The Tragedy of Wild River Valley

by Martha Finley

  CHAPTER IV.

  The robbery at Walnut Hill caused a good deal of excitement inPrairieville and for miles up and down Wild River Valley, but no clewto the perpetrators could be discovered.

  O'Rourke and his confederates scattered themselves about for the time,seeking work here and there among the farmers, with whom it was a busyseason, behaved through the day like industrious working-men who had nothought of anything but earning an honest living by the sweat of theirbrows; and if they met at night while others slept, to hatch theirschemes of villainy, it was always in some lonely and unfrequentedspot--the depths of a forest, a cave among the hills, or by theriver-side, far from any dwelling. Thus cunningly they continued toelude suspicion for weeks and months, till at length it began to besaid that the burglars must have been strangers to the community, whohad committed the one act and then fled from the vicinity.

  But when the harvest was garnered, and some farmers, having sold theirwheat, were popularly supposed to have money in their houses, thesewere entered and rifled night after night--now here, now there, atplaces miles apart; now near Prairieville, now five, ten, or fifteenmiles away, either up or down the valley; and anon, the villains,emboldened by success in eluding justice, ventured occasionally even toenter the town and rob stores and dwellings where they had any reasonto expect to find rich booty.

  Excitement and indignation grew apace as it became evident to all thatthe valley was infested by an organized band of desperadoes.

  Bangs, who was a prominent lawyer in Prairieville, very generallyfeared and disliked, tried again and again to fix suspicion upon BarneyNolan as one of the gang, but without success, as Nolan was liked inthe community, being entirely inoffensive, good-tempered, andindustrious.

  Though a bachelor, Lawyer Bangs owned and lived in one of the finestdwelling-houses in the town. He had it very handsomely furnished, too,especially his parlor, bedroom, and private office.

  His sister, Mrs. Wiley, kept house for him, and ruled with a high handover her husband, an orphan niece, who was so unfortunate as to have noother home, and the maid of all work; the last named, however, beingtreated far more leniently than the other two, because she might goaway if too hardly dealt with.

  Mrs. Wiley dressed richly and sometimes wore expensive jewelry. LawyerBangs liked a display of solid silver on his table; he was said to havebrought home a quantity of it when he returned from the war; howprocured was best known to himself; so that there was probably more totempt burglars in that house than in any other private dwelling of thetown, and it stood upon the outskirts, apparently more unprotected thanmost; yet, strange to say, it was not entered. Phelim O'Rourke, itwould seem, had neglected to pay it a nocturnal visit, but he had beenthere frequently in broad daylight, closeted for an hour or more withthe lawyer in his office.

  But Phelim's name had not been connected with the burglaries; and noone denounced the scoundrels more loudly and indignantly than Bangs--orthe colonel, as he preferred to be called, though he had resigned hiscommission with the close of the war.

  Both he and Captain Charlton had been during all these weeks veryfrequent visitors at Lakeside. The latter had become a great favoritewith all the family; his coming was ever hailed with delight by Ronaldand the little ones; the grandmother invariably welcomed him with asmile and cordial grasp of the hand; and though Miriam's greeting wassomewhat more formal and distant, the brightening of her eye at hisapproach and the slight deepening of the rose on her cheek did notbetoken dislike or even indifference to her brother's friend.

  Bangs, on the other hand, could not but perceive that his visits werebarely tolerated. The children shunned him, and Miriam did the samewhenever she could without absolute rudeness.

  It fired him with resentment and hatred toward Charlton, whom he lookedupon as a favored rival, and filled him with a dogged determination towin the girl by fair means or by foul; she should marry him--willingly,if she would; but her hand he would have, whether her heart went withit or not.

  Having come to this determination, he forthwith set his wits to work tofind means to accomplish his end.

  "If I could get a hold upon the property," he said to himself, "thatwould be the likeliest thing to bring her around. She's attached to theplace; still more to that crippled brother and the little ones, andwould sooner sacrifice herself than see them come to want. Yes, thatwill be my very best chance. I wonder if they have the farm quite clearof incumbrance, and if the title is without a flaw? I must find out."

  It was one evening, while on his way home from a very unsatisfactorycall at Lakeside, that Bangs held this conversation with himself. Hehad that day engaged a man to attend to his horse, and as he rode up tohis stable the fellow stepped out and took the bridle.

  Bangs alighted, and saying, "Rub her down well, O'Rourke, and give hera good feed of oats when she has cooled off," he walked into the house.

  The sound of repeated vigorous blows, mingled with sobs and cries ofpain, fright and entreaty in a shrill female voice, "Oh, Aunt Dora, Iwill be good! I will be good!" met his ear as he entered.

  "What's all this about?" he growled, throwing open the door of thesitting-room, where a short, stout, broad-faced woman was belaboringwith a rattan a thin, pale, under-grown girl of fourteen, who, heldfast in the strong grasp of her tormentor, was vainly struggling to getfree, and as vainly endeavoring to dodge the furious storm of blowsrapidly descending upon her shoulders and arms.

  "Oh, Uncle Avery, save me! she's killing me!" shrieked the girl.

  "No interference; she richly deserves all she's getting!" exclaimed theoperator between her set teeth, and turning on him a pair of light blueeyes, glittering with passion, as he strode across the room towardherself and the victim of her rage.

  "What has she done now?" he demanded. "You wear yourself out in beatingher, Dora; and I don't see that she's a whit the better for it. Come,come; whatever she's done she's had enough for this time, and I want totalk with you."

  At that Mrs. Wiley released the girl, who threw herself, trembling andsobbing, on a lounge.

  Bangs glanced at her half pityingly, half contemptuously; then turningto his sister, "Were you going out?" he asked. "I see you have on yourbonnet and shawl."

  "No; I've just come home from church; where, by the way, you ought tohave been with me."

  "Not I, indeed," he returned, sneeringly. "I have no religiouscharacter to keep up; never made any pretensions in that line; onesaint in the family is sufficient--especially of the kind I'm mostfamiliar with."

  "I fully understand your insinuations," she said, her eyes flashingwith anger; "but I shall do my duty by Mary, nevertheless. I must helpher to conquer that dreadful temper of hers."

  "'Example is better than precept,'" he quoted, significantly; "but whatparticular exhibition of temper had she given to entitle her to sothorough a flogging?--a punishment, by the way, rather unsuited, in myhumble opinion, to a girl of her years."

  "It's the only thing that has any effect," Mrs. Wiley asserted, withdecision. "I reproved her for mislaying her gloves (she had laid themon the table in the parlor instead of carrying them up to her room andputting them in their proper place), and you should have seen the scowlshe gave me when I spoke to her about it."

  "Well, well, enough said, Dora; though it strikes me that if Iprofessed to be a saint, and had just come home from church, I'd feelcalled upon to exercise some patience with the faults and follies ofyouth. But come into my private office, for, as I said, I want a littletalk with you on a matter of business."

  Having led the way, and seen her dumpy figure comfortably ensconced inthe large, leather-cushioned arm-chair, which usually held his ownspare person, he opened the conference with an abrupt query.

  "You are intimately acquainted at Lakeside, are you not? and esteemedthere as a burning and shining light in the church?"

  "How should I know whether they think me that or not?" she asked,reddening and tossing her head.

  "Well, answer to
the best of your knowledge."

  "We've not visited much; but only because we lived so far apart, andare all busy with our own affairs and church work. They know I'm alwaysactive in those things; and I presume they have every confidence in mypiety--as most people have who know me."

  "But not too well--eh, Dora?" he supplemented, with a sneer.

  "Avery, if you have nothing but insults for me, I'll go back to my ownpart of the house," she said, rising with dignity, while her faceflushed hotly and her eyes sparkled with anger.

  "Nonsense! we understand each other, Dora," he returned, with anunpleasant laugh, as he pushed her back into her seat--not roughly."Stay and hear me out. I think you'll find it to your advantage to dothat and something besides, which I am going to propose."

  She yielded, though ungraciously and with a frowning face.

  He told her of his purpose to wed Miriam Heath, and the smallencouragement he had to hope she would ever become his bride of her ownfree will.

  Mrs. Wiley's face grew darker as he proceeded. "Why do you seek her,then?" she asked in impatience. "She is no such prize that--"

  "Pardon me, madam, if I venture to differ from you there," heinterrupted, drawing himself up with a haughty air. "Miriam Heath is anuncommonly fine girl in both looks and character. Where, let me ask,could you find another who could and would do what she has done--carryon a farm and support a family in comfort?"

  "I don't see what you want to marry for; you are much better off as youare," remarked his sister, ignoring his query.

  "There, again, your opinion and mine fail to coincide. I tell you, I amdetermined to make Miriam Heath my wife--willingly, if possible;otherwise unwillingly."

  "I don't see how you can force her into it."

  "I think I do; and I want your help in carrying out my scheme." He thenunfolded his plans, and told her her part must be to cultivate theacquaintance of the family, and when an opportunity offered to worm outof Mrs. Heath the desired information. "Remember, she is the one," hesaid in conclusion; "the girl and Ronald would be too sharp to give it;the children are too young to know anything about such matters; but theold lady, of course, knows everything; and she is very simple-hearted,frank, and doubtless has entire confidence in you."

  Mrs. Wiley demurred; was not sure it would be quite right to do what hewished--so she said; but the truth of the matter was that she did notwant him to marry; for should he remain single, and she outlive him,she would be his natural heir.

  He read her motives, and set them aside by remarking that if he couldget the desired hold upon Miriam, and she refuse in spite of all togive him her hand, he would add Lakeside to his property.

  The pale blue eyes opposite him brightened visibly. "And we might moveout there," she observed, with ill-concealed eagerness. "It's a lovelyplace. I have always thought the Heaths very fortunate in owning it.Well, Avery, every one must look after his own interests. I'll do asyou wish."

  "That's right, Dora," he returned with satisfaction; "but let mecaution you not to broach the subject too soon, lest the old ladyshould think you prying and be put upon her guard."

  "You may trust me to play my cards skilfully," she returned, bridling.

  "And not to let the grass grow under your feet? Love is impatient, youknow."

  "Greed also," she added, with a malicious smile. "No; there shall be nounnecessary delay. Lend me Phelim and the horse and buggy to-morrow,and I'll drive over and open proceedings by making a call."

  "They are all at your service whenever wanted for that purpose. You'lldo, Dora."

  Mrs. Wiley drove over to Lakeside the next afternoon. It was a bleakNovember day, and as she alighted at the gate Phelim growled out aprotest against "bein' left to sit waitin' out here in the cowld."

  "Keep yourself warm by exercise," she said, sharply. "You can fastenthe horse, and pace back and forth in the path along the fence sidethere."

  Bertie opened the door in answer to her ring, and ushered her into thesitting-room, where Ronald, reclining in a large arm-chair, was readingaloud to his grandmother, who sat placidly knitting by his side. Miriamwas not at home, as Mrs. Wiley knew, having passed her in the town.

  The old lady rose with a polite greeting to the visitor, while Bertieset a chair for her, then returned to his play--helping Olive to buildblock houses in a corner of the room.

  Mrs. Wiley was very sweet and condescending (how Ronald detested herfor that last!), made a few commonplace remarks on the weather and thecrops, then condoled with the lad on his protracted sufferings, andwith Mrs. Heath because of the care that devolved upon her in therearing of her grandchildren.

  "I know how to sympathize with you," she sighed, "having burdenedmyself with the bringing up of an orphan niece. It is a greatresponsibility. I feel that she can never repay me for all I am doingfor her; but I look to the Lord for my reward."

  "And I am sure, if you are doing it for His sake, He will not leave youunrewarded," returned the old lady, her eyes glistening. "But, indeed,I cannot rate so highly my poor services to my son's children, andshall feel amply recompensed if they grow up to be good and usefulmembers of society. In fact, Mrs. Wiley, they repay me now by theirdutiful and affectionate behavior."

  "Oh, grandma, you put too low an estimate upon your good deeds!"remarked Ronald, half playfully, half tenderly.

  "Child, I have never done any worth the name," she returned, withunaffected humility.

  Mrs. Wiley changed the subject. Turning to Ronald, she spoke in glowingterms of the debt of gratitude owed by the country to her "brave boysin blue," the noble fellows who had fought and bled to save the Union(she must say it, even though her dear brother Avery was one of them),and she would try to do a little toward cancelling her own share of theobligation to Ronald by sending over some little delicacy now and thento tempt his sickly appetite; she was reckoned a good cook--she did notsay it boastingly--though, of course, not better than his owngrandmother and sister; but something sent in from a neighbor's wasappreciated by an invalid just because it came from abroad.

  Ronald thanked her, not too warmly, and added that he could not haveher put herself to so much trouble; his appetite was not bad, and homecooking really suited him better than any other.

  At that her cheek flushed, and for an instant she looked ill pleased;then laughing lightly, she remarked that no one ought to blame him forhis partiality to those who were so very near and dear. Yet, as it wasoften desirable and beneficial to vary the diet, she would venture todo as she had proposed. It would be no trouble at all; on the contrary,a real pleasure, for she loved to do good and to give.

  "But we of this family are not in need, madam," he returned, his toneslightly sarcastic, "and your alms were better bestowed upon those whoare."

  "Oh, fie! you must not be so proud," she said, adopting a sportivetone, though evidently with an effort. "You are a reader, I see," sheadded, glancing at the book he had laid aside on her entrance. "I hopeyou don't neglect your Bible?"

  "No, he does not," said his grandmother, answering for him; "Ronald isa good boy."

  "I rejoice to hear it," was the gracious rejoinder, "and I shall domyself the pleasure of bringing him some good books, of which I keep asupply constantly on hand on purpose to lend or give where I think theymay prove useful."

  Ronald could not bring himself to thank her; but his grandmother did itfor him, and with a parting nod and smile, and an injunction to him totake care of himself and get well as fast as possible, the visitor tookher departure.

  "What a good woman she is!" Mrs. Heath said, coming back from seeingher off. "What an earnest, faithful, working Christian! always at theprayer-meeting, she tells me; always engaged heart and soul in somegood work. I wish I were more like her," and she sighed involuntarilyas she resumed her knitting and her rocker by the side of her boy.

  "And I do not, grandma," he returned, with warmth; "you would not behalf so dear and lovable as you are."

  "My dear boy, how can you say it?" she asked, in mild surprise.


  "Grandma, doesn't the Bible say it is not he that commendeth himselfwho is approved, but whom the Lord commendeth? And why does that womanput on such airs of condescension toward you? She is not your superiorin any respect; no, nor half your equal in very many."