by Harold Titus
CHAPTER XXVII
THE LAST STRAW
It was the first day that Tom Beck could lie on his back. For weeks hehad lain on his face there in the living room of the ranch house,nursed back to health by Jane Hunter's gentle hands. Now the doctor hadturned him over, with the promise that he would not only be sitting upbut walking before long, and the Veterans' Society had been in session.
That was what Two-Bits called it: The Veterans' Society. Everyafternoon they had gathered there, Two-Bits with his slowly healingback, Jimmy Oliver, after his leg had mended and he could hobble with acane, Joe Black, whose arm was just out of its sling and, occasionally,Riley, who rode up the creek holding gingerly his one shoulder, tofight the battle over again.
Summer was ripening and the golden sunlight spilled down onto peacefulmountains from a mighty sweep of sky. A gentle breeze bent the tallcottonwoods, making them whisper, making the birds in their branchessing in lazy contentment. Unmolested cattle ranged in prosperinghundreds. The work was up, fall and beef ride were coming ... and otheryears to bring their toll of happiness and well being, for after itsone paroxysm of strife the country had settled back to easier ways, toa better, more wholesome manner of living.
There were memories, true, kept fresh by such things as this Veterans'Society, and the three graves in Devil's Hole where rested the bodiesof Sam McKee, Dad Hepburn and Dick Hilton, for there was none to claimwhat remained of them. Under the cottonwoods slept Baldy Bowen, hisgrave surrounded by white pickets and his head marked by a stone.
But even now those memories were less poignant than they had been weeksbefore. Interest in the range war was waning and though it would betalked about across bar and bunk house stove for many winters thethrill of it was gone ... as the horror of it was largely gone forthose who had suffered most.
Two-Bits had lingered after the departure of the rest and sat in achair beside Tom's cot. Beck's face was pale, but his eyes were aliveand as of old, evidence of satisfactory convalescence.
"So you think there _is_ a hell, Tommy?" he asked.
Beck grunted assent.
"Yeah. I know there's a hell, Two-Bits."
"My brother always said there was. He said it was an awful place,Tommy. I'll bet two bits th' old Devil was sorry to see Hepburn an'Hilton an' Sam McKee comin' in that mornin'! I'll bet he says tohisself: 'Here's some right smart competition for me!'"
Beck laughed silently.
"Sometimes I get feelin' mighty sorry for 'em," the lanky cow-boycontinued. "I use to hate Webb somethin' awful an' I sure did thinkHepburn was about th' lowest critter that walked.... God ought to 'vemade him crawl! Sam McKee never was no good. He was th' meanest man Iever saw....
"But, shucks, Tommy, I hate to think of 'em bein' blistered all th'time!"
"That ain't the kind of hell I referred to, Two-Bits. I don't know muchabout that kind, with brimstone and fire and all the rest....
"There's a hell, though, Tommy. It's when a man lets the weakness inhim run off with what strength he has, when he don't trust those whodeserve to be trusted, when he's suspicious of those his heart tellshim are above suspicion."
Two-Bits swallowed, setting his Adam's apple leaping. His eyes widened.
"Gosh, you talk just like th' Reverend!" he said, and Beck laugheduntil his wound hurt him.
"Well, if they ain't in hell, they're under an awful lot of rocks," headded. "That's all I care, to have 'em out of her way."
"Yes, it makes it smoother. Real folks, men who deserve the name, won'tdo anything but trust her and help her."
"Not after the way she made 'em come out of their holes! That trialmust've been grand, Tommy! I'd 've give two bits to seen it an' heardit!
"She won't have no trouble no more. Everybody knows she's got more headthan most men on this here creek. But she's got somethin' else! She'sgot a ... a gentle way with her that makes everybody want to do thingsfor her.
"Look at how she treated Cole. Why, anybody else 'd run him off! 'Steadof that she gets Bobby Cole to file on that claim an' helps 'em tobuild a good house an' wants 'em to stay. You can bet your life that HC cattle'll get water there now. That catamount ... hell, she'd_carry_ it for 'em if there wasn't any other way to get it to 'em!"
"Yes, Bobby's changed."
"Should say she is changed! She's got a different look to her, not sohard an' horstile as she used to be; she's plumb doe-cyle now!
"I expect she's glad she didn't kill Hilton. If she hadn't changedshe'd been glad to do it. But, bein' like she is now, she wouldn't wantto hurt nobody.... Unless that somebody wanted to hurt Miss Hunter."
His eyes roved off down the road and settled on a swiftly moving horse,the great sorrel who was bringing Jane Hunter back to the ranch after aride far down the creek.
"Speakin' of Hell, Tommy: there mebby ain't any like the Reverendclaims there is, but there's a Heaven! I'll bet two bits there is! I'llgamble on it because I know an angel that stepped right down thatthere, now, solid gold ladder....
"She's comin' up th' road.... An' Mister Two-Bits Beal, _esquire_,is goin' to drift out of here!"
With a broad wink, which set a suggestion of a flush into Beck'scheeks, he took his hat and departed.
* * * * *
Jane entered, drawing the pin from her hat; then stopped on thethreshold with a cry.
"Oh, the doctor's been here!"
"Yes, and he's rolled the old carcass over," Beck answered.
She stood looking down at him for a moment and then dropped quickly toher knees.
"It's so good to look into your eyes again," she whispered, and thoughher own eyes were bright there were tears in her voice.
Beck's gaze wavered and he slowly withdrew the hand that she had taken.
"You mustn't look like that!" he said, turning his face from her. "It'smore than I've deserved, it's more than I have a right to!"
She put her hands on his shoulders, gently, bearing no weight uponthem, and said soberly:
"Look at me, Tom Beck!"
He obeyed, rather reluctantly.
"I have waited, oh, so long, to talk to you! I promised the doctor thatnothing should disturb you until you were well. That's one reason why Ibrought you into the house, instead of leaving you with the men: so youcould be quiet.
"But there was another reason, a greater: I wanted you here, in thisroom, in my house, near me, where I could see and feel and help you,because seeing and touching and helping you helped me!
"I needed your help, Tom! I shall always need you near me!"
"Nobody would agree with you," he protested. "You're the most capableman in the country. You sure can look out for yourself."
"But looking out for myself isn't all. That's just a tiny part oflife,"--indicating how small it was with a thumb and fore-finger. "Itbelongs to the side of me which owns this ranch, which is a cattlewoman, which wants to fatten steers and raise calves and prosper....
"There's the other part, the big part, the part that is really worthwhile: It's my heart, Tom. It's my heart that needs you!"
His brows puckered.
"I wish you wouldn't!" he said huskily. "I can't help that part, I hadmy chance ... an' I threw it away."
"And I picked it up! Tom, that morning when you were crawling back fromCathedral Tank, across the desert, I was at the round-up camp. I wentthere to tell you, to make you understand--"
"That's what hurts: that you had to ride thirty miles to tell me, tomake me understand. Why, ma'am, I hadn't any right to have you do thatfor me. It was me who should have come crawlin' to you!"
She took his hand again.
"Look at me!"
"Yes, ma'am," striving to lighten his manner.
"Yes, _Jane!_" she insisted.
"Jane," very softly.
"You are very foolish, sticking to an abstract idea of how you shouldhave conducted yourself. You wanted to die for me once; you want to putme off now because you think you wronged me.
"Don't you see what
a wrong that would be! Don't you see that?"
She leaned forward, hands clasped at her chin, and tears swam upwardinto her eyes.
"I am saying the things I've waited so long to say.
"You have lain here ever since that black night when they carried youin and I had to feel your heart to know whether you lived. I've triedto say nothing that would disturb you, tried to keep your mind off thething that has occupied mine. But I know you've been thinking; I knowyou've been uneasy. I have seen that in the looks, the words, the wayyou've laughed, rather forced and weakly at times. I have known whatyou thought....
"You are very foolish to be concerned with an idea of how you shouldhave conducted yourself. You wanted to die for me once; you want to putme off now because you think you wronged me.
"I am not forgiving you because there is nothing to forgive. My pridewas hurt and by yielding to it I shook your faith in me. It was weakfor me to yield to pride; it was foolish for you to give way tosuspicion. It was not I who yielded, Tom; it was that other girl, thegirl who came to you to be hurt and ridiculed and made strong! And itwas not the Tom Beck who loved me that suspected; it was that otherman, the one who held himself back, who did not take chances, who,perhaps, would have denied himself the finest thing in life if he hadalways walked on ground with which he was familiar....
"And now to carry this breach from the past into the future.... Don'tyou see what a wrong that would be? Don't you see how you would beharming yourself? You, who wanted to die for me, would be refusing tolive for me! And I who need you would walk alone.... Don't you see whata horrible thing that would be to both of us ... my lover?"
She leaned forward, hands clasped at her breast, and the tears swaminto her eyes. She was very beautiful, very gentle and tender, but ashe looked he felt rather than saw the strength that was in her: thecharacter that had stood alone, that had been herself in the face ofthe loss of love and position, and that, by so standing, had triumphed.
For a breathless instant she poised so, with unsteady lips, and she sawthe want come into his face, saw the old reserve, the old resolution topunish himself melt away.
"I want you, Jane!" he whispered.
* * * * *
The evening shadows had come before she rose from her knees and drew upa chair to sit stroking his hand.
His eyes rested on her hungrily and after a time they concentrated onthe locket at her throat.
"Say! Now that you've done me the honor to give me a second chance atlovin' you, there's somethin' I want to ask."
"Ask it."
"What's in that locket?"
She laughed as she caught it in her fingers.
"My luck!"
"I understand that. It brought me luck, too, but there's somethingelse. Won't you tell me?"
She unclasped the trinket and held it in her hand, turning it overslowly. Then she sprung the catch and held it so he could see.
Behind the disc of mica lay a piece of oat straw.
"That is the last straw," she said simply.
He did not understand.
"The one you would not draw that day, which seems so long ago!"
His face brightened.
"You kept it?"
"I clung to it as though it were ... the last straw!
"Why, Tom, can't you see what it has meant? If you had drawn you wouldhave been my foreman. You would have protected me, fought for me, takencare of me. I'd never have been forced to stand alone, never beenforced to try to do something for myself, by myself. Your refusal puton me the responsibility of being a woman or a leech....
"I drew the last straw that day. I drew the responsibility of keepingthe HC on its feet. I feel that I have helped to do that...."
"You have."
"Through sickness and through death, through dark days and storms. Ihave done something! I have walked alone, unaided....
"And I have made you love me, Tom.... _That_ is the biggest thingI have done. To be worthy of your love was my greatest undertaking. Bybeing worthy, by winning you, I have justified my being here, mywalking the earth, my breathing the air...."
"Sho!" he cried in embarrassment, and took the locket and fingered it.
His hand dropped to the blanket and he stared upward as though a freshidea had occurred to him.
"Say, I wonder if the Reverend was a regular preacher?" he asked.
"Why? He was a doer of good works. Why consider his actual standing?"
"Yeah. But I mean, could he marry folks, do you s'pose?"
He looked at her again and in his eyes was that amused twinkle, thelaugh of a man assured, content, self sufficient ... and behind it wasthe tenderness that comes to a strong man's eyes only when he looksupon the woman who has given him love for love.
"If he could he'd be glad to," he said, "and I suspect that he'd throwa little variety into the ceremony ... something, likely, about yourfightin' a good fight!"
THE END
[Transcriber's note: Italicized text is indicated with _underscores_.]
