Part 57

In spite of all opposition, she had her way. Returning to her room to get such clothing as she needed for her stay in the hills, she waited for Redfield to send a carriage to her. "I can't ride a horse no more," she sorrowfully admitted.

Lee's secret was no secret to any one there. Her wide eyes and heaving breast testified to the profound stir in her heart. She was in an anguish of fear lest Ross should already be in the grip of his loathsome enemy. That it had come to him by way of a brave and noble act only made the situation the more tragic.

XIV

THE PEST-HOUSE

Cavanagh had kept a keen watch over Wetherford, and when one night the old man began to complain of the ache in his bones his decision was instant.

"You've got it," he said. "It's up to us to move down the valley to-morrow."

Wetherford protested that he would as soon die in the hills as in the valley. "I don't want Lee Virginia to know, but if I seem liable to fade out, I'd like Lize to be told that I didn't forget her, and that I came back to find out how she was. I hate to be a nuisance to you, and so I'll go down the valley if you say so."

As he was about to turn in that night Ross heard a horse cross the bridge, and with intent to warn the rider of his danger, went to the door and called out: "Halt! Who's there?"

"A friend," replied the stranger, in a weak voice.

Ross permitted his visitor to ride up to the pole. "I can't ask you in," he explained. "I've a sick man inside. Who are you, and what can I do for you?"

Notwithstanding this warning the rider dropped from his saddle, and came into the light which streamed from the door.

"My name is Dunn," he began. "I'm from Deer Creek."

"I know you," responded the ranger. "You're that rancher I saw working in the ditch the day I went to telephone, and you've come to tell me something about that murder."

The other man broke into a whimper. "I'm a law-abiding man, Mr. Cavanagh," he began, tremulously. "I've always kept the law, and never intended to have anything to do with that business. I was dragged into it against my will. I've come to you because you're an officer of the Federal law. You don't belong here. I trust you. You represent the President, and I want to tell you what I know--only I want you to promise not to bring me into it. I'm a man of a family, and I can't bear to have them know the truth."

There was deep agitation and complete sincerity in the rancher's choked and hesitant utterance, and Cavanagh turned cold with a premonition of what he was about to disclose. "I am not an officer of the law, Mr. Dunn, not in the sense you mean, but I will respect your wishes."

"I know that you are not an officer of the county law, but you're not a cattle-man. It is your business to keep the peace in the wild country, and you do it, everybody knows that; but I can't trust the officers of this country, they're all afraid of the cowboys. You're not afraid, and you represent the United States, and I'll tell you. I can't bear it any longer!" he wailed. "I must tell somebody. I can't sleep and I can't eat. I've been like a man in a nightmare ever since. I had no hand in the killing--I didn't even see it done; but I knew it was going to happen. I saw the committee appointed. The meeting that decided it was held in my barn, but I didn't know what they intended to do. You believe me, don't you?" He peered up at Cavanagh with white face and wild eyes.

"Go on," replied the ranger; "I'll protect you--if I can. Go on. It's your duty--tell all you know."

The troubled man, after a little silence, resumed. "Sometimes I feel that I'd be happier in jail than I am walking about in the sunshine. I never dreamed civilized men could do such deeds. I thought they were only going to scare the herders and drive them out, as they've done so many times before. I can see now that they used my barn for a meeting-place because everybody believed me to be a man of peace. And I am. I'm over seventy years of age, Mr. Cavanagh, and I've been a law-abiding citizen all my life."

His mind, shattered by the weight of his ghastly secret, was in confusion, and, perceiving this, Cavanagh began to question him gently. One by one he procured the names of those who voted to "deal with" the herders. One by one he obtained also the list of those named on "the Committee of Reprisal," and as the broken man delivered himself of these accusing facts he grew calmer. "I didn't know--I couldn't believe--that the men on that committee could chop and burn--" His utterance failed him again, and he fell silent abruptly.

"They must have been drunk--mad drunk," retorted Cavanagh. "And yet who would believe that even drink could inflame white men to such devil's work? When did you first know what had been done?"

"That night after it was done one of the men, my neighbor, who was drawn on the committee, came to my house and asked me to give him a bed. He was afraid to go home. 'I can't face my wife and children,' he said. He told me what he'd seen, and then when I remembered that it had all been decided in my stable, and the committee appointed there, I began to tremble. You believe I'm telling the truth, don't you?" he again asked, with piteous accent.

"Yes, I believe you. You must tell this story to the judge. It will end the reign of the cattle-men."

"Oh no, I can't do that."

"You must do that. It is your duty as a Christian man and citizen."

"No, no; I'll stay and help you--I'll do anything but that. I'm afraid to tell what I know. They would burn me alive. I'm not a Western man. I've never been in a criminal court. I don't belong to this wild country. I came out here because my daughter is not strong, and now--" He broke down altogether, and leaning against his horse's side, sobbed pitifully.

Cavanagh, convinced that the old man's mind was too deeply affected to enable him to find his way back over the rough trail that night, spoke to him gently. "I'll get you something to eat," he said. "Sit down here, and rest and compose yourself."

Wetherford turned a wild eye on the ranger as he reentered. "Who's out there?" he asked. "Is it the marshal?"

"No, it's only one of the ranchers from below; he's tired and hungry, and I'm going to feed him," Ross replied, filled with a vivid sense of the diverse characters of the two men he was serving.