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THE TRAGEDY
OF
WILD RIVER VALLEY
BY
MARTHA FINLEY
AUTHOR OF "SIGNING THE CONTRACT," "THE ELSIE BOOKS," ETC., ETC., ETC.
NEW YORK DODD, MEAD & COMPANY PUBLISHERS
------------------------------------------------------------------------
COPYRIGHT, 1893,
BY
DODD, MEAD & COMPANY. [All rights reserved.]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE TRAGEDY OF WILD RIVER VALLEY.
CHAPTER I.
Along a quiet road a man was walking at a steady, swinging pace. He wasabove the medium height, strongly built, and his erect carriage bespokehim one accustomed to military drill, while the knapsack swung over hisshoulder and the blue overcoat on his arm seemed to indicate that hewas one of the returning veterans of the lately disbanded Union army.
His face, young and strongly Celtic in feature, was not unhandsome,though marred by a sinister expression. It was that of a bold, bad manon the alert to better his own fortunes without regard to the rights ofothers; and as he pressed onward he sent many a covetous glance towardthe comfortable farmhouses, orchards, and rich harvest fields on eitherhand.
At length, turning aside from the main road and making his way througha bit of woods, he paused in front of a rude cabin standing in a potatopatch, enclosed by a rough, zigzag rail-fence. An old man in patched,worn, and by no means clean garments sat on the door-step smoking adirty pipe.
His wife stood just behind him with her knitting, a coarse woollenstocking, in her hands. She threw it from her as the traveller openedthe gate, and with a wild cry, "It's me son! me bye Phalim come hometill his mither at last!" rushed out and threw herself upon his breast,weeping for very joy.
He returned her embrace with ardor almost equal to her own, filialaffection so softening his countenance that the evil look was banishedfor the moment.
The old man rose with trembling eagerness and grasped his son's hand."An' it's yersilf, lad!" he cried. "Thank the blessed Vargin an' allthe howly saints that ye've come back till yer mither an' me alive an'well afther all the fightin' ye've been in!"
There were rapid questions and answers, knapsack and overcoat werebestowed within the cabin, a chair or two were brought out into theshade before the door, and with a pipe apiece and a bottle of whiskeythe three made themselves comfortable, while Phelim gave an account ofhis wanderings and exploits, inventing, embellishing, or suppressingoccurrences as suited his fancy.
"An' have yees made yer fortin, Phalim, me lad?" queried his mother,regarding him with a look of maternal pride and fondness.
"Not jist yit, ould lady," he answered, with an unpleasant laugh;"but," pulling out a handful of gold and silver coins and a roll ofbank-notes, "here's the beginnin' o't."
She reached out an eager hand, while her old eyes reflected thecovetous gleam in his. "Ye'll share wid yer ould fayther and mither,Phalim, me darlint?"
"Wan o' these days maybe," he said, returning the money to his pocket."I'm goin' intil a line av business that'll pay; an' I'll have yeessoon livin' in betther style," he said, with a contemptuous glance attheir mean and squalid surroundings.
"Them's not all sodger's wages, me lad," remarked the old man, with aknowing look.
"Did yees iver hear o' bounty-jumpin'?" returned his son, with a coarselaugh. "It's been a dangerous business, but, faith, a payin' wan, too;an' a smart chap cud foind chances now an' agin to hilp hisself amangthe rebs an' the wounded."
"An' Phalim wasn't the bye to neglict his chances; was ye, lad?"chuckled the old father.
"Niver a bit o't, dad; an' it's mesilf, Phalim O'Rourke, as manes to bea moighty rich man wan o' these days. Me gurrul, Belinda, shall roideintil her coach an' wear her foine goold ornaments an' her silks an'satins wid the best."
But observing significant glances passing between the old people, whilehis mother took her pipe from her mouth and shook her head ruefully,"What's wrong?" he demanded, the color paling on his sunburnt cheek;"don't tell me annything's happened till her, the purtiest and swatestgurrul in Ameriky!"
At that his mother burst out into an angry denunciation of the girl;she was unworthy of his love; she was faithless; she had been marriedfor a year to an old farmer living some miles away. The man was welloff, and his money, house, and land had bought the silly, faithlesscreature.
Phelim's face grew white with disappointment and rage as he listened tothe tale; he clinched his fists and swore with horrible oaths that hewould be revenged upon them both. He would shoot the old man dead inhis tracks and blow out the brains of the faithless girl.
"Aisy, aisy, Phalim, me darlint! don't yees be afther runnin' yer neckintil a halter for the loikes av thim, the warthless varmints,"returned his mother, alarmed at his vehemence.
"Sorra a bit o' that same," he growled; "there's niver a bit o' hangin'in this State."
"Eh! no; are yees sure o' that same?" she exclaimed, in surprise. "An'what fur wadn't they be for takin' the loives o' thim as takes otherfolk's?"
"It's agin the law," he answered, shortly.
"State's prison for life's near about as bad as swingin'," suggestedthe old man.
"But while there's life there's hope," remarked his son, significantly;"hope o' breakin' jail or being pardoned out; an' it's mesilf as wadn'tbe afeared to take me chance o' one or t'other."
"Ye wuz always a brave bye an' a lucky wan, Phalim," was his mother'scomment as she rose and set about preparing the evening meal.
When the hour for retiring came Phelim declined to sleep in the house,averring that long use had made mother earth a more comfortable couchto him than the softest of beds, and taught him that he could breathemore freely under the open sky than beneath any roof. Spreading hisarmy blanket under a tree some hundreds of yards distant from thecabin, he threw himself down upon it and fell asleep.
Hours passed on, while all was quiet save the murmur of a brook near athand and the rustle of the night wind in the treetops; then a shrillwhistle roused him.
He started up and listened. It came again, louder, shriller thanbefore. He answered it, and moved swiftly in the direction of thesound, which seemed to come from the road from which he had yesterdayturned aside to gain his father's dwelling. It was long past midnight,but darkness still brooded over the land, and few were abroad savethose bent upon evil deeds. To that class belonged Phelim and those whohad summoned him to their aid. In the shadow of the trees bordering theroadside lurked three men awaiting the coming of their leader; for suchPhelim was.
"Where are yees, byes?" he asked in an undertone as he drew cautiouslynear.
"Here, sor," replied a suppressed voice, in as rich a brogue as his own.
The three joined him, and a whispered conference ensued, the chiefspeaker being one who answered to the name of Teddy McManus. He wasdescribing a country-seat, the situation of doors and windows,arrangement and contents of its lower rooms. "We'll git in aisy," hesaid; "wan o' thim kitchin doors ain't got no bolt at all--nothin' buta common lock; an' a wire'll turn the kay an' let us in as aisy as themasther hissil
f walks intil the front door wid his latch-kay. An' thinit's all plain sailin'; dinin'-room nixt, solid siller a plenty on thesideboard; beyont that, jist acrost the hall's the lib'ry, where hekapes his money."
"But where he won't kape it much longer," put in one of the others.
"We'll do oor indivors to relave him o't the noight, if that's yerwull, captain," continued Teddy's rough voice.
"Yis, if yees are all agraable. What's yer wull, Gotlieb? an' yours,Pat?"
"I dinks we goes; and we petter makes haste," answered the first.
Patrick echoed the sentiment, and they set off at once, walking rapidlyin a direction opposite to that from which Phelim had come some hoursago.
They were armed with pistols and knives, and carried with them a darklantern and a full set of burglars' tools.
When the family at Walnut Hill rose from that night's slumbers it wasto find that butter, bread, meat, and other edibles had disappearedfrom spring-house and pantry; also all the silver ware from thedining-room; and that the secretary in the library had been robbed ofseveral hundred dollars in gold and silver, bank-notes, and UnitedStates bonds.
The Tragedy of Wild River Valley Page 1
