by Max Brand
CHAPTER XXXIV
TIGER-HEART
It was as if she had said: "Good morning!" in the calmest of voices.There was no answer in him, neither word nor expression, and out of tensharp-eyed men, nine would have passed him by without noting thedifference; but the girl knew him as the monk knows his prayers or theArab his horse, and a solemn, deep despair came over her. She feltlike the drowning, when the water closes over their heads for the lasttime.
He puffed twice again at the cigarette and then flicked the butt intothe fire. When he spoke it was only to say: "Did she stay long?"
But his eyes avoided her. She moved a little so as to read his face,but when he turned again and answered her stare she winced.
"Not very long, Pierre."
"Ah," he said, "I see! It was because she didn't dream that this wasthe place I lived in."
It was the sort of heartless, torturing questioning which was once thecrudest weapon of the inquisition. With all her heart she fought toraise her voice above the whisper whose very sound accused her, butcould not. She was condemned to that voice as the man bound innightmare is condemned to walk slowly, slowly, though the terribledanger is racing toward him, and the safety which he must reach liesonly a dozen steps, a dozen mortal steps away.
She said in that voice: "No; of course she didn't dream it."
"And you, Jack, had her interests at heart--her best interests, poorgirl, and didn't tell her?"
Her hands went out to him in mute appeal.
"Please, Pierre--don't!"
"Is something troubling you, Jack?"
"You are breaking my heart."
"Why, by no means! Let's sit here calmly and chat about the girl withthe yellow hair. To begin with--she's rather pleasant to look at,don't you think?"
"I suppose she is."
"H-m! rather poor taste not to be sure of it. Well, let it go. You'vealways had rather queer taste in women, Jack; but, of course, being along-rider, you haven't seen much of them. At least her name isdelightful--Mary Brown! You've no idea how often I've repeated italoud to myself and relished the sound--Mary Brown!"
"I hate her!"
"You two didn't have a very agreeable time of it? By the way, she musthave left in rather a hurry to forget her glove, eh?"
"Yes, she ran--like a coward."
"Ah?"
"Like a trembling coward. How can you care for a white-faced littlefool like that? Is she your match? Is she your mate?"
He considered a moment, as though to make sure that he did notexaggerate.
"I love her, Jack, as men love water when they've ridden all day overhot sand without a drop on their lips--you know when the tongue getsthick and the mouth fills with cotton--and then you see clear, brightwater, and taste it."
"She is like that to me. She feeds every sense; and when I look in hereyes, Jack, I feel like the starved man on the desert, as I was saying,drinking that priceless water. You knew something of the way I feel,Jack. Isn't it a little odd that you didn't keep her here?"
She had stood literally shuddering during this speech, and now sheburst out, far beyond all control: "Because she loathes you; becauseshe hates herself for ever having loved you; because she despisesherself for having ridden up here after you. Does that fill your cupof water, Pierre, eh?"
His forehead was shining with sweat, but he set his teeth, and, after amoment, he was able to say in the same hard, calm voice: "I supposethere was no real reason for her change. She can be persuaded back tome in a moment. In that case just tell me where she has gone and I'llride after her."
He made as if to rise, but she cried in a panic, and yet with a wildexultation: "No, she's done with you forever, and the more you makelove to her now the more she'll hate you. Because she knows that whenyou kissed her before--when you kissed her--you were living with awoman."
"I--living with a woman?"
Her voice had risen out of the whisper for the outbreak. Now it sankback into it.
"Yes--with me!"
"With you? I see. Naturally it must have gone hard with her--Mary!And she wouldn't see reason even when you explained that you and I arelike brothers?"
He leaned a little toward her and just a shade of emotion came in hisvoice.
"When you carefully explained, Jack, with all the eloquence you couldcommand, that you and I have ridden and fought and camped together likebrothers for six years? And how I gave you your first gun? And howI've stayed between you and danger a thousand times? And how I'venever treated you otherwise than as a man? And how I've given you thelove of a blood-brother to take the place of the brother who died? Andhow I've kept you in a clean and pure respect such as a man can onlygive once in his life--and then only to his dearest friend? Shewouldn't listen--even when you talked to her like this?"
"For God's sake--Pierre!"
"Ah, but you talked well enough to pave the way for me. You talked soeloquently that with a little more persuasion from me she will know andunderstand. Come, I must be gone after her. Which way did sheride--up or down the valley?"
"You could talk to her forever and she'd never listen. Pierre, I toldher that I was--your woman--that you'd told me of your scenes withher--and that we'd laughed at them together."
She covered her eyes and crouched, waiting for the wrath that wouldfall on her, but he only smiled bitterly on the bowed head, saying:"Why have I waited so long to hear you say what I knew already? Isuppose because I wouldn't believe until I heard the whole abominabletruth from your own lips. Jack, why did you do it?"
"Won't you see? Because I've loved you always, Pierre!"
"Love--you--your tiger-heart? No, but you were like a cruel, selfishchild. You were jealous because you didn't want the toy taken away. Iknew it. I knew that even if I rode after her it would be hopeless.Oh, God, how terribly you've hurt me, partner!"
It wrung a little moan from her. He said after a moment: "It's onlythe ghost of a chance, but I'll have to take it. Tell me which way sherode? No? Then I'll try to find her."
She leaped between him and the door, flinging her shoulders against itwith a crash and standing with outspread arms to bar the way.
"You must not go!"
He turned his head somewhat.
"Don't stand in front of me, Jack. You know I'll do what I say, andjust now it's a bit hard for me to face you."
"Pierre, I feel as if there were a hand squeezing my heart small, andsmall, and small. Pierre, I'd die for you!"
"I know you would. I know you would, partner. It was only a mistake,and you acted the way any cold-hearted boy would act if--if some onewere to try to steal his horse, for instance. But just now it's hardfor me to look at you and be calm."
"Don't try to be! Swear at me--curse--rave--beat me; I'd be glad ofthe blows, Pierre. I'd hold out my arms to 'em. But don't go out thatdoor!"
"Why?"
"Because--if you found her--she's not alone."
"Say that slowly. I don't understand. She's not alone?"
"I'll try to tell you from the first. She started out for you withDick Wilbur for a guide."
"Good old Dick, God bless him! I'll fill all his pockets with gold forthat; and he loves her, you know."
"You'll never see Dick Wilbur again. On the first night they campedshe missed him when he went for water. She went down after a while andsaw the mark of his body on the sand. He never appeared again."
"Who was it?"
"Listen. The next morning she woke up and found that some one hadtaken care of the fire while she slept, and her pack was lashed on oneof the saddles. She rode on that day and came at night to a camp-firewith a bed of boughs near it and no one in sight. She took that campfor herself and no one showed up.
"Don't you see? Some one was following her up the valley and takingcare of the poor baby on the way. Some one who was afraid to lethimself be seen. Perhaps it was the man who killed Dick Wilbur withouta sound there beside the river; perhaps as Dick died he told the m
anwho killed him about the lonely girl and this other man was whiteenough to help Mary.
"But all Mary ever saw of him was that second night when she thoughtthat she saw a streak of white, traveling like a galloping horse, thatdisappeared over a hill and into the trees--"
"A streak of white--"
"Yes, yes! The white horse--McGurk!"
"McGurk!" repeated Pierre stupidly; then: "And you knew she would begoing out to him when she left this house?"
"I knew--Pierre--don't look at me like that--I knew that it would bemurder to let you cross with McGurk. You're the last of seven--he's adevil--no man--"
"And you let her go out into the night--to him."
She clung to a last thread of hope: "If you met him and killed him withthe luck of the cross it would bring equal bad luck on some one youlove--on the girl, Pierre!"
He was merely repeating stupidly: "You let her go out--to him--in thenight! She's in his arms now--you devil--you tiger--"
She threw herself down and clung about his knees with hystericalstrength.
"Pierre, you shall not go. Pierre, you walk on my heart if you go!"
He tore the little cross from his neck and flung it into her upturnedface.
"Don't make me put my hands on you, Jack. Let me go!"
There was no need to tear her grasp away. She crumpled and slippedsidewise to the floor. He leaned over and shook her violently by theshoulder.
"Which way did she ride? Which way did they ride?"
She whispered: "Down the valley, Pierre; down the valley; I swear theyrode that way."
And as she lay in a half swoon she heard the faint clatter of gallopinghoofs over the rooks and a wild voice yelling, fainter and fainter withdistance:
"McGurk!"
