The Red Debt Part 3

That grim hated shadow of prey darted upon her tensioned senses and made her shiver, sending a-scutter and a-scurry all the innate righteous instincts whose home had been her heart; leaving in its void a well of hate that congealed and turned into a live thing, that squirmed, burrowed, and crawled to and fro in her soul; armed with a hundred claws to goad and agonize and spread a misery through her young life. All this warped the girl's spiritual being and imperiled the beauty of her countenance, for at times it mingled the lettering of its presence with the charms of her face.

Without a word, but with a significant look at Belle-Ann, Lem took the cow-horn suspended over his shoulder by a rawhide, pointed it upward toward the lone figure on the cliff and gave a long, sonorous blast.

Instantly the solitary figure on high moved and disappeared from view.

Belle-Ann drew apart, while the two men stood together, Orlick doing the talking, and watched for the old man to come out into the trail.

There came a slight sound behind and, like a shadow, old Cap Lutts stepped forth under the trees and confronted them, his polished rifle gleaming in the moonlight, and a big, spotted hound hugging his heels.

His straight, powerful form rose to giant proportions. His very presence pulsed keen discernment, subtle alertness, an agile, seemingly implacable strength and aggressive tenacity.

He listened in silence as Orlick told his mission and then said quietly:

"Lem, you an' Orlick go down yonder an' lead th' party up heah ef he's alone; if he ain't yo'-all blow the horn. An' yo', Orlick," the old man added, with eyes that bored into Orlick's smirking face, "what air thes I heered about your trapesin' around over yon in Southpaw?"

Orlick shifted his weight to the other foot.

"Yo'-all ain't 'lowin' to fix nothin' on Jutt Orlick--on a Orlick, cap'n?" he cried huskily. "Where's my pap an' four brothers--where's Hank an' Bill an' Tom Orlick, an' Tod an' old Elijah Lutts Orlick?

"Shot to pieces heah on h.e.l.lsfork, fightin' the revenuers an' th'

McGills! I kin lead yo' to their bones down yonder!" He pointed his trooper's hat trembling in his outstretched hand.

"An' whut air I heah fer t'-night? Yo'-all ain't 'lowin' to fix nothin'

on the onlyst Orlick left, cap'n?"

Throughout this fervent defense not for one instant did the piercing, chill eyes of old Lutts leave the boy's face.

"Orlick," he began slowly, "I hain't studyin' 'bout the past. Hit's the time a comin'. I jest axed yo', have yo' been over in Southpaw?"

"Naw, I hain't!" declared Orlick, flushing slightly.

"Have yo' snooked with the revenuers below?"

"Not by er d.a.m.n sight!"

"Leastways," observed the old man as he drew back, "I 'low yo're in bad company, son; but ef yo' ever cross h.e.l.lsfork er I know plumb sho' thet yo' snook with th' revenuers below, don't never 'low me t' git eyes on ye', Orlick."

"Don't force th' old man t' lift a hand agin' yo' pint-blank, git out o'

th' mountings first. Now, yo' boys go an' fetch th' stranger party up.

Ef hit's thet infernal ghost-dog revenuer, don't skeer em off--bring em up, quick! Ef hit's a sheriff, don't hurt his feelin's--bring em up, cose I'm lonesome like."

Orlick fully understood the import of Cap Lutts' parting words, and, casting a covert look toward the cabin where he knew Belle-Ann lingered in the shadows, he swaggered along after Lem, leading his horse. And the while a bold design shaped itself in his perfidious heart as he pretended loyal friendship to the silent boy trudging beside him.

A cloud of dark suspicion hung over the head of Jutt Orlick.

Things had happened in the mountains the past two years which subsequently pointed accusing fingers in his direction. Unless he was present no one ever knew just where Orlick was.

Two years since he had disappeared and come back after nine months, wearing soldier's garb, which he had affected ever since.

He told lurid tales of his conquests and adventures with the Mexican revolutionists. He elaborated on the gilded splendor and the beautiful things that the big cities held.

He recounted deeds of heroism abroad in which he was sole hero and he poured these fabulous tales into Belle-Ann's ears at every opportunity.

At the end of his periodical migrations he always returned with a new horse, and sums of money that astounded the humble mountaineers.

For more than two years, Orlick had been determined to possess himself of Belle-Ann Benson. But he resolved first to free himself of Lem Lutts.

He had noted of late the subtle little courtesies exchanged between Belle-Ann and Lem, and he knew that they had arrived at the realization that they were not brother and sister. Was it not reasonable to conclude that, in view of the girl's beauty, it was only a matter of time before Lem would take Belle-Ann for his own?

The mere thought stirred Orlick's hot blood to a fury, as with a scowl he fixed his eyes upon the figure leading the downward trail and he was seized with a mad impulse to shoot Lem in the back.

His hand crept downward. The cool contact of steel in his holster woke him to his folly and he trailed along, curbing his impatience, resolved to follow to the letter the plan he had worked out to get Belle-Ann out of the mountains and away, or bring ruin down on the whole Lutts family.

When Lem Lutts returned to the cabin an hour later, with a large, tired man and a f.a.gged-out horse, Orlick was not with them.

Old Lutts was pacing to and fro in the moonlight. He was occupied mainly with thoughts of his new church and the dedication on Sunday.

The stranger below was to him a matter of secondary concern. He had been a hunted man all his life. Therefore, there was neither novelty nor consternation in the reflection.

The old man stalked up to the horse-block and greeted the stranger.

"Howdy? Sort o' warmish t'-night. Whut mought be yo'-all's business seein' me?"

"This is Mr. Lutts, I take it?" ventured the newcomer.

"Thes air ol' Cap Lutts, o' Moon mountain," corrected the old man in a precise tone.

"Yes, certainly," continued the man hastily. "Well, captain, I'm a deputy sheriff. I was despatched to see you and deliver a message from the sheriff."

Here he revealed his shield, then unbuckled his belt, containing a pair of pistols, and hung them over the saddle-tree.

"And, captain," he pursued wearily but genially, "I'm dog tired. I've been five hours coming up the last five miles. Can I talk with you a bit, captain?"

The old man, who had listened intently, spoke up now, and there was a touch of sarcasm in his drawl.

"Yo' air a new deputy, I 'low--hain't yo', sheriff?"

"You are right. I was appointed two weeks ago, and I'll get even with somebody for sending me on this G.o.dless trail--I smell some spite somewhere."

"Wal, set down heah, sheriff, an' perceed," invited Lutts, with a generous gesture toward the bench.

"I can state my position and my errand, captain, in very few words,"

began the new deputy, who had plainly lost a measure of his official zeal along the almost impa.s.sable trail, and now appeared disgruntled.

"The sheriff, the district attorney, and the collector of this district have gotten together and have drafted an ultimatum and I was chosen to deliver it to you and get your answer. They propose to quash all the various indictments now against you for illicit distilling and for shootings alleged through warrants by some of the McGill faction."

"Both the Commonwealth, the civil and Federal authorities stand as a unit to clear the dockets of these charges, providing that you come down and sign an agreement to cease all further operations pertaining to feud wars and the illicit distilling of liquor and turn over all your present distilling property to the government. That's it in a nutsh.e.l.l. I just want your answer--yes or no, captain--and my work is done."

The sheriff looked up into the inscrutable face for answer. The old man smiled good-humoredly and tossed his long hair backward.