Part 39 (2/2)
”I wonder what Dorothy's doin' right now,” he murmured, and just then Dorothy was listening to Bas Rowlett's most excellent opinion of himself.
It would not be long, the young woman was telling herself, before she would go over there to the town east of the ridges--if only she could suppress until that time came the furies that raged under her masquerade and the aversion that wanted to cry out denunciation of her tormentor!
But the summons from the attorney had never come, and Bas never failed to come as regularly as sunrise or sunset. His face was growing more and more hateful to her with an unearthly and obsessing antipathy.
One afternoon, when the last leaves had drifted down leaving the forests stark and unfriendly, her heart ached with premonitions that she could not soften with any philosophy at her command.
Elviry Prooner had gone away when Bas arrived, and the strokes of Sim Squires' axe sounded from a distant patch of woods, so she was alone with her visitor.
Bas planted his feet wide apart and stood with an offensive manner of proprietors.h.i.+p on the hearth, toasting himself in the grateful warmth.
”We've done got along right well tergether, little gal,” he deigned to announce. ”An hit all only goes ter show how good things mout hev been ef we hedn't nuver been hindered from weddin' at ther start.”
The insolent presumption of the creature sent the blood pounding through Dorothy's temples and the room swum about her: a room sacred to clean memories that were being defiled by his presence.
”Ther time hain't ripe,” she found herself making impetuous declaration, ”fer ye ter take no sich masterful tone, Bas. Matters hain't ended yet.”
But here she caught herself up. Her anger had flashed into her tone and it was not yet time to let it leap--so she laughed disarmingly as she read the kindling of sullen anger in his eyes and added, ”I don't allow no man ter brag thet he overcome my will without no fight.”
Bas Rowlett roared out a laugh that dissipated his dangerously swelling temper and nodded his head.
”Thet's ther fas.h.i.+on ter talk, gal. I likes ter see a woman thet kin toss her head like a fractious filly. I hain't got no manner of use fer tame folks.”
He came close and stood devouring her with the pa.s.sion of his lecherous eyes, and Dorothy knew that her long effort to play a part had reached its climax.
He reached out his hands and for the second time he laid them upon her, but now he did not seek to sweep her into an embrace. He merely let his fingers rest, unsteady with hot feeling, on her shoulders as he said, ”Why kain't we quit foolin' along with each other, gal? _He_ hain't nuver comin' back ter ye no more.”
But at that Dorothy jerked herself away and her over-wrought control snapped.
”What does ye mean?” she demanded, breathlessly. A sudden fear possessed her that fatal news had reached him before it had come to her. ”Hes anything happened ter him?”
Instantly she realized what she had done, but it was useless to go on acting after the self-betrayal of that moment's agitation, and even Rowlett's self-complacent egotism read the whole truth of its meaning.
He read it and knew with a fullness of conviction that through the whole episode she had been leading him on as a hunter decoys game and that her slow and grudging conversion was no conversion at all.
”Nothin' hain't happened ter him _yit_, so fur's I knows,” he said, slowly. ”But ye doomed him ter death when ye flared up like thet, an'
proved ter me thet ye'd jest been lyin'.”
Dorothy gave back to the wall and one hand groped with outstretched fingers against the smoothly squared logs, while the other ripped open the b.u.t.tons of her waist and closed on the knife hilt that was always concealed there.
Her voice came low and in a dead and monotonous level and her face was ghost pale.
”Yes, I lied ter ye ter keep ye from goin' over thar an' murderin' him.
I knowed ther way ye fights--I hain't nuver feared ye on my own account but I _did_ fear ye fer him ther same es a rattlesnake thet lays cyled in ther gra.s.s.”
She paused and drew a resolute breath and her words were hardly louder than a whisper.
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