The Roof Tree Part 23

"Ef warfare lays ahead of us we hev need ter stand tergether solid--an'

thar's good men amongst us thet wouldn't nuver fergive affrontin' old Caleb's memory by plum lookin' over his gal's husband. Thet's my counsel, an' ef ye hain't a-goin' ter heed hit----"

The quiet voice ripped abruptly into an explosiveness under which some of them cowered as under a lash.

"Then I reckon thar'll be Thorntons an' Harpers thet _will_--an they'll fight both ther Doanes an' your crowd alike."

CHAPTER XVI

Parish Thornton sat on the doorstep of the house gazing abstractedly upward where through soft meshes of greenery the sunlight filtered.

Here, he told himself, he ought to be happy beyond any whisper of discontent--save for the fret of his lingering weakness. Through the open door of the house came the voice of Dorothy raised in song, and the man's face softened and the white teeth flashed into a smile as he listened. Then it clouded again.

Parish Thornton did not know all the insidious forces that were working in the silences of the hills, but he divined enough to feel the brewing of a storm, which, in its bursting, might strike closer and with more shattering force than the bolt that had scarred the giant tree trunk.

Two pa.s.sions claimed his deep acknowledgment of allegiance and now they stood in conflict. One was as clear and flawlessly gracious as the arch of blue sky above him--and that was his love; the other was as wild and impetuous as the tempests which sprang to ungoverned life among these crags--and that was his hate.

When he had sworn to Bas Rowlett that the moon should not "full again"

before he avenged his betrayal with death, he had taken that oath solemnly and, he sincerely believed, in the sight of G.o.d. It was, therefore, an oath that could be neither abandoned nor modified.

The man who must die knew, as did he himself and the heavenly witness to the compact, that his physical incapacity had been responsible for his deferred action--but now with returning strength he must make amends of promptness.

He would set out to-day on that enterprise of cleansing his conscience with performance. In killing Bas Rowlett he would be performing a virtuous act. As to that he had no misgiving, but an inner voice spoke in disturbing whispers. He could not forget Hump Doane's appeal--and prophecy of tribulation. By killing Bas now he might even loose that avalanche!

"An' yit ef I tarries a few days more," he argued stubbornly within himself, "hit's ergoin' ter be even wusser. I'm my own man now--an'

licensed ter ack fer myself." He rose and stiffened resolutely, against the tide of doubt, and his fine face darkened with the blood malignity of his heritage.

He went silently into the house and began making his preparations. His pistol holster should have fitted under his left arm-pit but it was useless there now with no right hand to draw or use it. So Parish Thornton thrust it into his coat pocket on the left-hand side, and then at the door he halted in a fresh perplexity.

He could not embark on a mission that might permit of no returning without bidding Dorothy good-bye--and as he thought of that farewell his face twitched and the agate hardness wavered.

So he stood for awhile in debate with himself, the relentlessness of the executioner warring obdurately with the tenderness of the lover--and while he did so a group of three hors.e.m.e.n came into view on the highway, moving slowly toward his house.

When the trio of visitors had dismounted, an elderly man, whose face held a deadly sort of gravity, approached, introducing himself as Aaron Capper and his companions as Sim Squires and Lincoln Thornton.

"Albeit we hain't well beknowest ter one another," Aaron reminded him, "we're all kinfolks more or less--an' we've done rid over ter hev speech with ye cons'arnin' right sober matters."

"Won't ye come inside an' sot ye cheers?" invited Parish, but the elder man shook his head as he wiped his perspiring and dust-caked face on the sleeve of his shirt.

"Ther breeze is stirrin' tol'able fresh out hyar," suggested Aaron, "an thet old walnuck tree casts down a right grateful shade. I'd jest es lieve talk out hyar--ef hit suits ye."

So under the tree, where a light breeze stirred with welcome tempering across the river, the four men squatted on their heels and lighted their pipes.

"Thar hain't no profit in mincin' matters none," began old Aaron, curtly. "I lost me three boys when they fit ther battle of Claytown twenty y'ars back--an' now hit looks powerful like ther war's fixin' ter bust out afresh. Ef hit does I aims ter take me full toll fer tha'r killin'."

Parish Thornton--who had ten minutes before been planning a death infliction of his own--raised his brows at this unsoftened bluntness of announcement, but he inquired of Aaron Capper as he had done of Hump Doane: "Why does ye come ter me?"

"We comes ter ye," Aaron gave him unambiguous answer, "because ef ther Harpers hev got ter fight, that hain't no health in divided leaderships ner dilatary delays.... Some men seems ter hold thet because ye wed with Old Caleb's gal, ye're licensed ter stand in Old Caleb's shoes ...

whilst others seems plum resolved not ter tolerate ye atall an' spits ye outen thar mouths."

"Which of them lots does _you_ men stand with?"

The question came soberly, yet something like a riffle of cynical amus.e.m.e.nt glinted in the eyes of Parish Thornton as he put it.

"I hain't made up my mind yit. All I knows is thet some fellers called on me ter head ther Harpers ... an' afore I give 'em any answer, I 'lowed thet hit become us ter hev speech with ye fust. We owed ye thet much because ther Doanes'll pint-blank deem thet ther trouble started when ye wed Bas Rowlett's gal--an' whatever _we_ does, _they'll_ hold ye accountable."

The heir to Caleb Harper's perplexities stood leaning against the tree.

There were still moments when his strength seemed to ebb capriciously and leave him giddy. After a moment, though, he smiled quietly and glanced about the little group.

"When I come over hyar," he said, "I didn't ask nothin' but ter be left alone. I married Dorothy, an' old Caleb confidenced me. I've got my own affairs ter tend an' I'm satisfied ter tend 'em. So fur es frayin' an'

fightin' goes"--his voice mounted suddenly and the half-whimsical humour died instantly in his eyes--"I've got some of my own ter study erbout--an' I don't have ter meddle with other folkses' quarrels."

"Then ye aims ter stand aside an' let things take thar own course?"

"Thet's what I 'lowed ter do, but ye've jest done told me thet the Doanes don't aim ter _let_ me stand aside. S'pose ye tells me some more."

"All right," said Aaron, brusquely. "Ef thet's what ye wants I'll tell ye a lavish."

Dorothy had come to the front door and looked out, and seeing the men still mopping hot faces, she had brought out a pitcher of cool b.u.t.termilk and a pewter mug.

The backs of the three visitors were turned toward the house, and her feet on the gra.s.s had made no sound so that only Parish himself had known of her coming and he had, with a lifting of the brows, signalled her to wait until old Aaron finished speaking.

"I've done sought by prayer an' solemn ponderin' ter take counsel with Almighty G.o.d," declared the spokesman. "Ther blood of them three boys of mine hes been cryin' out ter me fer twenty y'ars but yet I knows thet ef ther war does come on again hit's goin' ter bring a monstrous sum of ruination an' mischief. So I comes ter ye--es Caleb Harper's heir--ter heer what ye've got ter say."

Dorothy Thornton's eyes widened as, standing with the pitcher and the ancient mug in her hands, she listened to that speech. Then as the full import of its feudal menace broke upon her understanding the blossom colour flowed out of her smooth cheeks and neck, leaving them ivory white.

She saw herself as the agency which had drawn her husband into this vortex, and bitterly reflected that this had been her dowry and the gift of her love!

Parish's glance held by that stunned fixety in her expression attracted the attention of the others and old Aaron Capper, turning his head, saw her and let a low oath of exasperation escape him.

"Send her away!" he snapped, angrily. "This hyar hain't no woman's business. How much did she hyar?"

Parish Thornton went forward and took the pitcher and pewter mug from his wife's hand, then he shook his head, and his voice altered to a new ring, quiet, yet electrically charged with dominance.

"No," he ripped out, shortly. "I hain't ergoin' ter send her away. Ye says. .h.i.t hain't no woman's business, and yit she's Caleb Harper's gran'daughter--an' because of her weddin' with me--Harpers an' Doanes alike--ye won't suffer me ter foller out my own affairs in my own fashion, onmolested!"

Aaron came to his feet, bristling indignantly and with new protests rising to his lips, but an imperious gesture of command from Parish silenced him into a bewildered obedience. It had become suddenly impossible to brow-beat this man.

"Dorothy," said her husband, "I reckon ye heered enough ter know what brought these men hyar. They norates thet ther Doanes holds me accountable fer whatever ther Harpers does--good or evil--because I stands as heir ter yore gran'pap. They tells me likewise thet ther Harpers hain't got no settled leader, an' only two things hinders me from claimin' thet job myself: Fust place, I don't crave ter mingle in thar ructions, and second place they won't hev none of me. Seems like I'm ther gryste betwixt two mill-stones ... an' bein' es ye're my wife, thet's a state of things thet consarns _you_ es well es me."

A Valkyrie fire glowed in the dark eyes of the young woman and her hands clenched themselves tautly. The colour that had gone out of her cheeks came back with a rush of vividness which seemed to transform her as a lighted wick transforms a candle.

"When my gran'pap war a-strivin' aginst all manner of odds fer peace,"

she said, disdainfully, "thar was them thet kept hamperin' him by whoopin' on ther troublemakers--an' I've done heered him say thet one turrible hard man ter reason with bore ther name of Aaron Capper."