Hope Hathaway Part 35

"Pardon me, dear, but my love is almost too great for silence. You will admit that." Then with a touch of amus.e.m.e.nt in his voice: "Tell me, are you angry with me that I should speak so plainly to you?"

"No, no! Of course not--only talk about something else just now. How long have you been here?"

"An eternity," he replied. "Or perhaps longer. I'm not sure. When I left you there at the camp I went directly back to the ranch. The men were all in bed. I went in and got my rifle and started over here. You see we are both armed!" he laughed, taking a Winchester from behind the throne of rocks. She took it from him and examined it minutely.

"A good gun," she remarked, handing it back.

"Then I started over here," he continued, "but had a brief interruption on the road in the shape of the old squaw that lives down in your community--old Mother White Blanket. She held me up in the road--positively held my horse so that I couldn't move while she told a story that would have brought tears to my eyes if I could have understood a word she said, and if my mind hadn't been so full of the most gloriously beautiful girl in the world.

"Finally I had sense enough to give her some money, and after repeating 'yes' innumerable times to her broken questions she finally gave me permission to proceed on my way. I left my horse down at the sheep-shed."

"Couldn't you understand anything she said to you?" questioned Hope eagerly.

"Not much," he admitted, and Hope, with a relieved little air, which he noticed, sank back among the rocks again.

A silence fell over them for a time, then Livingston raised his head and looked at the girl intently.

"I think she was trying to tell me something," he said slowly. "She said it was a warning; but I paid no attention to her delirium. I believe she tried to impress upon me that I was in danger. But I was insanely anxious to meet you. She said something that I had heard before, that you and the twins had driven away the men who attacked and killed poor Fritz that night. And this much more I think I understand now, that the 'old man,' whoever she meant, had given her a beating, that the twins were shut up in the stable or somewhere, and that you were a good girl because you had given her all your school money. That much is clear to me now. And also that she was very anxious that I should get out of the country immediately--which seems to be the sentiment of the majority of the people out here. The old woman is no doubt insane."

"Oh, yes," agreed the girl, "there's not a doubt but that she's plumb locoed! I'm glad you didn't allow anything she said to trouble your mind. She's a regular old beggar. The money was probably what she was after. You can't believe a word she says!"

"Yet she spoke convincingly," mused Livingston. "If I hadn't been so absorbed in the meeting I would have taken more heed of what she said.

As it was, I pa.s.sed her off as a little out of her mind. Of course, I knew you had no hand in that shooting at the corral, had you, Hope?" he asked in a somewhat anxious voice.

"A ridiculous idea for that old squaw to get in her head," replied the girl, leaning in a weary fashion back upon the rock.

Whatever suspicion Livingston had entertained vanished for the moment.

"I am glad," he said. "I don't know exactly why, but I am glad that it isn't so. I shouldn't like to think that you had done such a thing--for me."

"The moon takes a long time to set, don't you think?" she remarked. "It must be almost time for daylight."

"Are you anxious?" he inquired pointedly. She sat erect in dignified silence and did not reply.

"How much longer must you be humored, dear?" he asked, taking both of her hands within his own, and drawing her toward him. "I do not believe that the moonlight will tell lies. Look at me!"

She leaped away from him with all her young strength, and stood upon the throne of rocks, scornfully erect.

"How bad you are--how wicked to talk to me so, to even think that I would care for you one minute! Surely you must realize that I know your past, _Lord_ Livingston! _Your past!_" she flashed.

"You know my past, and yet you can condemn me," he said, pain and wonderment in his quiet voice. "Perhaps you are right. I haven't always been perfect. But I am not bad--Hope! Not _that_! I am a man--I try to be, before G.o.d. Surely you do not mean what you say, my girl--_Hope_!"

"You know just what I mean," said Hope, in a voice strained and harsh.

"And you know it would be absolutely _impossible_ for me to love you!"

"Then there is nothing more to be said," replied Livingston, turning away from her. "We will not wait for the sunrise. I will go now." He walked from her with long strides.

"Wait," she cried in absolute terror. "_Wait!_ Oh, you wouldn't be so rude as to leave me here--_alone_!" He stopped short, his back still toward her. "Please come back!" she begged, approaching him, "I should die of fright!" Somehow she reminded herself of Clarice. "Surely you will walk back to camp with me!"

"Yes, certainly, pardon me," he replied huskily.

As they turned, a horse came slowly toward them. Hope gave a little nervous exclamation.

"Your horse," said Livingston, reaching for the bridle. "I thought you walked."

"No--yes," replied the girl. "I walked up the hill. The horse must have followed. We will walk down and lead it. It's too steep to ride down."

But Livingston had stopped short beside the animal, his head bowed, almost upon the saddle.

"Come, shall we go?" asked the girl nervously.

Suddenly the man turned to her, sternness expressed in every line of his figure.

"Where have you been?" he commanded.

"For a ride," she replied, feeling for the first time in her life the desire to scream.

"_For a ride!_ Yes, it must have been a ride! Your horse is nearly dead--listen to his breathing! Crusted with foam from head to foot and still dripping. You have been----"

"For the soldiers. To protect your ranch from the devils who would kill you and get rid of your sheep--this very hour!"

"And you have lured me here, away from danger--away from the side of my men, away from my _duty_, with all a woman's cowardice! _But what of them!_ You have called me bad! That may be, but I am not bad enough to be grateful to you for doing this, that you may, perhaps, have intended for a kindness! Anything would have been kinder to me than what you have done to-night."

"Where are you going?" she cried from the rocks where she had thrown herself. But he was running, with all his speed, down the mountain side.

CHAPTER XXIX

Then she knew that he was going straight into the very jaws of death. If it had been a trap set for him it could not have been any surer. In a sheep-shed far below, close to the reef of rocks above Fritz's grave, a score of men were waiting, and he was rushing toward them, down the mountain side, lighted by the white moonlight. And what was she doing, groveling there among the rocks? Like a flash she was after him, but at a speed much less than his had been.

Before she was halfway down three shots rang out. The girl clutched her heart and listened, but not a sound could be heard save the long echoes in the valley, which sounded like a dying breath.

On she sped from rock to rock, keeping ever out of sight of the shed, her senses keenly alive to the one object in view--a bit of white far below. It might have been a bunch of flowers along the hillside, but white flowers never grew there--a heap of bones, then, she thought. She made a zigzag line along the jagged ridge of rocks, closer and closer to the white object below. She wondered if he lay on his face or his back.

How calm she was in the shock and terror of her grief! The light of the moon was growing dim, she had reached the very tip of the rocks, the white object was not twenty feet away, but out in the open in perfect view of the sheep-shed and the score of men it hid. Another shot broke the stillness. The white object moved, and then a moan followed, so low that none but the ears of the frenzied girl could have heard. Like an enraged lioness she sprang out into the open and dragged the heavy body up toward the shelter of rocks. Several bullets rang about her, but the increasing darkness made her an uncertain target. A couple of men ventured outside the sheep-shed, encouraged by the stillness. The girl laughed savagely, as if in glee, and pulled the man's body close to the side of rocks, covering it with her own.

"Come on," she cried to herself. "Come on, show yourselves! I shall have you all! For every pang you have made him suffer, you shall have twenty, and for his death you shall have a lingering one! Come on, come on!"

Three stood outside. The addition pleased her. She laughed. Taking deliberate aim she fired again and again. Three wounded, frightened men crawled into the shelter of the shed. Then a score of bullets splashed against the rocks about her. She lifted the warm bleeding body closer under the rocks, drawing her own over it to protect it from all harm and talking frantically the while.

"The hounds, the hounds! They murdered you right in my sight, dear, and I will tear out their hearts with my hands! See, they are hiding themselves again! I can wait, yes, I can wait! _My love, my love!_ For everything they have made you suffer! Oh, you can't be _dead_, dear! You can't be dead! Open your eyes and let me tell you just once I love you!

Only once, dear!" She put her mouth close to his ear. "_I love you, love you, love you!_ Only hear me once and know, dear! Know how I love you!

Why didn't I tell you? I don't care if you are married a thousand times, a _million_ times! I love you with all my life--my soul! See, he's trying to get away! But he'll never reach his horse! See! A hole right through his knee! Death is too good for them, dear. My love, speak to me just once--only know that I love you, that I am mad with love for you!

Tell me that you feel my face against yours--and my kisses! See, they're crawling out like flies! and making for their horses--and now they're crawling back again so that I cannot get them. Oh, G.o.d, let me get them _all_! My love, my love, how I love you, and _never told you so_!"

With the first hint of dawn another volley came from the opposite side, and out of the gloom a rush of cavalry closed in about the sheep-shed, and ten men, most of them suffering from slight wounds, were taken captive. The man lying against the reef of rocks partially opened his eyes as Hope, with one last kiss upon his face, rose to meet a small group of riders.