by Zane Grey
32
The mere sight of Warren Neale had transformed life for Allie Lee.The shame of being forced to meet degraded men, the pain from Durade'sblows, the dread that every hour he would do the worst by her orkill her, the sudden and amazing recognition between her and herfather--these became dwarfed and blurred in the presence of the glorioustruth that Neale was there.
She had recognized him with reeling senses and through darkening eyes.She had seen him leap before her father to confront that glittering-eyedDurade. She had neither fear for him nor pity for the Spaniard.
Sensations of falling, of being carried, of the light and dust and noiseof the street, of men around her, of rooms and the murmur of voices, ofbeing worked over and spoken to by a kindly woman, of swallowing whatwas put to her mouth, of answering questions, of letting other clothesbe put upon her; she was as if in a trance, aware of all going onabout her, but with consciousness riveted upon one stunning fact--hispresence. When she was left alone this state gradually wore away, andthere remained a throbbing, quivering suspense of love. Her despair hadended. The spirit that had upheld her through all the long, dark hourshad reached its fulfilment.
She lay on a couch in a small room curtained off from another, thelatter large and light, and from which came a sound of low voices. Sheheard the quick tread of men; a door opened.
"Lee, I congratulate you. A narrow escape!" exclaimed a deep voice, withsomething sharp, authoritative in it.
"General Lodge, it was indeed a narrow shave for me," replied anothervoice, low and husky.
Allie slowly sat up, with the dreamy waiting abstraction less strong.Her father, Allison Lee, and General Lodge, Neale's old chief, werethere in the other room.
"Neale almost killed Durade! Broke him! Cut him all up!" said thegeneral, with agitation. "I had it from McDermott, one of my spikers--areliable man.... Neale was shot--perhaps cut, too.... But he doesn'tseem to know it."
Allie sprang up, transfixed and thrilling.
"Neale almost killed--him!" echoed Allison Lee, hoarsely. Then followeda sound of a chair falling.
"Indeed, Allison, it's true," broke in a strange voice. "The street'sfull of men--all talking--all stirred up."
Other men entered the room.
"Is Neale here?" queried General Lodge, sharply.
"They're trying to hold him up--in the office. The boys want to pat himon the back.... Durade was not liked," replied some one.
"Is Neale badly hurt?"
"I don't know. He looked it. He was all bloody."
"Colonel Dillon, did you see Neale?" went on the sharp, eager voice.
"Yes. He seemed dazed--wild. Probably badly hurt. Yet he moved steadily.No one could stop him," answered another strange voice.
"Ah! here comes McDermott!" exclaimed General Lodge. Allie's earsthrobbed to a slow, shuffling, heavy tread. Her consciousness receivedthe fact of Neale's injury, but her heart refused to accept it asperilous. God could not mock her faith by a last catastrophe.
"Sandy--you've seen Neale?"
Allie loved this sharp, keen voice for its note of dread. "Shure.B'gorra, yez couldn't hilp seein' him. He's as big as a hill an' hisshirt's as red as Casey's red wan. I wint to give him the little gunwot Durade pulled on him. Dom' me! he looked roight at me an' niver seenme," replied the Irishman.
"Lee, you will see Neale?" queried General Lodge. There was a silence.
"No," presently came a cold reply. "It is not necessary. He savedme--injury perhaps. I am grateful. I'll reward him."
"How?" rang General Lodge's voice.
"Gold, of course. Neale was a gambler. Probably he had a grudgeagainst this Durade.... I need not meet Neale, it seems, I amsomewhat--overwrought. I wish to spare myself further excitement."
"Lee--listen!" returned General Lodge, violently. "Neale is a splendidyoung man--the nerviest, best engineer I ever knew. I predicted greatthings for him. They have come true."
"That doesn't interest me."
"You'll hear it, anyhow. He saved the life of this girl who has turnedout to be your daughter. He took care of her. He loved her--was engagedto marry her.... Then he lost her. And after that he was half mad. Itnearly ruined him."
"I do not credit that. It was gambling, drink--and bad women that ruinedhim."
"No!"
"But, pardon me, General. If--as you intimate--there was an attachmentbetween him and my unfortunate child, would he have become an associateof gamblers and vicious women?"
"He would not. The nature of his fury, the retribution he visited uponthis damned Spaniard, prove the manner of man he is."
"Wild indeed. But hardly from a sense of loyalty. These camps breedblood-spillers. I heard you say that."
"You'll hear me say something more, presently," retorted the other, withheat scarcely controlled. "But we're wasting time. I don't insist thatyou see Neale. That's your affair. It seems to me the least you could dowould be to thank him. I certainly advise you not to offer him gold. Ido insist, however, that you let him see the girl!"
"No!"
"But, man.... Say, McDermott, go fetch Neale in here."
Allie Lee heard all this strange talk with consternation. Anirresistible magnet drew her toward those curtains, which she graspedwith trembling hands, ready, but not able, to part them and enter theroom. It seemed that in there was a friend of Neale's whom she was goingto love, and an enemy whom she was going to hate. As for Neale seeingher--at once--only death could rob her of that.
"General Lodge, I have no sympathy for Neale," came the cold voice ofAllison Lee.
There was no reply. Some one coughed. Footsteps sounded in the hallway,and a hum of distant voices.
"You forget," continued Lee, "what happened not many hours ago when yourtrain was saved by that dare-devil Casey--the little book held tight inhis locked teeth--the letter meant for this Neale from one of Benton'scamp-women.... Your engineer read enough. You heard. I heard.... Aletter from a dying woman. She accused Neale of striking her--of killingher.... She said she was dying, but she loved him.... Do you rememberthat, General Lodge?"
"Yes, alas!... Lee, I don't deny that. But--"
"There are no buts."
"Lee, you're hard, hard as steel. Appearances seem against Neale.I don't seek to extenuate them. But I know men. Neale might havefallen--it seems he must have. These are terrible times. In anger ordrink Neale might have struck this woman.... But kill her--No!"
A gleam pierced Allie Lee's dark bewilderment. They meant BeautyStanton, that beautiful, fair woman with such a white, soft bosom andsuch sad eyes--she whom Larry King had shot. What a tangle of fatesand lives! She could tell them why Beauty Stanton was dying. Then otherwords, like springing fire, caught Allie's thought, and a sickeningripple of anguish convulsed her. They believed Beauty Stanton had lovedNeale--had--Allie would have died before admitting that last thought toher consciousness. For a second the room turned black. Her hold onthe curtains kept her from falling. With frantic and terribleearnestness--the old dominance Neale had acquired over her--she clungto the one truth that mattered. She loved Neale--belonged to him--andhe was there! That they were about to meet again was as strange andwonderful a thing as had ever happened. What had she not endured? Whatmust he have gone through? The fiery, stinging nature of her new andsudden pain she could not realize.
Again the strong speech became distinct to her.
"... You'll stay here--and you, Dillon.... Don't any one leave thisroom.... Lee, you can leave, if you want. But we'll see Neale, and sowill Allie Lee."
Allie spread the curtains and stood there. No one saw her. All the menfaced the door through which sounded slow, heavy tread of boots. AnIrishman entered. Then a tall man. Allie's troubled soul suddenlycalmed. She saw Neale.
Slowly he advanced a few steps. Another man entered, and Allie knewhim by his buckskin garb. Neale turned, his face in the light. And apoignant cry leaped up from Allie's heart to be checked on her lips. Wasthis her young and hopeful and splendid lover? She recognized him,
yetnow did not know him. He stood bareheaded, and her swift, all-embracingglance saw the gray over his temples, and the eyes that looked out fromacross the border of a dark hell, and face white as death and twitchingwith spent passion.
"Mr.--Lee," he panted, very low, and the bloody patch on his shirtheaved with his breath, "my only--regret--is--I didn't--think tomake--Durade--tell the truth.... He lied.... He wanted to--revengehimself--on Allie's mother--through Allie.... What he said--aboutAllie--was a lie--as black as his heart. He meant evil--for her.But--somehow she was saved. He was a tiger--playing--and he waited--toolong. You must realize--her innocence--and understand. God has watchedover Allie Lee! It was not luck--nor accident. But innocence!... Houghdied to save her! Then Ancliffe! Then my old friend--Larry King!These men--broken--gone to hell--out here--felt an innocence that madethem--mad--as I have just been.... That is proof--if you need it....Men of ruined lives--could not rise--and die--as they did--victims of afalse impression--of innocence.... They knew!"
Neale's voice sank to a whisper, his eyes intent to read belief in thecold face of Allison Lee.
"I thank you, Neale, for your service to me and your defense of her," hesaid. "What can I do for you?"
"Sir--I--I--"
"Can I reward you in any way?"
The gray burned out of Neale's face. "I ask--nothing--except that youbelieve me."
Lee did not grant this, nor was there any softening of his cold face.
"I would like to ask you a few questions," he said. "General Lodge hereinformed me that you saved my--my daughter's life long ago.... Can youtell me what became of her mother?"
"She was in the caravan--massacred by Sioux," replied Neale. "I saw herburied. Her grave is not so many miles from here."
Then a tremor changed Allison Lee's expression. He turned away aninstant: his hand closed tight; he bit his lips. This evidence offeeling in him relaxed the stony scrutiny of the watchers, and theyshifted uneasily on their feet.
Allie stood watching--waiting, with her heart at her lips.
"Where did you take my daughter?" queried Lee, presently.
"To the home of a trapper. My friend--Slingerland," replied Neale,indicating the buckskin-clad figure. "She lived there--slowlyrecovering. You don't know that she lost her mind--for a while. Butshe recovered.... And during an absence of Slingerland's--she was takenaway."
"Were you and she--sweethearts?"
"Yes."
"And engaged to marry?"
"Of course," replied Neale, dreamily.
"That cannot be now."
"I understand. I didn't expect--I didn't think...."
Allie Lee had believed many times that her heart was breaking, but nowshe knew it had never broken till then. Why did he not turn to see herwaiting there--stricken motionless and voiceless, wild to give the lieto those cold, strange words?
"Then, Neale--if you will not accept anything from me, let us terminatethis painful interview," said Allison Lee.
"I'm sorry. I only wanted to tell you--and ask to see--Allie--a moment,"replied Neale.
"No. It might cause a breakdown. I don't want to risk anything thatmight prevent my taking the next train with her."
"Going to take her--back East?" asked Neale, as if talking to himself.
"Certainly."
"Then--I--won't see her!" Neale murmured, dazedly.
At this juncture General Lodge stepped out. His face was dark, his mouthstern.
His action caused a breaking of the strange, vise-like clutch--the muteand motionless spell--that had fallen upon Allie. She felt the gatheringof tremendous forces in her; in an instant she would show these stupidmen the tumult of a woman's heart.
"Lee, be generous," spoke up General Lodge, feelingly. "Let Neale seethe girl."
"I said no!" snapped Lee.
"But why not, in Heaven's name?"
"Why? I told you why," declared Lee, passionately.
"But, Lee--that implication may not be true. We didn't read all thatletter," protested General Lodge.
"Ask him."
Then the general turned to Neale. "Boy--tell me--did this Stanton womanlove you--did you strike her? Did you--" The general's voice failed.
Neale faced about with a tragic darkening of his face. "To my shame--itis true," he said, clearly.
Then Allie Lee swept forward. "Oh, Neale!"
He seemed to rise and leap at once. And she ran straight into his arms.No man, no trouble, no mystery, no dishonor, no barrier--nothing couldhave held her back the instant she saw how the sight of her, how thesound of her voice, had transformed Neale. For one tumultuous, glorious,terrible moment she clung to his neck, blind, her heart bursting. Thenshe fell back with hands seeking her breast.
"I heard!" she cried. "I know nothing of Beauty Stanton's letter.... Butyou didn't shoot her. It was Larry. I saw him do it."
"Allie!" he whispered.
At last he had realized her actual presence, the safety of her bodyand soul; and all that had made him strange and old and grim and sadvanished in a beautiful transfiguration.
"You know Larry did it!" implored Allie. "Tell them so."
"Yes, I know," he replied. "But I did worse. I--"
She saw him shaken by an agony of remorse; and that agony wascommunicated to her.
"Neale! she loved you?"
He bowed his head.
"Oh!" Her cry was almost mute, full of an unutterable realization oftragic fatality for her. "And you--you--"
Allison Lee strode between them facing Neale. "See! She knows... and ifyou would spare her--go!" he exclaimed.
"She knows--what?" gasped Neale, in a frenzy between doubt andcertainty.
Allie felt a horrible, nameless, insidious sense of falsity--a nightmareunreality--an intangible Neale, fated, drifting away from her.
"Good-bye--Allie!... Bless you! I'll be--happy--knowing--you're--" Hechoked, and the tears streamed down his face. It was a face convulsed byrenunciation, not by guilt. Whatever he had done, it was not base.
"DON'T LET ME--GO!... _I_--FORGIVE YOU!" she burst out. She held out herarms. "THERE'S NO ONE IN THE WORLD BUT YOU!"
But Neale plunged away, upheld by Slingerland, and Allie's world grewsuddenly empty and black.
The train swayed and creaked along through the Night with that strainand effort which told of upgrade. The oil-lamps burned dimly in cornersof the coach. There were soldiers at open windows looking out. Therewere passengers asleep sitting up and lying down and huddled over theirbaggage.
But Allie Lee was not asleep. She lay propped up with pillows andblankets, covered by a heavy coat. Her window was open, and a cooldesert wind softly blew her hair. She stared out into the night, and thewheels seemed to be grinding over her crushed heart.
It was late. An old moon, misshapen and pale, shone low down over adark, rugged horizon. Clouds hid the stars. The desert void seemedweirdly magnified by the wan light, and all that shadowy waste, silent,lonely, bleak, called out to Allie Lee the desolation of her soul. Forwhat had she been saved? The train creaked on, and every foot added toher woe. Her unquenchable spirit, pure as a white flame that had burnedso wonderfully through the months of her peril, flickered now that herperil ceased to be. She had no fount of emotion left to draw upon, elseshe would have hated this creaking train.
It moved on. And there loomed bold outlines of rock and ridge familiarto her. They had been stamped upon her memory by the strain of herlonely wanderings along that very road. She knew every rod of the way,dark, lonely, wild as it was. In the midst of that stark space lay thespot where Benton had been. A spot lost in the immensity of the desert.If she had been asleep she would have awakened while passing there.There was not a light. Flat patches and pale gleams, a long, wan lengthof bare street, shadows everywhere--these marked Benton's grave.
Allie stared with strained eyes. They were there--in theblackness--those noble men who had died for her in vain. No--not invain! She breathed a prayer for them--a word of love for Larry. Larry,the waster of life, yet t
he faithful, the symbol of brotherhood. As longas she lived she would see him stalk before her with his red, blazingfire, his magnificent effrontery, his supreme will. He, who had been thesoul of chivalry, the meekest of men before a woman, the inheritor ofa reverence for womanhood, had ruthlessly shot out of his way thatwonderful white-armed Beauty Stanton.
She, too, must lie there in the shadow. Allie shivered with the cooldesert wind that blew in her face from the shadowy spaces. She shut hereyes to hide the dim passing traces of terrible Benton and the darknessthat hid the lonely graves.
The train moved on and on, leaving what had been Benton far behind; andonce more Allie opened her weary eyes to the dim, obscure reaches of thedesert. Her heart beat very slowly under its leaden weight, itsendless pang. Her blood flowed at low ebb. She felt the long-forgottenrecurrence of an old morbid horror, like a poison lichen fastening uponthe very spring of life. It passed and came again, and left heronce more. Her thoughts wandered back along the night track she hadtraversed, until again her ears were haunted by that strange sound whichhad given Roaring City its name. She had been torn away from hope, love,almost life itself. Where was Neale? He had turned from her, obedientto Allison Lee and the fatal complexity and perversenes's of life. Thevindication of her spiritual faith and the answer to her prayers layin the fact that she had been saved; but rather than to be here in thiscar, daughter of a rich father, but separated from Neale, she would havepreferred to fill one of the nameless graves in Benton.
