Part 13 (1/2)

CHAPTER X

AN ARMISTICE

The dismal afternoon was drawing in when Winston, driving home from the railroad, came into sight of a lonely farm. It lifted itself out of the prairie, a blur of huddled buildings on the crest of a long rise, but at first sight Winston scarcely noticed it. He was gazing abstractedly down the sinuous smear of trail which unrolled itself like an endless ribbon across the great white desolation, and his brain was busy. Four months had pa.s.sed since he came to Silverdale, and they had left their mark on him.

At first there had been the constant fear of detection, and when that had lessened and he was accepted as Lance Courthorne, the latter's unfortunate record had met him at every turn. It accounted for the suspicions of Colonel Barrington, the reserve of his niece, and the aloofness of some of his neighbors, while there had been times when Winston found Silverdale almost unendurable. He was, however, an obstinate man, and there was on the opposite side the gracious kindliness of the little gray-haired lady, who had from the beginning been his champion, and the friends.h.i.+p of Dane, and one or two of the older men. Winston had also proved his right to be listened to, and treated, outwardly at least, with due civility, while something in his resolute quietness rendered an impertinence impossible. He knew by this time that he could hold his own at Silverdale, and based his conduct on the fact, but that was only one aspect of the question, and he speculated as to the consummation.

It was, however, evident that in the meanwhile he must continue to pose as Courthorne, and he felt, rightly or wrongly, that the possession of his estate was, after all, a small reparation for the injury the outlaw had done him, but the affair was complicated by the fact that, in taking Courthorne's inheritance, he had deprived Maud Barrington of part of hers. The girl's coldness stung him, but her unquestionable beauty and strength of character had not been without their effect, and the man winced as he remembered that she had no pity for anything false or mean. He had decided only upon two things, first that he would vindicate himself in her eyes, and, since n.o.body else could apparently do it, pull the property that should have been hers out of the ruin it had been drifting into under her uncle's guardians.h.i.+p. When this had been done, and the killing of Trooper Shannon forgotten, it would be time for him to slip back into the obscurity he came from.

Then the fact that the homestead was growing nearer forced itself upon his perceptions, and he glanced doubtfully across the prairie as he approached the forking of the trail. A gray dimness was creeping across the wilderness and the smoky sky seemed to hang lower above the dully gleaming snow, while the moaning wind flung little clouds of icy dust about him. It was evident that the snow was not far away, and it was still two leagues to Silverdale, but Winston, who had been to Winnipeg, had business with the farmer, and had faced a prairie storm before. Accordingly he swung the team into the forking trail and shook the reins. There was, he knew, little time to lose, and in another five minutes he stood, still wearing his white-sprinkled furs, in a room of the birch-log building.

”Here are your accounts, Macdonald, and while we've pulled up our losses, I can't help thinking we have just got out in time,” he said.

”The market is but little stiffer yet, but there is less selling, and before a few months are over we're going to see a sharp recovery.”

The farmer glanced at the doc.u.ments, and smiled with contentment as he took the check. ”I'm glad I listened to you,” he said. ”It's unfortunate for him and his niece that Barrington wouldn't--at least, not until he had lost the opportunity.”

”I don't understand,” said Winston.

”No,” said the farmer, ”you've been away. Well, you know it takes a long while to get an idea into the Colonel's head, but once it's in, it's even harder to get it out again. Now Barrington looked down on wheat jobbing, but money's tight at Silverdale, and when he saw what you were making, he commenced to think. Accordingly, he's going to sell, and, as he seems convinced that wheat will not go up again, let half the acreage lie fallow this season. The worst of it is, the others will follow him, and he controls Maud Barrington's property as well as his own.”

Winston's face was grave. ”I heard In Winnipeg that most of the smaller men, who had lost courage, were doing the same thing. That means a very small crop of western hard, and millers paying our own prices. Somebody must stop the Colonel.”

”Well,” said Macdonald dryly, ”I wouldn't like to be the man, and after all, it's only your opinion. As you have seen, the small men here and in Minnesota are afraid to plow.”

Winston laughed softly. ”The man who makes the dollars is the one who sees farther than the crowd. Any way, I found the views of one or two men who make big deals were much the same as mine, and I'll speak to Miss Barrington.”

”Then, if you wait a little, you will have an opportunity. She is here, you see.”

Winston looked disconcerted. ”She should not have been. Why didn't you send her home? There'll be snow before she reaches Silverdale.”

Macdonald laughed. ”I hadn't noticed the weather, and, though my wife wished her to stay, there is no use in attempting to persuade Miss Barrington to do anything when she does not want to. In some respects she is very like the Colonel.”

The farmer led the way into another room, and Winston flushed a little when the girl returned his greeting in a fas.h.i.+on which he fancied the presence of Mrs. Macdonald alone rendered distantly cordial. Still, a glance through the windows showed him that delay was inadvisable.

”I think you had better stay here all night, Miss Barrington,” he said.

”There is snow coming.”

”I am sorry our views do not coincide,” said the girl. ”I have several things to attend to at the Grange.”

”Then Macdonald will keep your team, and I will drive you home,” said Winston. ”Mine are the best horses at Silverdale, and I fancy we will need all their strength.”

Miss Barrington looked up sharply. There had been a little ring in Winston's voice, but there was also a solicitude in his face which almost astonished her, and when Macdonald urged her to comply she rose leisurely.

”I will be ready in ten minutes,” she said.

Winston waited at least twenty, very impatiently, but when at last the girl appeared, handed her with quiet deference into the sleigh, and then took his place, as far as the dimensions of the vehicle permitted, apart from her. Once he fancied she noticed it with faint amus.e.m.e.nt, but the horses knew what was coming, and it was only when he pulled them up to a trot again on the slope of a rise that he found speech convenient.

”I am glad we are alone, though I feel a little diffidence in asking a favor of you because unfortunately when I venture to recommend anything you usually set yourself against it,” he said. ”This is, in the language of this country, tolerably straight.”

Maud Barrington laughed. ”I could find no fault with it on the score of ambiguity.”