Part 13 (1/2)
When Lucy joined him a little later her face showed signs of tears, and as they walked back she was preoccupied and perturbed. She wished to see her father, so Curtis left her at the door of the bank.
”Daddy!” Lucy exclaimed as she rushed to his side, her eyes s.h.i.+ning and her face aglow. ”Oh, daddy, Senora Melgares has just told me the strangest thing! Mr. Conrad was with me, but he went out because she cried so, and he didn't hear what she said. I tried to quiet and comfort her, and finally she told me that her husband had been persuaded and paid to steal Mr. Conrad's horse by a man who said he wanted to get even with him for something. She told me his name--you and Mr. Tillinghurst and Judge Banks were talking about him the other day--Mr. Jenkins--Don Rutherford Jenkins, she called him.”
Antic.i.p.ation warmed Bancroft's heart as she spoke. If the story was true it might give him just the hold on Jenkins that he wanted. He made her repeat the details of her conversation with the Mexican woman. ”Did you say anything about it to Conrad?” he asked in conclusion.
”No, daddy; I thought I ought to tell you about it first.”
”Quite right, Lucy. You were very prudent. And don't mention it now, to him or to anybody.”
”No, of course not. But, daddy, won't that make it better for poor Jose Maria? Mr. Jenkins is the one that ought to be punished--he and Mr.
Baxter; and poor ignorant Melgares ought to be let off very easily.
Don't you think so, daddy?”
One of her hands rested on his shoulder. He took the other in both of his as he smiled at her indulgently. Her news had so heartened him that he hardly noticed her connection of Baxter with the affair. ”I don't know about that, daughter. It isn't likely to have any effect, because his indictment is for murder--you know he killed Gaines while resisting arrest--and his motive in stealing the horse has no connection with that crime. I'm glad you told me about it, dear. I'll talk with Melgares myself, and see what can be done. I suppose his wife must be having a hard time. You might give her some money. And ask her,” he said as he handed Lucy some bills, ”not to speak about this Jenkins matter to any one else. Be sure you impress that upon her. It's a pretty bad case, but you can tell his wife that everything possible will be done for him.
Dell Baxter is coming down to undertake his defence; he does it for nothing. So you mustn't think so badly of him hereafter, when you see how willing he is to make what amends he can to the poor fellow.”
Lucy threw her arms about his neck and kissed his forehead. ”Daddy, you're awfully good and kind--the best man in the world! About Mr.
Baxter, though--” she paused to toss her head, and a little sparkle shone in her eyes--”well, I'm glad he has the decency to do it, but it's no more than he ought; and before I think much better of him I'll wait to see if he drives any more of the poor Mexicans out of their homes.”
Bancroft began to plan hopefully. He would see Melgares and get the exact facts. If this story was true it would be just the sword he needed to hang over Jenkins. Evidently he had told Conrad nothing; therefore that check must have been campaign money from Ned Castleton to be used for the benefit of Martinez. Jenkins would not be likely to talk: it would ruin his chance of making money out of it himself. As for Curtis--perhaps, after all, he would not be unreasonable about the offer to make rest.i.tution. Another check would reach him soon, with a.s.surance of more to follow speedily. Surely the man was too sensible to cast aside such a start in life as this money would give him, just to carry out a crazy notion that would end in his own ruin.
”But if he will go on, he'll have n.o.body but himself to blame for whatever happens,” he thought. ”I've given him fair warning.”
The encouragement he felt turned his thoughts toward Louise Dent. In the intimacy of their daily life since she had been Lucy's visitor he had found her ever more lovable. He began to think, as he looked into her eyes and felt the restrained sweetness of her manner, that when he should be free to speak she would welcome his feeling, and have for it an intoxicating return. But he could say nothing until the settlement of this affair left no further danger of discovery and disgrace.
”She must not know--neither she nor Lucy shall know--never--never a word or hint,” he thought desperately. True, Louise was not so unsparing in her moral judgments as Lucy; she was older, and, with more knowledge of the world, had more tolerance for the conditions under which men lived and worked. But if all that past, the past that he had believed buried beyond resurrection, should suddenly confront him, she and Lucy would be horrified. They would despise him. The respect, honor, and love for which he hungered would die; if they stayed beside him it would only be for compa.s.sion's sake. In the fierce mood that possessed him as he thought of going down again into dishonor he was ready to strike out at anybody's pity. This thing must not be. He had won his way back to position, power, affluence; he held the love and honor of his daughter and of the woman he hoped to make his wife; what he had won he would keep. His lips whitened as he struck the desk with his clenched fist.
”The past is dead, and it's got to stay dead,” he muttered. ”I'll win out yet, by G.o.d!”
CHAPTER XIII
THE SECOND SHOT
Four days later the physician gave Conrad dubious permission to return to the round-up. ”Well, I may as well say you can go,” he surrendered, ”since you are determined to go anyway. But don't blame me if your wounds get worse.”
Most of this time the cattleman spent at the Bancrofts', where Lucy and Miss Dent tried to make an invalid of him, and all three enjoyed the comrades.h.i.+p that straightway sprang up among them. Between Lucy and Curtis there was much bantering gayety, but when alone their talk was sure to flow into serious channels. They had many long conversations, wherein each was deeply interested in everything the other said. They had much music also, Miss Dent playing and the others singing duets.
Lucy was very happy. She beamed and sparkled, with glowing eyes and dimpling smiles, and her manner, the whole being of her, expanded into maturer womanliness. Between Miss Dent and Conrad there was from the first a mutual liking, which quickly developed into confidential friends.h.i.+p. On his last day in town, while helping Lucy water the plants in her conservatory, he spoke to her admiringly of Miss Dent.
”I'm so glad you like my Dearie!” she responded warmly, looking up at him with a glow of pleasure. ”She's the dearest, sweetest woman! And you always feel you can depend on her. If you put your hand out you always know just where you can find Louise Dent, and you know she'll be as firm as a rock. She's been so good to me! And she's always so restful and calm--she has so much poise. But, do you know--” she hesitated as she stopped in front of the cage that held the tanager Curtis had brought for her care. His physician had splinted its broken leg and bound its injured wing, and together they were anxiously watching its recovery.
”It's been eating, Mr. Conrad!” she broke off joyously. ”Let's give it more seeds and fresh water!” As they ministered to the bird's needs Curtis went on about Miss Dent.
”Yes; she seems to have a calm sort of nature, but when I look at her I find myself wondering if that is because she has never been moved very deeply, or because she keeps things hidden deep down. Her eyes are set rather close together, which generally means, you know, an ability to get on the prod if necessary; and sometimes there is a look in them that makes you feel as if she might break out into something unexpected.”
Lucy was looking up at him with the keenest interest in her face. The southwestern sun had kissed her skin into rich browns and reds, and she carried gracefully her slender girlish figure. Her head, with its covering of short brown curls, always held alertly, gave to her aspect a savor of piquant charm. Curtis looked down into her upturned face and eager eyes with admiration in his own. Under her absorption in the subject of their talk she felt herself thrill with sweet, vague happiness.
”Do you know, I've been feeling that very same thing about Dearie,” she said in confidential tones. ”She seems more restless lately, although I know she's perfectly happy here with us. She has just the same quiet, gentle manner, but it seems as if there might be a volcano under it--not really, you know, but as if there might be if--if--I don't quite know how to say it--if things just got ready for it to be a volcano!”