CHAPTER IX
THE DOUBLE THEFT
After that there were no more uncomfortable silences in the Harte cabin.Thornton found a lamp, lighted it and placed it on the table. And withthe act he seemed to take upon himself the part of host, playing it witha quiet courtesy and gentleness fitting well with the unconscious graceof his lithe body and with the kindliness softening his dark eyes. Hetold her of his ranch, of the cowboys working for him, of the cattlethey were running, of little incidents of everyday life on the range,seeking to make her forget that in reality they were strangers veryunconventionally placed. And he did not once ask her a direct questionabout herself or concerning her business. That she was quick to notice.
For an hour they chatted pleasantly. Now, when Thornton got to his feetagain, and went to the door to see what promise the night gave of beingcloudless and to note the moon already pushing up above the jaggedskyline where the trees stood upon the hill tops, she watched him withan interest that was not tinged with the vague suspicion of an hour ago.She saw that as he stood lounging in the doorway, his hands upon hiships, one shoulder against the rude door jamb, he had to stoop his heada little, and knew that he was a taller, bigger man than she hadrealized until now.
"If I were as big as you are," she laughed at him, "I'd be in constantfear of bumping my head in the dark."
He laughed with her, told her that he was getting used to it, and cameback for his hat.
"If you'll be getting ready," he told her, "I'll go out and bring in thehorses. If you're rested up?"
She assured him that she was, noted again how he stooped for thedoorway, and watched him move swiftly away through the shadows cast bythe trees about the cabin. She put on her hat, buckled on the spurs shehad dropped on the table, and was ready. Then, before he could have gonehalf way to the barn, she heard swift steps coming back.
He had forgotten something; but what? She looked about her expecting tosee his tobacco sack or some such article, a block of matches, maybe,which he had left behind. But there was nothing. She lifted the lamp inher hand so that the weak rays searched out the four corners of thecabin. Then she turned again toward the door.
Out yonder through the clear night came on the tall figure with the longfree stride of the man of the outdoors. In a patch of bright moonlighthis head was down as though his mood were one of thoughtfulness, and theshadow of his wide hat hid his face and eyes from her. In the blackshade under the live oak before Harte's door he lifted his headquickly; here he came for an instant to a dead halt, half turning. Itstruck her abruptly that he was tense, that the atmosphere was suddenlycharged with uneasiness, that he was listening as a man listens who morethan half expects trouble.
"What is it?" she called. She could not make out more than the vagueoutline of his figure now as he stood still, his body seeming to mergeinto the great trunk of the tree. He did not answer. Again, head downand hurriedly, he came on. On through the thinning fringe of shadow andinto the full bright moonlight.
A sudden formless fear which in no way could she explain was upon her.His actions were so strange; they hinted at furtiveness. He had been sooutright and hearty and wholesome a moment ago and now struck her asanything but the big free and easy man who had supped with her. She drewback a little, her underlip caught between her teeth as was her habitwhen undue stress was laid upon her nerves, her breath coming a trifleirregularly. After all she was just a girl and he was a man, big, strongand perhaps brutal, of whom she knew virtually nothing. And they werevery far from any other human beings....
He came straight on to the open door; as the lamp light fell upon himher formless fear of a moment ago was swept up and engulfed in an accessof terror which made her sick and dizzy. All of the time until now, evenwhen appearances hinted at an inexplicable duplicity, she had felt safewith him, trusting to what her natural instinct read of him in his eyesand carriage and voice. And now she clutched at the mantel with one handwhile in the other the lamp swayed precariously.
The reason for her agitation was plain enough; had it been his solepurpose to strike terror into her heart he could hardly have selected amore efficient method. Across the face, hiding it entirely, leaving onlythe eyes to glint through two rude slits at her, was a wide bandanahandkerchief. The big black hat was drawn low, now; the handkerchief,bound about the brow, fell to a point well below the base of his throat.
"Easy there," he said in a voice which upon her ears was only a tense,evil whisper. "Easy. You know what I want.... Look out for that lamp!Making it dark in here, even setting the shack on fire, isn't going tohelp much. Easy, girlie."
"You ... you ..." she panted, and found no word to go on.
He came in and strode across the room, taking the lamp from her andsetting it on the mantel. She had come near dropping it when his handbrushed hers. Again she drew back from him hastily, her eyes running tothe door. But he forestalled her, closed the door and stood in her way,towering above her, his air charged with menace.
"You pretty thing!" he muttered, his tone frankly sincere though hisvoice was still hardly more than a harsh whisper. "If I just had time toplay with you ... I said you'd know what I want. And don't get funnywith the little toy pistol you'd be sure to have in your dress. It won'tdo you any good; you know that, don't you?"
She did know. Her hand had already gone into her bosom where the "littletoy pistol" lay against that which she had vainly thought it couldguard, a thick envelope. The man came quite close to her, so close thatshe felt his breath stir her hair, so close that his slightly upliftedhand could come down upon her before she could stir an inch.
"You can tell Henry Pollard for me," he jeered from the secureanticipation of his present triumph, "that the unknown stranger nameshim seven kinds of fool. To think he could get across this way and sneakthat little wad by me! And by the by, it's getting late and if you don'tmind I'll take what's coming to me and move on."
Then she found her tongue, the fires blazed up in her eyes and a hotflush came into her pale cheeks.
"Big brute and cur and coward!" she flung at him. "Woman-fighter!"
"All of that," he laughed insolently. "And then some. And you? Greyeyed, pink beauty! By God, girl, you'd make an armful for a man! Soon tobe queen of Dead Man's Alley, eh? I'll see you there; I'll come and paymy respects! Oh, but I will, coward that I am! But now...."
"There! Take it! Take it! Oh...."
She shuddered away from him, her face went white again, she grew coldwith the fear upon her. Just then she cared infinitely little for thesheaf of banknotes in the yellow envelope which the banker had given toher. She jerked the parcel out from her dress and tossed it to him, herfingers fumbling with the button of the thin garment under which herheart was beating wildly. And the little "toy pistol" she could havehurled from her, too. Against this physical bigness, against thisinsolent bravado and this swift sureness of eye and muscle, she knew thesmall weapon to be a ridiculous and utterly insufficient plaything.
He caught the envelope and thumbed it, tore off an end and glancedswiftly at the contents and then stowed it away inside his grey flannelshirt. Again his eyes came back to her.
"I'm in a hurry," he said swiftly. "But there's always time for a girllike you!"
She had foreseen how it would be. Now that she struggled to draw hertiny revolver and fire he was upon her, his long arms about her, hismuscular strength making her own as nothing. And though he was breathingmore quickly still he had his quiet insolent laugh for still furtherinsult. Though she sought to strike at him he held her in utterhelplessness. Slowly he lifted her face, a big hand under her chin. Thelamp was close by; he blew down the chimney and save for the moonlightacross the threshold it was dark in the cabin. With his other hand helifted his crude mask from the lower part of his face. She sought againto strike, to batter his lips. But her heart sank as the relentlessrigidity of his embrace baffled her attempt. He brought his face closerto hers, slowly closer until at last she knew the outrage of a violentkiss....
From
outside came a little sound, not to be catalogued. It might havebeen only a dead twig snapping under the talons of a night birdalighting in the big oak tree. But suddenly the arms about her relaxed,the man whirled and sprang back, whipped open the door and silently wasgone into the outer night.
Moaning, swaying, dizzy and sick, she crouched in a far corner. Then sheran to the door and looked out. There was nothing moving to be seenanywhere. Just the white moonlight here, the black patches of shadowthere, the sombre wall of the forest land a few yards away. Her nauseaof dread, her uncertainty, had passed. With never a glance behind hershe ran down toward the barn. She knew that she would be afraid to gointo the black maw of the silent building for her horse and yet she knewthat she must, that she must mount and ride.... She had never until nowknown the terror of being alone, utterly alone in the night and thewilderness.
Suddenly she stopped to stare incredulously. About a corner of the barn,coming out into the bright moonlight, leading his own horse and her own,was Buck Thornton. She was so certain that he had gone! For the instantshe could not move but stood powerless to lift a hand, rooted to thespot. She noted that his face was unhidden now, his black hat pushedfar back on his head, while from his hip pocket trailed the end of ahandkerchief which may and may not have had slits let in it for his eyesto peer through.
"You ... here? Yet?" she found herself stammering at him.
"Yes," he answered heavily. "I have been all this time looking for thehorses. The corral was broken; they had gotten out into the pasture."
"A likely tale!" she cried with a sudden heat of passionate fury at theman and his cold manner and his mad thought that she was fool enough tobe beguiled from her knowledge of what he was. And then a fresh fearmade her draw back and widened her eyes. She had not thought of madnessbut ... if the man were mad....
But he was not mad and she knew it. His were the clear eyes of perfectsanity. He was simply ... an unthinkable brute.
"Look," she said as his horse moved nervously. "Your horse _does_ limp!"
His answer came quickly. And there was a queer note in his voice, harshand ugly, which sent a shiver through her shaken nerves:
"A man did that while we were in the cabin. With a knife." The moonshone full in his face; she had never seen such a transformation, such asemblance of quiet, cold rage. If the man were just acting....
"I've just got the hunch," he said bluntly, "that I know who he is, too.And, for the last time, Winifred Waverly, I am interfering in yourbusiness and advising you the best way I know how to turn back righthere and right now and forget that you've got an uncle named Pollard!"
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