Part 15 (1/2)
replied Pan. ”I've known cowmen to shoot rustlers. Cowmen who had themselves branded cattle not their own. This was a practice. They didn't think it crooked. They all did it. But it _was_ crooked, when you come down to truth. And though that may not be legally as criminal as the stealing of branded cattle, to my mind it is just as bad. Your father began that way, Hardman caught him, and perhaps forced him into worse practice.”
”Pan, are you trying to give me some hope?”
”Reckon I am. Things are not so bad. My Lord, suppose I'd been a month later!”
Lucy shook her head despondently. ”It's worse _now_ for me than if you had come--”
”Why?” interrupted Pan. She would say the things that hurt.
”Because to see you--be with you like this--before I'm--if I have to be married--is perfectly terrible.... Afterward, when it would be too late and I had lost something--self-respect or more--then I might not care.”
That not only made Pan lose patience but it also angered him. The hot blood rushed to his face. He bit his tongue and struggled to control himself.
”Lucy! Haven't I told you that you're not going to marry d.i.c.k Hardman,” he burst out.
”Oh, but I'll have to,” she replied, stubbornly, with a sad little shake of her head.
”No!”
”I must save Dad. You might indeed get him out of jail some way. But that would not save him.”
”Certainly it would,” rejoined Pan, curtly. ”In another state he would be perfectly safe.”
”They'll trail him anywhere. No, that won't do. We haven't time.
d.i.c.k is pressing me hard to marry him at once, or his father will prosecute Dad. I promised.... And today--this morning--d.i.c.k is coming here to get me to set the day.”
”_What?_” cried Pan, pa.s.sionately.
His word, swift as a bullet, made her jump, but she repeated what she had said almost word for word.
”And your answer?” queried Pan, in hot scorn.
”Sooner the--better,” she replied, mournfully. ”I can't stand--this--you--oh, anything would be--easier than your hope ...
your--love making!”
”Lucy Blake, have _you_ gone down hill like your father?” asked Pan, hoa.r.s.ely. ”What kind of a woman are you? If you love me, it's a crime to marry him. Women do these things, I know--sell themselves. But they kill their souls. If you could save your father from being hanged, it would still be wrong. Suppose he _did_ go to jail for a few years. What's that compared to h.e.l.l for you all your life? You're out of your head. You've lost your sense of proportion.... You must _care_ for this d.a.m.ned skunk d.i.c.k Hardman.”
”Care for him!” she cried, shamefaced and furious. ”I hate him.”
”Then if you marry him you'll be crooked. To yourself! To me!...
Why, in my eyes you'd be worse than that little hussy down at the Yellow Mine.”
”Pan!” she whispered. ”How can you? How dare you?”
”Hard facts deserve hard names. You make me say such things. Why, you'd drive me mad if I listened--if I believed you. Don't you dare say again you'll marry d.i.c.k.”
”I will--I must--”
”Lucy!” he thundered. It was no use to reason with this girl. She had been trapped like a wild thing and could not see any way out. He shot out a strong hand and clutched her shoulder and with one heave he drew her to him, so her face was under his. It went pale. The telltale eyes dilated in sudden fear. She beat at him with weak fluttering hands.