CHAPTER XXXV
AT KITCHEN'S BARN
To be so summarily left alone and in such a place was disconcerting.Kate, in the semi-darkness and silence, put her foot on the first treadof the steps and, placing her hand against the wall, looked upward.Not a sound; above her a partial light through a trap-door and awounded man. She stood completely unnerved. The thought of Laramiewounded, perhaps dying, the man that had rescued her, protected her, intruth saved her life on that fearful night--this man, now lying aboveher stricken, perhaps murdered, by her own father's friends! How couldshe face him? Only the thought that he should not lie wounded untodeath without knowing at least that she was not ungrateful, that shehad not wittingly betrayed him, gave her strength to start up thenarrow steps.
When her head rose above the trap opening the light in the large loftseemed less than it had promised from below. There were no windows,but through a gable door, partly ajar, shot a narrow slit of daylightfrom the afterglow of the sunset. Kate caught glimpses of a maze ofrafters, struts and beams and under them huge piles of loose hay.Reaching the top step she paused, trying to look about in the dimlight, when Laramie, close at hand, startled her: "McAlpin told me youwanted to see me," he said. She could distinguish nothing for amoment. But the low words reassured her.
"I'm lying on the hay," he continued, in the same tone. "If you'llopen the door a little more you can see better."
Picking her way carefully over to it, Kate pushed the door opensomewhat wider and turned toward Laramie.
He lay not far from the stairs. The yellow light of the evening glowfalling on his face reflected a greenish pallor. Kate caught herbreath, for it seemed as if she were looking into the face of deathuntil she perceived, as he turned his head, the unusual brightness ofhis eyes.
In her confusion what she had meant to say fled:
"Are you very much hurt?" she faltered.
"Far from it." He spoke slowly. If it cost him an effort none wasdiscernible. "Coming into the barn tonight," he went on, veryhaltingly, "I had a kind of dizzy spell." He paused again. "I've beeneating too much meat lately, anyway. They say--I fell off my horse;leastways I bumped my head. I'll be all right tomorrow."
"Belle told me there had been a fight up at the canyon bridge," Katestammered, already at a loss to begin.
A sickly yellow smile pointed the silence. "I wouldn't call it exactlya fight," he said, dwelling somewhat on the last word. "Far from it,"he repeated, with a touch of grimness. "There was some shooting. Andsome running." She could see how he paused between sentences. "But ifthe other fellows ran it must have been after me. I didn't pay muchattention to who was behind. I had to make a tolerable steep gradedown the Falling Wall Ladder to the river. I was on horseback anddidn't have much leisure to pick my trail."
"And they shooting at you from the rim!"
"Well, they must have been shooting at something in my generaldirection. I guess they hit me once. I didn't mind getting hitmyself, but I didn't want them to hit my horse. I was heading for thebottom as fast as the law would allow. If they'd hit the horse, Iwouldn't have had much more than one jump from the rim to the river.Can't ask you to sit down," he added, "unless you'll sit here on thehay."
Without the least hesitation Kate placed herself beside him. Withoutgiving her a chance to speak and in the same monotone, he added: "Whotold you I was a gambler?"
Less than so blunt and unexpected a question would have sufficed totake her aback. And she was conscious in the fading light of hisstrangely bright eyes fixed steadily on her. "I don't remember anybodyever did. I----"
"Somebody did. You told Belle once."
"It must have been long ago----"
"Is that the reason you never acted natural with me?"
She flushed with impatience. But if she tried to get away he broughther back to the subject. Cornered, she grew resentful: "I can't tellwho told me," she pleaded, after ineffectual sparring. "I'veforgotten. Are you a gambler?" she demanded, turning inquisitorherself.
He did not move and it was an instant before he replied: "What do youmean," he asked, "by gambler?"
Kate's tone was hard: "Just what anybody means."
"If you mean a man that makes his living by gambling--or hangs around agambling house all the time, or plays regularly--then I couldn't fairlyand squarely be called a gambler. If you mean a man that plays cards_sometimes_, or _has_ once in a while bet on a game in a gamblinghouse, then, I suppose"--he was so evidently squirming that Kate meanlyenjoyed his discomfort--"you might call me that. It would all dependon whether the one telling it liked me or didn't like me. I haven'tbeen in Tenison's rooms for months, nor played but one game of poker."
"I despise gambling."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Why should I?"
"In one sense everybody's a gambler. Everybody I know of is playingfor something. Take your father and me: He's playing for my life; I'mplaying for you. He's playing for a small stake; I'm playing for a bigone."
She could not protest quick enough: "You talk wildly."
"No," he persisted evenly, "I only look at it just as it is."
"Don't ask me to believe all the cruel things said of my father anymore than you want me to believe the things said of you. I am terriblysorry to see you wounded. And now"--her words caught in herthroat--"Belle blames me even for that."
"How on earth does she blame you for that?"
Despite her efforts to control herself, Kate, as she approached theunpleasant subject, began to tremble inwardly with the fear that itmust after all be as Belle had rudely asserted--that her father wasbehind these efforts against Laramie's life. For nothing had shakenher tottering faith in her father more than the blunt words Laramiehimself had just now indifferently spoken.
"If I am in any way to blame, it is innocently," she hurried on. "Iwill tell you everything; you shall judge. My father was bitterlyangry when he learned I had been seen at Abe Hawk's funeral. I toldhim about my getting lost, about falling into the place at thebridge--how you did everything you could and how Abe Hawk had done allhe could. He was so angry he would listen to nothing----" she stopped,collected herself, tried to go on, could not.
"Oh, I hate this country!" she exclaimed. "I hate the people andeverything in it! And I'm going away from it--as far as I can get.But I wouldn't go," she said determinedly, "without seeing you andtelling you this much."
Laramie spoke quietly but with confidence: "You are not going away fromthis country."
Kate had picked up a stem of hay and looking down at it was breaking itnervously between her fingers. "You will have to hurry up and get wellif I stay," she said abruptly. "I'm beginning to think you are theonly friend I have here. And," she added, so quickly as to cut off anywords from him, "I've told you everything. I only hope my speakingabout the hiding place at the bridge when father was angry with me--andonly to defend myself--was not the cause of _this_."
She was close beside him. "Can it be," she asked, "that this was howit happened?" He heard her voice break with the question.
"No," he blurted out instantly.
"Oh," she cried, "I'm so thankful!"
Listening to her effort to speak the words, he was not sorry for whathe had said. "If you're going to lie," Hawk had once said to him,cynically, "don't stumble, don't beat about the bush--do a job!" Themoment Kate told her story, Laramie knew exactly how he had beentrapped. But why blame her? "It's the first time I ever lied to her,"he thought ruefully to himself. "It's the first time she ever believedme!"
"Does Belle know you quarreled with your father?" he asked, to get awayfrom the subject.
"No," she answered, steadying herself.
"She said you'd been acting sort of queer."
"I can't tell people my troubles."
"Why did you tell me?"
"You might die and blame me."
"Who says I'm going to die?"
"They were afraid you might."
&
nbsp; "Well, I don't like to disappoint anybody, but dying is a thing a manis entitled to take his time about."
"Can't I do something till the doctor comes?"
He turned very slowly on his side. Kate made an attempt to examine hisshoulder. She was not used to the sight of blood. The clotted andmatted clothing awed and sickened her. Even the hay was blood-soaked,but she stuck to her efforts. Supplementing the rude efforts ofMcAlpin and Kitchen to give him first aid, she cut away, with Laramie'sknife, the bullet-torn coat and shirt and tried to get the wound readyfor cleansing. "I'm so afraid of doing the wrong thing," she murmured,fearfully.
"I don't care what you do--do something," he said. "Your hands feelawful good."
"I've nothing here to work with."
"All right, we'll go to the drug store and get something." Afterstubborn efforts he got on his feet and insisted on going down thestairs. Nothing that Kate could say would dissuade him. "I've beenhere long enough, anyway," was his decision. "I'm feeling better everyminute; only awfully thirsty."
Kate steadied him down the dark stairs, fearful he might fall over heras she went ahead. Secrecy of movement seemed to have no significancefor him. If his friends were disturbed, Laramie was not. He evidentlyknew the harness room, for he opened the blind door with hardly anyhesitation and stepped into the office. The office was empty but thestreet door of the stable was open. McAlpin stood in the gang-waytalking to some man who evidently caught a glimpse of Laramie, for hesaid rudely and loud enough for Kate to hear: "Hell, McAlpin! Therecomes your dead man now!"
Kate recognized the heavy voice of Carpy and shrank back. The doctor,McAlpin behind him dumbly staring, confronted Laramie at the door:"What are you doin' here, Jim?" he demanded.
"What would I be doing anywhere?" retorted Laramie.
"Go back to your den. This man says you're dying."
"Well, I'm not getting much encouragement at it--I've been waiting foryou three hours to help things along. I'm done with the hay."
"Looking for a feather bed to die in. Some men are blamed particular."As he spoke Carpy caught his first glimpse of Kate. "Hello! There'sthe pretty little girl from the great big ranch. No wonder the man'sup and coming--what did you send for me for, McAlpin? Where youheading, Jim?"
With his hands on the door jambs, Carpy effectually barred the exit.Knowing his stubborn patient well, he humored him, to the verge ofletting him have his own way, but with much raillery denied him thedrug store trip. A compromise was effected. Laramie consented to goto Belle's to get something to eat. In this way, refusing help, theobdurate patient was got to walk to the cottage.
"Don't let him fall on y'," McAlpin cautioned Kate, as the two followedclose behind. "I helped carry him upstairs. He's a ton o' brick."
But Laramie, either incensed by his condition--the idea of any escortbeing vastly unpleasant to him--or animated by the stiff hypodermics ofprofanity that Carpy injected into the talk as they crossed the street,did not even stumble; he held his way unaided, met Belle's amazementunresponsively and, sitting down, called for something to eat.
"How does he do it, Doc?" whispered McAlpin, craning forward from thebackground.
"Pure, damned nerve," muttered Carpy. "But he does it."
They got him into bed. While the doctor was excavating the channelripped through his shoulder, Laramie said nothing. When, however, hediscovered that Kate was missing, he crustily short-circuited Belle'sexcuses. Words passed. It became clear that Laramie would start outand search the town if Kate were not produced.
"She wanted to see _me_," he insisted, doggedly. "Now I want to see_her_."
Carpy found he must again intervene. He despatched McAlpin as adiplomatic envoy over to his own house whither he had taken Kate as hisguest when she peremptorily declined to return to Belle's.