The Rider of Golden Bar Part 23

He shook his head. "I can't."

"All right, I'll have to tell you then, Billy. I've heard things--about your job. I've heard that if you don't do exactly as the gang says you'll be kuk-killed. Oh, not exactly in those words, but I know what was meant. No, I shan't tell you where I heard it. It doesn't matter anyway. It was bad enough when you--I thought you were just a friend, but now--now when you're just everything to me, I cuc-can't bear to have you run any risks. Suppose something happens to you, what would I do? I'd die, I think. I'd want to, anyway."

At which he tried to kiss away her fears, but these were too deep-rooted for any such old-fas.h.i.+oned remedy as that to be of any avail.

"No, no, don't!" she protested, holding his head away by main force.

"Not now. I'm not through yet. Listen. You'll fight the gang, I know you will."

He nodded a slow head. "I've got to. That's why I took the job of sheriff."

"I knew it," she said sadly. "But you can resign, can't you?"

"I could, but I won't."

"Not if I ask you to?"

"I can't. It would be lying down without a fight, and I've never done that yet. They'd say I was afraid of 'em."

"What does it matter what they say? You'll have me. We'll be together."

He put up a hand and stroked the tumbled waves of her black hair. "You wouldn't love me if I did a thing like that. You'd know I wasn't doing right."

She shook his face between her hands with gentle earnestness. "Yes, I would! I would! I know I would! Everything you do is just right! It would be right if you did it! Don't you see? What does anything matter so long as we have each other? Why do you have to risk your life? Oh, take me away, beloved, take me away and I'll marry you to-morrow!"

Because of what he did then, you'll say he did not love her. But he did, heart and soul and body, he loved her. Yet he put her resolutely from him and held her off at the full stretch of his arms. "There's more to this than you've told me," said he shrewdly. "You're scared.

You're scared bad, but it isn't only the thought of the gang that scares you. There's something else. What is it?"

At first she would not tell him. He argued with her.

Finally she surrendered. "If you marry me and stay here, you'll be killed."

He threw back his head and laughed. "Is that all that's worrying you?

We'll be married to-morrow, like I said."

"No, we won't--unless you take me away at once. No, don't kiss me. I mean it."

"Who told you I'd be killed?"

"I won't tell you."

"Tell me, and I'll make him come here and take back everything he said."

But the recollection of what Rafe Tuckleton and his outfit had almost succeeded in doing to John Dawson was too fresh in her mind. She did not dare tell Billy who had told her. She knew right well that if she did it would simply mean that her lover would be killed the sooner.

The odds against him were great enough as it was.

She shook her head. Her eyes were bright with pure terror. "I can't tell you!" she whispered in agony of spirit. "I can't!"

"Was it Rafe?"

"I can't tell you!" twisting her head to escape his eyes.

"It _was_ Rafe!"

"It wasn't Rafe!" she lied wearily. "It doesn't matter who it was.

Oh, boy, boy, I don't dare marry you if you stay here. And I want to marry you, dear heart. I love you so! I love you! Oh, let's go away where we can be happy together! Why won't you be sensible and take the easiest way out?"

"G.o.d knows I would if I could, but I've got to play the hand out. I can't back down because there may be a li'l danger. You know I can't, and down deep you don't want me to. Listen. When you saw Jack Murray was out to bushwhack me, what did you do? Did you take the easiest way out and go on about your business, or did you jump right in and risk your life to save mine?"

"That was different," said she piteously, realizing that her cause was lost, but fighting to the last. "I did it for you. I'd be willing to die for you any time. Boy! I love you so hard, nothing else matters!

Nothing! I'd lie, steal, cheat and fight for you! Oh, I'm shameless, shameless! But that's the way I love you! Why can't you give up everything for me the way I would for you and take me away and marry me?"

He was more than a little shaken. He had to summon all his resolution to withstand her pleadings. But he did more. He got upon his feet and thrust her down into his place in the chair and held her there with one hand for all she struggled might and main to wind her arms again around his neck.

"Listen to me," he said in a voice that trembled. "You don't know what you are asking me to do. If I did it, I'd be a dog, and I won't be a dog even for your sake. Marry me now and we'll see it through, you and I together."

She shook her head. "I--I can't," she whispered, and added with most human logic, "I don't believe you love me!"

At which he was moved to wrath. "It's you that don't love me! You listen here! I've asked you for the last time to marry me! You turned me down for some fool notion that isn't worth a hill of beans. All right, let it go at that. If ever you change your mind, you'll have to come to me and put your arms around my neck and tell me I was right to stick it out and you were wrong to want me not to. And if you don't do it, you're not the girl I took you for, and I wouldn't look at you with a telescope!"

She sat speechless. Without another word he stooped, swept his hat from the floor and went out. And, it must be said to his discredit, he slammed the door behind him.

A long five minutes Hazel was staring wide-eyed at the door. But he did not come back. She crept to the window. He was riding away down the draw. He did not look back. He pa.s.sed out of sight around the bend. Hazel slid quietly to the floor and, her face buried in her hands, began to cry as if her heart would break.

For her little world had been shattered and she was left disconsolate among the fragments. Her man did not understand.

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE NEW BROOM

Tip O'Gorman sat comfortably near the red-hot stove. The wind and the snow were bl.u.s.tering outdoors. It was what the people you yearn to kill call a bracing day in January. Actually the weather was such that the well-known bra.s.s monkey would have been frostbitten in at least one ear.

"It's a good old world." Tip sighed luxuriously and wiggled the toes of his roomy slippers.

Entered then one who changed the pleasing aspect of the good old world.

Judge Driver slammed the door behind him and untied the comforter that held the hat to his head. He removed the hat and buffalo coat, hung both on pegs behind the door, sat down and glared at Tip O'Gorman.

"You've done it now," exclaimed Judge Driver.

"What particular thing have you on your mind?" Tip queried equably.

"The sheriff you were so set on having elected! Oh, yes, says you, put in an honest man. Give the dear people a bone to chew on. And we took your advice and gave 'em their bone. And now look at the d.a.m.n thing."

"What's happened to the sheriff?"