Jim Colter!" she burst out, furiously. "I wish Jean Isbelwould jump in that door--or down out of that loft! ... He killedGreaves for defiling my name! ... He'd kill Y'U for your dirtyinsult.... And I'd like to watch him do it.... Y'u cold-blooded Texan!Y'u thieving rustler! Y'u liar! ... Y'u lied aboot my father's death.And I know why. Y'u stole my father's gold.... An' now y'u wantme--y'u expect me to fall into your arms.... My Heaven! cain't y'u tella decent woman? Was your mother decent? Was your sister decent? ...Bah! I'm appealing to deafness. But y'u'll HEAH this, Jim Colter! ...I'm not what yu think I am! I'm not the--the damned hussy y'u liarshave made me out.... I'm a Jorth, alas! I've no home, no relatives, nofriends! I've been forced to live my life with rustlers--vile men likey'u an' Daggs an' the rest of your like.... But I've been good! Do y'uheah that? ... I AM good--so help me God, y'u an' all your rottennesscain't make me bad!"
Colter lounged to his tall height and the laxity of the man vanished.
Vanished also was Jean Isbel's suspended icy dread, the cold cloggingof his fevered mind--vanished in a white, living, leaping flame.
Silently he drew his knife and lay there watching with the eyes of awildcat. The instant Colter stepped far enough over toward the edge ofthe loft Jean meant to bound erect and plunge down upon him. But Jeancould wait now. Colter had a gun at his hip. He must never have achance to draw it.
"Ahuh! So y'u wish Jean Isbel would hop in heah, do y'u?" queriedColter. "Wal, if I had any pity on y'u, that's done for it."
A sweep of his long arm, so swift Ellen had no time to move, broughthis hand in clutching contact with her. And the force of it flung herhalf across the cabin room, leaving the sleeve of her blouse in hisgrasp. Pantingly she put out that bared arm and her other to ward himoff as he took long, slow strides toward her.
Jean rose half to his feet, dragged by almost ungovernable passion torisk all on one leap. But the distance was too great. Colter, blindas he was to all outward things, would hear, would see in time to makeJean's effort futile. Shaking like a leaf, Jean sank back, eye againto the crack between the rafters.
Ellen did not retreat, nor scream, nor move. Every line of her bodywas instinct with fight, and the magnificent blaze of her eyes wouldhave checked a less callous brute.
Colter's big hand darted between Ellen's arms and fastened in the frontof her blouse. He did not try to hold her or draw her close. Theunleashed passion of the man required violence. In one savage pull hetore off her blouse, exposing her white, rounded shoulders and heavingbosom, where instantly a wave of red burned upward.
Overcome by the tremendous violence and spirit of the rustler, Ellensank to her knees, with blanched face and dilating eyes, trying withfolded arms and trembling hand to hide her nudity.
At that moment the rapid beat of hoofs on the hard trail outside haltedColter in his tracks.
"Hell!" he exclaimed. "An' who's that?" With a fierce action he flungthe remnants of Ellen's blouse in her face and turned to leap out thedoor.
Jean saw Ellen catch the blouse and try to wrap it around her, whileshe sagged against the wall and stared at the door. The hoof beatspounded to a solid thumping halt just outside.
"Jim--thar's hell to pay!" rasped out a panting voice.
"Wal, Springer, I reckon I wished y'u'd paid it without spoilin' mydeals," retorted Colter, cool and sharp.
"Deals? Ha! Y'u'll be forgettin'--your lady love in a minnit,"replied Springer. "When I catch--my breath."
"Where's Somers?" demanded Colter.
"I reckon he's all shot up--if my eyes didn't fool me."
"Where is he?" yelled Colter.
"Jim--he's layin' up in the bushes round thet bluff. I didn't wait tosee how he was hurt. But he shore stopped some lead. An' he floppedlike a chicken with its--haid cut off."
"Where's Antonio?"
"He run like the greaser he is," declared Springer, disgustedly.
"Ahuh! An' where's Queen?" queried Colter, after a significant pause.
"Dead!"
The silence ensuing was fraught with a suspense that held Jean in coldbonds. He saw the girl below rise from her knees, one hand holding theblouse to her breast, the other extended, and with strange, repressed,almost frantic look she swayed toward the door.
"Wal, talk," ordered Colter, harshly.
"Jim, there ain't a hell of a lot," replied Springer; drawing a deepbreath, "but what there is is shore interestin'.... Me an' Somers tookAntonio with us. He left his woman with the sheep. An' we rode up thecanyon, clumb out on top, an' made a circle back on the ridge. That'sthe way we've been huntin' fer tracks. Up thar in a bare spot we runplump into Queen sittin' against a tree, right out in the open.Queerest sight y'u ever seen! The damn gunfighter had set down to waitfor Isbel, who was trailin' him, as we suspected---an' he died thar. Hewasn't cold when we found him.... Somers was quick to see a trick. Sohe propped Queen up an' tied the guns to his hands--an', Jim, thequeerest thing aboot that deal was this--Queen's guns was empty! Not ashell left! It beat us holler.... We left him thar, an' hid up high onthe bluff, mebbe a hundred yards off. The hosses we left back of athicket. An' we waited thar a long time. But, sure enough, thehalf-breed come. He was too smart. Too much Injun! He would notcross the open, but went around. An' then he seen Queen. It was greatto watch him. After a little he shoved his rifle out an' went rightfer Queen. Thi
s is when I wanted to shoot. I could have plugged him.But Somers says wait an' make it sure. When Isbel got up to Queen hewas sort of half hid by the tree. An' I couldn't wait no longer, so Ishot. I hit him, too. We all begun to shoot. Somers showed himself,an' that's when Isbel opened up. He used up a whole magazine on Somersan' then, suddenlike, he quit. It didn't take me long to figger mebbehe was out of shells. When I seen him run I was certain of it. Thenwe made for the hosses an' rode after Isbel. Pretty soon I seen himrunnin' like a deer down the ridge. I yelled an' spurred after him.There is where Antonio quit me. But I kept on. An' I got a shot atIsbel. He ran out of sight. I follered him by spots of blood on thestones an' grass until I couldn't trail him no more. He must have gonedown over the cliffs. He couldn't have done nothin' else without meseein' him. I found his rifle, an' here it is to prove what I say. Ihad to go back to climb down off the Rim, an' I rode fast down thecanyon. He's somewhere along that west wall, hidin' in the brush, hardhit if I know anythin' aboot the color of blood."
"Wal! ... that beats me holler, too," ejaculated Colter.
"Jim, what's to be done?" inquired Springer, eagerly. "If we're sharpwe can corral that half-breed. He's the last of the Isbels."
"More, pard. He's the last of the Isbel outfit," declared Colter. "Ify'u can show me blood in his tracks I'll trail him."
"Y'u can bet I'll show y'u," rejoined the other rustler. "But listen!Wouldn't it be better for us first to see if he crossed the canyon? Ireckon he didn't. But let's make sure. An' if he didn't we'll havehim somewhar along that west canyon wall. He's not got no gun. He'dnever run thet way if he had.... Jim, he's our meat!"
"Shore, he'll have that knife," pondered Colter.
"We needn't worry about thet," said the other, positively. "He's hardhit, I tell y'u. All we got to do is find thet bloody trail again an'stick to it--goin' careful. He's layin' low like a crippled wolf."
"Springer, I want the job of finishin' that half-breed," hissed Colter."I'd give ten years of my life to stick a gun down his throat an' shootit off."
"All right. Let's rustle. Mebbe y'u'll not have to give much more 'nten minnits. Because I tell y'u I can find him. It'd been easy--but,Jim, I reckon I was afraid."
"Leave your hoss for me an' go ahaid," the rustler then said,brusquely. "I've a job in the cabin heah."
"Haw-haw! ... Wal, Jim, I'll rustle a bit down the trail an' wait. Nohuntin' Jean Isbel alone--not fer me. I've had a queer feelin' aboutthet knife he used on Greaves. An' I reckon y'u'd oughter let thetJorth hussy alone long enough to--"
"Springer, I reckon I've got to hawg-tie her--" His voice becameindistinguishable, and footfalls attested to a slow moving away of themen.
Jean had listened with ears acutely strung to catch every syllablewhile his gaze rested upon Ellen who stood beside the door. Every lineof her body denoted a listening intensity. Her back was toward Jean,so that he could not see her face. And he did not want to see, butcould not help seeing her naked shoulders. She put her head out of thedoor. Suddenly she drew it in quickly and half turned her face, slowlyraising her white arm. This was the left one and bore the marks ofColter's hard fingers.
She gave a little gasp. Her eyes became large and staring. They werebent on the hand that she had removed from a step on the ladder. Onhand and wrist showed a bright-red smear of blood.
Jean, with a convulsive leap of his heart, realized that he had lefthis bloody tracks on the ladder as he had climbed. That moment seemedthe supremely terrible one of his life.
Ellen Jorth's face blanched and her eyes darkened and dilated withexceeding amaze and flashing thought to become fixed with horror. Thatinstant was the one in which her reason connected the blood on theladder with the escape of Jean Isbel.
One moment she leaned there, still as a stone except for her heavingbreast, and then her fixed gaze changed to a swift, dark blaze,comprehending, yet inscrutable, as she flashed it up the ladder to theloft. She could see nothing, yet she knew and Jean knew that she knewhe was there. A marvelous transformation passed over her features andeven over her form. Jean choked with the ache in his throat. Slowlyshe put the bloody hand behind her while with the other she still heldthe torn blouse to her breast.
Colter's slouching, musical step sounded outside. And it might havebeen a strange breath of infinitely vitalizing and passionate lifeblown into the well-springs of Ellen Jorth's being. Isbel had no namefor her then. The spirit of a woman had been to him a thing unknown.
She swayed back from the door against the wall in singular, softenedpoise, as if all the steel had melted out of her body. And as Colter'stall shadow fell across the threshold Jean Isbel felt himself staringwith eyeballs that ached--straining incredulous sight at this woman whoin a few seconds had bewildered his senses with her transfiguration. Hesaw but could not comprehend.
"Jim--I heard--all Springer told y'u," she said. The look of herdumfounded Colter and her voice seemed to shake him visibly.
"Suppose y'u did. What then?" he demanded, harshly, as he halted withone booted foot over the threshold. Malignant and forceful, he eyedher darkly, doubtfully.
"I'm afraid," she whispered.
"What of? Me?"
"No. Of--of Jean Isbel. He might kill y'u and--then where would I be?"
"Wal, I'm damned!" ejaculated the rustler. "What's got into y'u?" Hemoved to enter, but a sort of fascination bound him.
"Jim, I hated y'u a moment ago," she burst out. "But now--with thatJean Isbel somewhere near--hidin'--watchin' to kill y'u--an' maybe me,too--I--I don't hate y'u any more.... Take me away."
"Girl, have y'u lost your nerve?" he demanded.
"My God! Colter--cain't y'u see?" she implored. "Won't y'u take meaway?"
"I shore will--presently," he replied, grimly. "But y'u'll wait tillI've shot the lights out of this Isbel."
"No!" she cried. "Take me away now.... An' I'll give in--I'll be whaty'u--want.... Y'u can do with me--as y'u like."
Colter's lofty frame leaped as if at the release of bursting blood.With a lunge he cleared the threshold to loom over her.
"Am I out of my haid, or are y'u?" he asked, in low, hoarse voice. Hisdarkly corded face expressed extremest amaze.
"Jim, I mean it," she whispered, edging an inch nearer him, her whiteface uplifted, her dark eyes unreadable in their eloquence and mystery."I've no friend but y'u. I'll be--yours.... I'm lost.... What does itmatter? If y'u want me--take me NOW--before I kill myself."
"Ellen Jorth, there's somethin' wrong aboot y'u," he responded. "Didy'u tell the truth--when y'u denied ever bein' a sweetheart of SimmBruce?"
"Yes, I told y'u the truth."
"Ahuh! An' how do y'u account for layin' me out with every dirty namey'u could give tongue to?"
"Oh, it was temper. I wanted to be let alone."
"Temper! Wal, I reckon y'u've got one," he retorted, grimly. "An' I'mnot shore y'u're not crazy or lyin'. An hour ago I couldn't touch y'u."
"Y'u may now--if y'u promise to take me away--at once. This place hasgot on my nerves. I couldn't sleep heah with that Isbel hidin' around.Could y'u?"
"Wal, I reckon I'd not sleep very deep."
"Then let us go."
He shook his lean, eagle-like head in slow, doubtful vehemence, and hispiercing gaze studied her distrustfully. Yet all the while there wasmanifest in his strung frame an almost irrepressible violence, held inabeyance to his will.
"That aboot your bein' so good?" he inquired, with a return of themocking drawl.
"Never mind what's past," she flashed, with passion dark as his. "I'vemade my offer."
"Shore there's a lie aboot y'u somewhere," he muttered, thickly.
"Man, could I do more?" she demanded, in scorn.
"No. But it's a lie," he returned. "Y'u'll get me to take y'u awayan' then fool me--run off--God knows what. Women are all liars."
Manifestly he could not believe in her strange transformation. Memoryof her wild and pass
ionate denunciation of him and his kind must haveseared even his calloused soul. But the ruthless nature of him had notweakened nor softened in the least as to his intentions. Thisweather-vane veering of hers bewildered him, obsessed him with itspossibilities. He had the look of a man who was divided between loveof her and hate, whose love demanded a return, but whose hate requireda proof of her abasement. Not proof of surrender, but proof of hershame! The ignominy of him thirsted for its like. He could grind herbeauty under his heel, but he could not soften to this feminineinscrutableness.
And whatever was the truth of Ellen Jorth in this moment, beyondColter's gloomy and stunted intelligence, beyond even the love of JeanIsbel, it was something that held the balance of mastery. She readColter's mind. She dropped the torn blouse from her hand and stoodthere, unashamed, with the wave of her white breast pulsing, eyes blackas night and full of hell, her face white, tragic, terrible, yetstrangely lovely.
"Take me away," she whispered, stretching one white arm toward him,then the other.
Colter, even as she moved, had leaped with inarticulate cry and radiantface to meet her embrace. But it seemed, just as her left arm flashedup toward his neck, that he saw her bloody hand and wrist. Strange howthat checked his ardor--threw up his lean head like that striking birdof prey.
"Blood! What the hell!" he ejaculated, and in one sweep he graspedher. "How'd yu do that? Are y'u cut? ... Hold still."
Ellen could not release her hand.
"I scratched myself," she said.
"Where?... All that blood!" And suddenly he flung her hand back withfierce gesture, and the gleams of his yellow eyes were like the pointsof leaping flames. They pierced her--read the secret falsity of her.Slowly he stepped backward, guardedly his hand moved to his gun, andhis glance circled and swept the interior of the cabin. As if he hadthe nose of a hound and sight to follow scent, his eyes bent to thedust of the ground before the door. He quivered, grew rigid as stone,and then moved his head with exceeding slowness as if searching througha microscope in the dust--farther to the left--to the foot of theladder--and up one step--another--a third--all the way up to the loft.Then he whipped out his gun and wheeled to face the girl.
"Ellen, y'u've got your half-breed heah!" he said, with a terriblesmile.
She neither moved nor spoke. There was a suggestion of collapse, butit was only a change where the alluring softness of her hardened into astrange, rapt glow. And in it seemed the same mastery that hadcharacterized her former aspect. Herein the treachery of her wasrevealed. She had known what she meant to do in any case.
Colter, standing at the door, reached a long arm toward the ladder,where he laid his hand on a rung. Taking it away he held it palmoutward for her to see the dark splotch of blood.
"See?"
"Yes, I see," she said, ringingly.
Passion wrenched him, transformed him. "All that--aboot leavin'heah--with me--aboot givin' in--was a lie!"
"No, Colter. It was the truth. I'll go--yet--now--if y'u'llspare--HIM!" She whispered the last word and made a slight movement ofher hand toward the loft. "Girl!" he exploded, incredulously. "Y'ulove this half-breed--this ISBEL! ... Y'u LOVE him!"
"With all my heart! ... Thank God! It has been my glory.... It mighthave been my salvation.... But now I'll go to hell with y'u--if y'u'llspare him."
"Damn my soul!" rasped out the rustler, as if something of respect waswrung from that sordid deep of him. "Y'u--y'u woman! ... Jorth willturn over in his grave. He'd rise out of his grave if this Isbel goty'u."
"Hurry! Hurry!" implored Ellen. "Springer may come back. I think Iheard a call."
"Wal, Ellen Jorth, I'll not spare Isbel--nor y'u," he returned, withdark and meaning leer, as he turned to ascend the ladder.
Jean Isbel, too, had reached the climax of his suspense. Gathering allhis muscles in a knot he prepared to leap upon Colter as he mounted theladder. But, Ellen Jorth screamed piercingly and snatched her riflefrom its resting place and, cocking it, she held it forward and low.
"COLTER!"
Her scream and his uttered name stiffened him.
"Y'u will spare Jean Isbel!" she rang out. "Drop that gun-drop it!"
"Shore, Ellen.... Easy now. Remember your temper.... I'll let Isbeloff," he panted, huskily, and all his body sank quiveringly to a crouch.
"Drop your gun! Don't turn round.... Colter!--I'LL KILL Y'U!"
But even then he failed to divine the meaning and the spirit of her.
"Aw, now, Ellen," he entreated, in louder, huskier tones, and as ifdragged by fatal doubt of her still, he began to turn.
Crash! The rifle emptied its contents in Colter's breast. All hisbody sprang up. He dropped the gun. Both hands fluttered toward her.And an awful surprise flashed over his face.
"So--help--me--God!" he whispered, with blood thick in his voice. Thendarkly, as one groping, he reached for her with shaking hands."Y'u--y'u white-throated hussy!... I'll ..."
He grasped the quivering rifle barrel. Crash! She shot him again. Ashe swayed over her and fell she had to leap aside, and his clutchinghand tore the rifle from her grasp. Then in convulsion he writhed, toheave on his back, and stretch out--a ghastly spectacle. Ellen backedaway from it, her white arms wide, a slow horror blotting out thepassion of her face.
Then from without came a shrill call and the sound of rapid footsteps.Ellen leaned against the wall, staring still at Colter. "Hey,Jim--what's the shootin'?" called Springer, breathlessly.
As his form darkened the doorway Jean once again gathered all hismuscular force for a tremendous spring.
Springer saw the girl first and he appeared thunderstruck. His jawdropped. He needed not the white gleam of her person to transfix him.Her eyes did that and they were riveted in unutterable horror uponsomething on the ground. Thus instinctively directed, Springer espiedColter.
"Y'u--y'u shot him!" he shrieked. "What for--y'u hussy? ... EllenJorth, if y'u've killed him, I'll..."
He strode toward where Colter lay.
Then Jean, rising silently, took a step and like a tiger he launchedhimself into the air, down upon the rustler. Even as he leapedSpringer gave a quick, upward look. And he cried out. Jean'smoccasined feet struck him squarely and sent him staggering into thewall, where his head hit hard. Jean fell, but bounded up as thehalf-stunned Springer drew his gun. Then Jean lunged forward with asingle sweep of his arm--and looked no more.
Ellen ran swaying out of the door, and, once clear of the threshold,she tottered out on the grass, to sink to her knees. The bright,golden sunlight gleamed upon her white shoulders and arms. Jean hadone foot out of the door when he saw her and he whirled back to get herblouse. But Springer had fallen upon it. Snatching up a blanket, Jeanran out.
"Ellen! Ellen! Ellen!" he cried. "It's over!" And reaching her, hetried to wrap her in the blanket.
She wildly clutched his knees. Jean was conscious only of her white,agonized face and the dark eyes with their look of terrible strain.
"Did y'u--did y'u..." she whispered.
"Yes--it's over," he said, gravely. "Ellen, the Isbel-Jorth feud isended."
"Oh, thank--God!" she cried, in breaking voice. "Jean--y'u arewounded... the blood on the step!"
"My arm. See. It's not bad.... Ellen, let me wrap this round you."Folding the blanket around her shoulders, he held it there andentreated her to get up. But she only clung the closer. She hid herface on his knees. Long shudders rippled over her, shaking theblanket, shaking Jean's hands. Distraught, he did not know what to do.And his own heart was bursting.
"Ellen, you must not kneel--there--that way," he implored.
"Jean! Jean!" she moaned, and clung the tighter.
He tried to lift her up, but she was a dead weight, and with that holdon him seemed anchored at his feet.
"I killed Colter," she gasped. "I HAD to--kill him! ... I offered--tofling myself away...."
"For me!" he cried, poignantly. "Oh, Ellen! Ellen! the world has
cometo an end! ... Hush! don't keep sayin' that. Of course you killed him.You saved my life. For I'd never have let you go off with him ....Yes, you killed him.... You're a Jorth an' I'm an Isbel ... We've bloodon our hands--both of us--I for you an' you for me!"
His voice of entreaty and sadness strengthened her and she raised herwhite face, loosening her clasp to lean back and look up. Tragic,sweet, despairing, the loveliness of her--the significance of her thereon her knees--thrilled him to his soul.
"Blood on my hands!" she whispered. "Yes. It was awful--killinghim.... But--all I care for in this world is for your forgiveness--andyour faith that saved my soul!"
"Child, there's nothin' to forgive," he responded. "Nothin'... Please,Ellen..."
"I lied to y'u!" she cried. "I lied to y'u!"
"Ellen, listen--darlin'." And the tender epithet brought her head andarms back close-pressed to him. "I know--now," he faltered on. "Ifound out to-day what I believed. An' I swear to God--by the memory ofmy dead mother--down in my heart I never, never, never believed whatthey--what y'u tried to make me believe. NEVER!"
"Jean--I love y'u--love y'u--love y'u!" she breathed with exquisite,passionate sweetness. Her dark eyes burned up into his.
"Ellen, I can't lift you up," he said, in trembling eagerness,signifying his crippled arm. "But I can kneel with you! ..."
