CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
BELLE LORRIGAN WINS
In the second-best suit of Aleck Douglas, with his wrists showingstrong and shapely below the coat sleeves, and wrinkles across hisback, Lance turned his own steaming apparel before the kitchen fireand waited to hear what the doctor had to say.
In his mind was a great wonder at the inscrutable operations of Fate,that had twice brought tragedy into the Douglas house while he himselfwas permitted to bring all his love, which without the tragedies mighthave been rejected; which had sent him hurrying to Mary Hope on thisday of all the days when he had longed to come. He could not believethat blind Chance had irresponsibly twisted the threads of Mary Hope'slife so that these things had come upon her. He was abashed, humbled,filled with awe of the tremendous forces that rule our destinies. Forperhaps the first time in his life he stood face to face withsomething beyond his understanding, something against which hisarrogant young strength was powerless.
The doctor presently came to him, beckoned him to the doorway andpreceded him into the rain-washed yard, where the late afternoon sunshone with dazzling brightness after the storm.
"I think she'll live through this," the doctor began abruptly. "It wasnot the lightning, altogether, though she undoubtedly did receive asevere shock. There has been a predisposition to paralysis, which isthe true nature of this attack. Her right side is completelyparalyzed, and so far as I can determine after a more-or-lesssuperficial examination, her vocal chords are also affected, makingspeech impossible. Her left arm is not affected, and her mind seemsfairly normal. Too much work, too much worry, too much monotony--andshe has reached the time of life when these things are most apt tooccur. Her husband's death was undoubtedly a contributary cause. Withproper medical attention she may recover from this attack--partially,at least. She should be removed to a good hospital, or a trained nurseplaced in charge of the case here. That will be expensive. Do you knowwhether the family can afford--"
"The family can afford anything she needs, anything that will give hera chance," Lance told him brusquely.
"She will probably be an invalid as long as she lives," the doctorwent on. "She will be a great care. Are there any relatives, otherthan the girl? It's a tremendous burden to fall on her shoulders, Mr.Lorrigan."
"The burden," said Lance, "will not fall on her shoulders. I don'tmind telling you that Miss Douglas and I will be married very soon. Assoon as possible."
The doctor brightened visibly. "Congratulations, Mr. Lorrigan! Ishould strongly advise you, then, to have the old lady removed to anice, quiet hospital. You will not want the care of her--young peopleshould not be handicapped in that way. I can make the necessaryarrangements. She should not be subjected to the discomforts of thejourney just at present--it's a long way by team, and a long way bytrain. I should like to have her as quiet as possible for a few days,at least."
"We'll look after that," said Lance, and hurried in to tell Mary Hopethat her mother was not going to die, and that Belle was coming--hecould hear the rattle of the buckboard.
"I don't know what mother will say," Mary Hope began, and stopped andhid her eyes behind her hands. Her mother, poor soul, could not sayanything. It seemed terrible to Mary Hope that her mother must liethere and endure the presence of the painted Jezebel in her home, andbe unable to utter one word of denunciation, one bitter reproach. Itwas like a judgment; and she could not bear the thought that hermother must suffer it. A judgment, or treachery on her part,--theterrible treason of a child betraying her mother.
"It's all right, girl; you don't _know_ our Belle. We'll just leave itto her. She'll find a way. And I'll go out now and tell her all aboutit, and leave her to manage."
"I'll go," Mary Hope decided unexpectedly. "I have things to say--youshall not go, Lance Lorrigan. You will please let me see heralone--first. I'm that afraid of Belle Lorrigan I could creep underthe table and hide! And so I shall go alone to her."
Lance surrendered, and rolled a cigarette and smoked it in thekitchen, and wondered if a cigarette had ever been smoked in thathouse before, and whether the ghost of Aleck Douglas was somewherenear, struggling vainly against the inevitable. It certainly wasunbelievable that a Lorrigan should be there, master--in effect, atleast--of the Douglas household, wearing the shoddy garments of AleckDouglas, and finding them at least three sizes too small.
They were an unconscionably long time out there,--those two women whomeant so much to him. He glanced in at Mother Douglas, in bed now andlooking terribly shrunken and old. The doctor was with her, sittingclose to the bed and leaning forward a little, watching her eyes whilehe talked soothingly. Lance was not wanted there, either. He returnedto the kitchen and put more wood in the stove, and felt tentativelyhis drying clothes.
Belle came in, holding Mary Hope by the hand. The eyes of both weremoist, shining, blue as the sky outside.
"Lance, honey, I'm glad," she whispered, kissing him on the cheek."Hope told me. And don't you two kids worry about me. I'll win my waysomehow. I always have--and I guess maybe you've got it in you, too,Lance. It sure took something more than Lorrigan nerve to win MaryHope--though I'll admit Lorrigan nerve won me. No, I won't go in therenow. Don't tell her I'm here, we'll wait awhile."
It was dusk, and the lamp had not yet been lighted. Through theunshaded window Mother Douglas could look out at the first pale stars.The doctor had gone. The house was very quiet, the snapping of thekitchen fire, the steady _tick_-tock, _tick_-tock of the old-fashionedclock blending with, rather than breaking, the silence.
Mother Douglas closed her eyes. Her groping left hand ceased itsaimless plucking at a yarn knot in the patchwork comforter. Her breathcame evenly--Mary Hope wondered if she slept. A hand fell on MaryHope's shoulder, though she had not heard a footfall. She seemedprepared, seemed to know what she must do. She slipped out of thechair, and Belle slipped into it. Mother Douglas opened her eyes,turned them that way; infinite weariness marked the glance. Her lefthand resumed again its vague groping, the work-worn fingers pluckingat the coverlet.
Sitting there in the dusk, her fingers faintly outlined in the oldwooden armchair in which Aleck Douglas had been wont to sit and broodsomberly over his work and his wrongs, Belle began softly to sing:
"Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon, How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair?"
The withered hand lay still, the fingers clutching tightly a fold ofcotton cloth. Mother Douglas looked and closed her eyes. Leaningclose, when the song was finished, Belle saw that the grim lips weretrembling, that tears were slipping down the too calm face. With herhandkerchief she wiped away the tears, and sang again. The "Girl witha Thousand Songs" had many Scottish melodies in her repertoire, andthe years had not made her forget.
At the last, the groping left hand reached painfully across, foundBelle's hand waiting, and closed on it tightly. Whenever Belle stoppedsinging the hand would clutch hers. When she began again the fingerswould relax a little. It was not much, but it was enough.
In the kitchen Mary Hope moved quietly about, cooking supper,straining and putting away the milk Hugh brought in. In the kitchenLance sat and watched her, and made love to her with his big eyes,with his voice that made of the most commonplace remark a caress.
But that night, when Mary Hope was asleep and Belle was dozing besidethe stricken woman, Lance saddled Jamie and led Coaley home. And whilehe rode, black Trouble rode with him and Love could not smile and beatback the spectre with his fists, but hid his face and whimpered, andwas afraid.
For Lance was face to face again with that sinister, unnamed Somethingthat hung over the Devil's Tooth ranch. He might forget it for a fewhours, engrossed with his love and in easing this new trouble that hadcome to Mary Hope; he might forget, but that did not make his owntrouble any the less menacing, any the less real.
He could not tell her so, now while she had this fresh worry over hermother, but Lance knew--and while he rode slowly he faced theknowledge--that he could not marry Mary Hope while the cloud hung overthe Devil's
Tooth. And that there was a cloud, a black, ominous cloudfrom which the lightning might be expected to strike and blast theLorrigans, he could not deny. It was there. He knew it, knew just howloud were its mutterings, knew that it was gathering swiftly, pushingup over the horizon faster than did the storm of the morning.
He would not put Coaley down the Slide trail, but took him around bythe wagon road. They plodded along at a walk, Coaley's stiffenedmuscles giving him the gait of an old horse. There had been no urgentneed to take Coaley home at once, but it was an excuse, and Lance usedit. He could not think,--he could not face his own trouble when he wasnear Mary Hope. She drove everything else from his mind, and Lanceknew that some things must not be driven from his mind. He had sethimself to do certain things. Now, with Mary Hope loving him, therewas all the more reason why he should do them.
The ranch seemed deserted, though of course it was late and he knewthat every one would be in bed. He found a lantern, put Coaley intothe box stall again, and spent a long time rubbing him down andcarrying him fresh hay and water. He went up then and roused SamPretty Cow, who was sleeping in the small cabin he had elected to makehis own private habitation on the ranch. Sam Pretty Cow told him thatno one had come home as yet.
"Two, three days, I dunno. Mebby Tom comes then," he hazarded,blinking at Lance. "This too quick. Nobody comes back same day, youbet."
Lance stood looking down at him, scowling thoughtfully. "Sam, you'vebeen a long time with the outfit. You've been a good man. You aren'tcrippled up--and you're the best rider of the bunch of us. Why don't_you_ go out any more?"
Sam lighted a cigarette, blew out the blazing match and laid the burntstub carefully on a box. He smoked stolidly, gazing at the dingy wallbefore him.
"Bust them bronks in the corral," he said at last, grinning briefly."You stay long, you see me ride. Uh-huh--yo' bet."
"Well, yes. That's all right. But why don't you go with the outfit?"Lance leaned against the wall, arms folded, studying him. It wasalmost hopeless, trying to get anything out of Sam Pretty Cow; still,Lance tried it.
Sam Pretty Cow looked up at him, looked down at his bare feet that hehad swung out of bed when Lance wakened him.
"Uh-huh. That's why. That all right, I'm go. That ain't all right, I'mdon' go. You bet."
Lance tap-tapped his right arm with the fingers of his left hand,chewed his lip and looked at Sam Pretty Cow.
"Still, dad lets you stick around the outfit," he drawled meaningly.
Sam Pretty Cow shot a quick glance toward him, looked at the door,relaxed again and studied his toes which he wriggled on the dirtyfloor.
"I'm good man, you bet. I'm mind my business." He drew a long breath,glanced again from the door to Lance's face. "Tom's damn smartman--me, I'm mebby smarter. I dunno."
Lance looked down at him, smiling strangely. "Sam, I'm minding mybusiness, too. I'm doing it by--not minding my own business. TomLorrigan's a smart man--but I'm Tom Lorrigan's son."
Sam turned his foot over, looked critically at the calloused sole ofit, turned it back again and blew a mouthful of smoke. "Yeah--uh-huh.You damn smart--you don't like them damn jail. I'm don't. We bothsmart, you bet."
Lance lifted an eyebrow. "What's the Piegan word for _accomplice_,Sam?" he asked softly.
Sam Pretty Cow considered. "Me, I'm don' know them damn word," hedecided.
"It's a word that sends smart men to jail, Sam. It means the man thatstays at home and--_knows_."
Sam Pretty Cow tucked his feet under the thin blanket, laid hishalf-smoked cigarette on the box, with the burning end out over theedge.
"Uh-huh. Yeah. You bet." He looked up at Lance, for the first timemeeting his eyes squarely. "I'm know them damn word you call. Nh-hn.Long time I'm got that what it mean on my heart. You're damn right."He waited a minute, saw the Lorrigan look on Lance's face, on his lipsthat smiled enigmatically. "Them Californy got bronks to bust?"
"Surest thing you know, Sam. But that's all right. You stay."
Sam Pretty Cow looked doubtful as an Indian may ever be expected tolook.
"You stay, Sam. There'll be bronks to bust on the Devil's Tooth for along while yet." He moved to the door, pulled it open and stoodlooking out. Only a few miles away Mary Hope lay asleep, loving him inher dreams, please God. Here, the Shadow hung black over the Devil'sTooth. He turned to Sam Pretty Cow whose hand was stretched toward thesmoky lamp.
"You forget that word, Sam. It doesn't mean anything at all--to aPiegan. And Sam, if I'm not around to-morrow morning, you ride over tothe Douglas ranch, and take back the horse I borrowed. Belle may wantto send you to town. She's there."
Sam Pretty Cow's eyes widened appreciably. "Uh-huh--all right. I'mgo," he promised, and blew out the light.
Lance went slowly up to the house and lay face downward on his bed.