Pan strode off in the starlight, across the orchard, down along the murmuring stream to the cottonwood tree with the bench.
It was useless for him to try to sleep. To and fro he paced in the starlight. Alone now, with the urgent activities past for the time, he reverted to the grim and hateful introspection that had haunted his mind.
This once, however, the sinister strife in his soul, that strange icy clutch on his senses--the aftermath of instinctive horror following the death of a man by his hand--wore away before the mounting of a pa.s.sion that had only waited.
It did not leap upon him unawares, like an enemy out of ambush. It grew as he walked, as his whirling thoughts straightened in a single line to--Lucy. She had betrayed him. She had broken his heart. What if she had thought him dead--sacrificed herself to save her father?--She had given herself to that dog Hardman. The thought was insupportable. "I hate her," he whispered. "She"s made me hate her."
The hours pa.s.sed, the stars moved across the heavens, the night wind ceased, the crickets grew silent, and the murmuring stream flowed on at Pan"s feet. Spent and beaten he sat upon the bench. His love for Lucy had not been killed. It lived, it had grown, it was tremendous--and both pity and reason clamored that he be above jealousy and hate.
After all there was excuse for Lucy. She was young, she had been driven by grief over his supposed death and fear for her father. But oh! The pity of it--of this hard truth against the sweetness and purity of his dream! Life and love were not what he had dreamed them as he had ridden the lonely ranges. He must suffer because he had left Lucy to fight her battles.
"I"ll try to forget," he whispered huskily. "I"ve got to. But not yet. I can"t do it yet.... We"ll leave this country far behind. And some day we can go on with--with all we planned."
Pan went back to the barn and threw himself upon the hay, where exhausted brain and body sank to sleep and rest. It seemed that a voice and a rude hand tore away the sweet oblivion.
"Pard, are you daid?" came Blinky"s voice, keen and full with newer note. "Sunup an" time to rustle. Your dad"s heah an" he says breakfast is waitin"."
Pan rose and stretched. His muscles ached as though he had been beaten. How bright the sun! Night was gone and with it something dreadful.
"Pan, sh.o.r.e you"re a tough lookin" cowboy this mawnin"," said Blinky.
"Wash an" shave yourself like I did. Heah"s my razor. There"s a basin an" water up under the kitchen porch."
"Howdy, bridegroom," returned Pan with appreciative eyes on Blinky"s shiny face and slick hair. "How"s your wife?"
"Daid to the world," whispered Blinky, blushing red as a rose. "I took a peep. Gee! Pard, I hope she sleeps all day an" all night. Sh.o.r.e I"m scared fer her to wake."
"I don"t blame you, cowboy. It"ll be funny when she finds out she"s got a boss."
"Pard, if we was away from this heah town I"d be happy, I swear.
Wouldn"t you?" returned Blinky shyly.
"Why, Blink, I believe I would," said Pan, and strode off toward the house.
He made himself presentable before anyone saw him. Then he waited for his father and Blinky, whom he heard talking. When they came up he joined them. Wild horses could not have dragged him into the house alone. As they entered the kitchen Bobby let out a yell and made for him. That loosened a strain for Pan and he picked up the lad. When he faced his mother it was with composure that belied the state of his feelings. She appeared to be in a blaze of excitement, and at once he realized that all she had needed was his return, safe and sound. Then he heard Alice"s voice and Lucy"s in reply. As he set Bobby down, thrilling all over, the girls entered the kitchen. Alice"s reply to his greeting was at once bright and shy. Lucy halted in the doorway, with a hand on her breast. Her smile, slow and wistful, seemed to blot out traces of havoc in her face. But her eyes were dark purple, a sign of strong emotion. Pan"s slight inclination, unaccompanied by word of greeting, was as black a pretense as he had ever been guilty of. Sight of her had shot him through and through with pangs of bitter mocking joy. But he gave no sign. During the meal he did not look at her again.
"Dad, have you got everything we"ll need?" queried Pan presently.
"I guess so," replied Smith. "You can start loadin" the wagons. An"
by the time two of them are done we"ll have everythin" packed."
"Blink can drive one wagon, you another, and I"ll take the third till we get out to Snyder"s. Then we"ll need another driver, for it"ll take two of us to handle the wild horses."
"No, we won"t," replied his father. "Your mother an" Lucy can drive as well as I. Son, I reckon we don"t want anybody except our own outfit."
"I"d like that myself," admitted Pan thoughtfully. "If you"ve got good gentle teams maybe Mother an" Lucy can take turns. We"ll try it, anyhow."
"I"ll help you hitch up," said Smith, following Pan out. "Son, do you look for any trouble this mornin"?"
"Lord no. I"m not looking for trouble," replied Pan. "I"ve sure had enough."
"Huh!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Blinky. "Your dad means any backfire from Marco.
Wal, I say there"ll be nothin". All the same we want to move, p.r.o.nto."
"I"d like to hear what happened after we left," said Pan.
"Somebody will tell us," returned Smith.
They had reached the end of the arbor when Lucy"s voice called after them: "Pan--please wait."
He turned to see her coming, twisting her ap.r.o.n in nervous hands.
Pan"s father and Blinky kept on toward the barn. Lucy came hurriedly, unevenly, pale, with parted lips, and eyes that held him.
"Mother said you knew but--I must tell you--myself," she said brokenly, as she halted close to him. "Day before yesterday--those men brought word you"d been--killed in a fight over wild horses. It broke my heart.... I"d have taken my own life but for my father. I didn"t care what happened.... d.i.c.k pressed me hard. Father begged me to save him from prison.... So I--I married d.i.c.k."
"Yes, I know--I figured it out that way," returned Pan in strange thick utterance. "You didn"t need to tell me."
"Why, Pan, you--you seem _different_," she said, as if bewildered.
"Your look--your voice ... oh, dear. I know yesterday was awful. It must have driven you mad."
"By heaven, it did!" muttered Pan under his breath.
"But you--you forgive me?" she faltered, reaching to touch him with a shaking hand. The gesture, so supplicating, so tender, the dark soft hunger of her eyes, the sweetness of her then roused a tumult in him.
How could she look at him like that? How dared she have such love light in her eyes?
"Forgive you for?--" he cried in fierce pa.s.sion. But he could not put into words what she had done. "I meant to kill that dog, d.i.c.k Hardman.
But I didn"t.... Forgive you--" he broke off, unable to go on.
She was slow to grasp his intimation, though not his fury. Suddenly her eyes dilated in horror. Then a great wave of scarlet blood swept over her white neck and face. Pan saw in it the emblem of her shame.
With a rending of his heart he swung away and left her.
He plunged into the work at hand, and during the next couple of hours recovered from the shock of resisting Lucy"s appeal. He hated himself for the pa.s.sion he could not subdue. When, however, it had slunk away for the time being, he began to wonder at her innocence and simplicity.
He could not understand her.
Presently his father and Blinky hunted him up with news of strong purport plain in their faces.
"Son, Marco is with you to a man!"
"Pard, I guess mebbe I didn"t hev them hombres figgered?"
"What happened? Out with it," replied Pan sharply.
"Evans drove out bringin" stuff I bought yesterday," returned his father. "He was full as a tick of news. By some miracle, only the Yellow Mine burned. It was gutted, but the bucket brigade saved the houses on each side.... Hardman"s body was found burned to a crisp.
It was identified by a ring. An" his dance-hall girl was found dead too, burned most as bad as he.... Accordin" to Evans most everybody in Marco wants to shake hands with Panhandle Smith."
The covered wagons wound slowly down the hill toward Snyder"s pasture.
Pan, leading Blink"s horse, held to the rear. The day, in some respects, had been as torturing to him as yesterday--but with Marco far behind and the open road ahead, calling, beckoning, the strain began to lessen.