Part 75 (1/2)

Fyles looked down upon her in amazed helplessness. He watched the woman's heaving shoulders as great, dry, hard sobs broke from her in tearless agony. He waited, feeling for the moment that nothing he could say or do but must add to her despair, to her pain. Her self-accusation had so far left him untouched. He could not realize all she meant. All that was plain to him was her suffering, and he longed to comfort her, and help her, and defend her against herself.

The moments slipped away, heavy moments of intense feeling and bitter grief.

Presently the grief-stricken woman's sobs grew less, and with something like a gesture of impatience she s.n.a.t.c.hed her hands from her face, and raised a pair of agonized eyes to his.

”Leave me,” she cried. ”Go, please go. I--I can't bear it.”

Her appeal was so helpless. Again the impulse to take her in his arms was almost too strong for the man, but with an effort he overcame it.

”Won't you--go on?” he said, in the gentlest possible tone. ”It will help you. And--you would rather tell me.”

The firmness of his manner, the gentleness, had a heartbreaking effect. In a moment the woman's eyes were flooded with tears, which coursed down her cheeks. It was the relief that her poor troubled brain and nerves demanded, and so Fyles understood.

He waited patiently until the pa.s.sion of weeping was over. Then again he urged his demand.

”Now tell me, Kate. Tell me all. And remember I'm not here as your judge. I am here to help--because--I love you.”

The look from the woman's eyes thanked him. Then she bowed her head lest the sight of him should leave her afraid.

”Must I tell it all?”

Kate's tone was firmer. There was a ring in it that reminded the other of the woman he used to know.

”Tell me just what you wish. No more--no less. You are telling it for your own sake, remember. To me--it makes no difference.”

”There's no use in telling it you from the start. The things that led up to it,” she began. ”I have been smuggling whisky for nearly five years. It's a pretty admission, isn't it? Yes, you may well be horrified,” she went on, as Fyles started.

But the man denied.

”I am not horrified,” he said. ”It is--the wonder of it.”

”The wonder? It isn't wonderful. It was so simple. A little ingenuity, a little nerve and recklessness. The law itself makes it easy. You cannot arrest on suspicion.” Kate sighed, and her eyes had become reflective, so that their calmness satisfied the waiting man. ”I must tell you this,” she went on quickly. ”My reasons were twofold. Helen and I came here to farm. We came here because I was crazy for adventure. We had money, but I soon found that we, two women, could never make our farm pay. We were here surrounded by outlaws, who were already smuggling liquor, and their trade appealed to me. I was just crazy to take a hand in it for the excitement of it, and--to replenish our diminis.h.i.+ng capital.”

”Helen knows nothing about it,” she went on, her voice hardening as though the shameful story she was about to tell were forcing the iron deeper and deeper into her soul. ”She has never guessed, or suspected, and I could almost hope she never will. It didn't take me long to make up my mind. This was about the time Charlie came to the valley,” she sighed. ”Well, I quickly contrived to get at the men I wanted. I talked to them carefully, and finally unfolded to them a plan I had worked out to smuggle whisky on a large and profitable scale. It doesn't matter about the details. They all came in at once. It pleased their sense of humor to be run by a woman. I was to disguise myself as a man, which nature made easy for me, and my real personality was to be our chief safeguard. No one would suspect unless we were caught red-handed. And that--well, that was not a great chance, anyway, in those days. I was responsible. I was to purchase cargoes across the border. The others were only my helpers, under my absolute orders. And I ruled them sharply.”

The man nodded without other comment.

”But Charlie had arrived, and very soon his coming began to complicate matters,” Kate went on, after the briefest of pauses. ”He came out here to ranch. He was turned out of his home. And I--I just pitied him, and strove to turn him from his drunken habits. This is where the mischief was done. I liked him. I sort of felt like a mother to him.

He was so gentle and kind-hearted. He was clever, too--very clever.

Yes, I looked upon him as a son, or brother--but he didn't look on me in the same way. I don't know. I suppose I didn't think. I was foolish. Anyway, Charlie asked me to marry him. I refused him, and he drank himself into delirium tremens.”

Again came a long-drawn sigh at the memory of that poor, wasted life.

”Well, I nursed him, and finally he got better, and again I went on with my work. Then, one day, I received a shock. Charlie came to me and told me he'd found a mysterious old corral, away up, hidden in the higher reaches of the valley. He begged me to let him show it me.

Feeling that I owed him something, I consented to go with him. So we rode out. You know the place. But maybe you don't know its secret.”

Fyles nodded.

”Yes--you mean the--cupboard in the lining of the wall.”

”You know it?” Kate's surprise was marked. However, she went on rapidly. ”Well, while we were there he showed it to me, and then, looking me straight in the eyes, he said, 'Wouldn't it be a dandy hiding place for things? Suppose I was a big whisky smuggler. Suppose I wanted to disguise myself. I could keep my disguise here. No chance of its being found by police or any one. It would be a great place.'