by Max Brand
CHAPTER XX
FULL DRESS
In the heart of that valley two roads crossed. Many a year before aman with some imagination and illimitable faith was moved by thecrossing of those roads to build a general merchandise store.
Time justified his faith, in a small way, and now McGuire's store wasfamed for leagues and leagues about, for he dared to take chances withall manner of novelties, and the curious, when their pocketbooks werefull, went to McGuire's to find inspiration.
Business was dull this night, however; there was not a single patron atthe bar, and the store itself was empty, so he went to put out the biggasoline lamp which hung from the ceiling in the center of the room,and was on the ladder, reaching high above his head, when a singularchill caught him in the center of his plump back and radiated from thatspot in all directions, freezing his blood. He swallowed the lump inhis throat and with his arms still stretched toward the lamp he turnedhis head and glanced behind.
Two men stood watching him from a position just inside the door. Howthey had come there he could never guess, for the floor creaked at thelightest step. Nevertheless, these fantoms had appeared silently, andnow they must be dealt with. He turned on the ladder to face them, andstill he kept the arms automatically above his head while he descendedto the floor.
However, on a closer examination, these two did not seem particularlyformidable. They were both quite young, one with dark-red hair and asomewhat overbright eye; the other was hardly more than a boy, veryslender, delicately made, the sort of handsome young scoundrel whomwomen cannot resist.
Having made these observations McGuire ventured to lower his arms byjerks; nothing happened; he was safe. So he vented his feelings byscowling on the strangers.
"Well," he snapped, "what's up? Too late for business. I'm closin'up."
The two quite disregarded him. Their eyes were wandering calmly aboutthe place, and now they rested on the pride of McGuire's store. Thefigure of a man in evening clothes, complete from shoes to gloves andsilk hat, stood beside a girl of wax loveliness. She wore a low-cutgown of dark green, and over her shimmering, cold white shoulders wasdraped a scarf of dull gold. Above, a sign said: "You only get marriedonce; why don't you do it up right?"
"That," said the taller stranger, "ought to do very nicely for us, eh?"
And the younger replied in a curiously light, pleasant voice: "Justwhat we want. But how'll I get away with all that fluffy stuff, eh?"
The elder explained: "We're going to a bit of a dance and we'll takethose evening clothes."
The heart of McGuire beat faster and his little eyes took in thestrangers again from head to foot.
"They ain't for sale," he said. "They's just samples. But right overhere--"
"This isn't a question of selling," said the red-headed man. "We'vecome to accept a little donation, McGuire."
The storekeeper grew purple and white in patches. Still there was noshow of violence, no display of guns; he moved his hand toward his ownweapon, and still the strangers merely smiled quietly on him. Hedecided that he had misunderstood, and went on: "Over here I got a lineof goods that you'll like. Just step up and--"
The younger man, frowning now, replied: "We don't want to see any moreof your junk. The clothes on the models suit us all right. Slip 'emoff, McGuire."
"But--" began McGuire and then stopped.
His first suspicion returned with redoubled force; above all, that headof dark red hair made him thoughtful. He finished hoarsely: "What thehell's this?"
"Why," smiled the taller man, "you've never done much in the interestsof charity, and now's a good time for you to start. Hurry up, McGuire;we're late already!"
There was a snarl from the storekeeper, and he went for his gun, butsomething in the peculiarly steady eyes of the two made him stop withhis fingers frozen hard around the butt. A mighty sickness overwhelmedMcGuire, and before his eyes there swam a dark mist.
He whispered: "You're Red Pierre?"
"The clothes," repeated Pierre sternly, "on the jump, McGuire."
And with a jump McGuire obeyed. His hands trembled so that he couldhardly remove the scarf from the shoulders of the model, but afterwardfear made his fingers supple. He lifted up the green gown; white,filmy clothes showed underneath.
There came a sharp cry from Jack: "Turn away, Pierre; turn quick anddon't dare to look. I'll take care of McGuire."
And Pierre le Rouge turned, grinning. When she told him that he couldlook again, he found her with a bright spot of color in either cheek,and her eyes avoided his. It thrilled Pierre, and yet it troubled him,for she seemed changed, all at once, less of a comrade, and strangelyaloof. McGuire was doing up the clothes in two bundles.
Jacqueline took one of them and Pierre the other under his left arm;with his right hand he drew out some yellow coins.
"I didn't buy these clothes because I didn't have the time to dickerwith you, McGuire. I've heard you talk prices before, you know. Buthere's what the clothes are worth to us."
And into the quaking hands of McGuire he poured a chinking stream ofgold pieces.
Relief, amazement, and a very wholesome fear struggled in the face ofMcGuire as he saw himself threefold overpaid. At that little yellowheap he remained staring, unheeding the sound of the retreatingoutlaws. At it he still stared with fascinated eyes while the doorbanged and the clatter of galloping hoofs began.
"It ain't possible," he said at last, "thieves have begun to pay."
His eyes sought the ceiling.
"So that's Red Pierre?" said McGuire.
As for Pierre and Jacqueline, they were instantly safe in the blackheart of the mountains. Many a mile of hard riding lay before them,however, and already the dance must be nearly ready to begin in theCrittenden schoolhouse. There was no road, not even a trail that theycould follow. They had never even seen the Crittenden schoolhouse;they knew its location only by vague descriptions.
But they had ridden a thousand times in places far more bewildering andless known to them. Like all true denizens of the mountain-desert,they had a sense of direction as uncanny as that of an Eskimo. Nowthey struck off confidently through the dark and trailed up and downthrough the mountains until they reached a hollow in the center ofwhich shone a group of dim lights. It was the schoolhouse near theBarnes place, the scene of the dance.
So they turned back behind the hills and in the covert of a group ofcottonwoods they kindled two more little fires, shading them on threesides with rocks and leaving them open for the sake of light on thefourth.
They worked busily for a time, without a word spoken by either of them.The only sound was the rustling of Jacqueline's stolen silks and thepurling of a small stream of water near them, some meager spring.
But presently: "P-P-Pierre, I'm f-freezing."
He himself was numbed by the chill air and paused in the task ofthrusting a leg into the trousers, which persisted in tangling andtwisting under his foot.
"So'm I. It's c-c-cold as the d-d-d-devil."
"And these--th-things--aren't any thicker than spider webs."
"Wait. I'll build you a great big fire."
And he scooped up a number of dead twigs.
"P-P-Pierre! D-d-d-don't you d-d-dare c-come in s-sight of m-me."
"D-d-damn it! I don't want to see you."
"P-Pierre! Aren't you ash-sh-sh-shamed to talk like that?"
"Jack, this damned collar won't button."
"K-k-eep t-t-t-trying."
"Come help me."
"Pierre! How can I come dressed like th-th-this?"
"I'm n-n-not going to the dance."
"P-P-P-Pierre!"
"I'm not."
"Then I am."
"W-w-w-without me?"
"Y-y-yes."
"Jack, you're a flirt."
"I hate you, Pierre!"
"Thank G-G-G-God! The collar's on."
"I can't tie this--th-th-thing."
"I'll come help you."
"N-n-n-no!"
"What is it?"
"The thing that g-g-goes around me."
"C-c-c-corset?"
A silence.
"Pierre!"
"W-well?"
"It's t-t-tied!"
"But this damned tie isn't!"
"I'll do it for you."
And then: "N-n-no. Go b-b-b-back!"
He fixed the eye-glass on his nose and laughed at the thought ofhimself.
"Pierre."
"Well?"
"I've got the dress on."
"Then I can come?"
He was warm enough now, with the suit on and even the tie knotted,after a fashion.
"No. I st-t-till feel just n-n-n-naked, Pierre."
"Is there something missing?"
"Yes. Around the shoulders."
"Take the scarf."
There was an interlude of more rustling, then:
"P-P-Pierre."
"Well?"
"I wish I had a m-m-m-mirror."
"Jack, are you vain?"
A cry of delight answered him. He threw caution to the winds andadvanced on her. He found her kneeling above a pool of water fed bythe soft sliding little stream from the spring. With one hand she helda burning twig by way of a torch, and with the other she patted herhair into shape and finally thrust the comb into the glittering, heavycoils.
She started, as if she felt his presence without looking, and kneltwith body erect.
"P-P-Pierre!"
"Yes?"
"C-c-c-close your eyes."
He obeyed.
"Look!"
She stood with the torch high overhead, and he saw a beauty so gloriousthat he closed his eyes involuntarily and still he saw the vision inthe dull-green gown, with the scarf of old gold about her shoulders andthe skin peering out here and there, dazzling white. And there weretwo lights, the barbaric red of the jewels in her hair, and the blackshimmer of her eyes. He drew back a step more. It was a picture to belooked at from a distance.
She ran to him with a cry of dismay:
"Pierre, what's wrong with me?"
His arms went round her of their own accord. It was the only placethey could go. And all this fragrant, marvelous beauty was held in thecircle of his will.
"It isn't that, but you're so wonderful, Jack, so glorious, that Ihardly know you. You're like a different person."
He felt the warm body trembling, and the thought that it was notentirely from the cold set his heart beating like a trip-hammer. Whathe felt was so strange to him that he stepped back in a vague alarm,and then laughed. She stood with a half whimsical half expectant smile.
"Jack, how am I to risk you in the arms of all the strangers in thatdance?"
The light of Alexander when he dreamed of new worlds to conquer cameinto those wide black eyes.
"It's late. Listen!"
She cupped a hand at her ear and leaned to listen. Up from the hollowbelow them came a faint strain of music, a very light sound that wasdrowned a moment later by the solemn rushing of the wind through thegreat trees above them.
They looked up of one accord.
"Pierre, what was that?"
"Nothing; the wind in the branches, that's all."
"It was a hushing sound. It was like--it was like a warning, almost."
But he was already turning away, and she followed him hastily.
