"There was a wrappin" to it." Then Scipio"s eyes began to sparkle at the recollection. "It was wrote on by the feller James," he went on in a low voice.
Then suddenly he turned, and his whole manner partook of an impotent heat.
"He"d wrote I was to hand her, Vada, over to him ten miles out on this trail--or there"d be trouble."
Wild Bill stirred and shifted his seat with a fierce dash of irritation. His face was stern and his black eyes blazing. He spat out his chew of tobacco.
"An" you was scared to death, like some silly skippin" sheep. You hadn"t bowel enough to tell him to go to h.e.l.l. You felt like handin"
him any other old thing you"d got--"Here, go on, help yourself."" He flung out his arms to ill.u.s.trate his meaning. ""You got my wife; here"s my kiddies. If you need anything else, you can sure get my claim. Guess my shack"ll make you an elegant summer palace." Gee!"
The gambler"s scorn was withering, and with each burst of it he flourished his arms as though handing out possessions to an imaginary James. And every word he spoke smote Scipio, goading him and lashing up the hatred which burnt deep down in his heart for the man who had ruined his life.
But the little man"s thought of Jessie was not so easily set aside, and he jumped to defend himself.
"You don"t understand--" he began. But the other cut him short with a storm of scathing anger.
"No, I sure don"t understand," he cried, "I don"t. I sure don"t. Guess I"m on"y jest a man. I ain"t no sort o" b.u.m angel, nor sanctimonious sky-bustin" hymn-smiter. I"m on"y a man. An" I kind o" thank them as is responsible that I ain"t nuthin" else. Say"--his piercing eyes seemed to bore their way right down to the little man"s heart like red-hot needles--"I ain"t got a word to say to you but you orter be herdin" wi" a crowd o" mangy gophers. Tchah! A crowd o" maggots "ud cut you off"n their visitin" list in a diseased carkis. Here"s a feller robs you in the meanest way a man ken be robbed, an" you"re yearnin" to hand him more--a low-down cur of a stage-robber, a cattle-thief, the lowest down b.u.m ever created--an" you"d hand over this pore innercent little kiddie to him. Was there ever sech a white-livered sucker? Say, you"re responsible fer that pore little gal"s life, you"re responsible fer her innercent soul, an" you"d hand her over to James, like the worstest cur in creation. Say, I ain"t got words to tell you what you are. You"re a white-livered b.u.m that even h.e.l.l won"t give room to. You"re--"
"Here, hold on," cried Scipio, turning, with his pale eyes mildly blazing. "You"re wrong, all wrong. I ain"t doing it because I"m scared of James. I don"t care nothing for his threats. I"m scared of no man--not even you. See? My Jessie"s callin" for her gal--my Jessie! Do you know what that means to me? No, of course you don"t. You don"t know my Jessie. You ain"t never loved a wife like my Jessie. You ain"t never felt what a kiddie is to its mother. You can"t see as I can see.
This little gal," he went on, tenderly laying an arm about Vada"s small shoulders, "will, maybe, save my pore Jessie. That pore gal has. .h.i.t the wrong trail, an"--an" I"d sacrifice everything in the world to save her. I"d--I"d sell my own soul. I"d give it to--save her."
Scipio looked fearlessly into the gambler"s eyes. His pale cheeks were lit by a hectic flush of intense feeling. There was a light in his eyes of such honesty and devotion that the other lowered his. He could not look upon it unmoved.
Bill sat back, for once in his life disconcerted. All his righteous indignation was gone out of him. He was confronted with a spectacle such as, in his checkered career, he had never before been brought into contact with. It was the meeting of two strangely dissimilar, yet perfectly human, forces. Each was fighting for what he knew to be right. Each was speaking from the bottom of a heart inspired by his sense of human right and loyalty. While the gambler, without subtlety of emotion, saw only with a sense of human justice, with a hatred of the man who had so wronged this one, with a desire to thwart him at every turn, the other possessed a breadth of feeling sufficient to put out of his thoughts all recollection of his personal wrong, if only he could help the woman he loved.
It was a meeting of forces widely different, yet each in its way thrilling with a wonderful honesty of purpose. And, curiously enough, the purpose of Scipio, who lacked so much of the other"s intellect and force, became, in a measure, the dominating factor. It took hold of the gambler, and stirred him as he had never been stirred before.
Suddenly Wild Bill leaned forward. Once more those swift, relentless eyes focused and compelled the others.
"Zip," he said in a tone that was strangely thrilling, "maybe I didn"t get all you felt--all you got in that tow-head of yours. That bein"
so, guess I owe you amends. But I"m goin" to ast you to sure fergit that gal"s letter--fer awhiles. I"m goin" to ast you to turn that bussock-headed mule you"re drivin" right around, and hit back for the Creek. You do this, Zip, an" I"ll tell you what I"m goin" to do. I ain"t no sentimental slob. I ain"t got the makin"s in me of even a store-mussed angel. See? But if you do this I swar to you right here I"m goin" to see your Jessie right. I swar to you I"ll rid her of this "Lord" James, an" it"ll jest be up to you to do the rest. Git me?"
Scipio took a breath that was something like a gasp.
"You"ll--you"ll help me get her back?" he breathed, with a glow of hope which almost shocked his companion.
"I"m not promisin" that," said Bill quickly. "That"s sure up to you.
But I give it you right here, I"ll--shift this doggone skunk out of your way."
Scipio made no verbal reply. Just for a moment he looked into the gimlet eyes of the other. He saw the iron purpose there. He saw the stern, unyielding compression of the lean, muscular jaws. There was something tremendous in the suggestion of power lying behind this ruffian"s exterior. He turned away and gathered up the old mule"s reins.
"You"ve allus been friendly to me, Bill, so--"
He pulled off the trail and turned the mule"s head in the direction of home. And the rest of the gambler"s journey was done in the wake of Minky"s buckboard.
CHAPTER XIX
A FINANCIAL TRANSACTION
Scipio was washing clothes down at the creek. So much had happened to him that day, so many and various had been the emotions through which he had pa.s.sed, that there was only one thing left him to do. He must work. He dared not sit down and think. Hard physical labor was what he required. And the rubbing out of the children"s small clothes, and his own somewhat tattered garments, became a sort of soothing drug which quieted his troubled mind, and lulled his nerves into a temporary quiescence. The children were with him, playing unconcernedly upon the muddy banks of the creek, with all the usual childish zest for anything so deliciously enticing and soft as liquid river mud.
Vada had forgotten her journey of that morning, it had quite pa.s.sed out of her little head in the usual way of such trifling unpleasantnesses which go so frequently to make up the tally of childhood"s days. Jamie had no understanding of it. His Vada was with him again, hectoring, guiding him as was her wont, and, in his babyish way, he was satisfied.
As for Scipio he gave no sign of anything. He was concentrating all his mental energies on the work in hand, thus endeavoring to shut out memory which possessed nothing but pain for him. Every now and then a quick, sidelong glance in the children"s direction kept him informed of their doings and safety, otherwise his eyes were rarely raised from the iron bath, filled to the brim with its frothing suds.
Striding down the slope from the hut where he had come in search of Scipio, this was the picture Wild Bill discovered. The little yellow-headed man was standing in the midst of a small clearing in the bushes, a clearing long since made for the purposes of his wife"s weekly wash. His back was turned, and his small figure was bowed over the tub in front of him. Every bush around him was decorated with clothes laid out on their leafy surfaces, where the sun could best operate its hygienic drying process. He saw the bobbing heads of the mudlarking children a few yards away where the low cut-bank hid their small bodies from view. And somehow an unusual pity stirred his hard, world-worn heart.
And yet no one could have called him a sentimental man. At least, no one who knew his method of life. How would it be possible to gild a man with humane leanings who would sit in to a game at poker, and, if chance came his way, take from any opponent his last cent of money, even if he knew that a wife and children could be reduced to starvation thereby? How could a kindliness of purpose be read into the acts of a man who would have no scruple in taking life, under provocation, without the least mercy or qualm of conscience? He displayed no tenderness, he hated what he considered such weakness. It was his studied practice to avoid showing consideration for others, and he would have bitterly resented those who considered him. He preferred that his att.i.tude towards the world should be one of unyielding selfishness. Such was the game of life as he understood it.
Yes, honestly enough, he hated sentiment, and for this very reason he cursed himself bitterly that such a feeling as he now experienced should so disturb him. He hurried down the slope a shade quicker than there was any necessity for. And it was as though he were endeavoring to outstrip the feelings which pursued him.
Scipio heard him coming, and glanced round quickly. When he beheld his visitor he nodded a greeting and continued his work. In his heart was a curious feeling towards the gambler. He could not have described it.
It was too complicated. He liked Wild Bill. He felt that for some indefinite reason he was his friend. Yet he resented him, too. He did not know he resented him. Only he felt that this man dominated him, and he was forced to obey him against his will. At sight of him his mind went back to the events of that morning. He thought of Bill"s promise, and a curious excitement stirred within him. He wondered now what this visit portended.
For once the gambler did not display his usual readiness. He did not speak for some moments, but took up a position whence he could see the children at their play, and best watch the little washerman, on whom he intended to thrust a proposition that had been revolving in his mind some time. He chewed his tobacco steadily, while his expression went through many changes. At last he drew his s.h.a.ggy brows together and eyed his victim with shrewd suspicion.
"Say, you"re kind o" smart, ain"t you?" he demanded harshly.
The other looked up with a start, and his mildly inquiring glance should have convinced the most skeptical to the contrary. But apparently it had no such effect on his visitor.
"I"d never ha" tho"t it," Bill went on coldly. "To look at you one "ud sure think you was that simple a babby could fool you. Howsum," he sighed, "I don"t guess you ken never rightly tell."
A flush began to warm Scipio"s cheeks. He couldn"t understand. He wondered hard, vainly endeavoring to grasp wherein he had offended.
"I--I don"t get you," he said, in a bewildered fashion, dropping the garment he was washing back into the soapsuds.
Bill"s expression underwent another change as he caught at the words.
"You don"t get me?" he said ironically. "You don"t get me?" Then he shrugged as though he was not angry, but merely deplored the other"s unsuspected cunning. "You can"t strike it rich an" guess you"re goin"
to blind folks. I"d say it needs every sort of a man to do that around these parts."
Scipio gasped. He had no other feeling than blank astonishment.
"I ain"t struck it rich," he protested.
And his denial was received with a forced peal of laughter.
"Say, you"re a heap shrewd," cried Bill, when his laugh had subsided.
"I"d say you"re jest about slick. Gee! Wal, I can"t blame you any fer holdin" your face shut. Ther"s a mint o" dollars ken drop out of a feller"s mouth through an unnatteral openin". Ef you"d got busy ga.s.sin", it"s a million dollar bet all the folks around this lay-out "ud be chasin" you clear to death. Say, it"s right, though? There"s chunks of it stickin" right out, fine, yaller, dandy gold. An" the quartz bank cuttin" down wider an" wider?"
But Scipio shook his head. His bewilderment had gone, and in place of it was sad conviction.
"Not yet," he said. "Not yet. I ain"t seen it, anyway. I sure think there"s gold in plenty on that claim. I know there is," he added, with unusual force, his pulses beginning to quicken, and a sudden hope stirring. Bill"s accusation was aiding the effect. "But it ain"t on the surface. It sure ain"t."