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But now, when my strange desire that she should love Steele had its
fulfilment, and my fiendish subtleties to that end had been crowned with
success, I was confounded in pity and the enormity of my crime. For it
had been a crime to make, or help to make, this noble and beautiful
woman love a Ranger, the enemy of her father, and surely the author of
her coming misery. I felt shocked at my work. I tried to hang an excuse
on my old motive that through her love we might all be saved. When it
was too late, however, I found that this motive was wrong and perhaps
without warrant.
We rode home in silence. Miss Sampson, contrary to her usual custom of
riding to the corrals or the porch, dismounted at a path leading in
among the trees and flowers. "I want to rest, to think before I go in,"
she said.
Sally accompanied me to the corrals. As our horses stopped at the gate I
turned to find confirmation of my fears in Sally's wet eyes.
"Russ," she said, "it's worse than we thought."
"Worse? I should say so," I replied.
"It'll about kill her. She never cared that way for any man. When the
Sampson women love, they love."
"Well, you're lucky to be a Langdon," I retorted bitterly.
"I'm Sampson enough to be unhappy," she flashed back at me, "and I'm
Langdon enough to have some sense. You haven't any sense or kindness,
either. Why'd you want to blurt out that Jack Blome was here to kill
Steele?"
"I'm ashamed, Sally," I returned, with hanging head. "I've been a brute.
I've wanted her to love Steele. I thought I had a reason, but now it
seems silly. Just now I wanted to see how much she did care.
"Sally, the other day you said misery loved company. That's the trouble.
I'm sore--bitter. I'm like a sick coyote that snaps at everything. I've
wanted you to go into the very depths of despair. But I couldn't send
you. So I took out my spite on poor Miss Sampson. It was a damn unmanly
thing for me to do."
"Oh, it's not so bad as all that. But you might have been less abrupt.
Russ, you seem to take an--an awful tragic view of your--your own case."
"Tragic? Hah!" I cried like the villain in the play. "What other way
could I look at it? I tell you I love you so I can't sleep or do
anything."
"That's not tragic. When you've no chance, _then_ that's tragic."
Sally, as swiftly as she had blushed, could change into that deadly
sweet mood. She did both now. She seemed warm, softened, agitated. How
could this be anything but sincere? I felt myself slipping; so I laughed
harshly.
"Chance! I've no chance on earth."
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"Try!" she whispered.
But I caught myself in time. Then the shock of bitter renunciation made
it easy for me to simulate anger.
"You promised not to--not to--" I began, choking. My voice was hoarse
and it broke, matters surely far removed from pretense.
I had seen Sally Langdon in varying degrees of emotion, but never as she
appeared now. She was pale and she trembled a little. If it was not
fright, then I could not tell what it was. But there were contrition and
earnestness about her, too.
"Russ, I know. I promised not to--to tease--to tempt you anymore," she
faltered. "I've broken it. I'm ashamed. I haven't played the game
square. But I couldn't--I can't help myself. I've got sense enough not
to engage myself to you, but I can't keep from loving you. I can't let
you alone. There--if you want it on the square! What's more, I'll go on
as I have done unless you keep away from me. I don't care what I
deserve--what you do--I will--I will!"
She had begun falteringly and she ended passionately.
Somehow I kept my head, even though my heart pounded like a hammer and
the blood drummed in my ears. It was the thought of Steele that saved
me. But I felt cold at the narrow margin. I had reached a point, I
feared, where a kiss, one touch from this bewildering creature of fire
and change and sweetness would make me put her before Steele and my
duty.
"Sally, if you dare break your promise again, you'll wish you never had
been born," I said with all the fierceness at my command.
"I wish that now. And you can't bluff me, Mr. Gambler. I may have no
hand to play, but you can't make me lay it down," she replied.
Something told me Sally Langdon was finding herself; that presently I
could not frighten her, and then--then I would be doomed.
"Why, if I got drunk, I might do anything," I said cool and hard now.
"Cut off your beautiful chestnut hair for bracelets for my arms."
Sally laughed, but she was still white. She was indeed finding herself.
"If you ever get drunk again you can't kiss me any more. And if you
don't--you can."
I felt myself shake and, with all of the iron will I could assert, I hid
from her the sweetness of this thing that was my weakness and her
strength.
"I might lasso you from my horse, drag you through the cactus," I added
with the implacability of an Apache.
"Russ!" she cried. Something in this last ridiculous threat had found a
vital mark. "After all, maybe those awful stories Joe Harper told about
you were true."
"They sure were," I declared with great relief. "And now to forget
ourselves. I'm more than sorry I distressed Miss Sampson; more than
sorry because what I said wasn't on the square. Blome, no doubt, has
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come to Linrock after Steele. His intention is to kill him. I said
that--let Miss Sampson think it all meant fatality to the Ranger. But,
Sally, I don't believe that Blome can kill Steele any more than--than
you can."
"Why?" she asked; and she seemed eager, glad.
"Because he's not man enough. That's all, without details. You need not
worry; and I wish you'd go tell Miss Sampson--"
"Go yourself," interrupted Sally. "I think she's afraid of my eyes. But
she won't fear you'd guess her secret.
"Go to her, Russ. Find some excuse to tell her. Say you thought it over,
believed she'd be distressed about what might never happen. Go--and
afterward pray for your sins, you queer, good-natured, love-meddling
cowboy-devil, you!"
For once I had no retort ready for Sally. I hurried off as quickly as I
could walk in chaps and spurs.
I found Miss Sampson sitting on a bench in the shade of a tree. Her
pallor and quiet composure told of the conquering and passing of the
storm. Always she had a smile for me, and now it smote me, for I in a
sense, had betrayed her.
"Miss Sampson," I began, awkwardly yet swiftly, "I--I got to thinking it
over, and the idea struck me, maybe you felt bad about this gun-fighter
Blome coming down here to kill Steele. At first I imagined you felt sick
just because there might be blood spilled. Then I thought you've showed
interest in Steele--naturally his kind of Ranger work is bound to appeal [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]