to the last man-第35章

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I'll　shore　believe　him。



CHAPTER　X

Two　weeks　of　lonely　solitude　in　the　forest　had　worked　incalculable
change　in　Ellen　Jorth。

Late　in　June　her　father　and　her　two　uncles　had　packed　and　ridden　off
with　Daggs；　Colter；　and　six　other　men；　all　heavily　armed；　some　somber
with　drink；　others　hard　and　grim　with　a　foretaste　of　fight。　　Ellen　had
not　been　given　any　orders。　　Her　father　had　forgotten　to　bid　her　good…by
or　had　avoided　it。　　Their　dark　mission　was　stamped　on　their　faces。

They　had　gone　and；　keen　as　had　been　Ellen's　pang；　nevertheless；　their
departure　was　a　relief。　　She　had　heard　them　bluster　and　brag　so　often
that　she　had　her　doubts　of　any　great　Jorth…Isbel　war。　　Barking　dogs　did
not　bite。　　Somebody；　perhaps　on　each　side；　would　be　badly　wounded；
possibly　killed；　and　then　the　feud　would　go　on　as　before；　mostly　talk。
Many　of　her　former　impressions　had　faded。　　Development　had　been　so
rapid　and　continuous　in　her　that　she　could　look　back　to　a　day…by…day
transformation。　　At　night　she　had　hated　the　sight　of　herself　and　when
the　dawn　came　she　would　rise；　singing。

Jorth　had　left　Ellen　at　home　with　the　Mexican　woman　and　Antonio。
Ellen　saw　them　only　at　meal　times；　and　often　not　then；　for　she
frequently　visited　old　John　Sprague　or　came　home　late　to　do　her
own　cooking。

It　was　but　a　short　distance　up　to　Sprague's　cabin；　and　since　she　had
stopped　riding　the　black　horse；　Spades；　she　walked。　　Spades　was
accustomed　to　having　grain；　and　in　the　mornings　he　would　come　down
to　the　ranch　and　whistle。　　Ellen　had　vowed　she　would　never　feed　the
horse　and　bade　Antonio　do　it。　　But　one　morning　Antonio　was　absent。
She　fed　Spades　herself。　　When　she　laid　a　hand　on　him　and　when　he　rubbed
his　nose　against　her　shoulder　she　was　not　quite　so　sure　she　hated　him。
〃Why　should　I？〃　she　queried。　　〃A　horse　cain't　help　it　if　he　belongs
toto〃　　Ellen　was　not　sure　of　anything　except　that　more　and　more
it　grew　good　to　be　alone。

A　whole　day　in　the　lonely　forest　passed　swiftly；　yet　it　left　a　feeling
of　long　time。　　She　lived　by　her　thoughts。　　Always　the　morning　was　bright；
sunny；　sweet　and　fragrant　and　colorful；　and　her　mood　was　pensive；　wistful；
dreamy。　　And　always；　just　as　surely　as　the　hours　passed；　thought　intruded
upon　her　happiness；　and　thought　brought　memory；　and　memory　brought　shame；
and　shame　brought　fight。　　Sunset　after　sunset　she　had　dragged　herself
back　to　the　ranch；　sullen　and　sick　and　beaten。　　Yet　she　never　ceased
to　struggle。

The　July　storms　came；　and　the　forest　floor　that　had　been　so　sear　and
brown　and　dry　and　dusty　changed　as　if　by　magic。　　The　green　grass　shot
up；　the　flowers　bloomed；　and　along　the　canyon　beds　of　lacy　ferns　swayed
in　the　wind　and　bent　their　graceful　tips　over　the　amber…colored　water。
Ellen　haunted　these　cool　dells；　these　pine…shaded；　mossy…rocked　ravines
where　the　brooks　tinkled　and　the　deer　came　down　to　drink。　　She　wandered
alone。　　But　there　grew　to　be　company　in　the　aspens　and　the　music　of　the
little　waterfalls。　　If　she　could　have　lived　in　that　solitude　always；
never　returning　to　the　ranch　home　that　reminded　her　of　her　name；　she
could　have　forgotten　and　have　been　happy。

She　loved　the　storms。　　It　was　a　dry　country　and　she　had　learned　through
years　to　welcome　the　creamy　clouds　that　rolled　from　the　southwest。　　They
came　sailing　and　clustering　and　darkening　at　last　to　form　a　great；　purple；
angry　mass　that　appeared　to　lodge　against　the　mountain　rim　and　burst　into
dazzling　streaks　of　lightning　and　gray　palls　of　rain。　　Lightning　seldom
struck　near　the　ranch；　but　up　on　the　Rim　there　was　never　a　storm　that
did　not　splinter　and　crash　some　of　the　noble　pines。　　During　the　storm
season　sheep　herders　and　woodsmen　generally　did　not　camp　under　the　pines。
Fear　of　lightning　was　inborn　in　the　natives；　but　for　Ellen　the　dazzling
white　streaks　or　the　tremendous　splitting；　crackling　shock；　or　the
thunderous　boom　and　rumble　along　the　battlements　of　the　Rim　had　no
terrors。　　A　storm　eased　her　breast。　　Deep　in　her　heart　was　a　hidden
gathering　storm。　　And　somehow；　to　be　out　when　the　elements　were　warring；
when　the　earth　trembled　and　the　heavens　seemed　to　burst　asunder；
afforded　her　strange　relief。

The　summer　days　became　weeks；　and　farther　and　farther　they　carried　Ellen
on　the　wings　of　solitude　and　loneliness　until　she　seemed　to　look　back
years　at　the　self　she　had　hated。　　And　always；　when　the　dark　memory
impinged　upon　peace；　she　fought　and　fought　until　she　seemed　to　be
fighting　hatred　itself。　　Scorn　of　scorn　and　hate　of　hate！　　Yet　even
her　battles　grew　to　be　dreams。　　For　when　the　inevitable　retrospect
brought　back　Jean　Isbel　and　his　love　and　her　cowardly　falsehood　she
would　shudder　a　little　and　put　an　unconscious　hand　to　her　breast　and
utterly　fail　in　her　fight　and　drift　off　down　to　vague　and　wistful　dreams。
The　clean　and　healing　forest；　with　its　whispering　wind　and　imperious
solitude；　had　come　between　Ellen　and　the　meaning　of　the　squalid　sheep
ranch；　with　its　travesty　of　home；　its　tragic　owner。　　And　it　was　coming
between　her　two　selves；　the　one　that　she　had　been　forced　to　be　and　the
other　that　she　did　not　knowthe　thinker；　the　dreamer；　the　romancer；
the　one　who　lived　in　fancy　the　life　she　loved。

The　summer　morning　dawned　that　brought　Ellen　strange　tidings。　　They
must　have　been　created　in　her　sleep；　and　now　were　realized　in　the
glorious　burst　of　golden　sun；　in　the　sweep　of　creamy　clouds　across
the　blue；　in　the　solemn　music　of　the　wind　in　the　pines；　in　the　wild　
screech　of　the　blue　jays　and　the　noble　bugle　of　a　stag。　　These　heralded
the　day　as　no　ordinary　day。　　Something　was　going　to　happen　to　her。
She　divined　it。　　She　felt　it。　　And　she　trembled。　　Nothing　beautiful；
hopeful；　wonderful　could　ever　happen　to　Ellen　Jorth。　　She　had　been　born
to　disaster；　to　suffer；　to　be　forgotten；　and　die　alone。　　Yet　all　nature
about　her　seemed　a　magnificent　rebuke　to　her　morbidness。　　The　same　spirit
that　came　out　there　with　the　thick；　amber　light　was　in　her。　　She　lived；
and　something　in　her　was　stronger　than　mind。

Ellen　went　to　the　door　of　her　cabin；　where　she　flung　out　her　arms；
driven　to　embrace　this　nameless　purport　of　the　morning。　　And　a
well…known　voice　broke　in　upon　her　rapture。

〃Wal；　lass；　I　like　to　see　you　happy　an'　I　hate　myself　fer　comin'。
Because　I've　been　to　Grass　Valley　fer　two　days　an'　I've　got　news。〃

Old　John　Sprague　stood　there；　with　a　smile　that　did　not　hide　a
troubled　look。

〃Oh！　　Uncle　John！　　You　startled　me；〃　exclaimed　Ellen；　shocked　back
to　reality。　　And　slowly　she　added：　〃Grass　Valley！　　News？〃

She　put　out　an　appealing　hand；　which　Sprague　quickly　took　in　his　own；
as　if　to　reassure　her。

〃Yes；　an'　not　bad　so　far　as　you　Jorths　are　concerned；〃　he　replied。
〃The　first　Jorth…Isbel　fight　has　come　off。　。　。　。　Reckon　you　remember
makin'　me　promise　to　tell　you　if　I　heerd　anythin'。　　Wal；　I　didn't
wait　fer　you　to　come　up。〃

〃So　Ellen　heard　her　voice　calmly　saying。　　What　was　this　lying　calm
when　there　seemed　to　be　a　stone　hammer　at　her　heart？　　The　first　fight
not　so　bad　for　the　Jorths！　　Then　it　had　been　bad　for　the　Isbels。
A　sudden；　cold　stillness　fell　upon　her　senses。

〃Let's　sit　downoutdoors；〃　Sprague　was　saying。　　〃Nice　an'　sunny　this
mornin'。　　I　declareI'm　out　of　breath。　　Not　used　to　walkin'。　　An'
besides；　I　left　Grass　Valley；　in　the　nightan'　I'm　tired。　　But　excoose
me　from　hangin'　round　thet　village　last　night！　　There　was　shore〃

〃Whowho　was　killed？〃　interrupted　Ellen；　her　voice　breaking　low　and　deep。

〃Guy　Isbel　an'　Bill　Jacobs　on　the　Isbel　side；　an'　Daggs；　Craig；　an'
Greaves　on　your　father's　side；〃　stated　Sprague；　with　something　of
awed　haste。

〃Ah！〃　breathed　Ellen；　and　she　relaxed　to　sink　back　against　the　cabin　wall。

Sprague　seated　himself　on　the　log　beside　her；　turning　to　face　her；
and　he　seemed　burdened　with　grave　and　important　matters。

〃I　heerd　a　good　many　conflictin'　stories；〃　he　said；　earnestly。　　〃The
village　folks　is　all　skeered　an'　there's　no　believin'　their　gossip。
But　I　got　what　happened　straight　from　Jake　Evarts。　　The　fight　come
off　day　before　yestiddy。　　Your　father's　gang　rode　down　to　Isbel's　ranch。
Daggs　was　seen　to　be　wantin'　some　of　the　Isbel　hosses；　so　Evarts　says。
An'　Guy　Isbel　an'　Jacobs　ran　out　in　the　pasture。　　Daggs　an'　some　others
shot　them　down

〃Killed　themthat　way？〃　put　in　Ellen；　sharply。

〃So　Evarts　says。　　He　was　on　the　ridge　an'　swears　he　seen　it　all。　　They
killed　Guy　an'　Jacobs　in　cold　blood。　　No　chance　fer　their　livesnot
even　to　fight！　。　。　。　Wall；　hen　they　surrounded　the　Isbel　cabin。　　The
fight　last　all　thet　day　an'　all　night　an'　the　next　day。　　Evarts　says
Guy　an'　Jacobs　laid　out　thar　all　this　time。　　An'　a　herd　of　hogs　broke　
in　the　pasture　an'　was　eatin'　the　dead　bodies　。　。　。〃

〃My　God！〃　burst　out　Ellen。　　〃Uncle　John；　y'u　shore　cain't　mean　my
father　wouldn't　stop　fightin'　long　enough　to　drive　the　hogs　off　an'
bury　those　daid　men？〃

〃Evarts　says　they　stopped　fightin'；　all　right；　but　it　was　to　watch
the　hogs；〃　declared　Sprague。　　〃An'　then；　what　d'　ye　think？　　The
wimminfolks　come　outthe　　red…headed　one；　Guy's　wife；　an'　Jacobs's
wifethey　drove　the　hogs　away　an'　buried　their　husbands　right　there
in　the　pasture。　　Evarts　says　he　seen　the　graves。〃

〃It　is　the　women　who　can　teach　these　bloody　Texans　a　lesson；〃
declared　Ellen；　forcibly。

〃Wal；　Daggs　was　drunk；　an'　he　got　up　from　behind　where　the　gang　was
hidin'；　an'　dared　the　Isbels　to　come　out。　　They　shot　him　to　pieces。
An'　thet　night　some　one　of　the　Isbels　shot　Craig；　who　was　alone　on　guard。
。　。　。　An'　lastthis　here's　what　I　come　to　tell　youJean　Isbel　slipped　
up　in　the　dark　on　Greaves　an'　knifed　him。〃

〃Why　did　y'u　want　to　tell　me　that　particularly？〃　asked　Ellen；　slowly。

〃Because　I　reckon　the　facts　in　the　case　are　queeran'　because；　Ellen；
your　name　was　mentioned；〃　announced　Sprague；　positively。

〃My　namementioned？〃　echoed　Ellen。　　Her　horror　and　disgust　gave　way　to
a　quickening　process　of　thought；　a　mounting　astonishment。　　〃By　whom？〃

〃Jean　Isbel；〃　replied　Sprague；　as　if　the　name　and　the　fact　were　momentous。

Ellen　sat　still　as　a　stone；　her　hands　between　her　knees。　　Slowly　she
felt　the　blood　recede　from　her　face；　prickling　her　kin　down　below　her
neck。　　That　name　locked　her　thought。

〃Ellen；　it's　a　mighty　queer　storytoo　queer　to　be　a　lie；〃　went　on
Sprague。　　〃Now　you　listen！　　Evarts　got　this　from　Ted　Meeker。　　An'　Ted
Meeker　heerd　it　from　Greaves；　who　didn't　die　till　the　next　day　after
Jean　Isbel　knifed　him。　　An'　your　dad　shot　Ted　fer　tellin'　what　he　heerd。
。　。　。　No；　Greaves　wasn't　killed　outright。　　He　was　cut　somethin'　turrible
in　two　places。　　They　wrapped　him　all　up　an'　next　day　packed　him　in　a
wagon　back　to　Grass　Valley。　　Evarts　says　Ted　Meeker　was　friendly　with
Greaves　an'　went　to　see　him　as　he　was　layin'　in　his　room　next　to　the
store。　　Wal；　accordin'　to　Meeker's　story；　Greaves　came　to　an'　talked。
He　said　he　was　sittin'　there　in　the　dark；　shootin'　occasionally　at
Isbel's　cabin；　when　he　heerd　a　rustle　behind　him　in　the　grass。　　He
knowed　some　one　was　crawlin'　on　him。　　But　before　he　could　get　his　gun
around　he　was　jumped　by　what　he　thought　was　a　grizzly　bear。　　But　it　was
a　man。　　He　shut　off　Greaves's　wind　an'　dragged　him　back　in　the　ditch。
An'　he　said：　'Greaves；　it's　the　half…breed。　　An'　he's　goin'　to　cut　y