Nan of Music Mountain

  CHAPTER XVII

  STRATEGY

  One week went to repairs. To a man of action such a week is longerthan ten years of service. But chained to a bed in the Sleepy Cathospital, de Spain had no escape from one week of thinking, and forthat week he thought about Nan Morgan.

  He rebelled at the situation that had placed him at enmity with herkinsfolk, yet he realized there was no help for this. The Morgans werea law unto themselves. Hardened men with a hardened code, they livedin their fastness like Ishmaelites. Counselled by their leader, oldDuke Morgan, brains of the clan and influential enough to keep outsidethe penalties of the law themselves, their understanding with theoutlaws of the Sinks was apparently complete, and the hospitality ofone or another of their following within the Gap afforded a refuge forpractically any mountain criminal.

  But none of these reflections lightened de Spain's burden ofdiscontent. One thought alone possessed him--Nan; her comely body,which he worshipped to the tips of her graceful fingers; her alertmind, which he saw reflected in the simplest thought she expressed;her mobile lips, which he followed to the least sound they gave forth!The longer he pictured her, figured as she had appeared to him like aphantom on Music Mountain, the more he longed to be back at the footof it, wounded again and famished. And the impulse that moved him thefirst moment he could get out of bed and into a saddle was to spur hisway hard and fast to her; to make her, against a score of burlycousins, his own; and never to release her from his sudden armsagain.

  With de Spain, to think was to do; at least to do something, but notwithout further careful thinking, and not without anticipating everychance of failure. And his manner was to cast up all difficulties andobstacles in a situation, brush them aside, and have his will if theheavens fell. Such a temperament he had inherited from his father'sfiery heart and his mother's suffering, close-set lips as he hadremembered them in the little pictures of her; and he now set himself,while doing his routine work every day, to do one particular thing--tosee, talk to, plead with, struggle with the woman, or girl,rather--child even, to his thoughts, so fragile she was--this girl whohad given him back his life against her own marauding relatives.

  For many days Nan seemed a match for all the wiles de Spain could useto catch sight of her. He spent his days riding up and down the lineon horseback; driving behind his team; on the stages; in and out ofthe streets of Sleepy Cat--nominally looking for stock, for equipment,for supplies, or frankly for nothing--but always looking for Nan.

  His friends saw that something was absorbing him in an unusual, evenan extraordinary way, yet none could arrive at a certain conclusion asto what it was. When Scott in secret conference was appealed to byJeffries, he smiled foolishly, at a loss, and shook his head.

  Lefever argued with less reticence. "It stands to reason, Jeffries. Aman that went through that ten minutes at Calabasas would naturallythink a good deal about what he is getting out of his job, and whathis future chances are for being promoted any minute, day or night, bya forty-five."

  "Perhaps his salary had better be raised," conceded Jeffriesreflectively.

  "I figure," pursued Lefever, "that he has already saved the companyfifty thousands in depredations during the next year or two. TheCalabasas gang is busted for five years--they would eat out of hishand--isn't that so, Bob?"

  "The Calabasas gang, yes; not the Morgans."

  John's eyes opened on Scott with that solemnity he could assume tobolster a baldly unconvincing statement. "Not now, Bob. Not now, Iadmit; but they will."

  Scott only smiled. "What do you make out of the way he acts?"persisted Lefever, resenting his companion's incredulity.

  "I can't make anything of it," premised Bob, "except that he hassomething on his mind. If you'll tell me what happened from the timehe jumped through the window at Calabasas till he walked into his roomthat night at the barn, I'll tell you what he's thinking about."

  "What do you mean, what happened?"

  "Henry left some things out of his story."

  "How do you know?"

  "I heard him tell it."

  Jeffries, acting without delay on the suspicion that de Spain wasgetting ready to resign, raised his salary. To his surprise, de Spaintold him that the company was already paying him more than he wasworth and declined the raise; yet he took nobody whomsoever into hisconfidence.

  However, the scent of something concealed in de Spain's story had longbefore touched Lefever's own nostrils, and he was stimulated by merepride to run the secret down. Accordingly, he set himself to find, ina decent way, something in the nature of an explanation.

  De Spain, in the interval, made no progress in his endeavor to seeNan. The one man in the country who could have surmised the situationbetween the two--the barn boss, McAlpin--if he entertained suspicions,was far too pawky to share them with any one.

  When two weeks had passed without de Spain's having seen Nan or havingheard of her being seen, the conclusion urged itself on him that shewas either ill or in trouble--perhaps in trouble for helping him; amoment later he was laying plans to get into the Gap to find out.

  Nothing in the way of a venture could be more foolhardy--this headmitted to himself--nothing, he consoled himself by reflecting, butsomething stronger than danger could justify it. Of all the motleyMorgan following within the mountain fastness he could count on butone man to help him in the slightest degree--this was the derelict,Bull Page. There was no choice but to use him, and he was easilyenlisted, for the Calabasas affair had made a heroic figure of deSpain in the barrooms. De Spain, accordingly, lay in wait for the oldman and intercepted him one day on the road to Sleepy Cat, walkingthe twenty miles patiently for his whiskey.

  "You must be the only man in the Gap, Bull, that can't borrow or steala horse to ride," remarked de Spain, stopping him near the riverbridge.

  Page pushed back the broken brim of his hat and looked up. "Youwouldn't believe it," he said, imparting a cheerful confidence, "butten years ago I had horses to lend to every man 'tween here and ThiefRiver." He nodded toward Sleepy Cat with a wrecked smile, and by adramatic chance the broken hat brim fell with the words: "They've got'em all."

  "Your fault, Bull."

  "Say!" Up went the broken brim, and the whiskied face lighted with ashaking smile, "you turned some trick on that Calabasas crew--somefight," Bull chuckled.

  "Bull, is old Duke Morgan a Republican?"

  Bull looked surprised at the turn of de Spain's question, but answeredin good faith: "Duke votes 'most any ticket that's agin therailroad."

  "How about picking a couple of good barnmen over in the Gap, Bull?"

  "What kind of a job y'got?"

  "See McAlpin the next time you're over at Calabasas. How about thatgirl that lives with Duke?"

  Bull's face lighted. "Nan! Say! she's a little hummer!"

  "I hear she's gone down to Thief River teaching school."

  "Came by Duke's less'n three hours ago. Seen her in the kitchen makin'bread."

  "They're looking for a school-teacher down there, anyway. Muchsickness in the Gap lately, Bull?"

  "On'y sickness I knowed lately is what you're responsible for y'self,"retorted Bull with a grin. "Pity y' left over any chips at all fromthat Calabasas job, eh?"

  "See McAlpin, Bull, next time you're over Calabasas way. Here"--deSpain drew some currency from his pocket and handed a bill to Page."Go get your hair cut. Don't talk too much--wear your whiskers longand your tongue short."

  "Right-o!"

  "You understand."

  "Take it from old Bull Page, he's a world's wonder of a sucker, but heknows his friends."

  "But remember this--you don't know me. If anybody knows you for afriend of mine, you are no good to me. See?"

  Bull was beyond expressing his comprehension in words alone. Hewinked, nodded, and screwed his face into a thousand wrinkles. DeSpain, wheeling, rode away, the old man blinking first after him, andthen at the money in his hand. He didn't profess to understandeverything in the high country, but he could sti
ll distinguish theprincipal figures at the end of a bank-note. When he tramped toCalabasas the next day to interview McAlpin he received more advice,with a strong burr, about keeping his own counsel, and a littleexpense money to run him until an opening presented itself on thepay-roll.

  But long before Bull Page reached Calabasas that day de Spain hadacted. When he left Bull at the bridge, he started for Calabasas, tooksupper there, ordered a saddle-horse for one o'clock in the morning,went to his room, slept soundly and, shortly after he was called,started for Music Mountain. He walked his horse into the Gap and rodestraight for Duke Morgan's fortress. Leaving the horse under a heavymountain-pine close to the road, de Spain walked carefully butdirectly around the house to the east side. The sky was cloudy and thedarkness almost complete. He made his way as close as he could toNan's window, and raised the soft, crooning note of the desert owl.

  After a while he was able to distinguish the outline of her casement,and, with much patience and some little skill remaining from theboyhood days, he kept up the faint call. Down at the big barn thechained watch-dog tore himself with a fury of barking at the intruder,but mountain-lions were common in the Gap, and the noisy sentinelgained no credit for his alarm. Indeed, when the dog slackened hisfierceness, de Spain threw a stone over his way to encourage a freshoutburst. But neither the guardian nor the intruder was able to arouseany one within the house.

  Undeterred by his failure, de Spain held his ground as long as hedared. When daybreak threatened, he withdrew. The following night hewas in the Gap earlier, and with renewed determination. He tossed apebble into Nan's open window and renewed his soft call. Soon, a lightflickered for an instant within the room and died out. In the darknessfollowing this, de Spain thought he discerned a figure outlined at thecasement. Some minutes later a door opened and closed. He repeated thecry of the owl, and could hear a footstep; the next moment hewhispered her name as she stood before him.

  "What is it you want?" she asked, so calmly that it upset him. "Why doyou come here?"

  Where he stood he was afraid of the sound of her voice, and afraid ofhis own. "To see you," he said, collecting himself. "Come over to thepine-tree."

  Under its heavy branches where the darkness was most intense, he toldher why he had come--because he could not see her anywhere outside.

  "There is nothing to see me about," she responded, still calm. "Ihelped you because you were wounded. I was glad to see you get awaywithout fighting--I hate bloodshed."

  "But put yourself in my place a little, won't you? After what you didfor me, isn't it natural I should want to be sure you are well and notin any trouble on my account?"

  "It may be natural, but it isn't necessary. I am in no trouble. No onehere knows I even know you."

  "Excuse me for coming, then. I couldn't rest, Nan, without knowingsomething. I was here last night."

  "I know you were."

  He started. "You made no sign."

  "Why should I? I suspected it was you. When you came again to-night Iknew I should have to speak to you--at least, to ask you not to comeagain."

  "But you will be in and out of town sometimes, won't you, Nan?"

  "If I am, it will not be to talk with you."

  The words were spoken deliberately. De Spain was silent for a moment."Not even to speak to me?" he asked.

  "You must know the position I am in," she answered. "And what aposition you place me in if I am seen to speak to you. This is myhome. You are the enemy of my people."

  "Not because I want to be."

  "And you can't expect them not to resent any acquaintance on my partwith you."

  He paused before continuing. "Do you count Gale Morgan as one of yourpeople?" he asked evenly.

  "I suppose I must."

  "Don't you think you ought to count all of your friends, yourwell-wishers, those who would defend you with their lives, among yourpeople?" She made no answer. "Aren't they the kind of people," hepersisted, "you need when you are in trouble?"

  "You needn't remind me I should be grateful to you----"

  "Nan!" he exclaimed.

  "For I am," she continued, unmoved. "But----"

  "It's a shame to accuse me in that way."

  "You were thinking when you spoke of what happened with Gale on MusicMountain."

  "I wish to God you and I were on Music Mountain again! I never livedor did anything worth living for, till you came to me that day onMusic Mountain. It's true I was thinking of what happened when Ispoke--but not to remind you you owed anything to me. You don't; getthat out of your head."

  "I do, though."

  "I spoke in the way I did because I wanted to remind you of what mighthappen some time when I'm not near."

  "I shan't be caught off my guard again. I know how to defend myselffrom a drunken man."

  He could not restrain all the bitterness he felt. "That man," he saiddeliberately, "is more dangerous sober than drunk."

  "When I can't defend myself, my uncle will defend me."

  "Ask him to let me help."

  "He doesn't need any help. And he would never ask you, if he did. Ican't live at home and know you; that is why I ask you not to comeagain."

  He was silent. "Don't you think, all things considered," shehesitated, as if not knowing how easiest to put it, "you ought to bewilling to shake hands and say good-by?"

  "Why, if you wish it," he answered, taken aback. And he added morequietly, "yes, if you say so."

  "I mean for good."

  "I--" he returned, pausing, "don't."

  "You are not willing to be fair."

  "I want to be fair--I don't want to promise more than human naturewill stand for--and then break my word."

  "I am not asking a whole lot."

  "Not a whole lot to you, I know. But do you really mean that you don'twant me ever to speak to you again?"

  "If you must put it that way--yes."

  "Well," he took a long breath, "there is one way to make sure of that.I'll tell you honestly I don't want to stand in the way of such awish, if it's really yours. As you have said, it isn't fair, perhaps,for me to go against it. Got your pistol with you, Nan?"

  "No."

  "That is the way you take care of yourself, is it?"

  "I'm not afraid of you."

  "You ought to be ashamed of yourself not to be. And you don't evenknow whom you'll meet before you can lock the front door again. Youpromised me never to go out without it. Promise me that once more,will you?" She did as he asked her. "Now, give me your hand, please,"he went on. "Take hold of this."

  "What is it?"

  "The butt of my revolver. Don't be afraid." She heard the slight clickof the hammer with a thrill of strange apprehension. "What are youdoing?" she demanded hurriedly.

  "Put your finger on the trigger--so. It is cocked. Now pull."

  She caught her breath. "What do you mean?"

  He was holding the gun in his two hands, his fingers overlapping hers,the muzzle at the breast of his jacket. "Pull," he repeated, "that'sall you have to do; I'm steadying it."

  She snatched back her hand. "What do you mean?" she cried. "For me tokill you? Shame!"

  "You are too excited--all I asked you was to take the trouble to crookyour finger--and I'll never speak to you again--you'll have your wishforever."

  "Shame!"

  "Why shame?" he retorted. "I mean what I say. If you meant what yousaid, why don't you put it out of my power ever to speak to you? Doyou want me to pull the trigger?"

  "I told you once I'm not an assassin--how dare you ask me to do sucha thing?" she cried furiously.

  "Call your uncle," he suggested coolly. "You may hold this meantime soyou'll know he's in no danger. Take my gun and call your uncle----"

  "Shame on you!"

  "Call Gale--call any man in the Gap--they'll jump at the chance."

  "You are a cold-blooded, brutal wretch--I'm sorry I ever helpedyou--I'm sorry I ever let you help me--I'm sorry I ever saw you!"

  She sprang away before he could
interpose a word. He stood stunned bythe suddenness of her outburst, trying to listen and to breathe at thesame time. He heard the front door close, and stood waiting. But nofurther sound from the house greeted his ears.

  "And I thought," he muttered to himself, "that might calm her down alittle. I'm certainly in wrong, now."