The Free Range Part 30

"How do you know I had Caldwell write it?"

His tone was nasty and she could see that he was enjoying the misery he caused her.

But though Juliet was humbled, she was none the less a daughter of her father, and at Stelton's tone and manner her imperious anger flashed up.

"Look here, Stelton," she said in a cold, even tone, "please remember who I am and treat me with respect. If you speak to me again as you have this afternoon I will call those men in and have you quirted up against a tree.

If you don't believe me, try it."

But Stelton was beyond speech. All the blood in him seemed to rush to his head and distend the veins there. He struggled with his bonds so furiously that the girl rose to her feet in alarm. Then she walked to the library table, opened the drawer and took out a long, wooden-handled .45.

With this in her possession she resumed her seat. Presently the foreman, unable to free his hands, ceased his struggles through sheer exhaustion.

"I know you made Caldwell write that letter," she said, balancing the gun, "and I want to know why you did it?"

Stelton, finding physical intimidation impossible, resorted to mental craft.

"I didn't want you to love that sheepman," he replied sullenly.

"Why not?"

"Because all those things about him are true, and I thought I'd let yuh know before yuh broke yore heart."

She searched his face keenly and had to confess to herself that he spoke with absolute sincerity. Her face slowly paled, and for a moment the room seemed to whirl about her. The world appeared peopled with horrible gargoyles that resembled Stelton and that leered and gibbered at her everywhere.

The foreman saw her wince and grow pallid, and his fury was cooled with the ice of fiendish satisfaction. He could hurt her now.

"Because you say so doesn't prove it to me," she managed to say at last, though she scarcely recognized the voice that came from her tremulous lips.

"I can give you proof enough if you want it," he snapped, suddenly taken with an idea.

"You can?" The words were pitiful, and her voice broke with the stress of her misery.

"Yes."

"How?"

"Get Smithy Caldwell in here. He knew that lover of yore's when he wasn't quite such a sheepman. He'll tell yuh things that'll make yore hair stand on end."

In his delight at his plan Stelton could not keep the exultant cruelty out of his voice.

Juliet pounded on the floor with the b.u.t.t of her weapon (this was the signal agreed upon for the removal of Stelton), and a sheepman almost immediately thrust his head in at the door.

"Yes, ma'am?" he inquired.

"Bring Smithy Caldwell in, please," she requested, "and tie his hands."

When the miserable fellow was pushed through the doorway and saw Stelton standing inside he shrank back against the wall and stood looking from one to the other with the quick, white eyes of a trapped animal. The thought came to him that perhaps these two were already deciding his fate, and his weak chin quivered.

"Sit down, Caldwell," said Juliet, coolly motioning him to one of the rough chairs. He slunk into it obediently.

"I want to ask you about that letter you sent me in which you said several things about Mr. Larkin," she went on not unkindly, her heart going out to the wretch, so abject was his misery.

"Mike here says that everything in that letter is true, and that you can prove it," she continued. "Is that so?"

Involuntarily Caldwell looked toward Stelton for orders, as he had always done, and in those beetling brows and threatening eyes saw a menace of personal injury that indicated his course at once.

"No, don't look at Mike; look at me," cried Juliet, and Caldwell obediently switched his gaze back. "Are those things true?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Caldwell without hesitation.

"You mean to tell me that he was married before?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Where?"

"In Chicago to a woman by the name of Mary. She was a cousin of mine."

"Oh, G.o.d!" The low cry burst from Juliet's pale lips before she could recover herself, and Stelton lay back in his chair, feeding his unspeakable nature upon the girl's torture.

"Shall I tell you about it?" Caldwell, seeing his former chief was pleased, now took the initiative.

"Oh, no, no!" she cried frantically. "I don't want to hear. I never want to hear!"

For a few moments there was silence in the low, bare room while Juliet recovered herself. Then she said:

"And about that other thing in the letter. Why are the officers after Bud?"

"For forgery, ma'am. That is, I mean, they would be after him if they knew everything." A cunning smirk crossed Smithy's countenance.

"Why don't they know everything?" asked the girl.

"Because I haven't told 'em," was the reply.

"And so you blackmailed him under threat of telling, did you?"

"Well, he seemed to be willin'," countered Smithy evasively, "or he wouldn't have paid."

"Why did you write me that letter, Caldwell?"

"The boss here told me to," motioning toward Stelton.

"What reason did he give for telling you?"

Caldwell did not like this question. He turned and twisted in his seat without replying, and shot a quick glance at Stelton, uncertain what reply was expected of him. But he got no help there.

Stelton was relis.h.i.+ng the fear and anxiety of his tool and watched to see which way the other's cowardice would lead him. He was quite unprepared for the answer that came.