Part 41 (1/2)
”But don't ye know thet John misused me, Will? Don't ye know thet he war a-killin' me right then?”
”I takes notice ye didn't nuver make no complaint till ye tuck thought of Ken's _dee_fence, albeit men knowed thar was bad blood betwixt him an' John. Now I aims ter let Ken pay what he owes in lawful fas.h.i.+on....
I aims ter hang him.”
Sally retreated to the hearth and stood leaning there weakly. With fumbling fingers she brought from inside her dress a soiled sheet of folded paper and drew a long breath of resolution, pa.s.sing one hand over her face where the hair fell wispy and straggling. Then she braced herself with all the strength and self-will that was left her.
”Ken didn't nuver kill John,” she said, slowly, forcing a voice that seemed to have hardly breath enough to carry it to audibility. ”I kilt him.”
For an instant the room was as still as a tomb with only lifeless tenants, then Will Turk took one quick step forward, to halt again, and his voice broke into an amazed and incredulous interjection:
”_You_ kilt him?”
”Yes, I kilt him.... He hed done beat me an' he war chokin' me.... His misuse of me war what him an' Ken fell out erbout.... I war too proud ter tell anybody else ... but Ken knowed.... I was faintin' away with John's fingers on my throat.... We was right by ther table whar his own pistol lay.... I grabbed hit up an' shot. Ken come ter ther door jest es. .h.i.t went off.”
Facing this new statement of alleged fact the brother of the dead man remained in his unmoving posture of amazed silence for a s.p.a.ce, then he responded with a scornfully disbelieving laugh. In a woman one would have called it hysterical, but his words, when he spoke, were steady enough.
”Thet's a right slick story, Sally, but hit don't pull no wool over my eyes. Hit's too tardy fer right-minded folks ter believe hit.”
The woman sought to answer, but her moving lips gave no sound. She had thought the world stood always ready to accept self-confessed guilt, and now her throat worked spasmodically until at last her dumbness was conquered.
”Does ye think ... hit's ther sort of lie I'd tell willin'ly?” she asked. ”Don't hit put me right whar Ken's at now ... with ther gallows ahead of me?” She broke off, then her words rose to a shrill pitch of excitement.
”Fer G.o.d's sake, heed me in time! Ye seeks ter hang somebody fer killin'
John. I'm ther right one. Hang me!”
Will Turk paced the room for several meditative turns with his head low on his breast and his hands gripped at his back. Then he halted and stood facing her.
”What does ye aim ter do with thet thar paper?” he demanded.
”Hit's my confession--all wrote out ... an' ready ter be swore ter,” she told him. ”Ef ye won't heed me, I've got ter give hit ter ther jedge--in open co'te.”
But the man who gave orders to judges shook his head.
”Hit won't avail ye,” he a.s.sured her with a voice into which the flinty quality had returned. ”Hit's jest evidence in Ken's favour.... Hit don't jedgmatically sottle nothin'. I reckon bein' a woman ye figgers ye kin come cl'ar whilst Ken would be sh.o.r.e ter hang--but I'll see thet nothin'
don't come of thet.”
”Does ye mean”--Sally was already so ghost pale that she could not turn paler--”Does ye mean they'll go on an' hang him anyhow?”
Will Turk's head came back and his shoulders straightened.
”Mayhap they will--ef I bids 'em to,” he retorted.
”Listen at me, Will,” the woman cried out in such an anguish of beseeching that even her present auditor could not escape the need of obeying. ”Listen at me because ye knows in yore heart I hain't lyin'.
I'm tellin' ther whole truth thet I was afeared ter tell afore. I let him take ther blame because I was skeered--an' because ther baby was goin' ter be borned. I hain't nuver been no liar, Will, an' I hain't one now!”
The man had half turned his back as if in final denial of her plea, yet now, after a momentary pause, he turned back again and she thought that there was something like a glimmer of relenting back of his gruffness as he gave curt permission: ”Go on, then, I'm hearkenin'.”
Late into that night they talked, but it was the woman who said most while the man listened in non-committal taciturnity. His memory flashed disturbingly back to the boyhood days and testified for the supplicant with reminders of occasional outcroppings of cruelty in his brother as a child. That outward guise of suavity which men had known in John Turk he knew for a coat under which had been worn another and harsher garment of self-will.