CHAPTER XVIII
STORM-DRIVEN
For an hour there was no sound in the cabin. Lawler smoked severalcigarettes. Once he got up and threw more wood upon the fire, standingin front of the blaze for several minutes stretching his long legs,watching the licking tongues as they were sucked up the chimney by theshrieking wind.
Then, for a time, he lounged in the chair, gazing meditatively at thenorth window, noting how the fine, frozen snow meal clung to the glass;watching the light fade, listening to the howling white terror that hadseized the world in its icy grip.
At the end of an hour it grew dark in the cabin. Lawler got up, lightedthe kerosene lamp, placed it on the table, seated himself on a bench andagain meditatively watched the leaping flames in the fireplace.
Satisfaction glowed in his eyes as he thought of what would havehappened had he not decided to substitute for Davies and Harris.Undoubtedly by this time the two men were on their way to the camp. Theywould certainly have noticed the warning bleak northern sky and otherindications of the coming storm. And undoubtedly, if they had startedtoward the camp, they were by this time being punished for theirdereliction. They would make the camp, though, he was sure, for they hadthe wind at their backs, and they knew the trail. He expected, anyminute, to hear them at the door. He grinned, his face a trifle grim ashe anticipated their astonishment at finding him there, with the twofence cutters occupying the bunks.
He had not followed the herd to the Circle L shelters because he had hadsmall hope of keeping close to the fence cutters in the storm. And hehad brought them back to the cabin to make sure of them. As he sat atthe table he drew out the paper the men had signed and read their names:
"_Lay Givens._"
"_Ben Link._"
Their confession would convict Gary Warden of a crime that--if it didnot open the doors of the penitentiary to him--would bring upon him thecondemnation of every honest man in the state. In his anxiety to inflictdamage upon Lawler, Warden had overstepped himself.
Lawler had betrayed no passion that day when he had got off the train atWillets with his men and Blondy Antrim. He had not permitted any of themto suspect that the incident of the attempted theft of a portion of thetrail herd had affected him. But it had affected him. It had aroused himas he never had been aroused before; it had filled him with a passionatehatred of Gary Warden so intense that when his thoughts dwelt upon theman he felt a lust to destroy him. Not even Lafe Corwin, watching himthat day at Willets, knew how he had fought to overcome the drivingdesire to kill Warden, Singleton, and Antrim, as they had stood there onthe platform.
His eyes chilled now, as he thought of Warden and the others. He got up,his blood pulsing heavily, and started toward the fire. He had reachedit, and was standing before it, when he heard a sound at the door--afaint knocking, and a voice.
Davies and Harris were coming now. They were cold, he supposed, had seenthe light in the window--perhaps had tried the door; the wind drowningthe noise so that he had not heard it before. They were in a hurry toget in, to the warmth the cabin afforded.
He was in no hurry to let them in, and he walked deliberately to thetable and stood beside it, his back to the fire, smiling ironically.
He heard no further sound, and he supposed the men had gone to thedugout to turn their horses into its shelter before again trying thedoor.
He was in a grimly humorous mood now, and he stooped, blew out the lightand stepped toward the door, standing back of it, where it would swingagainst him when the men opened it.
He loosened the fastenings, stealthily. He wanted them to come in andfind the two fence cutters there.
He stood for a long time at the door, listening, waiting. No soundreached his ears, and he scowled, puzzled. Then, above the wailing voiceof the storm, came the shrill, piercing neigh of a horse.
Several times in his life had Lawler heard that sound--once when acow-pony which had been bogged down in quicksand had neighed when he hadbeen drawn under; and again when a horse which he had been riding hadstepped into a gopher hole and had broken a leg. He had been forced toshoot the animal, for which he had formed a sincere attachment; and ithad seemed to him that when he drew the pistol the horse knew whatimpended--for its shrill neigh had been almost human in its terribleappeal.
It was such a sound that now reached his ears above the roar of thestorm.
Davies and Harris were in trouble.
With a bound Lawler tore the door open and stood, leaning against theterrific wind, trying to peer out into the white smother that shriekedaround him. When he made out the outlines of a horse not more than halfa dozen feet from the open doorway--the animal so encrusted with snowthat he looked like a pallid ghost--and a shapeless bundle on his backthat seemingly was ready to pitch into a huge drift that had formed infront of the cabin--he leaped outward, a groan of sympathy breaking fromhim.
In an instant he was inside again, carrying the shapeless bundle, hislips stiff and white as he peered close at it as he tenderly laid it onthe floor of the cabin.
With swift movements he lighted the lamp again, and then returning tothe bundle, leaned over it, pulling away a scarf that covered its headand disclosing a white, drawn face--the face of the woman he had met, inWillets, at the foot of the stairs leading to Gary Warden's office!
Lawler wheeled swiftly, leaping to first one and then to the other ofthe bunks where the fence cutters lay, tearing the ropes from them.
The tall man tumbled out first, urged by what he had seen and by thelow tense voice of his captor. He seized a tin pan and dove out of theopen doorway, returning instantly, the pan heaped high with snow. Theother man, following the first quickly, dove through the snow drifts tothe dugout where he fumbled in the slicker on Lawler's saddle until hefound a flask.
By the time the little man returned the woman was in one of the lowerbunks. A pair of bare feet, small and shapely, were sticking out overthe edge of the bunk, and the tall fence cutter was vigorously rubbingsnow upon them. A pair of small, high-top riding boots of soft, pliableleather, was lying beside the bunk near some pitiably thin stockings.
At the other end of the bunk Lawler was bathing, with ineffabletenderness and care, a face that had been swathed in the scarf he hadpreviously removed. The long, glistening, black hair had been brushedback from its owner's forehead by Lawler; and a corner of a blanket hadbeen modestly folded over a patch of white breast, exposed when Lawlerhad ruthlessly torn away the flimsy, fluffy waist.
"It was the scarf that saved her face," said Lawler, after he had workedover the unconscious form for a quarter of an hour. The face wasflushed, now--which was a good sign; and the feet and ankles werebeginning to show signs of restored circulation also--though morereluctantly.
"How she ever got through it I'm not pretending to say," declaredLawler, grimly. "But she did it, and the frost didn't get her, much.She'll be fresh as a daisy in a couple of hours."
The tall man--Link--had ceased his labors with the woman, and wasstanding near Lawler. He grinned at Lawler's words.
His face was flushed, his eyes were glowing with passion as he watchedthe inert form on the bunk.
"She's a peach," he said, thickly. Lawler was not looking at him; he wasgiving all his attention to the woman.
"Della Wharton," continued Link. "I've seen her at the TwoDiamond--runnin' around with Warden. Warden's took a shine to her. Don'tblame him." He muttered something else that Lawler did not hear, forLawler was paying no attention to him.
Lawler held the flask to the woman's half-open mouth, and smiled whenseveral drops of the strong spirits trickled over her tongue. Then hewalked to the wood pile and replenished the fire. Returning, he saw Linkstanding close to the bunk, smiling bestially at the upturned face. WhenLawler caught sight of him he was fingering the disordered hair, liftingit and letting it filter through his fingers.
Without a word, Lawler leaped and struck with bitter malignance. Not asound escaped Link as he fell. Lawler lifted him bodily, threw him uponthe pile of wo
od in the corner, where he lay huddled up, unconscious.
Wheeling swiftly, his eyes ablaze with the terrible passion that hadseized him, Lawler faced the bunk. The woman's head was moving slowlyfrom side to side, as though she were making an effort to lift it; hereyelids were fluttering, and her hands were straying over thebedclothing, the fingers closing and unclosing.
Lawler made a horrible grimace at Givens.
"Get out of here, damn you!" he said. "Go out and take care of herhorse--anything! If you are in here when she wakes up, I'll kill you!And take that other skunk out of here, too--take him to the dugout, anddon't come back here for an hour!"
He watched impatiently while Givens seized his companion and dragged himoutside. Then Lawler fastened the door, and standing near it, watchedthe woman.
Her eyes were open. He could see them, even though he stood slightlybehind her. She moved her head, lifted it and gazed around the room,seemingly bewildered at what she saw. Then she twisted her body around;saw her bare feet, and quickly drew an end of the bunk blanket overthem.
And then she saw Lawler. Her eyes opened wide, filling withsatisfaction, and she sat up, holding one hand to her throat, tightagainst the flesh, covering it with the other.
"Oh!" she said, thinly; "I--I got here, didn't I? But I didn't expect tofind you here!"