Judith of the Cumberlands Part 15

"Oh, you po' thing!" cried Huldah, jumping to her feet. "I declare to goodness I forgot all about you an' Blatch. Here I've been carryin' on over Creed Bonbright--and you mighty near a widder. You po' thing!"

Judith faced around with such blazing eyes from the biscuits she was moulding that Huldah beat a hasty retreat, dodged out of the door, and ran up the slope. At Jim Cal's cabin she paused and looked about her uncertainly. Iley had the toothache, and for various reasons was proving a poor audience for her younger sister's conversation. The day had been a trying one to Huldah's excited nerves, a sad anti-climax after the explosions of the night before. It was five o'clock. The men were all over at the old place. If she but had an excuse to follow them, now. Why, the whole top of the Bald above Foeman's Bluff, and the broad shelf below it, were covered with huckleberry bushes! She put her head in at the door. Iley looked up from the hot brick which she was wrapping in a wet cloth with ten drops of turpentine on it preparatory to applying the same to her cheek above the swollen tooth.

"Ef you say 'Creed Bonbright'--or 'kill'--or 'Blatch Turrentine,'--to me, I vow I'll hit ye," she warned shrilly. "I ain't never raised hand on ye yet sence ye was a woman grown, but do it I will!"

"I wasn't goin' to say nothin' about nothin'," a.s.serted Huldah sweepingly. "I was jest goin' to ax did ye want any huckleberries, and git a pail to pick some."

She sought out a small tin lard bucket as she spoke, and Iley's silence presumably a.s.senting, within twenty minutes was picking away eagerly on the Bald above the bluff.

Below her stretched meadows drunk with sun--breathless. A rain crow called from time to time "C-c-c-cow! cow! cow!" The air was still heavy with faint noon-day smells, the sky tarnished with heat.

"I wonder where in all creation them boys has got theirselves to," she ruminated as she peered about, dragging green berries and leaves into her bucket, for which Mrs. Jim Cal would afterward no doubt scold her soundly. "'Pears to me like I hearn somebody talkin' somewhars."

She pushed cautiously down to the edge of the rocks where the bushes grew scatteringly, pretending to herself that she wanted a bit of wild geranium that flourished in a crevice far below the top. Setting down her pail she threw herself on her face, her arms over the edge, and reached.

But the fingers hung suspended, opened in air, her mouth open too, and she listened greedily to faint sounds of men's voices.

"I'll bet it's old Ab Foeman's hideout that n.o.body but him and the Cherokees knowed of," she muttered to herself. "Some one's found it and--Lord, look at that!"

From the bushes below her, coming apparently out of the living rock itself, crept Andy, and then Jeff Turrentine. Now she could see the narrow, door-like opening of the cave which had given them up, and realised how, from below, it pa.s.sed for a mere depression in the rock.

Huldah drew back silently, inch by inch, and instinctively pulled her black calico sunbonnet over her red curls as she crouched down among the huckleberry bushes. When she looked again Andy and Jeff had disappeared, but she could see the head and shoulders of a man who still lay at the cave's mouth--and that man was Blatch Turrentine!

At first she shuddered, thinking that she had come upon the dead body; then she noted a tiny trail of smoke, and, by craning a little farther around, saw that Blatchley lay at ease with a pipe in his mouth, smoking.

"The triflin', low-down, lyin' hound!" she muttered to herself. "I'm a-goin' this very minute and tell Creed Bonbright."

She hesitated, glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the Turrentine cabin, then bent dubiously and set up her overturned bucket.

Not a berry had spilled from it, yet the sight of its mishap gave her an idea. Quietly slipping through the bushes till she was far enough away to dare run, she hurried home to the cabin.

"Iley," she gasped, as soon as she put her head in at the door, "I upsot my berry pail and lost most of the fruit. Can you make out with that?"

and she set the little bucket on the table.

"I reckon I'll have to, ef you've got so work-brickle ye won't pick any more," returned Iley.

"I would--I'd git ye all ye need," protested Huldah with unexpected meekness, "but I'm jest obliged to go over to--" she had all but said Creed Bonbright's, but she caught herself in time and concluded lamely.

"I jest have obliged to run down to Clianthy Lusk's and see can she let me have her crochet needle for to finish up my shawl."

She delayed for no criticism or demur on Iley's part, but was off with the last word, and once out of sight of Jim Cal's cabin she took a short cut through the woods and ran; but in spite of her best efforts darkness began to gather before she won to the high road, for the evening had closed in early, thick and threatening; a mountain thunder-storm was brewing. Opposite a tempestuous, magnificent sunset, there had reared in the eastern sky a tremendous thunder-head, a palace of a thousand snowy domes, turning to gold, and then flushing from base to crown like a gigantic many-petalled rose. It swept steadily up and over, hiding the sky, and leaving the earth in almost complete darkness. There were low rolls of thunder, at first mellow and almost musical, crashing always louder and stronger as they came nearer. The wind thrashed and yelled through the tossing forest; and as she approached the Card cabin she heard the banging of barn shutters, the whipping of tree boughs against the windows. There were the first spears of rain flung at roof and door; and it was in the torrent itself which followed fast that Huldah beat upon that closed door, giving her name and demanding entrance. Within, Creed Bonbright sprang up from where he sat with a book in his hand, his eyes fixed on vacancy, and would have answered her, but Old Nancy put a hasty palm over his lips.

"Hush--for G.o.d's sake," she whispered.

They stood in the lighted cabin, all on foot by this time, and listened intently, tall Creed, the little grey-haired woman clinging to him and restraining him, Doss with his light eyes goggling, and Little Buck and Beezy hand in hand, studying their grandmother's face, not their father's.

"Who is it?" quavered Nancy. "I'm all alone in here, and I'm scared to let wayfarers in."

"It's me--Huldy Spiller--Aunt Nancy," called back the voice in the rain.

"Well, I vow! You know how things air, Huldy--what do ye want, chile?"

"I want Creed Bonbright. I've got something to tell him."

"Thar--ye see now," breathed the old woman, turning toward Creed. Then she raised her voice.

"He ain't here, honey," she lied unhesitatingly.

"Why don't ye go to his office--that's whar he stays at."

"Oh, for the Lord's sake--Aunt Nancy!" came back the girl's shrill, terrified tones. "I've done been to the office; I know in reason Creed ain't there, or he'd a-answered me. Please let me in; I'm scared some of the Turrentines'll come an' ketch me."

At this Creed strode to the door, Nancy dragging back on his arm and Buck and Beezy seconding her with all their small might, while Provine spluttered ineffectually in the background.

"Hit's a lie," hissed Nancy. "She's a decoy. Ef you open that thar do'

with the light on ye, they'll shoot ye over her shoulders. Hit was did to my man thataway in feud times. Don't you open the do' Creed."

"Why, Aunt Nancy," remonstrated Creed, almost smiling, "this isn't like you. There's nothing but a girl there in the rain. Keep out of range if you're scared. I'm sure going to open that door."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "They stood in the lighted cabin and listened intently."]

As he made ready to do so Nancy flew back to the table and blew out the light, and the next minute Huldah Spiller, dripping like a mermaid, was standing in the middle of the darkened room, and Doss Provine, breathing short, was barring the door behind her.

"Who's here?" gasped the girl peering about the gloom. "What air you-all a-goin' to do to me?"

Nancy relighted the lamp and set it on the table, and Huldah discovered with a long-drawn sobbing sigh of relief that there was no one save the immediate family present.

"I came quick as I could," she began in the middle of her story, grasping Creed by the arm and shaking him in the violence of her emotion and insistence. "Blatch Turrentine's alive. Andy and Jeff have got him hid out. I seed him myse'f with my own eyes, in a hideout thar below Foeman's Bluff, not more'n a hour ago. I'll bet he aims to layway you, ef he cain't git ye hung for murderin' of him. You got to git out o' here. It was as much as my life was worth to come over and tell ye. I'm afraid to go back. I'm goin' right on down to Hepzibah and stay thar."

"Come up closeter to the fire," commanded Nancy, who had watched the girl keenly throughout her recital. "Doss, put some sticks on and git a little blaze so she can dry herself. Huldy, you're a good girl to come over and warn Creed--when was you aimin' to go to Hepzibah?" She looked up from the hearth where she knelt with the frankest inquiring gaze.

"To-night--right now," half whimpered Huldah. "I'm scared to go back. I'm scared to be here on the mountain at all."

"And did ye aim to have Creed go along of ye?" old Nancy questioned mildly.

"Yes--yes--he'd better," agreed Huldah hysterically. "Hit's the onliest way for him now."

Nancy caught Creed's eye above the girl's drenched head, and shook her own warningly. Leaving Doss to look after the newcomer, she drew the young justice into the kitchen.

"Whatever ye do," she warned him hastily, "don't you put out with that red-headed gal in the dark. Things may be adzackly as she says--looks to me like she thinks she's a-speakin' the truth; but then agin the Turrentines might a' sent her for to draw you out. They wouldn't like to shoot ye in my cabin, 'caze they know me and my kinfolks would be apt to raise a fuss; but halfway down the mountain with this sweetheart of Wade's--huh-uh, boy; I reckon they could tell their own tale then, of how you come by yo' death. Don't you go with her."

"I wasn't aiming to, Aunt Nancy," said Creed quietly. "As soon as I heard that Blatch Turrentine was alive, I intended to go right over and have a talk with old Jephthah. He's a fair-minded man, and if he is informed that his nephew is living I think he and I can come to terms."

"Fa'r-minded man!" echoed Nancy contemptuously. "Jephthah Turrentine a fa'r-minded man! Well, Creed, ef I hadn't no better eye for a fat chicken than you have for a fa'r-minded man, you wouldn't enjoy yo' dinner at my table as well as you do. I say fa'r-minded! This thing has got into a feud, boy, and in a feud you cain't trust n.o.body--_n.o.body_!"

Creed went back into the room, and Nancy reluctantly followed him. Huldah was getting dry and warm, and that fluent tongue of hers was impatiently silent. As soon as she saw the returning pair she began to repeat again the details of her information--how she had glimpsed the hidden man through the bushes, how she knew in reason he could be none other than Blatch. Nancy exchanged a glance of intelligence with Creed.

"Ye see!" she murmured, aside. "Ef she _ain't_ a decoy they've sont, she don't know nothin' for sartin."

"I'm scared of all the Turrentines," Huldah declared. "They're awful folks. From the old man down to Jude, they scare me. I reckon Jude's had a big hand in this," she went on excitedly. "Her and Blatch is goin' to wed shortly, and she'd be sh.o.r.e to know any meanness he was into. I'll be glad to git shet of sech. When you're ready to be a-steppin' Creed, I am."

She looked up at the young fellow with a sort of unwilling worship.