by Zane Grey
“He’d be tickled pink,” replied Ethel, with a giggle. Then she grew suddenly grave. “What happened to me? I’ll tell you, old girl, I darn near drowned. I fell in the lake. Wow! Over my head! And I just froze! Cold? That water was like the way you treat Malpass. Con heard me yell and fished me out. In the nick of time, believe me! My clothes are drying over there by the camp fire. . . . Oh, you needn’t look so horrified! I’ve got on my dressing-gown. And I think you should show some distress.”
“Well,” ejaculated Virginia, sitting down, “I really want to laugh. You, Ethel Wayne, whom I boasted as an old stager on the trail. What’s become of my other tenderfeet?”
“The men are fishing, sure Mike—a lot we’ll see of them!—but the girls are lolling around, just too happy for words. Virginia, the consensus of opinion, as I’ve snookily got it, is that you’re the last thing in peaches. Sure I always knew it, but I’m tipping off the Eastern angle. This is a swell outfit you’ve sprung on me, honey, but I must say they’ve got something on us Westerners. I like that Jack Andrews and if I wasn’t——There I go. Unstable as water, thou shalt not be true! . . . And I just love Helen Andrews.”
“So I have observed.”
“Goodness! Ginia, you’re not jealous?”
“A little, on your account. A lot on Clifton’s. . . . I’m a jealous cat, Ethel.”
“Say, why this humility all of a sudden? To stop kidding, I’ll say you need never be jealous on my account. I adore you. I’m yours forever. . . . But in the case of Cliff I’m not so darn sure. You’re carrying that Lundeen handicap. And believe me, it’s something to stagger under.”
“Miss Wayne, I am quite aware of that,” replied Virginia, in mock hauteur.
“Helen Andrews likes Cliff,” returned Ethel, seriously, her brows knitted. “We oughtn’t wonder at that. He’s the most lovable chap, the handsomest, the greatest hero the war sent back to us. You know they’ve got his number in town now. They’ve found out what he did. . . . Well, it’s quite natural for this rich and lovely lady to be interested in Cliff. I’m glad, even if I am scared. But—if she happened to fall in love with him—good night!”
“Ethel, you mean I wouldn’t have a show on earth?” asked Virginia, tragically.
“No, nor in heaven, either,” sighed Ethel, sacrilegiously.
“I hope I’m not so—so little that I couldn’t be—glad for Cliff’s sake,” replied Virginia, a little tremulously. This matter-of-fact, down-to-earth talk of Ethel’s was rather disconcerting, coming so suddenly after Virginia’s vigil at her shrine on the heights.
“Maybe we’re borrowing trouble,” said Ethel. “Lord knows that’s the way of lovers. Don’t I know? . . . Helen has seen Cliff three times I know of since we bought out his store.”
“Three times? I thought only two.”
“Reckon you missed the last, and I sure didn’t have the nerve to tell you then. What with your father and that white-toothed Spanish galoot who’s crazy about you I thought you had enough to worry along on. . . . Virginia, our fair Helen of Troy rode off alone Sunday afternoon. Down the valley! You can bet she went to see Cliff. They had a date. She didn’t stay long, though it was sunset when she came back. . . . Now, sister, what you’ve got to grasp to your poor shuddering heart is this. Any man, much less our unfortunate soldier friend, would soon fall in love with Helen Andrews. Furthermore, she’s just as likely to fall in love with him. The woods are full of such pretty happenings.”
“Ethel darling, I—I could bear it, because I want Clifton to have some reward for his sacrifices.”
“Sure you could. And you’re a game sport. But that is only if it comes to the worst. Helen is no flirt. She is earnest, fine. There’s the danger, though. And Clifton is slow to like anybody. I’m sure we’re safe yet. They’re all leaving on July first. So it’d be just as well not to break camp here till June twenty-ninth. Perfectly skunky trick, but all’s fair—you know. . . . And while we’re up here we’d better plan how to throw a monkey-wrench into that Malpass threshing machine.”
“Ethel, you’re a conscienceless, unscrupulous, terrible young woman, but, oh, what would I do without you?”
Virginia spent seven idle dreaming days at Emerald Lake. Her friends, for the most part, were exceedingly active, appearing never to get enough of the wonderful sport the camp afforded. So for them the time fled by.
For Virginia, however, the days spread out long. Yet she was grateful for it. Affairs at Cottonwoods were so near a crisis that she was loath to return. Ethel’s spirit and determination to find some loophole for Virginia was hopeful in itself, but so far nothing had come of it.
The 29th of June arrived all too soon for Virginia’s guests. Many and wild were their encomiums. “I’ll own this place if I have to buy the whole National Forest,” declared Helen Andrews, magnificently. Somehow this remark gave Virginia food for reflection.
The return trip down the winding trail was delight, compared with the toil of the ascent. But few places could not be ridden, though many of the steep steps and the weathered slopes of loose shale brought squeals from the girls. With a happy hour at noon for lunch and rest it took all day to do the eighteen miles down to Cottonwoods.
To Virginia’s great satisfaction, and also surprise, both her father and Malpass were absent; where, Mrs. Lundeen did not know. The two men were at loggerheads over mining interests in the south, she said, as if weary of the subject.
Next day Virginia’s guests gave far less time to packing than to the outdoor pursuits which had so endeared Cottonwoods to them. It did not surprise Virginia to see Helen and her brother go riding down the valley road toward San Luis. Womanlike, Virginia had to inform Ethel, and from that young lady she got the startling reply, “Sure, you should have beat Helen to it!”
Virginia went about her affairs, which naturally were numerous just then, trying to take refuge in them, when all the time her heart ached.
It was still early in the afternoon when Virginia, opening her door in response to a tap, found herself confronted by Helen in riding-habit, manifestly just from the saddle. A flush like an opal glow showed under her golden tan. Virginia caught her breath at the girl’s blond loveliness.
“Hello, old dear! May I come in? I’ve something to tell you,” said Helen.
“Of course. . . . Helen, you look serious.”
“It is serious, though not for us. Are you alone? Where’s Ethel?”
“She’s in the library.”
“Virginia, I’ve some bad news. It has really distressed me,” went on Helen, as Virginia led her to the window seat. “Jack and I rode down to see your friend Clifton. We found his store burned down. The interior was gutted, and only a few crumbling walls left standing. We couldn’t learn anything at San Luis, so we hurried back to Clifton’s home. We went in and found him on the porch with his mother. She’s a charming, gracious old lady. . . . Well, Clifton told us that he had restocked his store, spending nearly two thousand dollars, I think it was, for the supplies. That very night someone set fire to the building from the inside. Everything was destroyed.”
“Oh, how unfortunate, and worse if someone did it!” burst out Virginia.
“Clifton is sure it could not have been accident. There was nothing to catch fire inside. . . . Virginia, hasn’t he enemies here?”
“I’m afraid he has,” replied Virginia, bitterly.
“You’ll forgive me, old dear, won’t you, for appearing inquisitive? I like this Clifton Forrest. Naturally, when I thought he’d been a buddy of Jack’s in France, I was interested to get acquainted with him. But now I must confess that even though he and Jack have had no previous acquaintance I’m still keen about him. Surely I don’t need to eulogize Clifton to you, but I want you to know that I think him one of the finest chaps I’ve ever met. . . . Jack offered to lend him money enough to rebuild and restock the little store, which we’ve learned the Forrests depend on for a living. But Clifton thanked Jack and said he couldn’t accept it, becaus
e he could never pay it back. Then I made a suggestion. I asked Clifton if he would run the Payne ranch for me if I bought it. He——”
“The Payne ranch! At Watrous?” interposed Virginia. “That enormous place! Why, Helen, the banks hold it at one hundred and eighty thousand dollars.”
“I didn’t inquire about that,” returned the other, “but I was taken with the place and I had a notion to buy it. Of course it’d be a white elephant, like other places I’ve burdened myself with. But this is really a worthy idea. And I believe I’ll go through with it, unless you block the deal.”
“I! Why, Helen, I’d be happy to have you out here! It’d be great! And if you were to help Clifton, I—I think I’d like you better than I do, which is a lot.”
“Virginia, we’ve got to do something for that soldier boy.”
“Oh, I’ve tried. He’s proud. He won’t accept charity. I was afraid he’d be offended when we bought him out that day. It was so barefaced. . . . Hasn’t Clifton told you about the Lundeen-Forrest feud?”
“Not a word. But lately, before we left on our camping trip, I picked up things here and there, and put two and two together. Your father and Forrest are deadly enemies. Your Brazilian cavalier, or whatever he is, struck me as a snake in the grass. I know men. He is after your money, Virginia. He made a play for me, which I squelched quick. Imagine that—when it’s plain even to strangers he’s trying to marry you. He hasn’t a chance in the world, has he?”
Virginia laughed her scorn. “Helen, my father is under the thumb of this Malpass. He was led or forced to cheat the Forrests out of this property. He now is trying to persuade me to marry Malpass. Or he was, ten days ago. I imagine when he returns he’ll use stronger argument. But I’d die before I’d give in.”
“Here’s hoping you won’t have to go to such extremes! . . . Let’s get back to Clifton. You like him, don’t you, Virginia? Oh, hang it! Why look at me that way? I mean you’re fond of him, aren’t you?”
“Why do you ask?” queried Virginia, constrainedly.
Helen got up and put her arms round Virginia and kissed her—demonstrative actions very unusual for the Eastern girl. “Old dear, you can’t bluff me. And I won’t let you be upstage, either. . . . I ask that because Ethel—sly little fox!—put it into my head. . . . Confess, now.”
Virginia hung her head, as much from unresisting weakness as shame.
“Confess what—you triumphant goddess, I can’t help loving you, that’s sure.”
“You’re fond of Clifton?”
“Fond? . . . Good God! Use a Western word!” burst out Virginia, finally won.
Helen’s answering embrace and kiss were very warm and sweet.
“So that’s it,” she whispered. “I’m glad. You’ll help Clifton to get well and on his feet. . . . That was what worried me. You jealous child! . . . Virginia, I will return your confidence. My love—my heart are buried in a grave in France!”
Chapter Eight
VIRGINIA’S father came home drunk, the day after the departure of her guests, and Malpass showed a dark sullenness that boded no good.
She felt like an animal at bay, and she paced her room, waiting for the approach that she sensed. Nevertheless, it did not come, and she ate her dinner as silent as her mother, a prey to growing apprehension. She regretted that Ethel had been called back home to Denver. A fugitive desire to see Clifton became a real and persistent one.
The night seemed far removed from the peaceful and restful ones she had enjoyed up in the mountains. Morning, however, brought defiance, if not courage.
Malpass presented himself at the breakfast table as immaculate as usual, and more than unusually self-contained. He inquired politely about the camping trip, the departure of her guests, and even expressed regret not to have seen the beautiful Miss Andrews again. The Mexican servant informed her that her father was having breakfast in his room, where he awaited her convenience.
“Before you see him you may as well listen to me,” said Malpass.
“Very well, the sooner the better. What can you have to say to me?”
“Have you reconsidered my proposal?”
“No. I gave it no further thought.”
“Then I regret to say I must split with your father.”
“That will be most acceptable to me.”
“It may not be so when you hear the conditions.”
“Mr. Malpass, pray save yourself the trouble of more talk,” replied Virginia. “I am weary of the whole business. I don’t care anything about conditions.”
“But I can take this property away from him as he took it from Forrest.”
“Do it and welcome,” retorted Virginia, coldly. “Ill-gotten wealth never made any man happy. My father was wicked, but I consider you mostly to blame. I will be glad when he is free of you.”
“He’s not going to be free of me unless——”
“Unless I become your wife?” put in Virginia, as he hesitated, and her derision broke his studied calm.
“Unless you do he will go to jail for a long term.”
“I think you are a liar and a bluff.”
“My dealings with Lundeen do not and never did include this Forrest property,” went on Malpass, ignoring her words. “Nor did I have any share in the silver mine he stole. We used money from that to gain possession of extensive phosphate mines in the south. The controlling interest was mine. I increased my holdings, raising equal capital for him to do the same. We are now deeply involved and he owes me a sum greater than this ranch could bring. If we settle it out of court, well and good, for all of us. But if I take it to court, I will prove he deliberately stole Forrest’s land, fully cognizant of the value of the silver mine. I can prove it because I discovered the mineral.”
“Yes, and you were the brains of the dishonest deal,” rejoined Virginia, hotly.
“To be sure. But at Lundeen’s instigation. Never on paper! There’s not a word to that effect. If you will pardon my saying it, your father is a sapheaded, greedy old cattleman with a tremendous weakness—his hatred of Clay Forrest. Now if you know your West you will certainly realize what would happen to your father if I betrayed him in court—which means betraying him to Clay Forrest.”
“What would happen?” queried Virginia, unable to repress alarm.
“Forrest will kill him!”
“Oh, you are trying to work on my feelings!” cried Virginia. “I don’t believe it. You’ve made this all up to frighten me. . . . Even if it were true, Forrest would kill you, too.”
“That would not be so easy. And the motive would not be so great.”
Virginia veiled her eyes and her own barbed shaft. “Suppose I told Clifton Forrest you burned down his store?”
No guilty man’s effrontery and flinty nerve could mask the truth from a woman’s love and intuition. The instant Virginia’s swift query had passed her lips she divined Malpass had been responsible for the latest misfortune to the Forrests.
“Burned down!—I have been away, you know, and had not heard. . . . Your ridiculous accusation requires no answer.”
Virginia laughed in his face.
“If Clifton Forrest found out what I know he would kill you.”
Malpass arose to push back his chair. “You drift away from the main issue. I warn you to leave young Forrest out of this. I am aware of your interest in him. It has not enhanced his fortunes.”
Virginia sprang up so passionately that her chair fell backward.
“August Malpass, those words betray you, though I never needed words to find out what you are. Do your evilest, señor! This is not old Mexico.”
The hard immobility of Malpass’ olive face changed swiftly to passion. His eyes became flames. With the spring of a panther he was on her, clasping her in his arms. Crushing her to him he kissed her naked throat, then her face, failing of her lips only when Virginia, overcoming a horror of paralysis, tore clear of him with infuriated strength.
“Señorita, you have—invited violence,�
� he panted, making her an elaborate bow which he had not learned on that range. “I prefer it. Let us be natural. I love a she-cat from hell. . . . Spit! Scratch! Bite! . . . You will be all the sweeter!”
“If you ever touch me again, I’ll kill you.”
Virginia ran to her room, and locking the door she fell on her bed in an access of rage and hate and fear. When these had worked their will and passed away she rose with a stupendous surprise, and shame the like of which she had never known. Her limbs tottered under her, and the window seat appeared none too close. Could she ever erase the burn and blot of this half-breed’s kisses? That she had kept her lips inviolate helped her but little.
In the ensuing hour she learned the appalling gravity of her predicament.
Her father came to her, a changed and broken man, at first neither commanding nor supplicating. He had always been in Malpass’ power, though ignorant of it till now. With what fiendish dexterity the weaver had enmeshed him!
Malpass had the proofs to convict, the money to ease his own irregularities, the baseness to betray unless he gained the object he so passionately sought.
“Father, I can’t—I can’t!” sobbed Virginia. “How can you ask? . . . I’d sooner kill myself.”
“It means prison for me—disgrace for you and mother—poverty. . . . Virginia, marry him to save us. You can divorce him later. Give me time to retrieve. Then with money I can fight. Find some way to beat him.”
“Not to save even our lives!” flamed Virginia.
“But wait, daughter. You’re riled now. Take time. Think. You’re not in love with any man. It’d not be so hard. You can leave him—and soon. You can be free.”
“What of my soul? . . . I’d feel myself debauched. No! No!”
“Virginia, he’ll make you give in, sooner or later. He has the very devil’s power. It’ll be better to have it over. Then we can plan. I swear to God I’ve realized my crime, an’ seek now only to save you an’ mother. Daughter, we’ve gained standin’ as a family these last years. We are somebody. If this comes out I’m done—an’ you an’ mother will hang your heads in shame.”
