XXXI
"My brother, Henry Livingstone, was not a strong man," David dictated."He had the same heart condition I have, but it developed earlier. Afterhe left college he went to Arizona and bought a ranch, and there hemet and chummed with Elihu Clark, who had bought an old mine and wasreworking it. Henry loaned him a small amount of money at that time, anda number of years later in return for that, when Henry's health failed,Clark, who had grown wealthy, bought him a ranch in Wyoming at DryRiver, not far from Clark's own property.
"Henry had been teaching in an Eastern university, and then taken uptutoring. We saw little of him. He was a student, and he became almost arecluse. I saw less of him than ever after Clark gave him the ranch.
"In the spring of 1910 Henry wrote me that he was not well, and I wentout to see him. He seemed worried and was in bad shape physically. ElihuClark had died five years before, and left him a fair sum of money,fifty thousand dollars, but he was living in a way which made me thinkhe was not using it. The ranch buildings were dilapidated, and there wasnothing but the barest necessities in the house.
"I taxed Henry with miserliness, and he then told me that the money wasnot his, but left to him to be used for an illegitimate son of Clark's,born before his marriage, the child of a small rancher's daughter namedHattie Burgess. The Burgess girl had gone to Omaha for its birth, andthe story was not known. In early years Clark had paid the child's boardthrough his lawyer to an Omaha woman named Hines, and had later sent himto college. The Burgess girl married a Swede named Thorwald. The boy waseight years older than Judson, Clark's legitimate son.
"After the death of his wife Elihu Clark began to think about the child,especially after Judson became a fair-sized boy. He had the older boy,who went by the name of Hines, sent to college, and in summer he stayedat Henry's tutoring school. Henry said the boy was like the Burgessfamily, blonde and excitable and rather commonplace. He did not get onwell at college, and did not graduate. So far as he knew, Clark neversaw him.
"The boy himself believed that he was an orphan, and that the Hineswoman had adopted him as a foundling. But on the death of the woman hefound that she had no estate, and that a firm of New York attorneys hadbeen paying his college bills.
"He had spent considerable time with Henry, one way and another, andhe began to think that Henry knew who he was. He thought at first thatHenry was his father, and there was some trouble. In order to end itHenry finally acknowledged that he knew who the father was, and afterthat he had no peace. Clifton--his name was Clifton Hines--attackedHenry once, and if it had not been for the two men on the place he wouldhave hurt him.
"Henry began to give him money. Clark had left the fifty thousand forthe boy with the idea that Henry should start him in business with it.But he only turned up wild-cat schemes that Henry would not listen to.He did not know how Henry got the money, or from where. He thought for along time that Henry had saved it.
"I'd better say here that Henry was fond of Clifton, although he didn'tapprove of him. He'd never married, and the boy was like a son to himfor a good many years. He didn't have him at the ranch much, however,for he was a Burgess through and through and looked like them. And hewas always afraid that somehow the story would get out.
"Then Clifton learned, somehow or other, of Clark's legacy to Henry, andhe put two and two together. There was a bad time, but Henry denied itand they went upstairs to bed. That night Clifton broke into Henry'sdesk and found some letters from Elihu Clark that told the story.
"He almost went crazy. He took the papers up to Henry's and wakened him,standing over Henry with them in hand, and shaking all over. I thinkthey had a struggle, too. All Henry told me was that he took them fromhim and threw them in the fire.
"That was a year before Henry died, and at the time young Jud Clark'sname was in all the newspapers. He had left college after a wildcareer there, and although Elihu had tied up the property until Jud wastwenty-one, Jud had his mother's estate and a big allowance. Then, too,he borrowed on his prospects, and he lost a hundred thousand dollars atMonte Carlo within six weeks after he graduated.
"One way and another he was always in the newspapers, and when he sawhow Jud was throwing money away Clifton went wild.
"As Henry had burned the letters he had no proofs. He didn't know whohis mother was, but he set to work to find out. He ferreted into Elihu'spast life, and he learned something about Hattie Burgess, or Thorwald.She was married by that time, and lived on a little ranch near Norada.He went to see her, and he accused her downright of being his mother. Itmust have been a bad time for her, for after all he was her son, andshe had to disclaim him. She had a husband and a boy by that husband,however, by that time, and she was desperate. She threw him off thetrack somehow, lied and talked him down, and then went to bed incollapse. She sent for Henry later and told him.
"The queer thing was that as soon as she saw him she wanted him. Hewas her son. She went to Henry one night, and said she had perjured hersoul, and that she wanted him back. She wasn't in love with Thorwald.I think she'd always cared for Clark. She went away finally, however,after promising Henry she would keep Clark's secret. But I have asuspicion that later on she acknowledged the truth to the boy.
"What he wanted, of course, was a share of the Clark estate. Of coursehe hadn't a chance in law, but he saw a chance to blackmail young JudClark and he tried it. Not personally, for he hadn't any real courage,but by mail. Clark's attorneys wrote back saying they would jail him ifhe tried it again, and he went back to Dry River and after Henry again.
"That was in the spring of 1911. Henry was uneasy, for Clifton was notlike himself. He had spells of brooding, and he took to making longtrips on his horse into the mountains, and coming in with the animal runto death. Henry thought, too, that he was seeing the Thorwald woman,the mother. Thorwald had died, and she was living with the son on theirranch and trying to sell it. He thought Hines was trying to have hermake a confession which would give him a hold on Jud Clark.
"Henry was not well, and in the early fall he knew he hadn't long tolive. He wrote out the story and left it in his desk for me to readafter he had gone, and as he added to it from time to time, when I gotit it was almost up to date.
"Judson came back to the Clark ranch in September, bringing along anactress named Beverly Carlysle, and her husband, Howard Lucas. There wasconsiderable talk, because it was known Jud had been infatuated withthe woman. But no one saw much of the party, outside of the ranch. TheCarlysle woman seemed to be a lady, but the story was that both men weredrinking a good bit, especially Jud.
"Henry wrote that Hines had been in the East for some months at thattime, and that he had not heard from him. But he felt that it was only atruce, and that he would turn up again, hell bent for trouble. He madea will and left the money to me, with instructions to turn it overto Hines. It is still in the bank, and amounts to about thirty-fivethousand dollars. It is not mine, and I will not touch it. But I havenever located Clifton Hines.
"In the last entry in his record I call attention to my brother'sstatement that he did not regard Clifton Hines as entirely sane on thisone matter, and to his conviction that the hatred Hines then bore him,amounting to a delusion of persecution, might on his death turn againstJudson Clark. He instructed me to go to Clark, tell him the story, andput him on his guard.
"Clark and his party had been at the ranch only a day or two when onenight Hines turned up at Dry River. He wanted the fifty thousand, orwhat was left of it, and when he failed to move Henry he attacked him.The two men on the place heard the noise and ran in, but Hines got away.Henry swore them to secrecy, and told them the story. He felt he mightneed help.
"From what the two men at the ranch told me when I got there, I thinkHines stayed somewhere in the mountains for the next day or two, andthat he came down for food the night Henry died.
"Just what he contributed to Henry's death I do not know. Henry fell inone room, and was found in bed in another when the hands had been takingthe cattle to the winter ran
ge, and he'd been alone in the house.
"When I got there the funeral was over. I read the letter he had left,and then I talked to the two hands, Bill Ardary and Jake Mazetti. Theywould not talk at first, but I showed them Henry's record and thenthey were free enough. The autopsy had shown that Henry died from heartdisease, but he had a cut on his head also, and they believed that Hineshad come back, had quarreled with him again, and had knocked him down.
"As Henry had in a way handed over to me his responsibility for the boy,and as I wanted to transfer the money, I waited for three weeks at theranch, hoping he would turn up again. I saw the Thorwald woman, but sheprotested that she did not know where he was. And I made two attemptsto see and warn Jud Clark, but failed both times. Then one night theThorwald woman came in, looking like a ghost, and admitted that Hineshad been hiding in the mountains since Henry's death, that he insistedhe had killed him, and that he blamed Jud Clark for that, and for allthe rest of his troubles. She was afraid he would kill Clark. The threeof us, the two men at the ranch and myself, prepared to go into themountains and hunt for him, before he got snowed in.
"Then came the shooting at the Clark place, and I rode over that nightin a howling storm and helped the coroner and a Norada doctor in theexamination. All the evidence was against Clark, especially his runningaway. But I happened on Hattie Thorwald outside on a verandah--she'dbeen working at the house--and I didn't need any conversation to tell mewhat she thought. All she said was:
"He didn't do it, doctor. He's still in the mountains."
"He's been here to-night, Hattie, and you know it. He shot the wrongman."
"But she swore he hadn't been, and at the end I didn't know. I'll sayright now that I don't know. But I'll say, too, that I believe thatis what happened, and that Hines probably stayed hidden that night onHattie Thorwald's place. I went there the next day, but she denied itall, and said he was still in the mountains. She carried on about theblizzard and his being frozen to death, until I began to think she wastelling the truth.
"The next day I did what only a tenderfoot would do, started into themountains alone. Bill and Jake were out with a posse after Clark, andI packed up some food and started. I'll not go into the details of thattrip. I went in from the Dry River Canyon, and I guess I faced death adozen times the first day. I had a map, but I lost myself in six hours.I had food and blankets and an axe along, and I built a shelter andstayed there overnight. I had to cut up one of my blankets the nextmorning and tie up the horse's feet, so he wouldn't sink too deep in thesnow. But it stayed cold and the snow hardened, and we got along betterafter that.
"I'd have turned back more than once, but I thought I'd meet up withsome of the sheriff's party. I didn't do that, but I stumbled on atrail on the third day, toward evening. It was the trail made by JohnDonaldson, as I learned later. I followed it, but I concluded after awhile that whoever made it was lost, too. It seemed to be going in acircle. I was in bad shape and had frozen a part of my right hand, whenI saw a cabin, and there was smoke coming out of the chimney."
From that time on David's statement dealt with the situation in thecabin; with Jud Clark and the Donaldsons, and with the snow storm, whichbegan again and lasted for days. He spoke at length of his discovery ofClark's identity, and of the fact that the boy had lost all memory ofwhat had happened, and even of who he was. He went into that in detail;the peculiar effect of fear and mental shock on a high-strung nature,especially where the physical condition was lowered by excess andwrong-living; his early attempts, as the boy improved, to pierce theveil, and then his slow-growing conviction that it were an act of mercynot to do so. The Donaldsons' faithfulness, the cessation of the searchunder the conviction that Clark was dead, both were there, and alsoDavid's growing liking for Judson himself. But David's own psychologywas interesting and clearly put.
"First of all," he dictated, in his careful old voice, "it must beremembered that I was not certain that the boy had committed the crime.I believed, and I still believe, that Lucas was shot by Clifton Hines,probably through an open window. There were no powder marks on the body.I believed, too, and still believe, that Hines had fled after the crime,either to Hattie Thorwald's house or to the mountains. In one case hehad escaped and could not be brought to justice, and in the other he wasdead, and beyond conviction.
"But there is another element which I urge, not in defense but inexplanation. The boy Judson Clark was a new slate to write on. He hadnever had a chance. He had had too much money, too much liberty, toolittle responsibility. His errors had been wiped away by the loss of hismemory, and he had, I felt, a chance for a new and useful life.
"I did not come to my decision quickly. It was a long fight for hislife, for he had contracted pneumonia, and he had the drinker's heart.But in the long days of his convalescence while Maggie worked inthe lean-to, I had time to see what might be done. If in making anexperiment with a man's soul I usurped the authority of my Lord andMaster, I am sorry. But he knows that I did it for the best.
"I deliberately built up for Judson Clark a new identity. He was mynephew, my brother Henry's son. He had the traditions of an honorablefamily to carry on, and those traditions were honor, integrity,clean living and work. I did not stress love, for that I felt must beexperienced, not talked about. But love was to be the foundation onwhich I built. The boy had had no love in his life.
"It has worked out. I may not live to see it at its fullest, but I defythe world to produce today a finer or more honorable gentleman, a moreuseful member of the community. And it will last. The time may come whenJudson Clark will again be Judson Clark. I have expected it for manyyears. But he will never again be the Judson Clark of ten years ago.He may even will to return to the old reckless ways, but as I lie here,perhaps never to see him, I say this: he cannot go back. His characterand habits of thought are established.
"To convict Judson Clark of the murder of Howard Lucas is to convicta probably or at least possibly innocent man. To convict RichardLivingstone of that crime is to convict a different man, innocent of thecrime, innocent of its memory, innocent of any single impulse to lifthis hand against a law of God or the state."