CHAPTER XII.
A HEART LAID BARE.
It was the truth at last. His heart leaped madly. But when he reachedfor her she started back.
"Don't touch me!" came huskily from her lips. "You must not!"
"Mustn't?"
"No."
"Why, Bessie, I still----"
"You can't forget that I am the child of a cattle thief--a criminal!"
"That's not your fault, little girl. I can forget it. I have forgottenit."
"It's impossible," she declared, shaking her head.
"Such talk is folly, Bessie. Your father's misdeeds should not blightyour life. I will not have it so! You were innocent."
She turned her face toward him, and those wonderful dark eyes lookedsadly into his. There were tears trembling on the long lashes.
"You know I'm not foolish, Berlin Carson," she said, in a strangelyhardened tone. "In the old days on the ranch I was no soft-hearted,light-headed girl."
"You were the most bewitching and fascinating creature the Colorado sunever shone upon. There was always a mystery about you, and it bound mewith a magic spell. The years since I saw you last have made that spellmore potent and powerful."
"Still, I'm the daughter of a man who rustled cattle. He did not rustlethem in the good old-fashioned way. Instead of that, he stole them afterthe manner that a sneak thief picks a pocket. He did his work byaltering the brands. He posed as another man. He sought to lay all theblame on the shoulders of Laramie Dave, a known rustler."
"Why talk of that, Bessie?"
"I lived on the Flying Dollars Ranch. Dressed as a boy, I rode the rangewith my father's cattlemen, who helped him rustle. Do you think I knewnothing of what was taking place? Do you think I was silly enough andsoft enough to be deceived? You must understand that I knew my fatherwas a criminal."
Carson shivered a little, but it was not because of the cool night air.In all the weeks and months since her vanishing, in all his thoughts ofher, this thing had never occurred to him. He had regarded her as theinnocent, unfortunate daughter of a bad man.
Now, however, he sought an excuse for her.
"He was your father, and you had to protect him. You could not betrayyour own father. You must have suffered."
"You're too kind, too generous," she hoarsely explained. "It was noeffort on my part to keep his secret. I knew what business he followedlong years before I ever saw you. I knew it long before he purchased theFlying Dollars. Down in Texas he was a rustler, but, unlike otherrustlers, he did not squander his money. He saved it and sent me toschool. In a boarding school I was regarded as the daughter of a wealthyranchman. I was popular with my girl schoolmates. No one of them eversuspected that my father was a cattle thief and that I knew it."
"For Heaven's sake, stop!" commanded Carson. "Don't seek to degradeyourself in my eyes! Don't try to turn me against you in this manner!"
"I'm simply telling you the truth, Berlin Carson. Do you wonder why Ivanished after my father's death? Do you wonder why I never faced youagain? You knew a part of the miserable truth. Had I been compelled tosee you again, I knew I would tell you all, and I likewise knew whatthat meant."
"What it meant?"
"Yes."
"You thought----"
"I knew it would shock you beyond words. I knew the effect it must haveupon you. I could not bring myself to meet you, well knowing that youwould shudder and shrink from me."
He lifted his hand.
"No, no, never!" he declared. "You were wrong, Bessie. You werefrightfully mistaken. The trouble was that you did not understandme--you did not know me."
"It cannot be that you----"
"I should have pitied you, and I should have loved you all the more,even as I do now," he asserted. "Why not? It was not your fault thatyour father was a criminal. Of course you had to keep his secret. It wasa cruel fate that placed you in such a position."
"Wait a little longer," she urged. "You must know the truth, every bitof it. I admired my father. I loved the danger and the thrill of thatwild life. Not only did I know what he did, but more than once, in thedarkness of night, I aided him and his men in their work. I was dressedas a boy, and only Injun Jack and my father knew I was not a boy. Nowyou know what sort of girl you have fancied you loved. I mingled withthose men, those desperadoes, who were profane as pirates--who were, ina sense, the pirates of the great plains. A fine life for an innocentgirl! Have you forgotten that my hands are stained with human blood?Have you forgotten it was my bullet that killed Injun Jack?"
"That was one of the bravest deeds of your life. Only for that, FrankMerriwell would be dead. Only for your nerve and bravery in shootingthat ruffian, one of God's grandest men would have been murdered incold blood. Since my college days I have loved and admired him above allother men. When you saved his life by taking another worthless life youdid a noble deed. Had you not fled, I would have married you at theearliest possible moment. I am ready now, Bessie."