by Max Brand
CHAPTER XXXI
LAUGHTER
At that Mary, who stood with her hand on the latch, whirled and stoodwide-eyed, her astonishment greater than her fear, for that whispertold her a thousand things.
Through her mind all the time that she stayed in the cabin there hadpassed a curious surmise that this very place might be the covert ofPierre le Rouge--he of the dark red hair and the keen blue eyes. Therewas a fatality about it, for the invisible Power which had led her upthe valley of the Old Crow surely would not make mistakes.
In her search for Pierre, Providence brought her to this place, andProvidence could not be wrong. This, a vague emotion stirring in hersomewhere between reason and the heart, grew to an almost certainknowledge as she heard the whisper, the faint, heartbroken whisper:"Pierre!"
And when she turned to the boy again, noting the shirts and the chapshanging at the wall, she knew they belonged to Pierre as surely as ifshe had seen him hang them there.
The fingers of Jack were twisted around the butt of his revolver, whitewith the intensity of the pressure.
Now he cried: "Get out! You've done your work; get out!"
But Mary stepped straight toward the murderous, pale face.
"I'll stay," she said, "and wait for Pierre."
The boy blanched.
"Stay?" he echoed.
The heart of Mary went out to this trusty companion who feared for hisfriend.
She said gently: "Listen; I've come all this way looking for Pierre,but not to harm him, or to betray him, I'm his friend. Can't you trustme, Jack?"
"Trust you? No more than I'll trust what came with you!"
And the fierce black eyes lingered on Mary and then fled past hertoward the door, as if the boy debated hotly and silently whether ornot it would be better to put an end to this intruder, but stayed hishand, fearing that Power which had followed her up the valley of theOld Crow.
It was that same invisible guardian who made Mary strong now; it waslike the hand of a friend on her shoulder, like the voice of a friendwhispering reassuring words at her ear. She faced those blazing, blackeyes steadily. It would be better to be frank, wholly frank.
"This is the house of Pierre. I know it as surely as if I saw himsitting here now. You can't deceive me. And I'll stay. I'll eventell you why. Once he said that he loved me, Jack, but he left mebecause of a strange superstition; and so I've followed to tell himthat I want to be near no matter what fate hangs over him."
And the boy, whiter still, and whiter, looked at her with clearing,narrowing eyes.
"So you're one of them," said the boy softly; "you're one of the foolswho listen to Red Pierre. Well, I know you; I've known you from theminute I seen you crouched there at the fire. You're the one Pierremet at the dance at the Crittenden schoolhouse. Tell me!"
"Yes," said Mary, marveling greatly.
"And he told you he loved you?"
"Yes."
It was a fainter voice now, and the color was going up her cheeks.
The lad fixed her with his cold scorn and then turned on his heel andslipped into an easy position on the bunk.
"Then wait for him to come. He'll be here before morning."
But Mary followed across the room and touched the shoulder of Jack. Itwas as if she touched a wild wolf, for the lad whirled and struck herhand away in an outburst of silent fury.
"Why shouldn't I stay? He hasn't--he hasn't changed--Jack?"
The insolent black eyes looked up and scanned her slowly from head tofoot. Then he laughed in the same deliberate manner. It was to Maryas if her clothes had been torn from her body and she were exposed tothe bold eyes of a crowd, like a slave put up for sale.
"No, I guess he thinks as much of you now as he ever did."
"You are lying to me," said the girl faintly, but the terror in hereyes said another thing.
"He thinks as much of you as he ever did. He thinks as much of you ashe does of the rest of the soft-handed, pretty-faced fools who listento him and believe him. I suppose----"
He broke off to laugh heartily again, with a jarring, forced note whichescaped Mary.
"I suppose that he made love to you one minute and the next told youthat bad luck--something about the cross--kept him away from you?"
Each slow word, like a blow of a fist, drove the girl quivering back.She closed her eyes to shut out the scorn of that handsome, boyishface; closed her eyes to summon out from the dark of her mind thepicture of Pierre le Rouge as he had knelt before her and told her ofhis love; of Pierre le Rouge as he had lain beside her with the small,shining cross held high above his head, and waited for death to comeover them both. She saw all this, and then she heard the voice ofPierre renouncing her.
She opened her eyes again. She cried:
"It is all a lie! If he is not true, there's no truth in the world."
"If you come down to that," said the boy coldly, "there ain't muchwasted this side of the Rockies. It's about as scarce as rain."
He continued in an almost kindly tone: "What would you do with a wildman like Red Pierre? Run along; git out of here; grab your horse, andbeat it back to civilization; there ain't no place for you up here inthe wilderness."
"What would I do with him?" cried the girl.
"Love him!"
It seemed as though her words, like whips, lashed the boy back to hismurderous anger. He lay with blazing eyes, watching her for a moment,too moved to speak. At last he propped himself on one elbow, shook asmall, white-knuckled fist under the nose of Mary, and cried: "Thenwhat would he do with you?"
He went on: "Would he wear you around his neck like a watch charm?"
"I'd bring him back with me--back into the East, and he would be lostamong the crowds and never suspected of his past."
"_You'd_ bring Pierre anywhere? Say, lady, that's like hearing thesheep talk about leading the wolf around by the nose. If all the menin the ranges can't catch him, or make him budge an inch out of the wayhe's picked, do you think you could stir him?"
Jeering laughter shook him; it seemed that he would never be done withhis laughter, yet there was a hint of the hysterically mirthless in it.It came to a jarring stop.
He said: "D'you think he's just bein' driven around by chance? Lady,d'you think he even wants to get out of this life of his? No, he lovesit! He loves the danger. D'you think a man that's used to breathingin a whirlwind can get used to living in calm air? It can't be done!"
And the girl answered steadily: "For every man there is one woman, andfor that woman the man will do strange things."
"You poor, white-raced, whimpering fool," snarled the boy, gripping athis gun again, "d'you dream that _you're_ the one that's picked out forPierre? No, there's another!"
"Another? A woman who----"
"Who loves Pierre--a woman that's fit for him. She can ride like aman; she can shoot almost as straight and as fast as Pierre; she canhandle a knife; and she's been through hell for Pierre, and she'll gothrough it again. She can ride the trail all day with him and finishit less fagged than he is. She can chop down a tree as well as he can,and build a fire better. She can hold up a train with him or rob abank and slip through a town in the middle of the night and laugh withhim about it afterward around a camp-fire. I ask you, is that the sortof a woman that's meant for Pierre?"
And the girl answered, with bowed head: "She is."
She cried instantly afterward, cutting short the look of wild triumphon the face of the boy: "But there's no such woman; there's no one whocould do these things! I know it!"
The boy sprang to his feet, flushing as red as the girl was white.
"You fool, if you're blind and got to have your eyes open to see, lookat the woman!"
And she tore the wide-brimmed sombrero from her head. Down past theshoulders flooded a mass of blue-black hair. The firelight flickeredand danced across the silken shimmer of it. It swept wildly past thewaist, a glorious, night-dark tide in which the heart of a strong mancould be
tangled and lost. With quivering lips Jacqueline cried: "Lookat me! Am I worthy of him?"
Short step by step Mary went back, staring with fascinated eyes as onewho sees some devilish, midnight revelry, and shrinks away from it lestthe sight should blast her. She covered her eyes with her hands butinstantly strong grips fell on her wrists and her hands were jerkeddown from her face. She looked up into the eyes of a beautiful tigress.
"Answer me--your yellow hair against mine--your child fingers againstmy grip--are you equal with me?"
But the strength of Jacqueline faded and grew small; her arms fell toher side; she stepped back, with a rising pallor taking the place ofthe red. For Mary, brushing her hands, one gloved and one bare, beforeher eyes, returned the stare of the mountain girl with a calm and equalscorn. Her heart was breaking, but a mighty loathing filled up herveins in place of strength.
"Tell me," she said, "was--was this man living with you when he came tome and--and made speeches--about love?"
"Bah! He was living with me. I tell you, he came back and laughedwith me about it, and told me about your baby-blue eyes when theyfilled with tears; laughed and laughed and laughed, I tell you, as Icould laugh now."
The other twisted her hands together, moaning: "And I have followedhim, even to the place where he keeps his--woman? Ah, how I hatemyself; how I despise myself. I'm unclean--unclean in my own eyes!"
"Wait!" called Jacqueline. "You are leaving too soon. The night iscold."
"I am going. There is no need to gibe at me."
"But wait--he will want to see you! I will tell him that you have beenhere--that you came clear up the valley of the Old Crow to see him andbeg him on your knees to love you--he'll be angry to have missed thescene!"
But the door closed on Mary as she fled with her hands pressed againsther ears.
