The Last Straw Part 46

"Don't you see that you're playing with something as delicate as a mountain flower? Don't you see you will crush it? Because this girl is strong of body and thoroughly able to contend for her own position with muscles and weapons, don't think that her heart can be treated roughly.

It would wither if she gave it to you and found that you held it of little value."

"I tell you I'm on the level with her."

"Would you marry her?"--leaning closer to him as his manner told of the effect her pleas were having.

"Of course."

"You'd take her east, to your friends?"

"Why, why not?"--shifting uneasily.

"d.i.c.k, look at me!" Tears in her eyes, she put her hands on his shoulders and forced him to turn his face. "You can't mean that? I can see you don't. d.i.c.k, oh, d.i.c.k! For the sake of all that is good and fine in life, for the sake of the manhood you can regain, don't do this thing!

"I'm asking it of you. Perhaps I have little right to make any requests of you but in the name of the love you say you once bore for me try to look into my, a woman's heart, and see what this thing means. I'm not trying to make it difficult for you; I'm not trying to interfere and be mean. I'm begging you, d.i.c.k, to give her up and if nothing else will appeal to you, do it for my sake!"

She shook him gently as he turned his head from her, humiliated, shamed, beaten. He was convinced: she knew that his sham was broken down, that his purpose was clear to her and the conscience that remained in his soul tortured him.

Jane held so a long moment, fingers gripping his shoulders, appeal in every tense line of her body.

And close outside the window another figure held tense, watching, holding breath in futile attempt to catch the low words they spoke. It was a slender figure and had ridden up on a soft-stepping horse, dismounted, slipped over the fence, ran stealthily along the creek, halted in the shadow of the cottonwoods and then crept slowly forward until it stood close to the shaft of yellow light which streamed from the window. There it stood spying....

"You have said that you loved me, d.i.c.k. Do this for me in the name of that love! I am asking it with a sincerity that was never in any other request I have made of you."

She shook him again and slowly he turned his face to hers, showing an expression of weakness, of helplessness, as one who turns to ask humbly, almost desperately for aid.

The figure out there started forward as though it would leap through the window, making a sharp sound of breath hissing through teeth, in fright or in hatred. The movement was checked, for the gate creaked open, the scuffling boots of a man were heard on the path. The figure skulked swiftly along the house, ducking along the cottonwoods, out toward the road where a horse stood waiting.

It was the Reverend coming and he whistled "_Yield not to Temptation_," as he neared the house, as if to give warning of his approach. Hilton heard and looked up sharply and a glitter of rage appeared in his eyes. He shook Jane Hunter off savagely and rose.

"I'd let you make an a.s.s of me!" he cried savagely. "You won't believe when I tell you the truth....

"But what the devil should I care?" he broke off shortly. "Whatever I do and where and why is my own affair; none of yours, though you try to make it yours, try to judge me as you judge your own, new friends, probably.

"You talk of the man I once was. Well, if I've changed in your eyes, it is not my fault; it's yours, Jane Hunter, yours! You'd drive me on, lead me on, and when finally cornered you'd be perfectly frank to tell me that you'd only toyed with me, that you tolerated me because you thought you might have to use the things I owned!"

"Not that, d.i.c.k! You're putting it all wrong...."

"Listen to me!" he shouted, quivering with rage. "If I've changed it is you who have changed me! If life means nothing to me, it is you who have made it so!" He was towering in his anger and, seeking to shift responsibility for his own rottenness to the shoulders of the woman before him, he aroused a sense of injury and genuine indignation. "You played me as your last straw as long as you dared and now, by G.o.d, when I go my way, the only way open to me, when I try to redeem a little happiness, you hound me, try to shame me with your sham morals!"

"d.i.c.k, that's not true."

"It is true. Why, you haven't a leg to stand on, you--"

His storming was interrupted by a rap on the door and he turned to see the Reverend standing there, battered derby in his hands.

"Excuse me," he said mildly, "but the gentleman's horse is fed."

It was his way of letting Jane Hunter--and d.i.c.k Hilton--know that she was not alone; but if the Reverend had intended to stop the tirade which he had heard from outside he did not succeed for the Easterner was further enraged at sight of him.

"I suppose this is part of your plan!" he snapped. "You found out that it's no use to wheedle me, so you've had your gun-man come to drive me off as he brought me!"

"d.i.c.k, don't be silly! You're absurd. A gun. The idea!"

Hilton laughed tauntingly and said:

"He's standing there now, covering me with a gun! Look at him." He pointed to the Reverend's pocket. A hand was in it and the garment bulged sharply as though a revolver, concealed there, was ready for instant use. "That's how you treat me; that's how you got me here. G.o.d knows I wouldn't have come otherwise if your existence depended on it.

"This man met me on the trail. He said you wanted to see me. I consigned him to the h.e.l.l from which he tries to have sinners and he covered me from his pocket just as he has me covered now and said it would be wise for me to answer your summons.

"How else do you think he brought me?" he demanded, wheeling to face Jane again.

The girl looked quickly to Beal, lips parted in surprise.

"I sent Mr. Beal for you, yes, but I said nothing about using force to bring you. I wouldn't do that. I'm sure there is some mistake."

"Yes, ma'am, I'm sure there is," said the Reverend, blinking and withdrawing his hand slowly. "I'm a man of peace. I'm not a man of force."

He lifted his hand clear, the ominous bulge in his pocket giving way, and held up one of his pens.

"One dollar," he said rather weakly ... as though frightened, or vastly amused.

Standing there, looking rather blankly about, holding that pen in his hand he was in ludicrous contrast to the furious Hilton. It made the other man seem absurd, his raging like the burlesque of some clowning actor.

With a helpless, choking oath Hilton turned, livid with rage, and strode for the doorway.

"For the last time I've been made a fool of!" he cried, and hastened up the path.

They heard him mount his horse and ride away.

Jane was too busied with more somber thoughts to appreciate the humor of the situation; she did later. Even had she been able to give attention to the contrast between Hilton's rage and the chagrin which followed so closely, the change in the Reverend would have diverted her attention. He stood looking at her with grief in his eyes and when he spoke his voice shook.

"I feel that I have done my duty, ma'am, but that is all Azariah Beal has to say for himself. There has been no result. I may have been too late in my attempt. Surely, there is nothing more to be done....

"Nothing more, unless you may succeed in ridding yourself of your enemies."

"Do you think that would have an effect on Bobby Cole?"

He nodded gravely.

"You and she have something in common: an enemy."

"He has been here tonight? You mean that Hilton is my enemy in the sense that he may imperil the future of the HC?"

"The same, ma'am."

"Reverend, it is likely that you are right. I am beginning to see a connection between factors which have seemed to be unrelated."