CONTENTdm
British Columbia Historical Books Collection
Houghton, Frank
"This romance takes place in Fort Steele and the Kootenay area in its heyday." -- Lowther, B. J., & Laing, M. (1968). A bibliography of British Columbia: Laying the foundations, 1849-1899. Victoria, BC: University of Victoria, p. 182.
298 pages ; 19 cm
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A Western Delilah A WESTERN DELILAH BY FRANK HOUGHTON Author of 'The Awakening of Thelma,' 'Red Musgrave's Luck/ etc. HODDER AND STOUGHTON LIMITED LONDON "I r ma 0 A Western Delilah Chapter I IT^ORT STEELE, at the junction of the Kootenay and Wild Horse Rivers, in British Columbia, was a booming mining camp in those halcyon days. That was before the Cross Nest Railway was built. On the night of the opening of this story there was a dance at Fort Steele. It was held in a large room lighted by lamps, candles and a few stable lanterns. The candles guttered and flickered fitfully in the draught, when the door was opened, and to the swing of the dancers' skirts. A square dance was in progress. The musicians, two men in their shirt sleeves, overalls and high-heeled riding boots, leaned back in their chairs, their feet on a table in 5 A Western Delilah front of them, and fiddled a lively air, f The Maid of Monteray,' while the sweat stood in great beads upon their foreheads. The voice of the caller, with its indefinable note of humour, rang through the room. * First two gents cross over and by your opposites stand/ Their dancing steps were in time to the merry fiddling. ' Side two gents cross over and take them by the hand. Honour to the right/ The dancers all gravely bowed to one another, excepting one, a tall, dark, singularly lovely girl with a bright, laughing face, who curtseyed divinely. ' Who is she ? ' inquired a slight, fair man of Dave Smith, the floor manager, by whom he was standing. \ Her/ replied Dave in his slow, drawling voice. | Why, she's ole Herrick's gal. Purty, ain't she ? ' The fair man nodded. ' Swing the left-hand lady an' all promenade/ sounded the voice of the caller. A moment later, the dark beauty swept close A Western Delilah 7 by them on the arm of her partner. She alone, among the many solemn dancers, seemed imbued with a joyous life. The very lightness of her step seemed with difficulty restrained. Her head was held high, the depths of her dark eyes reflected the flickering candle light, while the gleaming whiteness of her teeth, when she smiled, showed in an exquisite contrast to the crimson setting of her lips. Flashing a look, swift as light, at the fair man as he passed, she nodded smilingly to Dave. 11 tell y'u, son,' Dave continued, * thar ain't nothin' now, no, nor never has b'en in the valley, that can hold a candle to her.' Once again the fair man nodded a smiling affirmation to his companion's outspoken admiration. He then remarked : I Herrick ? I met him once, I think, but I don't know him ; he lives south of here, doesn't he ? I 1 'Bout twelve miles south, near Fish Lakes. Herrick's a cultus Englishman, most generally always broke. A decent party, though, a J perfect g'n'lem'n. I like him,' Dave added reflectively. 6 Now, that taiakes me plumb sick,' said Dave a moment later, a note of disgust in his voice, adding, \ Some folks ain't enough savey to carry guts to a b'ar. Excuse me a minute.' He walked up to a stout young man, with a vacuous, inane expression of countenance, and spoke to him, then returned, while the young man walked slowly from the room. * Well now, what do y'u know about that ? ' exclaimed Dave with an expressive shrug. \ Y'u Id think most any man Id have gumption enough to leave his spurs home when he comes to a dance. Think o' the ladies' trains, in a polkay for ins'ance ; not as they wear over an' -above much in the way o' trains—the blamed fool ! ' He turned again to the fair man. j Where did y'u say y'u was raised ? ' ' England,' said the fair man; then added, ' Though I'm really more American than English, having passed the biggest part of my life in Texas, seventeen years of it, over A Western Delilah half ; I was thirty, you know, only last week/ Dave thrust a hand forward, grasped and wrung his companion's. , ' Congratulations, ' he said solemnly, ! and happy returns.' • Thank you,' said the younger man, and smiled amiably. , I somehow took y'u to be an American, an' yet ag'in I didn't, though y'u favours them consid'ble. But y'aint got that jest 'wakened, kind o' frightened look that most Britishers wears over here, as though they had only jest realized they was livin'. Y'u can't go by names neither, 'cause more'n half the American names, I mean the old American names, is used by Britishers.' ! Yes,' replied the fair man, seriously, I and mine, John Sherrington, might be anything/ I That's right,' responded Dave, ! I once knoo an I-talian by that name ; decent, civil-spoken party he was, too, for a foreigner, but they hanged him, up in this same Canaday, io A Western Delilah for killin' his partner with a knife. I always main-tain thar a little over an' above hasty in hangin' folks in this here land o' plenty. Now, if it had b'en in God's country, they Id have most likely give him a chance o' re- pentin'.' 1 Yes,' acquiesced the fair man again. John Valentine Sherrington's appearance, by the way, was of that order which would incite remark. In height he stood about five feet ten inches, with a slight, well-knit figure denoting a wiry strength and grace. But it was the poise of his head, the clustering fair hair, with just sufficient gold in it to catch every ray of sunlight, combined with the rare quality of his well-featured face, which neither beard nor moustache were allowed to hide, that attracted the most casual observer. There was a singular refinement and latent power about it as well. A high-bred courage shone in his eyes, toQ, which were extraordinarily blue and wonderfully clear. His brow, where the broad- brimmed ! Stetson ' he wore shaded it from A Western Delilah n the sun, was fair as a girl's. The lower part of his face, though, told by unmistakable signs a story of wind and sun and hard stinging weather. The jaw, smoothly turned, rather than square, showed strength and firmness ; while in the set of his well-cut mouth there was "a latent grimness, though the finely pencilled lines at the corners touched by humour, and that hasty trick of smiling he had, redeemed it from actual hardness. He had marked characteristics, too ; he neither drank nor swore, while his quickness and accuracy with a revolver almost amounted to sleight of hand. To the Kootenay world at large he was known as Lone Jack. Meanwhile the music of a waltz began. Sherrington turned to his companion : < Introduce me to some girl ; I want to dance,' he said. p Sure thing,' Dave responded heartily, I but I can't to Miss Herrick ; she's got Bothwell again, an' no one ain't got no show alongside o' him.' Tl r ia ' A Western Delilah ■ Oh, never mind, any one'll do, so long as she can dance.' 1 Now, Flip Larkin ain't here to-night, nor neither is Broncho Liz,' Dave soliloquized aloud, thoughtfully, j an' both o' them's away up when it comes to fancy steps, but Flossie Quinlivan an' Peach Spaldm' is both hard to beat. Peach is from Cochrane, Albertay, the wheat belt, y'u know.' Dave laughed, ' She's spendin' a va-cation with folks here. She's sure a Peach ! Whenever I see her, she somehow minds me o' my sister, Bridget. Y'u know both of em's got ter'ble fine shapes, an' one day Bridget got talkin' to a neighbour, an' afterwards, when she come home, nothin' 'Id do her, but she must go down town an' buy a bustle ; but no, hold on, I guess, maybe, I'd best tell y'u that later, or Peach'U be hitchin' up with some party an' you'll miss y'ur dance.' A few moments later Dave was introducing him. Î Miss Spaldin',' he said, ' shake hands with Mr. John Sherrington, best known to the boys A Western Delilah 13 in the valley as Lone Jack. But y'u mustn't worry a mite over that, he's plumb gentle, ain't near so bad as what he looks.' Dave's eyes were smiling, though he spoke, with the utmost gravity, in a gentle voice. The girl gave a quick little laugh and looked up into the blue eyes of the young man before her. A moment later Sherrington and his partner were dancing. They danced all through the waltz without check or pause. ' Oh ! ' Peach exclaimed with a little happy gasp, when the music came to an end, ' but you are a swell dancer, Mr. Sherrington.' \ I am very fond of; a waltz, Miss Spalding, and I learned my dancing in Texas,' he responded, smiling at the enthusiasm in the girl's manner. They seated themselves on two of the straight-backed wooden chairs which flanked the walls. The girl watched him through half closed lids, while he fanned her with a folded newspaper. A young man sauntered leisurely up carrying a pail, from which protruded the handle of a dipper. 14 A Western 'Delilah ' Dry, Peach ? ' he inquired. I You bet-cha ! ' She helped herself liberally to the lemonade, drinking from the dipper. At the moment Miss Herrick passed, walking by the side of the same dark man. Sherrington glanced at him, then turned to his partner : ■ Who is that man ? ' he asked. 'Him? Oh, he's Mr. Bothwell. He's all broke up, y'u know, on Barbara Herrick. I guess her pop-pah 'Id be real pleased to see her marry him. He's sure a ter'ble bright, man, an' folks say as how he's liable to be the next Gold Commissioner. But I guess Barbara ain't ready yet, an' I somehow think she's right ' She became silent while she watched him. [ He kind o' scares me ; his eyes is that queer.' She sat musing a moment ; then addressed Sherrington with the question, ! What do you think of this dance ? ' I It's very jolly, I think.' The man with the lemonade strolled by again. A Western Delilah i| I Oh, Sam ! ' she called to him. in his leisurelv stroll. He paused * More booze, Peach ? ' he inquired. | What's the next dance ? ' she asked, ignoring the invitation. I Mazurkay, I reckon.' j Mazurkay, ugh ! ' She gave her shoulders a disdainful wriggle. \ I don't know as I care much for mazurkays ; they ain't so refined as waltze. I do jest dote on waltzinV She sighed with unction, casting her eyes ceiling- wards. l But what do you think of this dance ? Y'aint never told me yet.' Again he informed her that he thought it very jolly. f Maybe so,' she said musingly, j but I don't know as I altogether like it. Of course, though, some folks ain't as easy satisfied as others, but it don't strike me that the gentlemen is dressed proper.' [ Oh, I don't know,' Sherrington replied gravely. Just at that moment the first bars of the despised 1 Mazurkay ' struck up, and another n i6 A Western Pelilah man claimed Miss Spalding as his partner. Meanwhile Sherrington returned to his former position at the end of the room, where a moment later Dave joined him. 1 Well,' inquired the latter, ' how did y'u make out ? Nice gal, ain't she ? An' she can sure dance ! ' ' She certainly can. She's well named— she is a peach ! ' Dave smiled. ! Say, Jack,' he remarked a moment later, ' got a pack outfit ? ' ■ Sure, eight ponies, not counting my saddle pony.' ' Want a job ? ' ' You just bet your sweet and lovely life, I do.' \ How would a dollar and a half a day for each pony and three for yourself hit you ? ' Sherrington put his hand into his pocket and drew out a quarter. I That,' said he, ' is my pile. Don't talk that way if you don't mean it, Dave ; it isn't right.' • No,' responded Dave, with his slow ~n A Western Delilah vj seriousness, ' it's like offerin' a cup o' water to a thirsty man—when thar ain't no water in the cup. But this is straight. I got the man, you got the goods.' ' Who is it, Dave ? ' ■ Do y'u mind that important lookin' guy who come in on the stage coach, yesterday ? ' Sherrington nodded. ' Well, he's a C.P.R. engineer, name o9 Battle, Ephraim P. Battle, seems a decent party enough, too, but like most o' them Eastern folks, ter'ble ignorant. He's here intendin' to explore for a railway route through the Crow's Nest Pass, an' he asked me if I knoo of a pack outfit he could hire for a few months, an' nat'rally I told him I did. I told him held have to pay two dollars a day a head for each horse and about five for the man, but he said he'd buy a outfit sooner. Then we went round to Johnny- on-the-spot's an' had a few, an' he faces booze like a little man, I'll say that Jof him. Finally, after a couple more, an' considerable dickerin', he agreed to give what I told y'u. j ï8 A Western Delilah You had best meet me to-morrow mornin' at the store, an' we'll hunt up his nibbs an' I'll make y'u 'quainted. But hold on, a party can't travel about with on'y two bits | in his pants. Could y'u use a ten spot, d'y'u think? The night is young yet.' As he spoke Dave proffered him a ten dollar bill. \ Do you think the job is a sure thing ? ' ' Death ain't surer.' \ If that's the case, I'll take it, Dave, and thank you.' 1 Two bits. Western name for quarter of a dollar ; 25 cents; one shilling. S»w_ A Western Delilah Chapter II THE summer had passed and gone. So likewise had Jack's work with the railway company. He had managed, however, to put in eighty-nine days for himself and pack outfit, at fifteen dollars a day, and in consequence assured himself that he could exactly appreciate the satisfied feelings of a capitalist. It was a blazing day in the latter part of September. The leaves of the cottonwood trees which fringed the Kootenay River had put on their first autumn tints of gold. The rushes by the pools and the sparse grass on the flat were tinged with a rich brown. The snow-capped Selkirks to the West gleamed like burnished silver in the sunlight, against a background of deep blue sky. The snake- 19 20 A Western Delilah like trail, which crosses Bummers' Flat, wound hot and dusty north and south. By the side of the trail a cayote sat in the shadow of a saskatoon bush and ruminated. Now and again he turned his head and contemplated, with a dissatisfied expression, a flock of widgeon feeding in a neighbouring slough. Suddenly his ears trembled, then shot up sharp and steady. His eyes gleamed with a brute intelligence, a cunning, underhand intelligence. He licked his lips, whimpered and crouched lower. Half a mile away, in a little cloud of dust, a horseman was approaching at a lope. When distant from the saskatoon bush a hundred yards or so, the cayote broke cover, and at a swinging gallop, glancing ever thief-wise over his shoulder, made for the foothills. The widgeon craned their necks high, huddled together, then piping their alarm, rose and departed on whirring wings. The solitary horseman rode past. He was a tall, powerfully built man, with firm, clear- A Western Delilah 21 cut features, piercing dark eyes beneath as straight as a line. The lower part of his face was hidden by a thick, neatly trimmed black beard and moustache. He sat his horse with that indolent easy grace that can only be acquired by years in the saddle. In fact, it was the same dark, saturnine-looking man whom Peach Spalding, at the dance, had informed Jack was Mr. BothweU. Three-quarters of an hour later he reached Fort Steele, tethered his horse to the tie- rail in front of Johnny-on-the-spot's and entered the bar of that hospitable hostelry. Nodding to the three occupants of the room, also to the bar tender, he remarked : ' Riding's thirsty work in this weather, so I'm for a glass of beer—what are you gentlemen going to have ? ' Smiley Jay and the Kicking-Horse Kid guessed it was rye. Jack Sherrington, who happened to be the third, declined the invitation, and proceeded to roll himself a cigarette. Bothwell and the others lounged up to the A Western Delilah bar, while Sherrington, leaning back in his chair, his head resting in his hands, through half-closed eyes studied Bothwell in a dreamy, speculative way. ! This climate,' said Smiley Jay, setting his glass on the counter, and addressing no one in particular, j ain't what it's cracked up to be. Sufferin' Moses ! jest look at Californy ! 'Y Californy's got it skinned in forty-seven different ways. I mind one month I spent in Frisco . . .' 1 Billy,' said the Kid, somewhat rudely interrupting his friend, ' now we're in for another o' Smiley's dreams o' Mrs. Mary Anne Flanagan. What gets me faded,' he continued, turning to Smiley, \ is why in Sam Hill y'u didn't hitch up with the widdy ? ' ' Kid,' said Smiley, with dignity, j y'u're so blamed young. But, as I was goin' on to say, it ain't entirely the climate, it's the life . . .' * The life ? Holy Doodle ! Will y'u never quit grousin',' and the Kid proceeded to give the others to understand in his own peculiar A Western Delilah 23 vernacular that Smiley Jay's lachrymose views of life in general might be put down to \ mere contrariness,' for he had every reason to be cheerful. Hadn't he sold ' The Hard Scramble ' claim that very spring for twenty thousand, ' when any one but a sucker might o' seen it wasn't worth the powder to blow it to Hell/ It was within the range of possibility, however, that the Kid was wrong and that Smiley Jay's liver was at the bottom of if. Smiley Jay had a decided predilection for hot buns. \ Last night,' remarked Billy—by the way, Billy was bar tending at the time—11 heerd Sims belly-achin' somethin' fierce 'bout the chances o' gettin' back the thousand he loaned Herrick.' Bothwell glanced sharply at the speaker as the name passed his lips. \ Yes ? ' said the Kid. j It 'pears,' continued Billy, \ that Sims lent him one thousand bucks with the understand^' that if he didn't pay him back in 1 24 A Western 'Delilah the spring, he was to have the ranch. It ain't a bad ranch as ranches go.' * Mortgaged it ? ' suggested the Kid. I Sure.' Billy nodded. ' Well, Herrick, the old chump, cal'lated held sell enough steers to pay the money back easy, but he didn't. Y'u see, Kid, callatin's one thing, but sellin' steers is tee-totally different, and it's all mighty pretty on paper, an' Herrick's plausabler than Hell on paper, but it ain't quite the same in practice, believe me. Well, the winter come, an' the snow come, an' it was ter'ble deep an' crusted somethin' desp'rate, as y'u know—why, thar's old Alkali, has lived nigh thirty year in the valley, says he ain't never seen nothin' to touch it. Next Jenkins come, as bought the steers the season previous. An' o' course Herrick didn't like his price, an' thought he'd raise to his—he's that reckless, when it comes to speclation— an' he didn't, as y'u know, an' never come back, but went out by Golden when Herrick said he was bound to go by the Crow's Nest. An' the long an' short o' it was the bad Feb- aL_ A Western Delilah 25 ruary spell killed half his stock, an' redooced the rest to frameworks, for he was too lazy to put up hay to feed 'em, an' thar was more'n plenty in the big slough, an' nat'rally Sims is lookin' every which way for his little thousand. An' on'y last week, Dave was tellin' me, Herrick seen Sims an' asked for extension o' time an' beefed, outrageous, 'bout the jackpot him an' his daughter Id be in if they lost the place, an' what with promisin' this, an' promisin' that, Sims, who ain't too bad, as folks go, when they see a way o' makin' a couple o' hundred per cent on thar investment, says he'll give him to the end 0' December, but damn the day longer.' j Humph ! ' ejaculated the Kid. 1 Yes, an' he sure means it, too, but Herrick ain't got over an' above much savey to talk the way he does. Not as I got any kick agen him, personal, but its redic'lous to see one man as owes another he can't pay go cussin' him all through the valley as an old Jew moneylender. It's nothin' more nor less than 26 A Western 'Delilah triflin' to monkey with a man as has the diamond hitch on y'u, an' nat'ral enough the hard names he's b'en callin' him has come to his ears, an' Sims means to get his money or his money's worth, an' I don't know as y'u can blame him.' \ I don' know,' remarked the Kid, reflectively, I as I care a hoot what becomes o' the old man, for he never pays no one, unless y'u put a gun to his nose, but it's rough on the gal.' \ It is that,' Billy acquiesced. During the pause which followed, Jack dealt the cards round again. I For love ? ' inquired the Kid. ' Just to make it interesting,' said Jack, and placed a dollar on the table. The others promptly did likewise. They played the hand, and Both well won. A moment later he rose from his seat with the remark that he had to see the Recorder on business and strolled out. Sherrington watched him depart, then he leaned back in his chair and, with a thought- A Western Delilah 27 ful expression, contemplated his two companions. Jack Sherrington had come into the country a year before by the way of the Moyie trail, presumably from Idaho. He had ridden in on a pony which he called Little Dick. The pony was a strawberry roan with a blazed face, and his master took unusual care of him. Five minutes after Bothwell had gone Sherrington rose to his feet and, nodding to the Kid and Smiley Jay, also took his departure. A little while afterwards he rode through the town, as Fort Steele was grandiloquently styled, to the store, where he purchased a package of Bull Durham tobacco and some cigarette papers. Once again mounting his pony, he rode away in the direction of the Wild Horse ford. ' A Western Delilah Chapter III THE ford was low, and Little Dick crossed it easily, and at a trot followed the trail up the opposite slope. Sherrington rode the greater part of the way at a walk, so that it was nearly three hours before he reached the northern boundary of Herrick's ranch, distant from Fort Steele about thirteen miles. Here he was hailed by Herrick himself, a cadaverous, untidy-looking individual, who cantered up on a stout buckskin pony. Herrick belonged to that class of Englishmen—a large one, unfortunately—who inherit, with a moderate income, a taste for the costly things of life and a will too weak to deny themselves a gratification of the same. The son of a gentleman, he had married a woman in his own class, who, two years later, in an 29 Sc*Ni«i. A Western Delilah attempt to jump a five-barred gate on a tired hunter, had the good fortune to depart this life by sustaining a compound fracture of the cervical vertebrae—in other words, she broke her neck. Fortunately for her husband, Mrs. Herrick left behind her a daughter who, at the age of sixteen, accompanied her father to Canada, and through it by varying stages to British Columbia and the Kootenay, where out of the residue of his capital he invested in a ranch, stocked it, and in a spasmodic, feeble way, peculiar to such natures as his, strove to make a living out of cattle breeding—a business of which he was lamentably ignorant. The result being that in six years he was in the unenviable position suggested by the conversation at the hotel, namely, over head and ears in debt to the storekeeper at Fort Steele, and his ranch and remaining live stock mortgaged. \ Looking for a job ? ' asked Herrick, as he and Sherrington met. Herrick's utterance was of the nervous, A Western Delilah 31 jerky type. He fondly imagined it to be decisive. His eyes had a trick of wandering ; they rested on Sherrington's stirrup as he gave utterance to the above question. ' Sure thing/ said Sherrington, not becaue he really wanted a job, for he had not been so flush for years as he was just then, but merely out of curiosity. ' I want a man/ said Herrick. ! Indeed/ murmured Sherrington. { Yes/ replied Herrick, j to do odd chores, and then there's the fencing ; 1 must do some more fencing. ' His voice became querulous. J The cattle are for ever straying, curse them, all over the range. I can't be for ever rounding them up, and Barbara— that's my daughter, you know—can't be riding all day ; there's enough to keep her busy at the shack. I'm looking for the horses now, and so is Barbara. It seems to me we're always looking for them or the cattle.' He paused a moment and nervously stroked his beard. Sherrington, meanwhile, rolled himself a cigarette. Herrick continued : 3^ A Western Delilah I Perhaps you've seen the band—seven of them ? ' 1 No,' replied Sherrington, ! I've come along the trail and haven't seen a horse, excepting Macdonald's bay with a blazed face.' Herrick pulled an ancient-looking pipe from his pocket and began filling it. • There are the potatoes, too, to get in,' he continued, ' besides the fencing, and then there's a root-house to build ; you had better come on for a spell.' ! What do you pay ? ' ' Thirty a month and feed you.' Sherrington laughed, t I'll think about it,' he said. I Do,' said Herrick, ! the work isn't too stiff, and the grub might be worse. Anyhow, stay till I come back. If you want anything to eat, Barbara 11 get it for you. If she isn't there, you can rustle for yourself ; you'll find what's going in the cupboard. Take the first trail to the left, it'll bring you to the bars. You'll see the shack from there. I'll be back in an hour or so/ He struck his A Western Delilah 33 heels into his pony, as he finished speaking, and trotted away. Sherrington followed the trail as directed and soon came to the bars, from where he sighted the house. It was a single-storied log edifice with a fair-sized barn, and a stable and corral standing a little way from it. From a picturesque standpoint the site of the ranch left little to be desired. It lay at the very foot of the Rockies, which towered above it in great jagged ridges covered with everlasting winter. Extending from the gate to the very buildings, was as pretty a stretch of open prairie as a stockman could desire to look upon, while browsing peacefully were some fifty head of cattle, making delightful little splashes of colour in the landscape. To the right the clear waters of a small lake reflected mountain and sky. As Sherrington passed through the gateway he leaned from his saddle to readjust the bars, when he heard a distinctly feminine shout and the thud, thud, thud of galloping horses. Sherrington concluded it to be the 34 A Western Delilah lost band that was now racing towards him, from the direction in which he had come, with a decidedly Amazonian-looking female bringing up the rear. She was riding, bareback, a wirey little grey horse, which she sat to perfection, in the manner, in those days, ascribed to the sterner sex, namely, to use a colloquialism, f straddle legs/ exhibiting, as she did so, a pretty display of wonderfully small moccasined feet. On catching sight of a male, and, apparently, a not disinterested one, she swung her right leg over the withers of her mount, without checking his pace, in a manner that would have done credit to a circus rider, and gave a hitch to her skirts. In her right hand she swung a rope, in her left, hanging slack, a hastily improvized bridle rein of the same, while she urged on the band by alternately whistling and hallooing. I Hi there ! ' she called out to Sherrington, in clear ringing tones. ' Let down the bars and get off the trail.' Sherrington promptly did as he was bid. A Western Delilah 35 The horses rushed helter-skelter through, and at once recognizing the prairie as the home pasture, slackened their pace to a walk and were soon feeding as contentedly as though the thought of wandering had never entered their aggravating heads. Replacing the bars, Sherrington touched Dick with his heels and brought him alongside of the girl's horse. ' I beg your pardon,' he said, raising his hat, ' but you are Miss Herrick ? ' 1 Yes,' she replied, with a comprehensive glance, ' that is my name,' and added, ' If you are looking for father, he's off on the range, somewhere, hunting this band.' \ I've just left him,' Sherrington replied ; 1 he asked me to go on to the ranch and wait till his return. He wants me to give him a hand for a while.' 'Oh ! . . .' She looked as though she had something more to say, but, apparently changing her mind, remained silent. For a few moments, neither spoke, while their horses moved along together. Mean- 36 A Western Delilah while, Sherrington could observe the girl by his side more closely than he had been able to do on the night of the dance, six months before. Her appearance was certainly remarkable. Her face, in repose, was singularly lovely. The setting of her eyes being particularly fine. Their colouring was peculiar, the outer rim of the iris grey, the inner hazel, which in certain lights, and when swayed by certain moods, gave them a greenish tinge. The lashes, jet black, were very long : the lids, perhaps a little heavy, had a curious trick of drooping, giving to the eyes a sleepy expression. The brows were strongly, though finely marked, black like the lashes, and wonderfully arched. Her mouth, for perfect beauty, was a little large, the lips ripe and full. It was an imperious, impressionable, sensitive mouth, and a trifle sensuous as well. Her head was small and charmingly set upon her shoulders. Her hair, dark brown, was abundant and curled naturally. She wore it dressed high upon her head, with a broad A Western Delilah 37 band of orange ribbon twisted through it. Her complexion was that clear olive which exposure to sun and wind only seems to beautify ; her cheeks, the colour in the petals of a red rose. Her figure, slight, was lovely as her face. There was a lazy voluptuousness about it, a sinuous sway to it from rounded hips, a charming poise, with a lean as pretty as a tall flower in a gentle wind. Turning, she swept him with her eyes, and then she spoke : I I saw you once before, didn't I ? Let me see, now. Yes, it was at the dance last spring, at Forte Steele. Wasn't it ? ' ' Yes, I was there. I saw you,' replied Sherrington. j You were talking with Dave Smith.' ' And you were dancing with Mr. Bothwell.' Sherrington spoke slowly, reminiscently. His mention of Bothwell's name recalled to his mind what Dave had told him that night. At his words the colour deepened in the girl's cheeks. ' Do you know Mr. Bothwell ? ' she asked. nu 38 A Western Delilah 11 hardly know him. I haven't spoken half a dozen words to him in my life.' For a little way they trotted on together without speaking, while they passed several head of cattle lying down. One, a yearling, scrambled to his feet, and kicking up his heels cantered away, tail erect. Barbara spoke again : I You said that father asked you to help him about the place. Are you going to ? ' Sherrington decided on the instant and replied in the affirmative. ' Then,' she said gaily, ' I may ask who you are ? ' The man smiled a little bitterly, perhaps. ' In the mountains,' he said, • one name is as good as another. After all, there are advantages in living in the mountains.' She was watching him intently. 'The Kootenay men,' he continued, 'call me Lone Jack. . . / ■ Oh ! ' she exclaimed, interrupting him. Her exclamation spoke volumes. She reined in her horse. So, likewise, did her companion, A Western Delilah 39 He raised his hand a little, as a man would enjoining silence, and went on : ' But my real name is John Valentine Sherrington.' As he spoke he turned to her, then added, in his gentle voice : j But they have other names for me, too, these Kootenay men, such as vagrant and gambler, and you . . .' She checked him with a gesture. Her eyes sought his and kindled. She became a magnificent savage. 1 The hateful creatures ! ' she exclaimed. A Western Delilah Chapter IV TWO weeks passed away and Sherrington was still at Herrick's ranch. In that time, as was only natural, he had seen a good deal of Barbara. He went about the work silently and apparently with interest. Nothing, however, escaped his keenly observant eyes. He noticed, 'twas glaringly evident, the frequency of Bothwell's visits. Every two or three days he was there smoking with old Herrick or, whenever opportunity offered, talking to Barbara. Perhaps without Sherrington's being aware of it, her affair with Bothwell—it certainly was an affair—interested him far more than he actually realized. Indeed, it would have been difficult for any one possessing the feelings of a man, of which Sherrington had his full share, despite his calm exterior, 41 J 42 A Western Delilah to live in the same house with a woman of such transcendent loveliness as Barbara, without being influenced, in a measure, by her beauty. One evening, after Sherrington had spent a long, hard day in the saddle in a fruitless search for some missing horses, he did not get back to the ranch till after eight o'clock. While he was unsaddling in front of the stable, the door of the house opened and Bothwell came out accompanied by Barbara. For a few moments, they talked together before one of the lighted windows. Suddenly Sherrington saw Bothwell lean towards his companion, an action which could bear but one interpretation ; she drew back hurriedly, and Sherrington heard her laugh. A few moments later Bothwell passed him, with a surly ' good night,' and disappeared into the stable, from whence he emerged in a minute leading his horse, mounted and rode away. Next came the sound of the front door closing, as Barbara entered the house. She had lingered, then, outside, while he had 1 A Western Delilah 43 ridden away. What her feelings were for Bothwell, Sherrington had often wondered. Sometimes she was so bright and gay, but too often the very opposite. He could not make her out at all. That evening he was conscious of a feeling he had never before experienced, an uncomfortable feeling, upsetting to his easy-going philosophy, a feeling of bitter antagonism against the namelessness of his existence. From the Cottonwood fringing the shore of a little lake, hard by, came the weird howl of a cayote. The familiar sound restored him to the present. With a sigh, he pulled the saddle off his horse, which immediately lay down and rolled. A few moments later, he deposited both his saddle and shapps in their places in the stable, hanging up his bridle, and betook himself to the house. He felt both weary and hungry, that evening, when he entered the front room, which was the dining and sitting room combined. He found his meal ready for him, 'while before a genial fire li^L 44 A Western Delilah which blazed and crackled in a big open fireplace at the end of the room, sat Barbara, gazing thoughtfully into it. At the sound of his entrance, she glanced round, then rose to her feet. Sherrington looked at her, as he seated himself. Her face was pale. It wore a troubled, preoccupied expression. i You must be hungry ? ' she said. Sherrington shrugged and laughed. She stepped into the kitchen and returned a moment later with some fried bacon and potatoes and placed them on the table before him. She then cut some slices of bread and passed one of them to him, another she began toasting. When it was toasted, she handed it to him. ' Eat it while it's hot,' she said, and poured him out a cup of tea. She then pulled a chair to the table, seated herself and, with her chin in her hands, watched him intently while he ate his meal in the silent, eager way of a tired, hungry man. A Western Delilah 45 ' Where is your father ? ' he inquired when he had finished. ' He went to Steele, after dinner,' she replied, 5 and won't be back—at least, I don't expect him back—before the morning/ As she finished speaking, Sherrington rose to his feet, and taking a lantern down from a peg lighted it, and walked to the door leading into the kitchen. I Where are you going ? ' inquired Barbara. ' To bring in the water.' ' It's all in,' she informed him ; I you'd better take it easy. You've earned your pay to-day, I think.' She laughed. She knew as well as he did that in all probability that day's work would never be paid for any more than would any of the preceding ones. ' If that's the case,' said Sherrington, blowing the lantern out and replacing it, ' I can wash the dishes for you.' ' Bother the dishes/ she replied, petulantly ; ' let them slide, till to-morrow.' She walked over to the fire, as she spoke, A Western Delilah and seated herself on a rough form of lounge covered with deer skins. Opposite the lounge was the seat she had occupied on Sherrington's entrance. Taking possession of it with the remark, 'As you please,' he rolled and lighted himself a cigarette. ' Does your father often leave you alone like this ? ' he inquired. ' Not often, though occasionally.' ' And you are not afraid ? ' ' What is there to be afraid of ? ' ' There are Indians—and, and men like myself, for instance.' He smiled. ' Are you very much to be feared ? ' 11 am a gambler, a vagrant, a bad lot altogether ; at least, so they say of me.' 11 do not know that I altogether believe what is said of you,' she replied. ' Thank you,' said Sherrington. For a few moments neither spoke, when, of a sudden, she leaned forward : ' Tell me,' she said, ' do you ever expect to be paid for your work here ? ' He took the cigarette from between his lips A Western Delilah 47 and knocked the ash off with his little finger, but did not reply. She became impatient. 'Tell me,' she said; 'you know what I mean—surely you understand.' ' Perfectly,' he replied calmly. ' No, I do not expect to be paid.' ? Why do you stay ? ' \ I cannot tell you.' ' Or you will not ? ' He shrugged, without replying. She leaned back and a look of weariness came into her face. ' I do not know why you should trouble yourself, Miss Herrick.' He spoke kindly. ' It is a matter between your father and myself. When I have asked for my pay, and it is not forthcoming, it will be time enough to worry/ ' On the contrary, it will be too late, then.' \ Which proves more conclusively than ever that it is absurd to worry.' He looked at her, with a smile. '1 cannot make you out,' said Barbara. • A Western Delilah ' From what I had heard of you, I judged you to be different.' ' I hope you are not disappointed ? ' he replied. 11 suppose, I really do not know you,' she said solemnly. ' Perhaps it is they who do not know me.' ■ Sometimes I have thought that it might be that,' she said. In this world,' he replied, ' when one does not follow the well-beaten, respectable and dull paths, the community is puzzled. What is dull and commonplace appeal to the community in general, because it is dull and commonplace. Vagrancy, such as mine, shocks it. To explain it, it hits upon a complex theory. As usual, a simple one would explain it.' ' And the explanation, if I may be allowed to ask ? ' ' Until now, laziness and lack of interest —in short, drifting.' ' " Until now " implies a change, or the desire for change, I take it ? ' A Western Delilah 49 • Latterly, I have felt that a change might be advantageous.' ' I have wondered, many times,' said Barbara, ' if such an idea would ever occur to you.' 1 The trouble with so many of us is that we are never taught to do anything but ride and shoot.' ' That was Daddy's trouble, too,' said Barbara. ' Unfortunately I had, and still have, a rich aunt.' ' Daddy's was an uncle It sounds like measles or chicken-pox or something,' said Barbara, laughing. ' It is infinitely worse than either,' said Sherrington. ' But what's become of your aunt ? ' 'She hasn't yet become ; I mean she is still to the fore and lively as a cricket. Only fifty-two, her last birthday, but she's a ripping good sort, just the same. But what became of the uncle ? ' ' Oh, he was a funny old boy, got married j 5o A Western Delilah at sixty-one. He's got a family, now, of two fine boys, twelve and fourteen, and a girl of ten. So poor old Dad is done for.' ' What shocking luck ! ' ' Rather ! ' For a few moments there was silence between them. Above the fireplace, suspended by a piece of faded yellow ribbon, hung an old guitar. Sherrington glanced up at it. ' Do you play, or sing ? ' he asked. Her glance followed his. ' Oh, yes,' she replied with a laugh. ' I do both. Would you like to hear me ? ' As she asked the question, she rose to her feet and took the instrument from its place. 1 Very much indeed,' replied Sherrington. She stood in the full glow of the firelight and began tuning her guitar. ' What shall I sing ? ' she asked. ' Oh, anything,' Sherrington replied. Her face became rapt, ecstatic. She touched the strings with an indescribably A Western Delilah 51 graceful, uplifting movement of her hand, threw her head back like a wild bird, and in an instant the room was filled with the harmony of her voice. Such a voice ! So passionate, clear and full ! Sherrington was entranced. As she finished the song, he drew a long breath. For a moment, there was silence—an eloquent silence ! 1 Ah,' he said, at length, ' I have not heard anything like that for years.' She laughed, and then she sang another and another. At length, she laid her guitar aside, and Sherrington turned his eyes from her face and looked into the leaping flames, and his own became grave. ' My songs have saddened you,' she said; her eyes were gleaming. 'Your songs/ he replied slowly, fhave made me think/ ' Don't/ she exclaimed passionately, ' life is too bitter.' A Western Delilah Chapter V DURING breakfast the following morning, Barbara was silent and preoccupied, treating Sherrington with a distance and coldness which, compared with her behaviour of the preceding evening, left much to be desired. Sherrington, however, seemed utterly oblivious of her attentions, or rather lack of them. All day he worked on the new root-house. That morning, Barbara had to make some bread. While so occupied, she could hear the steady, monotonous thug, thug, of Sherrington's axe as he scored the logs. When Barbara had finished kneading her dough, she placed it near the fire tô rise, with a clean towel over it. She then put on a pea-jacket belonging to her father and, tying a handkerchief over her head—for the 53 54 A Western Delilah morning, despite the cloudless sky, was decidedly chilly—sauntered out of doors. For a moment she looked about, and then walked over to where Sherrington was working. Seating herself on a stump, near by, she thrust her hands into the capacious pockets of her father's coat and remarked : ' I often wish I were a man.' ' Why ? ' asked Sherrington. 'Oh, I don't know.' She paused for a moment, then continued : \ They have a better time ; they're more free—their work is pleasanter.' ' You think you would prefer hewing timber to making bread ? ' ' Rather ! Making bread gives you a pain in the back, sewing hurts your eyes, washing dishes spoils your hands and temper ; while working out of doors in the lovely sunlight ' Gives one an appetite,' said Sherrington. Thug, thug, went his axe and the big white chips flew over her head. ' Yes,' she said, ' it must be grand to~ be A Western Delilah 55 a man—to be your own master, to be strong and able to do something in the world.' For a few moments she sat in silence, watching the steady, even strokes of the axe. ' Jack,' she said, at length : she had fallen quite naturally into the way of calling him Jack. She had begun by calling him ' Mr. Jack,' but he had laughed her out of that, saying that it was ridiculous to call the hired man mister. ' Father says that " there is no better worker in the Kootenay " than you. Why don't you do something for yourself ? ' Sherrington drove his axe into the log, straightened himself and mopped the perspiration from his forehead. ' What would you advise me to do ? ' he asked. ' Why not take up land ? Father says " there's a fine range near the mouth of the Elk River/" ' How am I to stock it ? ' ' Haven't you any money ? ' ' Only what I made out of that last packing job ; I am afraid it wouldn't go very far/ 56 A Western ^Delilah ' Can't you get another packing job ? ' ' Not before next spring, when there ought to be lots of work going, if the C.P.R. continues the Crow's Nest Surveys. In the meantime, I am earning my living, and if I am not making any money, I am not spending any.' As he finished speaking he swung his axe again and continued his work. ' I would so like to see you getting on, making money, Jack.' ' What is that ? ' He stopped again in his work, standing up very straight before her, the sunlight in his face, bringing out the blue of his eyes, the bronzing of his cheeks. She repeated what she had said. ' It is very good of you, Miss Barbara, to trouble over my future, but you mustn't, you know; I am all right.' ' I don't think you are all right. In a way, you are too like daddy ; all our kind are that way, I think. We can ride and we can shoot and we are taught to look at things in a fine way, that is not worldly, and will not do in the world, to-day. Yes, Jack, A Western Delilah 57 our kind make good soldiers, good leaders of forlorn hopes ; they are brought up to despise the commonplace, to do and dare the beautiful things that are not wanted, now ; to be looked upon as fools, fool Englishmen, by the spry, smug, vulgar, successful beast that one sees and hears everywhere. No, Jack, I do not think your future is all right by any manner of means. How about old age, when it comes ? ' She laughed a little, though not happily. ' I do not fear it, because of a superstition.' ' Indeed. And may I ask what is that superstition ? ' ' That I shall never know it.' ' Ah, Jack, that is only another form of recklessness/ ' Possibly. Now don't you think we have discussed myself quite sufficiently ? ' said Sherrington, smiling. 'No, I do not/ she responded, 'though I don't suppose any further discussion will mend matters.' ' No,' he said reflectively, passing his thumb along the edge of his axe, \ it will take more than that to mend matters.' For another twenty minutes or so, Barbara watched him in silence. A gopher poked his head from a hole a few yards distant, saw Sherrington, whistled and disappeared, only to reappear a moment later and with his two bright, bead-like eyes watch the two, to him no doubt, alarming-looking individuals. ' Jack,' said Barbara, at length—the gopher shrieked hysterically and dived out of sight— ' I'm worried.' ' I am sorry to hear that, Miss Barbara/ ' About the ranch, Jack, and the money father owes Sims. He can't pay it, you know.' Sherrington nodded. ' Whatever is to become of father, Jack ? ' Sherrington looked intently at Barbara. He had given but little thought to the problem of Herrick's future ; that worthy would have to manage as many another better man had before him, namely, somehow. His L A Western Delilah 59 shiftlessness and general weakness of character were matters of contempt to the vagrant —he thoroughly despised Herrick. But the future of his daughter, on the contrary, had on more than one occasion disturbed him. ' Miss Barbara,' he said, ' I do not think that this is the question.' ' No ? ' said Barbara, interrogatively. ' No, the question is, what is to become of you? ' ' Oh,' said Barbara, flushing, ' 1 am young and strong. I can work.' ' In a mining camp like Steele, among lawless brutes of men ? ' ' I can do housework. I can sew and . . .' ' And make bread, ' said Sherrington, gravely. ' Poor Miss Barbara, how your back will ache before—before the last batch is finished and the fire goes out.' ' Don't, Jack.' ' That question has troubled me more than once,' continued Sherrington. ' Of course, there is your voice; you ought to be able to do something with it. But that would 6o A Western Delilah mean study. The very hardest study, under the best of masters/ Barbara nodded. 1 There is another thing, too, that will handicap you, excepting on the stage—I don't know that I would think of the stage ; it is your face, you know, Miss Barbara.' ' My face ? ' said Barbara, humbly. ' Is there anything wrong with it ? ' ' It'sail wrong, that's the trouble,' responded Jack, gloomily. Barbara flushed, and for an instant looked put out. ' Oh, Jack ! ' she exclaimed, ' but that's very unfortunate. Whatever is the matter with it ? I suppose it's my hair, or is it my nose ? ' ' It's everything,' continued Sherrington in the same melancholy tone. ' It's your hair, and your nose, and your eyes—in short, all your features.' Barbara looked puzzled and a good deal put out. ' Jack ! ' she exclaimed, ' I don't under- A Western Delilah 61 stand you. Do you mean that I'm a fright ? ' 'No,' said Sherrington; 'if you were it would simplify matters, or even if you were decently plain. Why, it would be ridiculously simple, then.' ' I am sorry,' said Barbara, in an injured tone, ; that my appearance is so terribly against me.' ' Not a bit more than I am,' replied Sherrington. ? Yes, it is really too bad that I am not even decently plain as you so very plainly put it.' She spoke feelingly. \ If you were even only ordinarily good looking, it wouldn't be so bad, but with such a face and figure \ ' Jack ! Upon my word ! So it's a pity that I am not even ordinarily good looking.' Her face was blazing, now. ' It is indeed, by Jove ! because, on the contrary, you are absolutely the most perfectly beautiful woman I have ever seen. And beauty such as yours, you know, is the very dickens.' A Western Delilah Sherrington spoke quite calmly. As he said it he picked a chip from the ground and chewed it, reflectively. He had seated himself upon the log he had been hewing and was looking out across the prairie, apparently quite unconscious of the effect he had produced. As for Barbara she sat straight up and stared at him. For one brief instant, she remained so. And then, as a queen of tragedy might have risen, she arose ! Lovely at all times, now in the shock of her surprise she was superb. Her fine eyes became twin pools of lambent flame, her cheeks, incarnadined. Indeed, the splendour of amazement enveloped her like a glory. ' Sir ! ' she exclaimed. Sherrington looked at her, and the admiration in his eyes was very palpable. With a sudden little gasp, Barbara caught her breath. For a moment she seemed to hesitate, then turned about and marched into the house. Luncheon that day was a somewhat silent A Western Delilah 63 meal, and at the close of it Herrick, accompanied by Bothwell, arrived. The former seemed in unusually high spirits, kissed his daughter affectionately, and told her to run and get them something to eat like a good little girl. After their meal, he went out to where Sherrington was working, and lounged about with his hands in his pockets making idle suggestions as to the cheapest and best way of putting up the root-house. A few minutes later, Barbara and Bothwell appeared. The latter was talking and laughing, while Barbara was silent, and looked decidedly out of temper. They walked slowly past ; as they did so, Barbara caught Sherrington's eye, smiled and gave an expressive shrug to her shoulders. Her companion noted the look of understanding, and his brow clouded. He continued talking, however, and they strolled out across the prairie. An hour or so later they returned. This time, Barbara did not notice Sherrington as she passed him. She was speaking rapidly, 4 Western Delilah with an angry earnestness, and he overheard the words : ' I won't change, and if you cannot behave in a rational manner you had better not come again. It is simply ridiculous.' Bothwell, his hands in his pockets, walked by her side in silence. There was an angry flush on his dark face, a wicked gleam in his eyes. He was evidently in a state of suppressed fury. At the door, he left Barbara, and turning, called to Herrick, who immediately joined him. Together they walked to the stable and disappeared inside, where they remained some little time. When they reappeared, Bothwell was leading his horse. Mounting it, he spoke a few words to Herrick, who turned and, glancing in Sherrington's direction, nodded. Bothwell then touched his horse with his heels, and rode away at a trot. When Bothwell had gone, Herrick returned to the house, where he found his daughter, busily employed, embroidering a pair of A Western Delilah 65 moccasins. Crossing the room to the fireplace, he stood with his back to it. * Barbara,' he said and paused irresolutely. It was evident that he had something to say to her and disliked the saying of it. He was extremely fond of Barbara, but he stood somewhat in awe of her. ' Well, father ? ' She laid her work down in her lap, leaned back in her chair and looked up at him. Herrick's glance played round the room and rested nowhere. He coughed nervously. There was a something in his daughter's eye that unnerved him. ' Well,' said Barbara again, ' what is it ? ' ( Bothwell'sbehaved awfully decently,'said her father, and for a brief instant their eyes met. Barbara did not reply. Herrick's tone became querulous. ' I don't see why you always go on like that, when I mention his name. He's the best friend I've got.' ' Is he ? ' 5 T! 66 A Western Delilah ' Yes, he is. When they all turn against me, he sticks up for me. I wish you would be a little nicer to him, Barbara. He's the ablest man in the Kootenay.' ! Humph ! ' ejaculated Barbara. I He is, I tell you. Show me a better man.' Thug, thug, came the sound of Sherrington's axe deadened by closed doors. Barbara's eyes brightened, but she remained silent. The sound, too, seemed to strike Herrick. He paused a moment, then continued : ' And he's fond of you, dear.' Barbara's foot tapped the floor. ' Don't, Barbara, don't ! You upset me. I wish you were more calm and restful, and less—less jumpy. What was I saying ? Oh, yes. Where would we be if it wasn 't for him ? ' ' | Where would we be "—what do you mean ? ' exclaimed Barbara, in horrified accents. Herrick held up his hand with an imploring gesture. ' Do be calm, Barbara, do be restful. You A Western Delilah 67 know how worried I have been. How can you be so unsympathetic ? Oh dear ! oh dear ! I don't suppose theje has been a more miserable man in the valley for the past six months, and all on account of you ; and now you turn round on me and upset me. What with the fencing, and the potato crop, and the root-house, and a hundred other worries, upon my word, there are times when I wish my life was at an end.' ' I'm sure I'm very sorry, daddy; but what under the sun has that man been doing ? ' Herrick's forlorn expression brightened. ' Doing, Barbara ? Why, he's been the saving of us ; he has promised to loan me the thousand to pay Sims.' ' Dad ! ' ' He has, I tell you. Now, isn't that pretty decent of him ? ' Barbara's face flushed. ' I'd rather owe fifty Sims ! But surely you haven't accepted his offer ? ' She felt that he had. Her question was only a bitter protest against their position. 68 A Western Delilah ' That's just what I expected,' said Herrick, mournfully, ' after all my planning and contriving. Oh, but life is very difficult.' Just at the moment, Barbara could not help feeling that had her father spent less time in inveighing against the many difficulties of life and a little more in surmounting them, their place in it, from various standpoints, might have been pleasanter. She did not say so, however. By an effort, she repressed her feelings sufficiently to speak calmly, and remarked : ' And the security ? ' ' The ranch, of course.' ' And the time ? ' ' Oh, no time was specified. He did it all so nicely. He's a gentleman, is Both- well. I have always thought so, now I know it. When I spoke of the time to him, he just laughed, saying, " Don't trouble about the time, my dear fellow ; if you need the money and I have it, you are entirely welcome to it, you know me, old chap." ' ' Know him ! ' exclaimed Barbara, ' that's A Western Delilah 69 just the trouble, daddy, you don't know him yet, but I'm beginning to think I do. Don't you see, daddy, you poor dear, if you get the money on those terms, he could simply turn us away whenever the freak took him—and the freak would take him. We would be just living here on sufferance.' ' Pshaw ! ' said Herrick, ' you are prejudiced against him, that is all ; he wouldn't be guilty of such a trick.' ' Oh, very well,' said Barbara, wearily, ' have it your own way, daddy ; I only hope he will prove all that you think him.' ' Of course he will, ' said Herrick confidently ; ' now don't you think you ought to be getting supper ready? Jack'll be in pretty soon.' Barbara rose to her feet. 'Talking of Jack,' continued Herrick, his daughter paused, ' reminds me that we had better let him go.' Barbara drew a quick breath. ' His staying, after all, is only an additional expense.' 11 thought you had determined to keep him on for a time ? ' Western Delilah ' Well, I did, Barbara, but the fact is, Bothwell and I discussed the desirability of his remaining and we both agreed that, ah, that, under existing circumstances, it would be better to let him go.' ' It was Mr. Bothwell's suggestion, of course. And of course it will keep down the expenses. With regard to economy in running a place, I should think all Mr. Bothwell's ideas are worth listening to.' Barbara spoke distinctly and very softly. Her father, attracted by a curious inflection in her voice, glanced at her and thought it odd that her eyes should look so green in the firelight. I Yes,' he replied carelessly, ' I believe it was Bothwell's suggestion in the first place.' ' I thought so,' said Barbara in the same soft voice, and, turning, she walked into the kitchen and quietly closed the door. A Western Delilah Chapter VI WHEN Bothwell left Herrick's ranch that afternoon, he felt decidedly out of humour. That shrug and look of understanding which had passed between Barbara and Sherrington had opened his eyes to the true state of affairs, or he thought it had, which was much the same thing, and productive of the same disquieting feeling. That afternoon he had asked Barbara to become his wife, and she had promptly declined. He had never known until that chilling ' no ' fell from her lips how much he desired to possess her. Her beauty had never appealed to him before as it did then. He instinctively felt that Sherrington was at the bottom of it ; that but for him Barbara would have been his. He had got into 71 A Western Delilah the way, during the past six months, of looking upon her merely as an emotional, half-savage girl who would be only too ready to come to him whenever it would suit him to beckon. His awakening, in consequence, had been by no means a pleasant one. It was a little disconcerting to discover that the girl had suddenly developed into a woman, and a passionate woman with a most decided will of her own. Prior to the arrival of Sherrington, she had always been willing to talk with him, ride with him, and allow him to make love to her. As his pony jogged along towards Steele that afternoon, Bothwell consoled himself with the reflection that in a day or two Sherrington would leave Herrick's and that unless Barbara's heart was much more deeply touched than he supposed, if it was really touched at all, which he doubted, her little penchant for the vagrant would in all probability quickly evaporate. Had it occurred to him that Herrick would have let the cat A Western Delilah 73 out of the bag in the way he had done, by telling his daughter that it was at his suggestion that Sherrington was to be discharged, it is possible that he would not have felt quite so sure as to the success of his little scheme. As for Barbara's refusal of him that afternoon, he was disposed to look upon it merely in the light of a disagreeable check. It only served as a spur to urge him on. On reaching Fort Steele, Bothwell put his horse up in the stable, while leaving instructions with the Kid, who was acting stable- boy, to give it a good feed, as he intended riding to his ranch that evening. He then adjourned to the bar of the hotel, where he had a drink with Billy and ordered supper. Shortly after eight o'clock, despite the pressing invitation of several of his acquaintances and admirers to join them in a friendly little game, he mounted his horse and trotted awav. Supper that evening, at Herrick's could hardly be characterized as hilarious ; there A Western Delilah was that uncomfortable calm about it which generally precedes a domestic storm. Barbara wore an air of suppressed emotion that communicated itself to her father and made him nervous and fidgety. At first he had tried to engage her in conversation, but his remarks she either did not hear at all, or answered so utterly at random that he at length relapsed into complete silence, merely contenting himself with hurried glances in her direction. Sherrington, alone, seemed utterly unconscious of anything out of the ordinary run. As a rule Barbara spent her evenings with her father and Sherrington in the front room. That evening, however, after washing the dishes, she remained in the kitchen, leaving the two men to themselves. For an hour or so they sat there, Herrick reading a dilapidated old novel which he had brought with him from Steele, while Sherrington smoked his cigarettes and stared into the fire. Herrick, at length, laid his book aside, stretched himself and yawned. 1 A Western Delilah 75 ' Hullo, what's become of Barbara ? ' he inquired. ' In the kitchen, I suppose,' replied Sherrington. I Humph,' ejaculated Herrick, and relapsed once more into silence. For a time he sat with his two hands clasped about his knee, slowly working his foot up and down as though in time to music. Gradually the swinging of his foot ceased, his head nodded forward on his chest and he slept. In a few minutes he awakened. ' Hullo,' he exclaimed, ' I've been asleep, eh ? ' Without waiting for a reply to the very obvious remark, he got to his feet, bid Sherrington good night, and retired to his room. In a little while snores proclaimed his condition. For a few moments longer Sherrington remained in his seat, then rising to his feet and stepping noiselessly across the floor he entered the kitchen, and closed the door softly behind him. Barbara was sitting near the stove, her II A Western Delilah chin resting in her hands. Her back was turned to the door, so that she did not see Sherrington enter. There was something pathetic in the droop of her shoulders, in her whole air and attitude, a silent protest in the knit brows and dark rebellious eyes. She did not know that he was in the room till he was beside her. Starting slightly, she looked up at him. There was a kindly sympathy in his glance that touched her, and she turned her face away. Without a word Sherrington drew a chair up to the stove, near hers, and seated himself. He then rolled a cigarette, lighted it, and leaned back as though he had settled himself for the evening. Barbara sat up, her lips parted as though she would speak, but, apparently changing her mind, she closed them. For a few minutes, neither uttered a word. It seemed to be a game of which could keep silence longest. But the woman was no match for the man. She began to fidget. She glanced at him. She changed her position. As for A Western Delilah yy Sherrington, he might have been one of the renowned Mrs. Jarley's waxworks but for the cloud of smoke issuing, at regular intervals, from between his lips, he remained so still/ Barbara could stand it no longer. ' Well ? ' she said. Sherrington took the cigarette from between his lips. ' That's right,' he remarked calmly, ' talk. When a girl is feeling a bit down on her luck she should talk, there's nothing like it.' ' How do you know that I'm feeling down on my luck ? ' she asked him. Sherrington shrugged. ' By intuition, I suppose, or animal magnetism or something. It is sufficient that I know it. Perhaps it is a fellow feeling. I've been down on my luck once or twice myself, Miss Barbara.' ' Poor old Jack,' said Barbara softly, and she looked at him. ' Never mind me. What I want to know is, what's the matter with you ? ' A Western Delilah For a few moments Barbara did not answer, but sat staring moodily before her. At length she turned again to him : ' It is everything, Jack, everything/ She made a despairing little gesture with her hands. ' What do you think daddy wants to do, now ? ' ' What ? ' ' Why, to borrow the money to pay Sims from that man—Bothwell. I tell you, Jack, I'd rather owe fifty Sims.' ' I am afraid you don't like Bothwell ? ' ' Like him ? ' She laughed unpleasantly. ' I hate him. I abhor the very sight of his wicked, black face—the brute ! I tell you, Jack, he did something to-day that makes me wish that I could kill him.' 'What on earth did he do ? ' exclaimed Sherrington, surprised at her vehemence. ■ I can't tell you, but some day I'll make him sorry for it, if I can.' ' You shouldn't talk like that, Miss Barbara ; you would only make yourself more miserable, if you succeeded. Revenge is all A Western Delilah 79 very fine in theory, but it never pays in practice/ ' Why don't you turn parson, Jack ? You'd make a good one, I think.' ' Upon my honour, I believe I would. I'm so well up in sin; I've packed on the broad trail so long. I could tell some funny yarns of the devil; I've known him so intimately.' 4 And yet I persist in believing you are good,' said Barbara. 'You may be undeceived, some day.' ' I hope not, ' she replied ; ' it is nice to believe in somebody.' ' Even though that somebody is unworthy ? ' ' Yes,'she said thoughtfully, ' even though the somebody is unworthy, providing we do not know of his unworthiness.' ! But isn't that a little hard on the man ? ' ' I don't see why.' ' Or you won't ? J She shook her head. ' Don't you see, you saddle a man with virtues he does not possess, and never did ? 8o A Western Delilah You constrain him to live up to them or— or " ' Buck 'em off,' said Barbara, laughing. ' Exactly so,' said Jack, ' and then you see him in all his native ugliness, which you would never have noticed before, if you had not insisted upon hoisting him upon a pedestal ; and you drive him away, and won't have anything more to do with him, just because you insisted upon his being what he never was. It's a little way you women have.' ' Mercy on us ! Jack, I never heard you talk so much before ; whoever wanted to put you on a pedestal ? ' ' You did, Miss Inconsistency.' ' I ? ' ' Yes, you, and I don't like it at all. I'm growing dizzy already.' ' Well, I'm not going to help you down, Jack ; you may balance yourself or tumble, just as you feel disposed/ Sherrington tossed away the end of his cigarette, thrust his hands into his pockets, and was silent for a few moments. A Western Delilah ' Would you like me any better, if 1 really were ? ' he asked at length. ' Were what ? ' ' Really good.' ' I don't know, ' she replied slowly, ' whether I would or not. I don't know whether it is because I think you really good, or whether it is because you are, Jack. I like you pretty well, anyway.' ' Only pretty well, Barbara ? ' he murmured. The words slipped out in spite of him. He felt that he was losing his balance. At his words she turned towards him. Her eyes, as they met his, grew soft, dark, luminous. There was love in their depths and he could see it. He took one of her brown hands in his. ' Barbara,' he said ; his mention of her name was in itself a caress. He leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. A Western Delilah Chapter VII SOME two hours or so after Bothwell left Fort Steele, two Chinamen entered the camp. One of them carried a small valise. From the way in which he carried it, it appeared to be heavy. They were on foot and came from the Rough-and-Tumble claim by the trail along the Wild Horse. They stopped at a shack, standing about half way between the store and the hotel, and knocked at the door. Through a curtained window a light streamed, while the sound of a curious tinkling music plainly showed that the occupant had not retired for the night. The door was promptly opened by a fat Chinaman who showed his teeth in a broad grin of welcome. At about the same time Smiley Jay entered the hotel stables, accompanied by the Kid. 83 Seating themselves on an oat-bin the former borrowed a chew from the latter, remarking, as he returned the plug : ' I'll give that thar mahogany-coloured Chinaman just ten minutes longer, an' if he don't turn up in that time, he an' his bleedin' partner can get to Golden any old way they have a mind to/ ] It's dust they'll be havin'/ said the Kid, ' startin' at sich a hour.' Smiley Jay nodded. ' Seems to me,' continued the Kid, ' that sneakin' off like this 's a dead give 'way. Any one seem' them would know7 right off it was dust.' * Any one knowin' they'd come from the Rough-and-Tumble would suspect dust, Kid, if they had a whole brass band to play a weddin' toon as they took the trail. What's ailin' y'u, Kid, anyways ? Thar're times when I think y'u've stuff in you, an' ag'in thar're times when I think y'u're 'bout as empty as a bust bladder,' said Smiley Jay snappishly. Smiley was in a decidedly snap- in A Western Delilah 85 pish humour that evening. He had been inveigled, with very little persuasion, be it known, into a game of poker, at which he had lost rather more than was pleasant, and was feeling decidedly ill-used in consequence. ' What did y'u stick 'em for ? ' inquired the Kid with perfect serenity, not paying the smallest attention to his companion's ill-humour. ! Seventy-five,' said Smiley Jay, mournfully, f an' I've b'en kickin' meself ever since that I didn't make it the even hundred.' (I dunno,' remarked the Kid, 'as it's worth more'n seventy-five.' Smiley Jay sniffed disdainfully. ' When y'u're dealin' with them Orientals, Kid, the question ain't what it's worth, it's how much can y'u get ? That's the only way to deal with the likes o' them. An' talkin' o' seventy-five, Kid, when y'u come to figger on wear and tare o' harness, possible smash-ups, injury to hosses, etceteray, etcet- eray, y'ur liable to find thar ain't over'n 86 A Western Delilah above much comin' to y'u at the end o' the trip.' At the moment a dark figure appeared at the door. ' That you, Sing ? ' inquired Smiley Jay. ' Iss, me Sing,' came the reply. ' Well, y'u're long enough in comin', Mr. Me Sing ; another five minutes and y'u'd got to Golden the best way y'u could.' The Chinaman grinned. ' You callee Wang Lee's house ? ' he said. ' All right, Sing, heap savee. I'll be there in a shake.' ! Me no keepee waitee,' said Sing, and hurried away. In a few minutes the horses were ready, and Smiley Jay, donning a heavy top-coat, stepped into his trap and, nodding to the Kid, trotted away in the direction of Wang Lee's. On arriving there, he found the two Chinamen waiting, and before starting was paid his fare of seventy-five dollars as agreed upon, and treated to a stiff glass of whisky. A Western Delilah 87 A few minutes later they were trotting along the winding trail. Overhead a full moon floated serenely in a cloudless sky. Every little way they passed long vistas between the trees through which the Kootenay River might be seen, the moonlight dancing on its ripples. Smiley Jay dozed in his seat, the lines hanging slack in his hands. The two Chinamen kept up a desultory conversation, in low tones. The road was good, the horses fresh and in excellent condition, so that by two o'clock in the morning they were passing Bothwell's ranch. A dog barked as they trotted across a little open stretch of prairie. In another two hours the sound of rushing water roused Smiley Jay. He grumbled and sat up. The two Chinamen were fast asleep by this time ; they had fallen together, and with open mouths were snoring in unison. A bend in the trail was turned and Sheep Creek lay before them shimmering white in the moonlight. Here Smiley Jay determined to rest for a few hours, and pulled up j A Western Delilah his team. Its sudden stop awakened the two Chinamen. On being informed that they would camp there till eight o'clock they first grumbled, then bundled out of the trap. While Sing gathered some brush and arranged their blankets beneath a spruce, his companion kindled a fire. They then wheeled the trap to the head of their bed, rolled themselves in their blankets, and were soon snoring as energetically as ever. Smiley Jay attended to his horses by hobbling them both and belling one, afterwards turning them loose, as feed was plentiful. He next heaped more wood on the fire, filled and lighted his pipe and seated himself for a quiet smoke before turning in. While Smiley Jay was blissfully smoking, a fourth individual was journeying along the trail towards Golden. He was mounted on a stout pony—in colour, a dirty white. Slung at the horn of his saddle, he carried a Winchester repeating rifle, while behind the cantle was a roll or bundle. He was riding at a walk, the sandy nature A Western Delilah 89 of the trail deadened the sound of his horse's hoofs. Every now and then he reined in his pony and sat motionless, listening. By the time Smiley Jay had finished his first pipe, the stranger had approached to within about one-third of a mile of the camp. He could distinctly hear the bell on the neck of the browsing horse. When he reined in his pony again he could hear the stamping of the horses' feet and every now and then the snapping of a dry twig. From the sound he judged them to be a little to the left of the trail, or between it and the Kootenay. Leaving the trail the horseman rode to where the team were feeding. At his approach Corncracker, the belled horse, lifted his head and gave a low whinny, to which the saddle pony promptly replied. When within a few paces the stranger dismounted and, holding out his hand, walked towards the nearest horse, coaxing it as he approached. To be brief, both horses were easily caught. The stranger then did a curious thing. He freed them of their hobbles and removed the bell from 90 A Western Delilah Corncracker's neck. The bell and hobbles he tossed into some bushes. Next, mounting his pony, he drove the horses ahead of him to the trail, where, giving them each a sharp cut with his quirt, he started them at a lope towards Steele. He then wheeled his pony and, at the same noiseless walk, continued on towards Sheep Creek ; when within eighty or one hundred yards of it he dismounted a second time and undid the bundle from the cantle of his saddle. It proved to be a long ' slicker,' or oil-skin rain-coat, while wrapped inside of it were three gunny-sacks and an oil-skin sou'wester. Arraying himself in the slicker, he took from his pocket a paper containing powdered charcoal with which he deliberately blackened his face. This performed to his satisfaction, he put on the sou'wester and tethered his horse. He then drew his Winchester from its sling at the saddle-horn, and moved silently along the trail towards the camp-fire, carrying the gunny-sacks. A Western Delilah 91 When within fifty feet or so of the fire, he stopped a moment. At that distance he could plainly hear the melodious duet the two Chinamen were pouring forth upon 'the stilly night.' At the sound he smiled. Between him and them, about half way, there stood an old, dead tamarack stump. Slowly and noiselessly he approached the stump till he was standing directly behind it. Peering stealthily round it, this is what he saw : a little to his left and a dozen paces from the fire, at the far side of it, the blanketed forms of the two Chinamen, slumbering peacefully ; while with his back to him and within about ten feet, sat Smiley Jay, smoking. For a few moments the mysterious stranger stood taking in the situation. Suddenly he stepped from the covert of the stump. A dry twig snapped. At the sound, quick as a flash, Smiley Jay turned his head to see the muzzle of a rifle covering him, and hear the words in a low determined tone : ' Put up your hands/ 92 A Western Delilah ! Hell ! ' ejaculated the astonished man, for an instant not appreciating the significance of the command. ' Silence ! ' said the stranger, in the same low voice, adding, ' Throw up your hands, quick now.' Smiley Jay immediately recovered the use of his faculties, while seeing the folly of resisting. 1 Holy Bald-Headed ! ' he murmured mournfully, ' but you've got the drop on me,' and he promptly did as he was bid. 'That's right,' said the stranger, in the same low tone ; ' you do as I tell you and you'll be all right, but try any funny business on, and by the lord, 111 let daylight into you! ' ' It's rough on the Chinks, partner,' remarked Smiley Jay, with his hands in the air. ' Damn the Chinamen ! Put that over your head.' He threw him a gunny-sack. It is an old road agent's dodge and every Western man knows it. A Western Delilah 93 ' I can't get it no further down, the atti- tood's ag'in it,' said Smiley Jay with his head and shoulders in the bag. ! You may stand up,' said the stranger, 'but be quiet about it.' Smiley Jay struggled to his feet, and with difficulty succeeded in wriggling still further into the bag. Round the mouth of it there was a stout piece of cod-line run, which the stranger drew tight and tied about the man's waist. ' Now,' said he, ' keep your mouth shut. I don't want any of your money.' ! Thanks,' responded Smiley Jay in muffled tones, ' but it sure is ter'ble rough on them pore Chinamen, pardner.' 'Oh, quit it.' ' As decent, honest, civil spoken a pair o' heathens as ever I clapped eyes on,' continued Smiley Jay, sadly. The stranger turned on him. ' Look here, son, I'm telling you to shut up ; do you hear me ? ' Smiley Jay relapsed into an injured silence. 94 A Western Delilah The stranger then left him and walked over to the two Chinamen, who were still snoring. With the muzzle of his rifle he gave Sing a prod in the ribs, that elicited from that follower of Confucius an Oriental howl that most effectually awakened his companion, and roused them both to a sitting posture. They were then ordered in terms which, doubtless, made up in force what they lacked in elegance, to get up. They promptly did so, both struggling to their feet in no small degree of alarm. Stepping back a couple of paces, the stranger tossed the two remaining gunny-sacks to them. ' Put 'em over your head and look sharp about it, or I'll send you both to Hell,' he commanded in a very fierce way. He cocked his rifle as he spoke. The ominous click click of the lock made them jump. Bringing it up to his shoulder, he covered Sing, who promptly seized upon his sack, and crying : A Western Delilah 95 ' No shootée, no shootée,' precipitated himself into it. The other Chinaman hesitated. ' What a mallee ? No savee.' He, in his turn, was promptly covered with the rifle, and it was marvellous how quickly he, also, ' saveyed.' He dived into that gunny-sack like a gopher into a hole. The stranger then let the hammer of his rifle down, dropped the butt to the ground, and his white teeth showed in a broad grin. He then walked up to the two Chinamen, drew the cod-lines at the mouths of the sacks tightly about their waists, and tied them securely. His next move was to search the trap, and under the back seat he found the small black valise which the Chinamen had carried into Steele from the Rough-and-Tumble claim. On feeling the weight of it, he chuckled. Without wasting time in attempting to unlock it, he ripped it open with a knife. Besides two goodly sized rolls of bills, it 96 A Western Delilah contained eight deerskin ' pokes ' of coarse gold. For a few moments he stood weighing each bag in his hand ; while doing so he glanced at his three captives. Smiley Jay, with that calm acceptance of the inevitable worthy a philosopher, was reclining at his ease, by the fire. The Chinamen had seated themselves on their blankets. Sing was moving his body backwards and forwards, muttering volubly. The other, with head and shoulders bent forward over his knees, was silent. The stranger then took off his slicker and, spreading it on the ground, deposited the gold and bills upon it. As he stooped in the act of doing so, something, like a tiny branch, rubbed him beneath the chin ; with his hand he brushed it aside. He then gathered the neck and tails of his slicker together in his hands, threw it over his shoulder, and with his rifle under his arm marched away to where he had left his pony.. Nearly four hours later an Indian trotted up to the camp ground. At the sight of the A Western Delilah 97 three men in the gunny-sacks, he had the heartlessness to laugh, but the decency to do so quietly. He then liberated them. And after listening with becoming gravity to Smiley Jay's account of the hold-up, of which, by the way, he hardly understood a word, continued on his way. A Western Delilah Chapter VIII THE morning of the hold-up, after an early breakfast, Barbara and her father started, on horseback, for Canal Flats. Their horses were good, and they rode quickly, so that it was early when they passed through Fort Steele, where the story of the outrage was as yet unknown. Half-way between Hanson's store and Bothwell's ranch they met Bothwell in his two-seated democrat. Smiley Jay occupied the seat beside him, while the two Chinamen were in the back seat. When they met, Bothwell pulled up his team. ' Heard the news ? ' he asked, after the usual greeting. No,' replied Herrick. 99 100 A Western Delilah ' Tell them, Smiley,' he said, turning to his companion. Smiley, with all due sense of his importance as an actor in the drama, told them. Both Barbara and her father were astounded, and exclaimed accordingly. Smiley Jay took his pipe from his pocket and, with dignified calm, proceeded to fill it. When it was going satisfactorily and he had emphasized his self-conscious importance by a raucous clearing of his throat and duly spitting, he remarked : ' Thar was one thing that struck me as kind o' odd.' ' What was that ? ' inquired Herrick. 'His voice,' said Smiley Jay; 'his voice, y'u know, was someway kind o' familiar.' ' Which way do you suppose he went, afterwards ? ' inquired Herriks. ' I kind o' think it must 'a b'en North, 'cause Mr. Bothwell, here, was out middlin' early this mornin', an' on the trail, too, for a consid'ble way, an' if his Nibbs had b'en hittin' for Tobacco plains they'd likely met. " ^ A Western Delilah 101 But y'u're goin' to the Flats, now, ain't y'u ? ' Herrick nodded affirmatively. ' Maybe y'u might hear something about him, if he went that way ? ' ' Which way did the Indian go who turned you loose ? ' ' He was ridin' that way. I mind noticin' his pony's trail, an' how ter'ble pigeon-toed it was in the near fore foot.' Herrick turned to Bothwell. ' Where are you going, now ? ' he asked. ' Oh, I'm bringing Smiley and the news to Steele.' ' It was the way he said, "Look here,son," that sounded the way I've heerd some other party, not so long ago neither, say it,' remarked Smiley Jay, who was still thinking of the robbery. ' When will you be back ? ' asked Both- well. I To-morrow, I expect,' replied Herrick. ' Make my place for luncheon,' said Both- well to Herrick, but he looked at Barbara, who was sitting her horse on the road a j 102 A Western Delilah little way behind the democrat. She had not addressed a single remark to him during the meeting. Her greeting had merely been the coolest of bows. Hostility was in every line of her face, as well as in her eyes. ■ Thank you,' said Herrick. Barbara's bow in acknowledgment of Bothwell's, as they started on once more, was the coolest veiling of angry eyes, for a brief moment, by lowered lids. One could not describe it as a bow. They had brought their luncheon with them, and partook of it, on the very scene of the robbery, at Sheep Creek. When the news became known in Steele the excitement was intense. Smiley Jay felt himself to be a man of importance. For that one day, at least, during his career, he was in the public eye. The Kid's greeting he barely acknowledged. In silence he made his way to the principal bar, where he treated all hands. He felt that the moment was a solemn one, as he drew his chair to the table, on which he placed his heels. From the gentleman on his right, Peavine JJohnson, A Western Delilah 103 he borrowed a chew. Meanwhile, his audience seated itself in silence and expectorated expectantly. He then told his story, and Henry Briette, who could ride anything that wore hair, said, ' it beat hell ' ; and Henry Briette had ridden some queer horses and seen funny I carryings on ' in his day. When Smiley Jay had finished the account of his adventure, he again remarked on the familiarity of the road agent's voice.. And of how, when he said, ' Look here, son,' he nearly gave himself away. ' And the way he hoisted his chin at me when he said it ; I tell y'u boys I knoo an' ag'in I didn't know. It jest kind o' come an' went in a flash, but I swan if he ever says it ag'in afore me I'll reco'nize him.' The Recorder then swore in Dave Smith and a couple more of the boys as special constables, and started them away for the boundary, but they got nothing from the ride, barring the exercise, needless to say. They had a good time, though, and Dave told them 104 A Western Delilah a story, which lasted all the time they were away, of how he had to leave Fort McLeod for gambling. It was a jim-dandy story, too ; all Dave's were. It was a couple of days after that that the Kid went to the Flats, eating his noonday meal, as every one did, at Sheep Creek. The day after his return he went out to Herrick's place. Barbara heard the horse outside and opened the door. Perhaps she thought it was somebody else ; her cheeks were very red and her eyes beautiful. ' Good day, miss,' said the Kid, and he pulled off his ' Stetson ' hat. ' Good day,' said she, and she shook hands with him. ' I've just come from the Flats, ma'am,' said the Kid ; ' leastways, I come from them yesterday.' The Kid shifted from one foot to the other, while his big spurs made a jingling on the floor, that seemed a little disconcerting to him. The Kid was not exactly a lady's man. ' Indeed,' said Babara, not particularly A Western Delilah 105 interested; then added with true western hospitality, ! Let me get you something to eat/ She rose to her feet as she spoke. 'Sit down, sit down, miss,' said the Kid, waving his hat excitedly, ' y'u mustn't trouble ; I've had a bellyful—leastways,' he corrected, blushing furiously, ' I've had me grub, more'n plenty, but I'm obliged to y'u/ ' Perhaps you want to see my father ? ' ' No,' said the Kid, fumbling at the lapel of his coat; ■ it's you I wanted to see.' 'Indeed,' said Barbara, slightly puzzled; adding, ' Won't you sit down ? ' \ Maybe y'u've b'en at Sheep Crick lately ? ' he inquired. As he put the question, he seated himself on the extreme edge of a chair. ! Yes,' replied Barbara, ' we had our luncheon there, both going and coming from the Flats, a few days ago. Why ? ' ' Maybe,' said the Kid, ' y'u lost something/ ' It's highly probable, ' said Barbara. ' Daddy says I am for ever losing something; but jpa 106 A Western Delilah what is it this time, I wonder ? ' She laughed. He held up a pin, its head a little daisy of yellow gold, with a pearl for a centre. ' I minded seein' it on y'u once,' said the Kid. jj I have worn it often enough, but it isn't mine, it's dad's,' said Barbara. ' Did your father lose it ? ' She shook her head. f No, I did.' She had taken a chair opposite him and was looking at the pin. When she again looked up at him, he was struck with a curious change that seemed to have come in the colour of her eyes ; apparently a greenish light had come into them. ' Where did you find it ? ' ' Sheep Crick, ' said the Kid, ' on the campin' ground.' ' I'm very much obliged to you,' said Barbara. ' Now, you must stay to supper. Father 11 be back soon.' ' Thank y'u kindly, no,' said the Kid, rising to his feet, A Western Delilah 107 'I think you had better.' ' Can't do it, ma'am. Y'u see I promised Smiley I'd be back sure.' He opened the door, as he finished speaking. His horse waited patiently outside, the lines upon the ground, stock-horse fashion. ' Good day, Miss Barbara,' he said. J Wait,' she called to him, as he was in the act of mounting. She disappeared into the house, returning in a moment, with a flask of her father's in her hand and a cup. 'Say when,' she said laughing, but paid no heed to the hurried ' when ' an excess of good manners forced to his lips, but poured him out a liberal drink. The Kid leaned from the saddle and took the cup. He passed the back of his hand across his lips, and in the act of drinking, paused a moment and looked at her : ' Here's to y'urself, Miss Barbara, an' happy days ; an' may y'u strike it rich, payin' from the grass roots.' He tossed off the liquor. J io8 A Western Delilah ' Thank you,' said Barbara, smiling, ' and the same to you.' He touched his horse with his spurs as he spoke, and, raising his hat, with a clumsy gallantry, trotted away. Barbara, watching him silently, mused ; then, pulling out the pin, which she had stuck in the bosom of her gown, she looked at it, smiling as she did so : and into her eyes that curious greenish light crept. A Western Delilah Chapter IX SEVERAL days passed before Bothwell again visited Herrick's ranch. The day he went was delightful, with a scarcely perceptible breeze blowing from the south-west. There was a delicious crispness in the air that exhilarated. The sky was cloudless and of that intense blue which is only to be seen in northern latitudes. Apparently Bothwell was in excellent spirits as he trotted along the trail. He hummed a tune to the accompaniment of the jingling bits and spurs. High overhead, in a long V-shaped phalanx, a flock of geese winged a clamorous way to the south. At the edge of a little open stretch of prairie he caught sight of a cayote sneaking past. With a whoop he spurred 109 no A Western Delilah his horse and galloped in pursuit ; for a hundred yards he raced before drawing rein, then laughed like a boy as he watched the frightened brute disappear in the covert of the woods. He found Herrick at work on the root- house when he arrived at the ranch. He stopped in his work as Bothwell approached, and, seating himself on a log, mopped the perspiration from his forehead with a large red pocket-handkerchief. ' Well,' he said as Bothwell reined in his horse, ' any news ? ' Bothwell shrugged, then slung his right leg round the horn of his saddle, and, drawing his pipe from his pocket, proceeded to fill it. 'Fine weather,' remarked Herrick. ' Ripping,' Bothwell acquiesced with enthusiasm, adding, ' How's the root-house progressing ? ' ' So so.' ' Sherrington gone ? ' ' Went three days ago. Stopped here for luncheon, yesterday, on his way to the Crow's A Western Delilah in Nest. Recorder gave him a job there, you know, cutting trail.' ' Indeed,' said Bothwell. ' Did you pay him before he left ? ' Herrick shook his head. ' Couldn't, you know.' ■ Did he make a fuss ? ' ' Lord, no ! Just laughed, when I told him, and rode away. Queer chap. Best man I ever had about the place ! Tip-top man with an axe. And shoot, my word ! doesn't know how to miss.' ' Humph,' said Bothwell, ' seems to have impressed you ? ' ' So the blooming highwayman was too clever for you all ? ' remarked Herrick after a pause. Bothwell laughed. ' Yes,' he replied, ' much too clever.' ' Will they catch him, do you think ? ' ' Search me,' said Bothwell. ' I expect he's in Montana or Idaho, by this time.' I Or Fort Steele, for that matter.' ' Wouldn't be a bit surprised. As for that 112 A Western Delilah old fool Smiley Jay recognizing him by his voice If that's the only danger he runs, it isn't great.' Herrick laughed, then remarked : ' They say he got about four thousand in dust and another thousand in bills. But I dare say that is an exaggeration.' ! Highly probable,' Bothwell yawned, then dismounted. ' You can give me luncheon, Herrick, I suppose ? ' ' And supper, too, if you care to stay.' 'Thank you,' said Bothwell, 'but I don't know that I can stay for supper/ 'Suit yourself,' said Herrick; 'you know you're always welcome.' He took a whetstone from his pocket and applied it to his axe. Bothwell took the saddle and bridle off his horse and deposited them in the corner of the verandah. ' Better put him up in the stable,' said Herrick. ' Here, 111 take him.' Bothwell handed him the halter-shank and walked into the house. A Western Delilah 113 In the front room he found Barbara, sitting with her back to the door peeling potatoes. ' Good morning, Miss Barbara,' he said, while a doubt as to his reception found its way into his voice. She started slightly, then looked round at him. ' Oh, it's you,' she said. Bothwell moved over to the fire and stood with his back to it. 'Yes,' he said, 'it is 1/ She looked at him and smiled. He had expected a very different reception, after their last meeting. For a few moments neither spoke. 'She cared even less for Jack than I thought/ mused Bothwell. He felt some contempt for her at the reflection, and put down such weakness as a part of her woman's nature. He thought, too, ' She cares for admiration, above all things.' He drew a chair up before her and seated himself. A big flat tin, holding the potatoes 114 A Western Delilah and peelings, stood on the floor between them. ' Let me do that for you,' he asked, and stretched out his hand for the knife she was using. For a single moment she hesitated, then placed the knife in his hand. ' I wish you would,' she said; ' I hate the beastly chore.' ' Naturally you do,' replied Bothwell, looking at her; 'it spoils your hands.' She dried them on her apron and held them up, her fingers extended, and peered between them. They were brown and small and well shaped. ' Could I spoil them ? ' she asked, laughing. ' You could, but you mustn't,' he said. ' They are charming hands.' His eyes were growing eloquent. ' Oh, you men ! ' she said, curving compressed lips at him, her eyes sparkling. For months Bothwell had not seen her in such a gracious mood. He paused in his work, a knife in one hand, a half-peeled potato in the other. ' Barbara,' he exclaimed, with sudden Il P ill A Western Delilah 115 fervour, ' if you always were as you are to-day ! ' He half rose from his seat as he spoke. She motioned him to resume it. He devoured her with his eyes. Her extreme beauty ravished, enthralled him. She had been only a girl before she knew Jack. Her passion for him had taught her much. She knew, now, what a weapon her beauty was, and she determined to use it, acting, as she always did, on impulse, recking not of possible consequences. At Bothwell's words, she leaned back in her chair, her hands clasped behind her head, looking at him, a smile upon her lips. ' If I were,' she said in reply to his words, ' you would not find me half so interesting/ He drew his brows together, frowning. ' I am not so certain about that,' he replied, ' but I do know that I would not be half so miserable.' Barbara's smile deepened, she raised her eyes to the ceiling and softly whistled an air. The words to it Bothwell did know. They ran some way thus : ' To-day for me, to-morrow for thee, But will that to-morrow ever be ? ' That afternoon, Bothwell left Herrick's rather earlier than usual. He felt that by leaving Barbara in her present mood she would be the better pleased to see him on his next visit. He knew, or imagined he knew, man's common failing, enough of the .sex .to be aware that at times they require extremely delicate handling. Now that Sherrington was disposed of, he made up his mind not to spoil matters by hurrying, on the true epicurean principle that pleasure deferred is adding but to the delight of its realization. He called himself a fool for not having seen all along that it was he she really cared for, not Sherrington. It is probable that at that time he did not exactly understand the woman, Barbara, however much he might have, the emotional girl. As for Barbara, it would have required a keen observer of human nature, particularly A Western Delilah 117 of womankind, to judge of her feelings by her behaviour. While Bothwell rode away, she watched him from the front of the house. Once he looked back, when distant a quarter of a mile or so ; she waved her handkerchief to him, and he replied to it by a wave of his hat. Turning to re-enter the house, she caught a glimpse of her father standing near the half finished root-house. He was leaning on the handle of his axe, looking at her. She flushed, on catching his eye, but he only smiled and nodded approval. Indeed, there wg.s nothing that would have given Herrick greater pleasure than to have seen his daughter married to Both- well. During the week that followed, Bothwell called three times. On his third visit, he found Barbara seated before the fire, with a copy of Palgrave's Golden Treasury open in her hand. As he seated himself, he asked her what she n8 A Western Delilah was reading. Without replying, she handed him the book. ' Where did you get hold of it ? ' he inquired. As he spoke, he looked at it, while turning the pages quickly, in the way a man would to whom it was familiar. ' It belongs to father,' Barbara informed him. ' He brought it out with him. I suppose you know it ? ' ' I should think so ! ' he answered, smiling. 'I don't read much,' Barbara went on, ' I haven't time ; when I do, I read poetry. I think people who love music, love poetry.' ' No,' he replied, ' they do not : a fondness for music is the commonest taste ; for poetry, the rarest. Women invariably love music, rarely poetry. Poetry, of course, appeals to the intellect, music to the senses. Whoever heard of a man standing at a street corner reading poetry aloud, yet at a dozen street corners you will find musicians—of a kind. There are no great poets among women, while among men there are many. But of the two sexes, I think all will admit men are A Western Delilah 119 the most sentimental, just as they are the most artistic. I do not think anything really great is ever done without sentiment.' While he was talking he continued turning the leaves. At length he paused : ' Let me read you this,' he said. Without waiting her reply he read that sonnet, by Shakespeare, beginning : ' Shall I compare thee to a summer's day ? ' Bothwell had a good voice, and he read aloud well, and with feeling. On finishing, he laid the book aside, and looked at her. She was sitting very still, her head a little forward, as though listening intently. Her eyes were riveted upon his face, her lips tightly closed. She had twisted a portion of her apron into a ball and gripped it tightly with her hands. Her arms, extended to their full length, were rigid. The sentence he was about to utter died upon his lips. 9 Barbara/ he exclaimed, looking at her in astonishment, ' your eyes are green ! ' She laughed a little, in a strained, mirthless 120 A Western Delilah fashion, and pressing her hands to them for a few moments, looked at him again. ' Green ? ' she said slowly. ' Why, I always thought they were grey.' ' They are grey, now,' he replied. He had risen and was standing with his back to the fire. ' Extraordinary ! I suppose it was the light.' Barbara drew a deep breath. 'It was the poetry,' she said; 'poetry always affects me curiously'/ That day as Bothwell rode away, Barbara's singular behaviour kept recurring to him. He determined that he would not read any more poetry to her. Her eyes haunted him, with their queer feline look. He could not banish them from his mind. A Western Délilah Chapter X A WEEK had passed since the little episode of the reading, and in all that time Bothwell had not been seen or heard of, by either Barbara or her father. Herrick could not understand his lengthy absence, and feared that Barbara and he had quarrelled. Even Barbara was puzzled, but, except to glance a little oftener than usual across the prairie in the direction of Fort Steele, she made no sign. One evening Herrick and his daughter, as usual, sat before the fire, while the former read and the latter did some mending. With an impatient sigh, Herrick, at length, laid his book aside. At the same instant, Barbara paused to bite her thread. As she did so, she glanced at her father to find that 121 A Western Delilah he was looking at her. There was a careworn, troubled expression on his weak face that touched her. With a sudden, impulsive movement, she rose and went to his side, and putting her soft arms about his neck, stooped and kissed him. ' Poor old daddy ! ' she exclaimed, with infinite tenderness, ' I'm afraid I'm only a trouble to you.' ' No, Barbara, no,' he replied, ■ only a comfort, dear.' She stroked his grizzled locks with a soft hand. His life had always been a failure from the beginning, and would continue so to the end, in all probability. The very knowledge of it made her gentler with him at times, just as it sometimes exasperated her. But through all the varying moods of her impulsive, half savage nature, her gusts of anger, her fits of remorse, and her periods of tenderness, deep down in that passionate woman's heart of hers was a true love of her father. ! Barbara,' he said, taking one of her hands A Western Delilah 123 in his, then hesitated, as though a little doubtful as to how she would receive what he had to say. ' Yes, daddy.' ' I—I just wanted to ask you, dear, if you and Bothwell have quarrelled about anything ? ' ' No, daddy, we have not quarrelled. ' ' I was a little afraid you might have ; he has not been here very lately, you know.' ' Would it have put you out very much, if we had ? ' she inquired. ' Bothwell's a good fellow, Barbara, a fine man, and a gentleman. I defy any one to say that he is not.' His voice became querulous as he pronounced the last few words, as though he expected her to contradict him, then grew soft again, as he went on : 'I want you to be happy, Barbara. The thought of your future troubles me continually, Barbara. You know, you won't always have your old good-for-nothing daddy to look after you ; not that he is much use, after all is said, I am afraid.' He looked A Western Delilah at her tenderly as he finished speaking. Whatever else he may have been, or may not have been, he was her father, and his daughter was not the one to judge him. Her arm tightened about his neck, and she pressed her beautiful young cheek against his wrinkled one. ' Dear old daddy,' she whispered, her eyes were wonderfully bright, for they were shining through unshed tears, ' you mustn't talk to me like that, daddykins, or you will make me cry.' She rubbed her cheek against his and kissed him, and rumpled his hair and petted him back to cheerfulness and forget- fulness of the future ; that future which to the most fortunate among us can never be quite so alluring as that shadowy past. The following day Barbara and her father rode to Fort Steele. They got there half an hour or so before luncheon, and called at the store, where, of course, Herrick had to get something—and gossip. Giving the reins of his pony to his daughter to hold, and telling her that he would not be a minute, A Western Delilah 125 he disappeared into the store for ten. At length he appeared again at the door, and called to her : ' Better bring the ponies to the stable, Barbara, and put them up. Tell whoever's there to feed them—just a little grain, not too much. And wait for me at Johnny's.' A few minutes later, Barbara dismounted at the stable door. ' Hullo there ! ' she called out, and Smiley Jay promptly appeared. 1 Where's the Kid ? ' inquired Barbara. ' How do do, miss.' Smiley shifted his hat a little more to the back of his head and, putting up his hand, spat modestly behind it. 1 Whar is the Kid, was y'u askin', miss ? Well, it's like this : early this mornin', Dave happened along. Jest blowed in here, in a manner o' talkin', as one might say. I havin' had the heart-breakin' luck to be in here at the time. Dave no sooner seen the Kid than the two o' them begun chewin'- the-rag. Well, miss, they shifted over to j 126 A Western Delilah the back end o' the stable so as I couldn't rightly ketch on to what they was sayin', though I did hear some langwidge o' Dave's that kind o' shocked me, makin' me think he weren't no proper companion for the Kid, who's bright an' sufficient intelligent when he ain't drunk, or fightin'. Then they come for'ard from the back o' the stable an' the Kid says to me, " Smiley," says he, " will y'u mind the outfit for half an hour or so, Dave an' me has important business to attend to," says he. An' o' course, miss, bein' one o' them good-natured idjits, I said I would, an' I've b'en here ever since, an' that was near five hours ago, an', so far as I can see, I'm liable to be here another five hours.' I The Kid ought to be ashamed of himself/ said Barbara, sympathetically. 1 Thar ain't the slightest chance o' it, miss.' Meanwhile Smiley was putting the two ponies up, and Barbara had turned to go, when he said : A Western Delilah 127 ' Do y'u mind the day of the hold-up meet- in' me an' them two miserable Chinks, an' Mr. Bothwell drivin' us here ? ' I certainly do, Smiley, and all the excitement.' ' Maybe y'u mind me say in' if ever I heard the voice o' that thar road agent ag'in lid sure reco'nize him ? ' Barbara nodded. Smiley went to the stable door and looked up and down the road. He then went up to Barbara and, lowering his voice to a whisper, said : ' Miss, I heerd that same voice ag'in ! ' ' No ! did you ? Are you sure, Smiley ? ' exclaimed Barbara. ' Am I sure I'm stan'in' in this here stable, miss ? Am I sure o' me name ? Miss, I tell y'u right now, I couldn't be no surer o' nothin'. An' to clinch it, miss, he used them same words ag'in, speakin' to a party. Now, I'm not mentionin' no names, miss, an' me in the harness-room, never lettin' on. " Look here, son," he says, speakin' to the A Western Delilah party. Lan' sakes, miss ! I near swallered a chew I was jest after takin'.' ' When did you hear this, Smiley ? ' 'Near a week ago, miss.' ' Haven't you told any one, yet ? ' Ain't never whispered it, miss. ' Why, under-the-sun ? ' ' Why, folksld give me the laugh, miss, if I was to tell who I heard say them words, think I was bug-housed.' ' But you must tell me, Smiley. I won't laugh.' ' Now, miss, that Id be tellin', wouldn't it ? ' Smiley solemnly closed an eye. ' But you really must tell me, Smiley/ Once again Smiley went to the stable door and looked up and down the sandy road. Barbara followed him to the door. ' Well,' she coaxed, ' aren't you going to tell me, Smiley ? ' ' They say, miss, if y'u wants folk to know a secret, y'u must tell it to a woman.' ' But you know I'm not that kind now, don't you, Smiley, dear ? ' A Western Delilah 129 ^ ' Y'ull only laugh at me, miss.' ' I declare I won't.' ' An' y'u won't give me away ? ' 'Across my heart, I won't.' Smiley looked out of the stable door for the third time. Two men were approaching from the store, but they were still some distance away. He then moved to Barbara's side, and she inclined an ear. He whispered a name. 'But it's too ridiculous, Smiley,' Barbara exclaimed. J A Western Delilah Chapter XI TWO days after the conversation between Barbara and Smiley Jay, Bothwell called. He explained his prolonged absence by telling them that he had been at Golden on important business and had only just returned. He arrived at Herrick's ranch in the morning, and stayed ail that day and the next. As for Barbara, he found her more charming than ever, and spent most of his time, during those two days, with her. On his leaving she asked him when he would come again. 'This is Tuesday,' he replied. 'I shall come again on Saturday morning.' ' You must not desert us altogether, you know.' Bothwell's eyes gleamed. They were alone 131 132 A Western Delilah in the room, facing one another. Her many charms had never appealed to him more than they did then ; his absence had only added to the longing which possessed him, increasing his infatuation. 'Barbara,' he exclaimed, seizing one of her hands, ' why need we leave each other at all ? ' 4 Why ? ' she murmured, with eyes downcast. With a swaying movement she leaned a little towards him. He caught her in his arms and, straining her passionately to him, kissed her. She made no effort to resist him, but she shivered a little in his embrace. ' Barbara,' he whispered, ' do you love me? ' ' Can you doubt it ? ' she murmured in the same low tone, but her face had become strangely pale, her hands were cold. ' Come with me, now, my beautiful Barbara/ ' Ah, no,' she said. A Western Delilah 133 When Bothwell left Herrick's that afternoon, he was in the seventh heaven ; he was triumphant. Everything was going with him as it should. His confidence in himself soared. Sherrington had passed completely outside his reckoning. Barbara, the most beautiful woman in the west—the most beautiful woman he had ever seen—was his. He had never thought much of what lay beneath that charming exterior, of what she really was, of her mind ; or of whether she would prove a good mother to his children. Her future happiness had never entered into his calculations. His love, if such a feeling could be called by such a name, was purely selfish. Self, and the gratification of self, was the moving spirit of his passion. It was Barbara, the beautiful animal, that he loved ; not Barbara, the woman with a soul. She herself recognized a difference between the vagrant's regard for her and that of Bothwell, and, mentally, she tried to analyze it. On Saturday morning, the day that Both- 134 A Western' Delilah well had promised to come again, Barbara was in a state of suppressed excitement, which increased as the hours passed and the time approached for him to appear. She moved restlessly about ; every now and then, opening the door, she peered out, only to close it in a moment and renew her restless pacing. At length, pausing before the lounge, she looked at it with frowning brows, then stooping she pushed it across the floor to the opposite side of the fireplace, against a thin board partition which divided her bedroom from the room she was in. She then walked again to the door and looked out ; this time she saw a horseman approaching at a trot, and in the horseman she recognized Bothwell. Stepping into her bedroom she took something from her dressing-table and hid it in the bosom of her gown. She then returned to the front room and, seating herself on the lounge, took up some sewing. When Both- well entered, he found her bending over this. n A Western Delilah 135 'Oh! it's you,' she said, looking up with a smile. There was an air of coquetry about her, just then, that made her irresistible. Tossing his hat and gloves on the table, Bothwell walked to the fire and, with his back to it, stood silent a few moments looking at her, intense admiration in his dark eyes. ' Barbara,' he suddenly exclaimed, ' upon my soul ! I am inclined to think you are too beautiful.' She rose to her feet, dignity personified, and dropped him a low curtsey. ' Thank you, ' she said, with the utmost seriousness, and resumed her seat. * Bravo ! ' he cried, with a loud laugh, clapping his hands. ' Magnificent, by Jove ! ' He seated himself beside her. ' Why too beautiful ? ' she inquired. He shrugged and looked at her. ' You might attract other men, you know. ' She laughed. ' It wouldn't be safe, Barbara/ ' Are you trying to frighten me ? ' she asked, with a ravishing smile. 136 A Western Delilah By way of reply, he put his arm about her and kissed her. ' Barbara,' he exclaimed passionately, ' when will you come to me ? ' ' Do you want me very soon ? ' she asked, softly. And once again her face, curiously enough, was pale, while the hand he had taken in his was cold as snow. Women, we are told, blush when they are embraced by the man they love ; but Barbara was a savage, which may have accounted for her pallor. ' Very soon is an eternity,' he exclaimed, kissing her again. ' I want you now, to-day, to-morrow. To-morrow will have to do, I suppose. I'll take you to the Mission ; Father Coquelin will marry us.' ' Father Coquelin's away,' she said. ' Hang it all ! so he is, but there's a younger priest there.' She withdrew from his arms. ' Look here, ' she said, ' you're not a Catholic ; neither am I. One moment,' she held up her hand, as he was about to speak. ' When you A Western Delilah 137 marry me, we must either go to Golden or wait patiently here until some English Church clergyman visits Steele again.' ' But when will that be ? ' ' When you marry me,' she said, and laughed. 'So you have told me before.' She whistled that tune of hers again : { To-day for me, to-morrow for thee, But will that to-morrow ever be ? ' ' What tune is that ? ' asked Bothwell. ' It is not the one the old cow died of, sir,' said she. ' We will start for Golden at once.' ' You would fly to trouble, as a moth to a candle,' said Barbara, and again she laughed. ' I would fly to Heaven,' said Bothwell. ' At once is too soon, even for Heaven.' ' Next week, then ? ' She shook her head. 1 The week after ? ' 'Ask daddy.' Western Delilah 'Barbara,' he said, 'I don't believe you want to marry me at all.' ' Indeed, what discernment ! ' As she spoke she rose from her seat and took down her guitar. ' I will sing you a song,' she said. Without waiting a reply, she touched the strings and began singing. And all the while excitement exhilarated, while recklessness consumed her like a flame. She knew, too, that she had never looked lovelier in her life before. Song after song she sang, while the notes in her splendid voice enraptured Bothwell. At length she paused. ' One more,' he begged. She laughed a little ; her eyes were lustrous, deep, dark, and honey sweet. And then she touched the strings once more, and sang, ' Aileen Aroon.' When she had finished it, she returned the guitar to its place, and, with a still face, stood looking into the fire. For a few moments Bothwell said nothing. At length he spoke : ' Come and sit beside me, you siren,' he A Western Delilah 139 said. Meek as a lamb, apparently, she went. He passed his arm about her waist. ' Listen to me,' said she, drawing back a little. ' Well,' said Bothwell, smiling, ' what is it? ' ' Daddy has told me what you have done for him.' ' It was for you, you angel ! ' Bothwell said, and his eyes glowed. ' Never mind which of us it was for ; I tell you, I can and do appreciate it. You lifted a load from daddy's mind when you promised to lend him that money. Do you know if he has paid Sims ? ' ' I cannot say. I only gave him the thousand last Tuesday. It was for the money I made that trip to Golden.' ' Ah. ' For a brief instant a look of triumph, or relief, shone in her eyes. She put her hand to the bosom of her gown and felt what she had hidden there. She turned a little towards him then, and her lips were set. There was no weakness in her face. 140 A Western Delilah ' You have courage, you would risk much for the woman you love, I think,' she said. ' Everything, by Heaven ! ' he exclaimed. 'There is much in that,' said she, and smiled as though she doubted. ' Not more than in my love, you darling woman ! ' ^ ' Honour and freedom, do you think you Id risk ? ' ' I'm sure of it, my Barbara.' ' Ah, how you men can talk, to fool us simple women.' ' Simple,' he laughed. ' I have yet to meet a woman who is simple.' ' Or one who Id sacrifice the man she loves.' ' That is to say, as long as her love lasts,' said Bothwell, laughing. ' I could not sacrifice the man I love.' ' You think so, now,' he said. She felt his arm clasp closer round her waist. ' I know it,' she replied, ' and you must know it, too. I would not—indeed I'm sure I could not—sacrifice the man / love.' 1 A Western Delilah 141 ' Assurances from such sweet lips would satisfy King Solomon,' said Bothwell, who now was so assured of her he'd never noticed thus far she'd left unnamed thpit man she said she loved. Once again she put her hand into the bosom of her gown, but this time taking something from it, and holding it up said : ' Look ! ' He did so, and started at what he saw. ' Barbara ! ' he exclaimed, ' the scarf pin that I took from you that day in fun ! In Heaven's name, where did you get it ? ' She thrust it into her blouse again. Her manner changed. She was all softness now. She held him with her eyes—eyes which had suddenly become brimful of love, or of a lustrous something which looked to him like love. 1 Where did you get it, Barbara ? Tell me where/ ' Have you forgotten what I said ? ' ' What did you say ? ' 142 A Western Delilah ' " I will not sacrifice the man I love," is what I said. I mean it, too ! ' ' Barbara,' exclaimed Bothwell, and he looked at her as though he would read her —as though the man were ever born who could even read a school-girl—' what do you mean—what do you know, you witch ? ' ' I mean that honour is a precious risk, though the man I love risks nothing when he trusts his honour to my care. I know, too, that freedom to some is life.' ' You speak to me in riddles, Barbara. Let's have plain English.' ' Come, kiss me first,' quoth she. Such favour had not to be asked for twice. She sat up then, and looked him fairly in the eyes. * Richard Bothwell, you did a thing of which I did not think you capable—the wonder of which astounded me. It was a noble action, Richard Bothwell ! An action, with much risk attached, which saved a poor man ; an unhappy man ; your friend ; such friendship is nobility ! I tell you, MÙi A Western Delilah 143 Richard Bothwell, that action has made me think of you as I had never dreamed to think of any man. I cannot hope to tell you all I think, I would run short of words. Indeed, if I had words as great in number and as rich as golden guineas in the Bank of England, they would be still too weak, and few, and poor with which to praise that noble action.' ' Good Heavens ! what did I do ? ' ' Richard Bothwell,' she said, in a low voice which thrilled him, ' you robbed the Chinamen ! ' He did not even start. Her love, he felt, was such security. He merely took her two hands in his and, as their eyes met, calmly said : ' Barbara Herrick, for your sake, I did.' For a few moments neither spoke, but sat, as though bereft of speech, and looked at one another. The woman was the first to speak, and in a stifled voice she said : ' I knew it.' ' Good Heavens ! How ? ' _^J A Western 'Delilah ' It came upon me like a revelation when the Kid brought me my pin.' ' The Kid ? ' Bothwell exclaimed, and knit his brows. Barbara nodded. ' What does he know ? ' asked Bothwell, moistening dry lips. ' As much, or maybe less than that worn shoe ! ' She thrust a foot out, and laughed to check a sudden wish to stamp or scream. ' How do you know it ? ' ' Oh, oh,' she suddenly cried, and struck her hands together, then wildly clutched her gown and swallowed twice, then looked at him. ' Man,' she exclaimed, ' I'm neither wood nor stone ! Man, I could scr-r-ream ! ' ' Stop it,' said Bothwell, in a sudden furious voice, and grasped her arm, and shook her. ' Stop it, I say ! ' That steadied her. She stared, amazed! ' Sir ! ' she exclaimed. He smiled at her with dry lips; his eyes were haggard, but he was cool as innocence. A Western Delilah 145 I You're better now,' he said: ' Now I am right as rain. ' She laughed and thanked him, then asked him what he'd asked. ' How do you know that the Kid knows nothing ? \ ' Oh, he found the pin on the camp ground at Sheep Creek. He remembered seeing me with it on. I told him I had lost the pin, and of my trip with daddy to Canal Flats ; and of how we had had our luncheon at the camp ground, by the creek, both going and returning. I assure you he does not suspect a thing. ' ' Does any one else, I wonder ? ' ' Who ever would suspect you—a future Gold Commissioner ? ' She laughed ; but she told him nothing of what Smiley Jay had told her. ' I was looking at the pin that evening,' said Bothwell after a pause, I and I remember I stuck it in my coat collar; don't understand how it could have dropped out. I didn't miss it until I was going to bed, some time in the morning, when I looked for it 'VE9HPÉ 146 A Western Delilah again, for of course I was thinking of you. I am always thinking of you, you know. I wasn't the same to you a little time ago as I am now, eh, Barbara ? ' She shrugged and laughed, f I don't know, ' she replied. ' I think you have been the same to me for some time—I think you will always be the same to me.' Her face was turned a little from him as she spoke ; he could not see her eyes. ' Darling ! ' he exclaimed. That look of haggard worry had passed from his now ; in the comfort of her presence he was himself again. ' By the way, where is your father ? ' he suddenly asked. ' He rode into Steele early this morning.' ( I wonder if he has paid Sims yet ? ' 'He is sending the money to-day; just before he left he told me. But, come now, you must tell me all about how you took the gold from the Chinamen and that old donkey, Smiley Jay ; I think it is awfully exciting and interesting.' A Western Delilah 147 He told her everything then, to the smallest detail, while she commented upon it with enthusiasm. His confidence in the woman was beautiful, and equalled, it could not excel, his own unscrupulousness. To be conscience-stricken Bothwell looked upon as a form of weakness ; he was anything but weak. What he did he carefully planned and deliberately executed. If to invade and take possession of a country and all that it contains, after first killing two-thirds of its population and forcing the remainder to adopt your views of a future state, is meritorious and worthy of historic praise, surely the taking possession of the belongings of two miserable Chinese pagans, without even disarranging a hair of their pigtails, cannot be a crime a sensible man need trouble his head about. It is possible that that may have been the way Bothwell looked at it. IE : A Western Delilah Chapter XII w HEN am I to see you again ? ' Bothwell inquired of Barbara, as he swung himself into his saddle late that afternoon. I When you come again,' she replied, with a smile, adding, ! I am usually at home, you know.' Barbara stood on the gallery, a heavy woollen shawl about her shoulders, to watch his departure. Bothwell smiled at her response. ' Let me see,' he said, ' I have some business with the Indian Agent at Fort Steele. I shall probably stay there to-night and go on to my place to-morrow. I have a confounded green-feed stack heating, you know. On Monday I shall have to attend to it. On Tuesday morning I shall come again.' 149 J A Western Delilah ' What time ? ' ' Between ten and half-past ; how will that do ? ' ' That will do, but you mustn't come before ten, as I've my housework to do and don't want a man bothering round while I'm busy.' ' All right, your ladyship, I won't interfere with your work.' He smiled as he raised his hat, and, touching his horse with the spurs, rode away. Bothwell had not been gone half an hour when her father returned. Apparently he was in the best of spirits, for he greeted her effusively, while informing her that he had met Bothwell a couple of miles back on the trail. ' Did you get that money off to Sims, Daddy ? ' was among the first questions she put to him. ' Sure thing, by registered express, on the stage to-day.' ' How do you ever expect to pay it back to Bothwell ? ' she asked him a few minutes later. 1 A Western Delilah 151 ' Why trouble about that, now, my dear ? Sufficient for the day, you know.' He looked at her for a moment with that worried look in his eyes she had got to know so well. ' Don't trouble, Daddy, you may never have to pay it back, who knows,' she consoled him with the remark ; then she began to whistle her favourite air : ' To-day for me.' ' That's right,' he said and smiled. It was so easy to renew his hopes and brighten his weak face his daughter had always found. That may have been one of the many reasons, perhaps the strongest, why her anger with him never lasted, and why she loved him so. A little later on she went to the stable, where her father's horse was still standing with the saddle on, and taking it out mounted and rode away over the little stretch of prairie, in the fenced-in portion of which their horses were pastured. She drove them into the corral, closed the gate, and returned the horse she had ridden to the stable. She J 152 A Western Delilah then took a lariat from a peg and returned to the corral. The horses, some ten or twelve in number, eyed her askance and circled, trotting. Selecting one, a well-built, dark chestnut with a bad eye and ugly head, she swung her rope. They galloped ! Like a long snake, in the air, her rope curved and fell about the chestnut's neck. The coil remaining in her hand she twisted round the snubbing post, and gripped the end. In a couple of furious bucks, the chestnut stopped, realized that he was caught, wheeled and trotted to her, with switching tail. She let the others loose again and led her capture to the stable, where she tied him in a stall, with a small feed of grain to munch. She then unsaddled her father's horse, and turned him loose. Barbara then returned to the house. That Saturday had been a decidedly strenuous day for Herrick ; he had risen early, and he had ridden to Fort Steele and back. By half-past nine in the evening he was ready to retire for the night. Barbara, too, said A Western Delilah 153 she would go to bed. Accordingly, bidding one another good night, they betook themselves to their rooms. Barbara, however, did not at once begin making preparations for her rest ; at least not the preparations a bachelor, ignorant of the ways of womankind, would look upon as conducive to a proper appreciation of the pillow. First of all, after kicking off her slippers, she pulled on a pair of long, high- heeled riding boots. She then took from a nail in the wall a belt, with a 38 calibre double-action Colt revolver slung to it, and buckled it round her waist. Last of all, taking a book from her dressing-table, she seated herself and began reading. In about twenty minutes or so a sound broke the stillness. She raised her head and listened. A moment later it was repeated. It was, to her, the familiar one of a long-drawn snore. Rising to her feet she replaced the book, put on a warm jacket and cap, thrust a pair of heavy gloves into her pocket, picked a 154 A Western Delilah pair of spurs from the floor, extinguished the light and passed noiselessly through the sitting-room and out of doors ! A minute or so later she entered the stable and lit a lantern. The chestnut was lying down in his stall. At the sudden light he scrambled to his feet. Hanging the lantern on a nail, she spoke to the horse, addressing him as Calamity, telling him to stand over, and moved up into his stall. Calamity was a sufficiently gentle horse to handle, whatever he may have been otherwise, and a few minutes later, with a man's stock saddle on him and bridled, he stood ready for the road. Choosing a heavy rawhide quirt of her father's, and extinguishing the light, she led him out. For a moment, before mounting, she stood and patted him. He received her petting in a savage, morose immobility, with ears flat back, tail tucked tightly in, back humped, and sombre, sullen eyes. He looked exactly what he was, a bad-tempered, untrustworthy brute. Otherwise, in appearance, a grand A Western Delilah 155 little horse, with sloping shoulders, perfect legs and feet, short backed, with quarters and hocks to gallop or jump a house ! ' Calamity,' said Barbara, ' you little brute ! you haven't been ridden for a week, I know you're going to gin me up, but whatever you do, don't fall, the ground's like iron.' She gave a short laugh, took the cheek strap and reins in her left hand, placed her foot in the stirrup, grasped the horn in her right, and swung into the saddle ! The chestnut sidled stiffly off, on mincing toes, swinging his head and catching at the bit, and otherwise displaying a decided wish to remain where he was for the night. She got him on the trail, however, headed him in the direction she would take, while speaking gently to him. It is possible that he may have taken this for a sign of nervousness, for he wheeled like a flash, lashed out with his hind feet and galloped a good fifty yards, before she could pull him up. When she did so it was evident that her temper, too, was rising. She knew Calamity 156 A Western Delilah thoroughly, and knowing him knew that, in his present frame of mind, time spent in blandishments was time most lamentably wasted. Her intention was to ride to Steele and back that night, while his—well, his was otherwise. A full moon was just topping the Rockies when the fun began. A pack of cayotes howled derisively. Barbara turned Calamity in the direction of Fort Steele and said : ' Get on, you brute ! ' He promptly responded by backing with his tail between his legs, like a dog, and his ears laid further back than ever. Barbara settled herself more firmly in her seat, rammed her feet well home in the stirrups, and clenched her teeth. Her eyes were blazing ! 'Take that,' she said. She drove the spurs with all her force against his ribs. With a savage squeal he sprang into the air and landed in a racking, crooked buck. Again, and again, and again, A Western Delilah 157 he went at it. And every time he landed his head was where his tail had been, and at each frantic pitch he squealed ! But every time he struck the earth her spurs struck him, while the heavy raw-hide quirt stung flanks and shoulder. For half a minute perhaps that fight continued. And it is amazing what tremendous effort a frantic horse can crowd into a bare half-minute. Meanwhile the moon looked on, calm and unruffled. How could such struggling insects fash a moon ? At length the chestnut changed his tactics ; he started plunging, only to be spurred the harder. He bolted then, and galloped for a quarter of a mile. But he galloped towards Fort Steele, and Barbara chuckled. A second band of cayotes joined the first one then, and, to use a very moderate westernism, ' Hell was poppin'.' When at length the chestnut stopped, he did so suddenly, propping with lowered head ; no doubt hoping to see Barbara 158 A Western Delilah describing a series of those somersaults delightful to the heart of every circus-goer. But he was disappointed. She still retained her seat and again applied the spurs. The sweet-tempered animal then turned his head and tried to bite her legs. She kicked him on the nose, which started him bucking again. The quirt and spurs once more claimed toll. He then played his last card : backwards he threw himself ! And Barbara slipped off sideways, to climb again into the saddle as he scrambled to his feet. Once again he raced away, but Barbara could guide him, now, and swung him to the trail, and soon his gallop slackened to a lope, and finally to a trot. He would now be the most tractable and docile of saddle horses until the first time of his being ridden again after his next holiday. And thus Calamity was vanquished in the end, and Barbara victorious ! She was not vindictive, however, where horses were concerned, whatever she might have been with regard to men. She learned forward and L A Western Delilah 159 patted his neck and laughed and talked to him caressingly, and felt his mouth with a light pressure of the reins. Now of Calamity's tapering and responsive ears only one lay back in pretty slant, while the other was pricked forward as though to indicate the way, a sensient needle to her compass. But her spurs were ever ready and he knew it, and buckled to his task. At the Wild Horse ford she allowed him but a mouthful or so of water and walked him up the opposite slope and into Steele. It was nearly midnight when she dismounted at the Recorder's office, where that gentleman, who was also a justice of the peace, had his domicile. No light shone from the windows. The justice of the peace, to wit, a lonely bachelor, if at home, now wooed repose. A tie-rail stood in front of the office, to which Barbara tethered Calamity. Picking a pebble from the ground, she walked to the bedroom window and tapped sharply on the pane. Now the justice of the peace was a gentle- i6o A Western Delilah man of a kind heart and average understanding, but of an irascible disposition ; one who rarely exceeded ten drinks a day, excepting Saturday, who stuck methodically to his work, when there was nothing else to do, and who valued his night's rest—when there was no poker. In short, he was a human being neither better nor worse than many others. Among his wordly possessions was a dog, with a diminutive body and preponderance of bark, that slept on the foot of his bed. As to the breeding of the animal, opinions varied. Smiley Jay pronounced him to be a ' Persian-lamb terrier,' adding that, ' Them kind was hell bent on rattin'.' The Kid said he'd ' Never heerd tell o' Persian-lamb terriers,' and thought he looked more like a ' cross between a bull pup an' one o' them blasted little sooners women folks is so fond o' packin' round ' ; while Curly Pete, the ' broncho buster,' who had been bitten by him, said But no, it would be quite impossible to repeat what Curly said, owing to his unfortunate choice of language. A Western Delilah - 161 Meanwhile, Barbara's onslaught upon the window-pane elicited, from the animal in question, the most vociferous response. A moment later she recognized the voice of the justice of the peace anathematizing his pet in no very measured terms. Next she heard a sharp squeal, followed by a thud. She judged, by the sound, that the Persian-lamb terrier had been kicked from his bed to the floor. ' Open the window/ she called, renewing her tapping. ' What the deuce do you want ? ' inquired the justice of the peace, very naturally incensed. ' Open the window and 111 tell you,' said Barbara. ' Who in blazes are you ? ' queried the disturbed gentleman, and she heard him getting out of bed. 'Barbara Herrick,' she replied, with her mouth near the pane, adding, ' I'm sorry to disturb you, but it's most important.' At the mention of her name, the manner 162 A Western Delilah of that legal dignitary underwent a complete change. Astonishment took the place of irritation in his voice. ' You ! Miss Herrick ! ' he exclaimed, adding, ' One moment and I'll be with you.' He thrust his feet into a pair of slippers and, donning a heavy ulster, in lieu of a dressing-gown, over his pyjamas, lighted the lamp in his sitting-room and admitted Barbara. For a little while she talked with him. ' Remember,' she wound up by saying, ' my name must not appear, unless absolutely necessary.' ' Trust me,' said the justice of the peace. She turned to go, hesitated a moment, and spoke to him again. ' You are sure the men will do, and that they won't mention me. You're to insist upon that, you know.' ' I'll make them take their oaths to that effect, and they will be at your place not later than nine o'clock on Tuesday morning. But how about your father, will he be there ? ' A Western Delilah 163 ' No,' Barbara shook her head, ' I shall manage to get him away, somehow.' ' Anything else ? ' ' I think that's all.' For a moment she stood in thought, then bid him good night. 'Good night,' he responded. He stood shivering in the doorway, watching her as she mounted and rode away. The Persian-lamb terrier followed her a short distance, barking vociferously. He whistled to him and he followed his master into the house. As the disturbed bachelor got back into his bed he muttered to himself : ' Oh, women, women, may the Good Lord preserve me from your smiles, and your tears, and your caresses ! ' A Western Delilah Chapter XIII DURING Sunday and Monday Herrick thought his daughter both restless and excited, and was worried in consequence. Twice, during those two days, she mentioned his debt to Bothwell. But, curiously enough, now it did not seem to trouble her as it had before. She had even laughed a little about it, saying that very likely it would all come right in the end, but that he must never run into debt again. In mentioning it the second time, she had even gone so far as to say that she did not expect he would ever have to pay it. Her confident way of predicting such a conclusion could only mean, he thought, that she intended, ultimately, to marry Bothwell. Once, too, she had mentioned Sherrington, and said that it was a pity they could not get him back. In which her father 165 I i66 A Western Delilah V I had most heartily concurred. He had always liked Sherrington, was ever ready to praise him, which of course pleased his daughter. On Monday afternoon Barbara told her father that she wanted some yeast cakes and asked him if he would go to Fort Steele for them in the morning. At first he had demurred, he always did ; just as he always went, too, in the end. He was only too glad of an excuse to visit Steele, to gossip at the store, or to have a glass of beer, and more gossip, with some crony at Johnny-on-the- spot's. Tuesday morning broke clear and fine, and balmy as September. A little after seven Barbara and her father were seated at their breakfast. An hour later, from the front of the house, she watched him trot across the little open stretch of prairie on his way to Steele. As he was leaving he had asked her what time she would want the yeast cakes, and she had informed him any time before supper- She then washed the breakfast dishes, swept and tidied the front room aud did the A Western Delilah 167 same to her own. Next she took from a cupboard a roll of grey camping blankets and spread them, one upon the other, on the floor of her bedroom, against the partition, between it and the front room, and directly behind the lounge on which she and Bothwell had sat the day before. When everything was in readiness she returned to the front room and looked at the clock ; it wanted just five minutes of nine. She went to the door then, opened it, and looked out across the prairie. There was no one in sight. At a quarter-past she looked out again. Two horsemen were approaching at a brisk trot. In one of them she recognized Curly Pete ; the other she did not know. Seating herself before the fire she rested her chin in her hand, stared into it and waited. Soon she heard the sound of horses' hoofs on the turf outside, followed, a moment later, by a knock at the door. Opening it she admitted Curly Pete, followed by the other, a tall, powerfully built, red-bearded individual, with grey, steady eyes and a kindly face, J i68 A Western Delilah whom Curly introduced as ' Mr. Jim Farrel, ma'am.' Both men carried heavy Colt revolvers at their belts. ' Everything is all right ? ' she inquired. Until that moment Barbara had felt nervous and excited, but now that the time of action had arrived, she could not have been more calm. ' Yes, ma'am, so far as we know,' responded Curly. ' I'll show you where to put your horses.' She went with them to the verandah, pointed out an empty calf shed standing near, and told them to tie them in it. In a few minutes the two men returned. ' Now,' said Barbara, ' you see that lounge ? ' She pointed to it as she spoke. Farrel nodded. ' Well, we shall sit on it, Mr. Bothwell and I ; you and Curly will stay in my room. Come, I'll show you.' She brought the two men into it, then continued : ' You see there is only a single thin board partition between the two rooms. You will sit or stand on those A Western Delilah 169 blankets at the partition. I shall leave the door open between the two. I spread the blankets on the floor to deaden sound. Standing on them, you should be.able to hear every word we say distinctly. You will hear enough, I think,' she said and laughed. ' You know when you are to come out ? ' she asked, a moment later. ' When you clap your hands, ma'am, the Recorder told us.' She nodded. ' It was sure a great scheme, puttin' them blankets on the floor,' said Curly. ' Fid never o' thought o' the likes o' that meself,' adding, ' It sure takes the ladies, Jim, to get ahead o' us pore ignorant roust-abouts, every time.' The two men looked at one another and grinned. ' Curly is certainly a great hand at paying compliments, Mr. Farrel ; I am afraid if I had listened to him, my head would have been turned long ago,' said Barbara. Farrel laughed. f 170 A Western Delilah ' I ain't never doubtin' it a minute, ma'am ; he's a holy terror with the ladies, is Curly.' They then returned to the front room, where Barbara took up her position at the window, from which she could see the approach of any one. The two men, meanwhile, seated themselves before the fire and talked together in low tones. Suddenly Barbara spoke : ' There's somebody coming,' she said, ' but I can't just exactly make out who it is yet.' Both men rose to their feet and, standing behind Barbara, peered through the window. ' That's his nibs, sure,' said Curly. ' I can tell the way he sets a hawse.' Barbara opened the door and looked out. A moment later she closed it and turned towards them. There was a vivid colour now in her cheeks, and her eyes were bright. She walked twice up and down the room, and then going to the lounge rearranged the A Western Delilah 171 cushions on it. Farrel stood looking at her, his head a little forward, his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his waistcoat. ' He's reached the stable now. Now he's waterin' his pony,' said Curly, who was looking out of the window. Barbara moved a table a little to one side, and placed a chair near it. ' What is he doing now ? ' she asked, addressing Curly. 'I can't see him no more, ma'am; he's took his hawse into the stable.' ' I had a ôle aunt once,' said Farrel, in a dull, expressionless voice ; ' I mind none o' us young ones took to her over an' above much, she was that sensible. I mind hearin' the old man say onct that "it was actooly painful livin' in the same house with a woman with the sense she had." I tell y'u, ma'am, she never made no mistakes, never done nothin' wrong, an' the on'y two things she cared a little bit about was, church and drinkin' tea. I mind hearin' her say, more'n ojict, too, " If y'ur worrited, keep cool." 172 A Western Delilah Yes, ma'am, them was her words, " If y'ur worrited, keep cool." ' ' I'm perfectly cool, Mr. Farrel, I assure you,' said Barbara, ' and I think you had better both go into the room now.' ' Now he's comin' out o' the stable, an' say—he's carryin' his shapps over his arm. He's walkin' very easy, too, a-smokin'. Yes, ma'am, I guess we'd best go right in now' ; and Curly followed Farrel into the bedroom. A moment later Barbara could hear them settling themselves on the blankets. They had hardly done so when there came a rap at the door and Barbara opened it. ' You ! ' she exclaimed in feigned astonishment. ' What there is of me.' Bothwell laughed while taking off his hat, then, passing an arm about her waist, kissed her. Barbara walked to the lounge and seated herself. ' I met your father at the crossing of the Wild Horse,' he remarked as he divested himself of a short peajacket and hung it over A Western Delilah 173 the back of a chair. He then seated himself beside her and proceeded to roll a cigarette. ' Indeed,' responded Barbara ; ' he went into Fort Steele, you know, to do some shopping for me/ ' He hailed me very cheerfully, seemed in great spirits.' ' Poor old daddy,' Barbara's Hps curved in a slow, thoughtful smile, ' yes, he is very well just now I think, and happy.' For a few minutes then they spoke of the ranch, discussed the advisability of extending the pasture fence. It struck Barbara that Bothwell spoke of the place now as though he were a part owner of it, and it annoyed her. They spoke, too, of news of local interest in the valley; of claims that had been staked that autumn. Bothwell told her of one in which he had an interest, up the Sku-cum-chuck, telling her of the assays he had had from it in copper and gold. 'Talking of gold,' said Barbara, 'reminds me that ever since you told me of how you robbed the Chinamen ' 174 A Western Delilah i You should say " held up," not robbed ; robbed is such an ugly word, you know.' Barbara laughed. ' Well, ever since you held up those Chinamen, I've been wondering how you discovered that they were going to Golden that night with all that gold and money.' ' I overheard Wang Lee saying they were. ' ' You overheard Wang Lee ! That's funny ! Did he say it in English ? ' Bothwell shook his head and smiled. ' Merely by chance,' he replied. ' To begin with, probably you are not aware that before I came to this benighted country I passed eight years in China in the tea trade ; while there I studied Chinese, and can still speak and understand it fairly well. It is a deuce of a language, but I am rather a dab at languages, you know. Well, three days before I held them up, I was in Wang Lee's trying to get a Chinese cook. While I was there I heard Sing arrange with the other chap—don't know his name—the night they A Western Delilah 175 would start. I heard them mention the amount of the gold, too.' Barbara tried to attend to what he was saying, but for those first few moments she was in such an agony of apprehension lest the men behind them should disclose their presence by some sound, that she hardly knew what Bothwell was talking about. Her nervousness then suddenly seemed to leave her, as though banished by the desperate intention she contemplated. She could listen then, listen acutely. Bothwell continued : ' Lucky, wasn't it ? ' ' Rather ! ' Barbara acquiesced. ' When I was a youngster,' continued Bothwell, smiling, ' the governor was for ever dinning into my head the importance of taking advantage of one's opportunities. I have always done my best to follow that advice.' ' Were you watching any length of time at your ranch, before they drove past ? ' ' An hour or so, I think.' 176 A Western Delilah ' In almost every robbery, or whatever you like to call it,' said Barbara, 'there has been a weak spot somewhere ; a little something that the perpetrator has omitted to guard against. Was there a weak spot in yours ? ' ' There was,' said Bothwell, with a laugh, ' a devilish weak spot ! my roan had lost half a shoe on the off fore foot and I never discovered it till my return.' ' They might have trailed you, I suppose ? ' said Barbara. ' Of course they might have. Any half- decent trailer could have trailed my pony from my stable to the tree I tethered him at, a little this side of their fire, and back again. But you see I am the last man in East Kootenay they would suspect.' ' What a thing it is to have a good reputation ! ' ' Yes,' responded Bothwell, thoughtfully. ' To be successful in this world, the first thing one should establish is a good reputation. If I went back into civilization, do you know what I should get first of all ? ' A Western Delilah 177 Barbara shrugged. ' A pew in a fashionable church, and- ' Are churches fashionable ? ' ' As hats or skirts. And, rain or shine, I should be seen in that pew every Sunday. Religion is an excellent cloak, and cloaks are the most convenient garments going, they are so easily put on.' ' Or taken off,' said Barbara. ' Exactly so,' responded Bothwell. ' Have you converted the gold into money yet ? ' was Barbara's next question. ' No, haven't had an opportunity. It wouldn't be safe yet, you know. I've got it cached away.' ' Really ! How exciting. Where did you hide it ? ' Bothwell looked at her and laughed. ' What a lot of questions you are asking/ he said. Barbara smiled. ' Wouldn't anybody ask a lot of questions ? I do honestly believe I was never so interested in anything before. That is the solemn 178 A Western Delilah truth, sir, doubt it if you like ; I vow I never was.' To emphasize her words, she nodded at him twice, emphatically. ' My dear, your eyes ' ' Don't tell me they are green,' she cried. ' Indeed, they're not. They are lovely ! and deep, you darling woman, as an unfathomed sea ! Your cheeks, too, Barbara " ' Oh, hush,' said she. ' Are rosier than the rosiest rose.' He caught her hands. ' Who taught you to make love ? ' ' You, Barbara, you.' ' But wait. Don't pull me so. You mustn't hold my hands so tight, it hurts. You men don't know your strength. There, that is better. Yes, you may hold them, but you must not hurt them.' ' Such ducky hands ! ' He stooped and kissed them. ' Oh, hush,' she said again. ' Why, who's to hear me ? ' ' Ah, who, indeed,' said Barbara, and she raised her brows, and her eyes became as wise as they were deep. 'But come,' she said, ' you have not appeased my curiosity, a complaint peculiar to us weak women. Now, sir, it is hurting me. Come, tell me, where you cached that gold ? I must know or curiosity will be my death.' She laughed. ' I don't know that I will tell you.' ' Oh, well, I dare say I shall live, and perhaps it is as well not to tell me. I might be tempted to rob you ; gold is such a terrible temptation. I am so weak, too, being a woman. No one, not even you who know me so well, could expect me to resist temptation—like a man.' ' I'll risk your stealing it, or anything, indeed, that you may do.' ' Be careful, sir ; why, Smiley will tell you that you cannot even trust a woman with a secret/ ' That old blatherskite ! But listen, Barbara, I lifted a board from the floor, at the foot of my bed, and hid the gold there.' ' You hid the gold under the floor, at the ! n 180 A Western Delilah foot of your bed, you say ? ' At the repetition of his words, she raised her voice a little. For a few moments there was silence, while they looked at one another. There was a smile upon the man's lips. But upon Barbara's lips, just then, there was no hint of amiability or womanly softness. Instead, upon her whole face there looked to be dawning a curious, rapt, triumphant expression. She felt, as she sat opposite the man, her hands in his, that the crucial moment was approaching, and, in place of nervousness or fear, she felt her courage to be soaring. She knew a strange exaltation of spirit. In those stirring moments, too, she thought only of those two she loved. Jack and her daddy ! They alone counted. Every one in the wide world, as compared with those two, was as nothing. For the man before her she felt only dislike, except when he had kissed her, then her dislike had changed to loathing and hatred. There was no feeling of pity for him, not the most infinitesimal amount ! He had caused A Western Delilah 181 Jack to be sent away from the ranch, now he must pay ! ' We can make a fresh start, now,' she thought. ' Daddy has paid Sims. We shall never have to pay this man. Jack will be able to return. Jack will never again h^ive to leave.' That was about all she thought of, or cared for. ' Let go of my hands, please,' she said, and she withdrew them from Bothwell's, rising to her feet as she did so. Walking across the room, she sat down on a chair, which stood with its back turned towards the lounge upon which Bothwell still sat. Barbara sat sideways on the chair, resting her hands, with her chin upon them, ou the back of it. She was looking at him now in a queer, detached way, as she might have looked at a man she did not know. The colour had gone from her face, too, which made her eyes look unnaturally big, and dark, and solemn. ' What is the matter, Barbara ? ' Bothwell suddenly asked. ' Why do you look at me like that? Your eyes are strange.' 182 A Western Delilah ' I think that there is much the matter,' she replied, slowly. ' " Much the matter," you say. How do you mean, " Much the matter ?" I do not understand you. ' He was looking at her now, intently. ' No,' she answered, and she spoke with a studied slowness and precision, ' you do not understand me : you never did understand me : I did not intend that you should understand me. That is the crux of it all. How could you even hope to understand me ? You—a thief ! ' ' What ? ' he exclaimed. ' I called you a thief, Richard Bothwell, that is all, merely a thief. Thief is not a pretty term, when applied to oneself, is it ? ' ' Barbara, are you mad ? ' As he spoke he rose to his feet. ' No, I am not mad. Strange, isn't it, when you come to think of it ? ' She laughed. ' Indeed, I am surprised I can deny the state, since you tormented and insulted me with your vile love. Only to think of it l_ 1 A Western Delilah 183 now makes my flesh creep. Did you think to make me love you, Richard Bothwell ? God, how I hated you ! But I had an end to gain, Richard Bothwell. I have gained that end. I wanted to get you in my power. I have done so.' ' Have you ? ' said Bothwell, ominously calm. His face, too, had grown pale, but there was a dangerous light in his eyes. The truth —the amazing truth—was dawning upon him at last ! ' I have,' she replied, and continued in the same slow, even tones, the quietness of which seemed to add a force and venom to her words. ' You walked straight into the trap, you fool. It is not always wise to think that you can get the better of a woman—a weak woman.' Again she laughed. Her bitter words stung the man before her. His eyes now blazed with passion. He advanced a step towards her, then paused, and by an effort controlled the impulse that urged him to take her by the throat. Again he seated himself upon the lounge 184 A Western Delilah and, thrusting his hands into his pockets, leaned back and looked at her. ' Barbara,' he said, ' it is you who are the fool. Do you think your word will stand against mine in Steele ? What proof have you ? ' She clapped her hands ! Bothwell heard a sudden noise behind him and leaped to his feet. At the moment Curly Pete, followed by Jim Farrel, stepped into the room and promptly covered him with their revolvers. 'Dick Bothwell,' said the former, 'we arrest you in the Queen's name. We've the drop on you,' he added, ' so you'd better come along quietly.' Wicked and unscrupulous he might have been, but he was no coward. He faced their weapons unflinchingly, and, for an instant, looked as though he would attack them with his naked hands, then changed his mind. ' You would not take me alive,' he said quietly, 'only that I have a debt to pay.' He then spoke to the woman who had betrayed A Western Delilah 185 him : ' Barbara,' he said, ' may God have mercy on you, if we ever meet again.' As their eyes met, she shuddered. There was a look in his that afterwards haunted her ; a look which told her more plainly than words that she had changed the man before her into a devil ! - A Western Delilah Chapter XIV WHEN Herrick returned that afternoon it was plainly evident that he was greatly excited. He slammed the door shut on his entrance, and began nervously fumbling for his pipe. Barbara sat before the fire embroidering something on the corner of a handkerchief. The something was a name, and the name was Jack. Her work was villainous ! It could only be called embroidery by courtesy. She was bending over it and there was a smile upon her lips—a charming smile. She was thinking of the man whose name she was embroidering. When her father entered she dropped her hands with the work in her lap and looked up. 187 i88 A Western Delilah ' Barbara,' he said solemnly, ' this is a terrible affair ! ' ' The arrest of Bothwell ? ' ' I don't know when I've been so shocked,' he went on. ' I can't believe that he did it. I wonder how they found out ? ' ' Doesn't anybody know ? ' Barbara inquired. ' Not a word, excepting, I suppose, the Recorder. But he's as close as clams. How he found out's a puzzle. You can't get a word about it either from Curly Pete or Farrel. The whole of Steele is plumb crazy. The Kid's drunk and old Smiley's got as much as he can carry ; the old juggins is going about telling everybody he knew it was Bothwell a week ago. Of course nobody listens to him.' ' But what are they going to do to Bothwell, daddy ? ' ' The jug, of course. Ten years, at least, I should think. Peavine, too, just got into town as I left. I saw him and Ben Pugh cross the road arm in arm to Johnny-on-the- A Western Delilah 189 spot's. They'll both be drunk by this time. I tell you, Barbara, there'll be ructions in town this night, or I'm a Dutchman/ ' But where will they send him, daddy ? ' ' Who, Bothwell ? Search me. Victoria, or somewhere, I suppose. And they arrested him here, in this room ? ' Barbara nodded. ' Good Heavens ! What did he do ? Was there a row ? ' Until supper was ready they discussed the extraordinary event. Questions fairly ricocheted from sitting to dining-room, as Barbara passed from one to the other. But as to that leading part she had played she never even hinted at it to her father. That evening, while sitting together before the fire, Barbara put the following question : ' Does anybody know of your having borrowed money from that man to pay Sims?' ' I haven't told a soul.' ' Are you quite sure, Daddykins ? ' 'Absolutely.' 190 A Western Delilah ' Well, it seems to me, if that man doesn't mention it, you may never have to pay it back at all. Wouldn't that be just scrumptious, daddy ? ' ' By Jove ? ' Herrick chuckled. For a few moments they were both silent, then said Barbara : ' Will they keep him long in jail at Steele, daddy ? ' ' Oh, a week or ten days, I suppose. I suppose they will have a preliminary trial of some kind before they send him away.' 11 don't suppose he could get out of jail ; at Steele, I mean ? ' She was thinking now of what she had seen in his eyes, when she had last seen him. ' Not if they can help it, you may be sure.' ' You know, daddy, he was beginning to talk as though he owned this place, or partly owned it, such cheek ! Daddy, he was a dreadful man ! ' ' I thought you liked him, Barbara ? ' 'Daddy, I loathed him.' Herrick did not reply, but smoked his pipe and looked at her. ' Daddy,' Barbara spoke again. ' Tell me, now that you have paid Sims, do you owe much more money ? ' I owe Johnny-on-the-spot thirteen- dollars, I think ; or maybe fifteen. There's a stable bill, too, of eleven. And I owe Angel Poole seven dollars and a half. And then there's Dave Smith ' ' Gracious, daddy ! ' ' Let me see now, I am afraid I owe Dave about fifty or perhaps fifty-five ; but I can settle that any day by letting him have Calamity. He offered me eighty for Calamity two days ago. I think I owe the Kid a few dollars, too, but the Kid can wait. Of course, too, there's the store bill, a chap can't help having a beastly store bill. But I reduced that a lot, you know.' ' I didn't know, daddy ; how, under-the- sun, did you manage that ? ' ' It was five hundred, you know, but I ' ' Good heavens, daddy ! ' 192 A Western Delilah ' But I paid what's-his-name three hundred about three months ago ; he seemed awfully pleased, he ' ' You paid him three hundred, daddy ; how in the name of all that's wonderful ! did you manage to do that ? ' ' Now, my dear, don't you think we have discussed business quite sufficiently for one evening ? My head is actually beginning to buzz.' ' No, daddy, I do not think we have discussed business enough for one evening, and your head is perfectly all right, if you would only get your hair cut ; it is getting dreadfully long at the back and straggly. It makes you look like a hen.' ' A what ? ' exclaimed Herrick. 'A hen.' ' A hen ? What kind of a hen ? ' ' Daddy, you're hopeless ! But I insist upon knowing where you got that three hundred to pay the store.' ' Oh, I got it all right.' Herrick shifted about uneasily. 1 A Western Delilah 193 ' I am quite sure of that, daddy, but where ? ' ' I never saw such a girl as you are, Barbara.' ' I know I am quite incomparable, daddy, but you needn't begin paying me compliments.' ' I wasn't thinking of such a thing. If you were ten years younger, by Jove ! Ild spank you and send you to bed.' ' You should really thank your stars that I am getting old enough to look after you. What you men want are elderly females, with business training, to take care of you. Now, tell me where you got that three hundred.' ' I borrowed it from Bothwell, if you want to know." ' You borrowed it from Bothwell ! ' Barbara stared at her father. ' Why shouldn't I ? Everybody does it, in business. Why, look at England. Do you want me to try and set England an example ? She's always borrowing. Owes three-quarters of the world, by Jove ! Why, if I owed a 13 194 A Western Delilah millionth part of what she does I couldn't sleep.' ' I should like to see the debt that would keep you awake, daddy. But, daddy, you say you borrowed it from Bothwell. Now the question is, who is going to be the loser ? ' Herrick shrugged. For a minute, perhaps, Barbara sat straight up and stared at him. Suddenly she threw herself back in her chair and went into peals of laughter. ' Daddy,' she exclaimed, when she could speak, ' it seems to me that you are the wolf and that dreadful man the suffering lamb. Daddy, upon my word, I think you are a genius ! • BOTHWELL'S preliminary trial came off a few days later in Fort Steele. The courthouse, a fair-sized frame and log building, was crowded. To the astonishment of many, Bothwell pleaded guilty and was placed in the jail until arrangements could be made for his removal. The gold was found beneath the flooring, at the foot of his bed, where he had informed Barbara he had hidden it, in the hearing of Curly Pete and Farrel, and duly returned to the Chinamen. The bills were gone, however, and no amount of cross-questioning could elicit any information from Bothwell as to how he had disposed of them. Unfortunately for the Chinamen, no record of their numbers had been kept, so that to trace them was impossible. 195 J 196 A Western Delilah Gradually Fort Steele subsided into its normal state of semi-intoxicated calm. Though it was many weeks before enthusiasts ceased to speak, regretfully, of that day when Bothwell was arrested, and the great tidal wave of ' booze ' hit the town. A mystery, too, in connection with the disappearance of Peavine's trousers, when that shocked and infuriated gentleman awakened many hours afterwards, was never satisfactorily explained. Peavine had slept in the loft, by the way. It is with the keenest regret, too, that, owing to his vocabulary, we are unable to place upon record his many valuable reflections, roared at the fullest capacity of his lungs, upon the objectionable crime of thieving, as well as what he would do to ' the dirty son of a something or other as stole me pants.' Suffice it to say that both the Kid and Smiley Jay, after a lengthy discussion of the incident, expressed it as their opinion that ' Any man with the command o' lang- widge o' Peavine must o' had consid'ble book larnin',' while they both expressed themselves A Western Delilah 197 as being thankful at the time that there was ' no nervous hosses in the stable.' As is always the way, too, when a man has been discovered with a confused idea of what is his and what isn't, or otherwise tripping, there were not wanting among those friends of Bothwell's prosperous days many who said that they had always thought him, I Not quite straight.' How easy a thing it is to foretell events after they have taken place. Perhaps, after all, it is not to be wondered at that so many would-be wiseacres are gifted with this very useful form of prescience. At the result of the trial, Herrick was perhaps more astonished than anybody else. He had always admired Bothwell and believed in him. As for Barbara, she was more than satisfied. A weight was lifted from her mind. She had never fully realized, until the danger was passed, how acutely she had dreaded lest her betrayal of Bothwell should come to fight. Instinctively, she felt that the man she loved, with his views of fairness and m 198 A Western Delilah decency, would be the first and most severe censurer of her behaviour. During her father's frequent absences from the ranch she had leisure to think of and brood over Bothwell's last words to her on the morning of his arrest. Reckless as she was, she shuddered as she realized what those words, to her, might mean, should he ever regain his freedom. Dread of the man became an obsession to her; she suffered acutely. It is possible that she realized then, as she had never done before, that vengeance belongs to God. She would start at the slightest unaccustomed noise. An unexpected knock at the door stabbed her like a knife. Sorrow for what she had done, however, never found a place in her heart. She seemed capable of but two sentiments, both in an overmastering degree ; namely, hatred and love. Bothwell, as the cause of her lover's absence, had fallen under the ban of her hatred. From that moment when she and Jack had kissed one another good-bye the idea of ven- A Western Delilah 199 geance had filled her mind to the exclusion of every other thought. Thus far she had been successful in her vengeance, now—she suffered. When the chance of revenge had come, she had seized it eagerly. It was the return to her of her pin by the Kid that had made it possible for her, while intuition had suddenly unsealed her eyes. From that moment she felt that Bothwell was guilty. She saw a way, then, with the aid of her beauty and his infatuation, of playing a double game and thereby arriving at the desired results, the relieving of the debts of her father, which could only be ultimately arrived at by getting Bothwell out of the way once and for all, unless she had married him, which she was determined never to do, and her own revenge. Being a woman and a clever one, she could dissemble—and she did so. She subjected herself to the embraces of a man she loathed, and to the last, with the cunning of the serpent and the ruthlessness of a fiend, she played her game and won ! 200 A Western Delilah Ten days after Bothwell's arrest, while Barbara was sitting idly before the fire— her father being absent cutting fence rails— she was startled by a knock at the door. She clutched the bosom of her gown; a horrid fear shone in her eyes. She felt that just such a knock, some day, would herald her Nemesis. With a sharp, metallic sound the latch of the front door was raised. She caught her breath ! The door was opened and a man entered ! She sprang to her feet ! The door was in a shadow and for a moment she could not make out who it was ; the next— ' Jack ! ' she exclaimed. ' Oh, Jack ! ' She pressed both hands to a tender breast. Love made it tender now. The fear had left her eyes, too, and in its place there shone a glory now. A rush of lovely colour dyed her face. She looked as though she would fly to him. Her breath came quickly. But she did not move. How much did he know ? that [inner self, that was herself, inquired. Reason might have told her that he could not HÉ A Western Delilah 201 know ; but reason, then, was just that thing she could not hear, and to which, doubtless, she would not have listened had she heard. That ego in her, which we do call a conscience, was making her afraid—afraid even for her love, for which she had superlatively dared. And so she waited—waited for her lover to approach her as the hunger in her heart desired : waited for the tone of his voice, which alone would tell her that he had not changed. Barbara was guilty, in a sense, as much as Bothwell was. In a sense, indeed, her crime was the greater. Bothwell had robbed what might be replaced. She had taken that which never could be. The gross, material thing only Bothwell's hands had touched, while hers had trafficked with a human soul. For what he had done he could pay. That law, man made, which he had broken, man would see that he did pay. But for her offence, who would claim meet retribution ? Perhaps she thought just then she knew. While she waited, she trembled and the 202 A Western Delilah colour left her face. In the depths of her eyes, too, fear crept and mingled with the love. It was only a moment, after all, that she stood thus, but how much may be crowded into a moment. How much love and agony and doubting. In a way, Sherrington's love differed from Barbara's. His was the tempered love of a man who had seen much of life, an evenly balanced affection that could look into the future, that took ways and means into consideration. Hers was the love of a savage, with a protective element in it that had shown itself from the beginning—a passionate, tigerish love. A love which craved only the adored object, that cared naught for the future, or what troubles and privations it might bring. He was all in all to her ; without him, life would not be worth the living- At Barbara's exclamation on his entrance, Sherrington laughed and, tossing his hat on the table, advanced towards her. ' Yes, little woman,' he said in his gentle voice, ' it is 1/ msm A Western Delilah 203 The gentle tones she knew and loved so passionately stirred her to the soul. The colour came back to her face with a rush, the glory to her eyes ! She lifted her arms, as a dove might lift its wings, and flew to him. He kissed the glowing face raised to his, and stroked her hair, and murmured love's honeyed phrases in her ears, while he embraced her. With a happy sigh, she dropped her head upon his shoulder and wept a little out of the fullness of her heart, while she called him her darling Jack, with a hundred other tender names. With Barbara's soft arms about his neck, her cheek against his, Sherrington would have been something more than human, or, perhaps, less, had he allowed doubts of a future to trouble him. But, after all, he was only a man, and forgot everything else in the delight of her presence, yielding himself unreservedly to the rapture of the moment. At length they moved to the lounge and seated themselves upon it side by side. 'And, oh! I've thought of you every 204 A Western Delilah minute, and every hour of every day, Jack,' said Barbara. 'And I've made you three pair of moccasins, Jack, and embroidered your name on a handkerchief—two handkerchiefs. And the root-house isn't built yet, Jack, ha, ha, ha ! I think you will have to finish it while I make bread and watch you, dearest Jacky-boy ! And the fencing isn't finished. And the brindled cow has lost her calf. And daddy's got a new idea. Wish he had some idea of making money, poor old daddy ! But you'll stay now, won't you, Jack ? And what sent you back from the Crow's Nest ? I didn't expect you for a fortnight, yet.' 'A snowstorm,' said Sherrington, laughing. ' Sweet snowstorm ! ' She sat bolt upright then, and putting a hand on each shoulder shook him, saying, 'Oh, Jack, I'm just crazy with joy at having you back again, you ragged, disreputable, penniless old pet ! Wonder why the nicest people are always penniless ? Wonder why pennies were invented ? For the penny postage, I suppose. A Western Delilah 205 Wonder why you are an old pet ? Is it because you're penniless, or is it because you're Jack, or is it because I'm Barbara ? Oh dear, oh dear, never felt so happy in all my life ! ' She leaned forward and kissed him. Jack laughed. ' Never heard a person talk so much nonsense in such a short time,' he said. ' That's because I'm clever, Jack, very clever indeed. Oh, you needn't laugh; any solemn old frump can talk sense. What's sense, anyway, Jack ? ' ' Haven't the foggiest notion,' Sherrington replied, ' never had.' ' Why, everything that's dull, and stupid, and painfully uninteresting is sense. Fine weather for the crops—that's sense. Bother the crops ! Wonder what crops were invented for ? Daddy's always wondering why gophers were invented ; poor old daddy ! Wonder why daddy's always wondering ? " Have you got the cook's hat ? " That's a quotation, so it must be sense. Wonder why French 20Ô A Western Delilah grammars are always so interested in cooks ? Ha, ha, ha ! and this is nonsense.' She kissed him again. ' I infinitely prefer nonsense,' said Sherrington. ' Oh, Jack ! ' She sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder, her excitement was passing away. A weary look came into her eyes, a pathetic droop to the corners of her lips, ' Oh, Jack, I've been so bothered and lonely ; everything seems to be all wrong since you were away.' ' Poor little woman ! ' said Jack, adding, ' You mustn't fret, you know, that will never do. Everything will right itself in the end ; we must be patient, dear.' ' Dear old Jack ! ' She rubbed her cheek against his. For a few moments there was silence between them, then Barbara spoke again. ' Jack,' she said, ' you'll stay on the ranch now, won't you, dear ? ' ' I don't know ; your father may not want me,' he replied. A Western Delilah 207 ' But I want you, Jack, and I'll see that father does.' He shrugged, but was silent. ' You'll stay, Jack, won't you ? ' she urged. ' What am I to do, dear ? ' ' Look after the place. I'm sure it needs looking after. Poor old daddy will get himself into debt again, too, if somebody doesn't look after the place ; and you're so clever, Jack, and——' ' Oh, I say ! ' ' You are, Jack, you know, awfully clever ; daddy says you are. You know how to do everything, and—and—you must take care of me, Jack.' ' Of you, little woman ? Since when have you become dependent upon others ? ' \1 don't know, Jack. Ever since I began to love you, I think. Dear old Jack ! ' ' So you want me to take care of you, Barbara ? ' ' Yes, Jack.' He did not reply at once, but sat stroking —rt*rfT 208 A Western Delilah her dark hair with his hand and staring thoughtfully before him. ' Barbara,' he said at length, ' I should like to stay here, but ' She put a hand over his mouth. ' Jack,'she said, ' I won't have any of your horrid buts.' He took her hand in his. ' We must endeavour to be sensible, dear.' ' Yes, Jack.' ' You know, I am absolutely penniless. It would be cowardly ; it would be impossible to ask you to share my life, at present.' ' Am I much better off, Jack ? ' ' You have a home, dear/ 'Make it yours, Jack.' He shook his head. At this point they were disturbed by a step on the verandah, next a frantic scratching at the front door with the excited whining and smothered yapping of a dog. ' Who on earth can that be ? ' exclaimed Barbara, rising to her feet. A Western Delilah 209 ' Sounds like Jones, ' said Sherrington ; ' must have got out of the stable.' ' Jones ? Who, under the sun, is ' The door opened to admit Herrick and a galloping puppy. He was a big puppy, almost a grown dog, in fact, nearly as big as an Airedale, with the markings and colouring of one. He had a rougher and shaggier coat though, while his head was shorter and broader. He made his entrance with an hysterical yelp of delight, collided against the leg of a table, cannoned off against a chair which he upset and, with a wild spring and another frenzied yelp, precipitated himself upon the lounge where Sherrington was still seated. Indeed his mad career was only stayed when his two large muddy feet were placed against Sherrington's chest and a wet and delighted tongue was licking that individual's face. 'Down, Jones, down,' said Sherrington, pushing him off the lounge. ' What a perfect love of a puppy ! ' exclaimed Barbara, making a rush for him. 14 I 210 A Western Delilah The next moment, with more frenzied yapping and a reckless flinging of himself about, the love of a puppy was responding enthusiastically to her friendly overtures. ' He'll cover you with mud ; I'd better put the brute out,' said Sherrington. ' Hello,' said Herrick, who had not noticed Sherrington's presence till he heard his voice, ' back from the Crow's Nest ? ' ' How are you ? ' responded Sherrington. ' Snow drove us out.' The two men shook hands. ' A deuce of a note about Bothwell, wasn't it ? I suppose you heard ? ' Sherrington nodded. ' Chap struck our outfit from Fort Steele, three days ago, told us all about it.' ' Much snow in the Pass ? ' ' Not too much, but it was beginning to come.' ' What do you caU the puppy ? ' asked Barbara, who was still petting him. ' Jones,' replied Sherrington. ' Jones ! ' exclaimed Barbara. A Western Delilah 211 ' Rum name for a dog,' said Herrick. ' He is a dear thing/ said Barbara, j It's a shame to call him by such an absurd name. ' ' Youll have to speak to Bill about that. I didn't name him.' Sherrington rolled himself a cigarette while he spoke. ' Bill ? ' said Barbara. I Who is Bill ? ' ' I give it up,' said Sherrington, and he struck a match and lighted a cigarette ; then added, ! Bill's the only name I knew him by. Bill is an American, awful decent chap. Bill and I were great pals.' Meanwhile Jones had seated himself in front of Barbara and was watching her with his ugly, wise-looking head on one side and a big, heavy tongue hanging over his jaw. ' Beg,' said Barbara. Jones promptly did so. ' Oh ! ' cried Barbara ecstatically, ' but you are a lamb ! ' Next she held a hand out. 'Shake hands, Mr. Jones,' said she. Gravely and decorously he placed a paw in it. 212 A Western Delilah ' You precious darling ! ' exclaimed Barbara, ' your former master should be hanged for giving you away.' 'But he didn't give him away,' said Sherrington. \ You did not steal him, Jack, I hope.' Sherrington shook his head. ' It was like this,' he said. ' You know, Jones took a fancy to me. Jones is a dog, you may have noticed even in your short acquaintance with him, of much discrimination.' Jones yawned. ' I would think his manners better were he to place a paw before his face—occasionally,' remarked Barbara. g ' Bill didn't like it- ' ' What didn't Bill like ? ' ' The fancy that meat hound took to me, of course. Why, when I was leaving, Bill said, " If he follows you, Jack, he is yours. He must be all mine, or he may go to blazes." We shook hands then. I climbed Dick and hit the trail. Before I had lost sight of the outfit, Jones came charging after me. I told A Western Delilah 213 him to go home. He cocked his head, wagged tail and looked at me. I slanged him ; he sat down. I could still see Bill standing by the tent watching us. Dick jogged on ; we turned a bend of the trail and lost sight of both Bill and Jones. I fancied I had seen the last of the bally dog. I rolled and lighted a cigarette, and forgot the brute.' ' Inconstancy, thy name is man,' sighed Barbara. ' But I remembered him again. ' ' Extraordinary !—in a man.' ' And looked behind, and—there was Jones !' ' You fickle monster ! It is you who deserve hanging.' Barbara shook a finger at him. ' You'll stay for the night, of course ? ' Herrick interposed. 'Thank you,' said Sherrington. After supper that evening, while he was at the stable making Dick comfortable for the night, Barbara had a talk with her father. When Sherrington rejoined them, Herrick ■Mr il 214 A Western Delilah asked him if he wTould care to stay on for a while and help with the root-house and some fencing. ' You're not doing any fencing at this season surely ? ' ' Only a little "A" fencing; half a mile or so.' ' I must go into Fort Steele to-morrow, to be paid for my trail work,' said Sherrington. ' Oh, that'll be all right, ' Herrick acquiesced ; then added, 11 can't pay very high wages, you know; times aren't any too good.' Herrick vouchsafed the information in a hearty voice, as though it were the best of news. Barbara was seated before the fire with some work in her lap. At her father's words she glanced quickly at him, then at Sherrington, and there was a troubled, worried look in her eyes. ' We won't bother about wages,' said Sherrington. The following morning, shortly after breakfast, he saddled Dick and started for Fort Steele. Jones trotted cheerfully at the pony's A Western Delilah 215 heels. Where the trail entered the woods, Sherrington looked back. Barbara was standing on the verandah, watching his departure. She saw his backward look and waved a hand. 'Poor little woman,' murmured Sherrington, raising his hat. He then addressed his pony. A quivering ear laid back acknowledged the familiar voice. ' Dick,' he said, stroking the firm, muscular neck, ' how is it all going to end ? ' A Western Delilah Chapter XVI THE cell in which Bothwell was placed was a small room about ten feet by twelve with a single strongly barred window. By way of furniture, it contained a narrow but not uncomfortable bed, a table and a chair. The door of the cell led into a much larger room occupied by the Fort Steele constable. Bothwell's first two days in jail were spent, for the greater part of them, in anathematizing women in general and Barbara in particular. But he did so silently. His infatuation for that charming young lady had given place to the most rancorous hatred. Many schemes of vengeance occurred to him. First of all, however, he must regain his freedom. The first night that he spent in jail, he opened the window and tried the bars, only to find that 217 ;■' 2l8 A Western Delilah they were solid. He then tried the ceiling of his room which was of heavy planking resting across stout logs, to discover that there was no exit that way. The floor, too, was solid. With regard to it, the chances were that it rested upon the ground, so that even were he able to win through it, he would be no further advanced. Before those two first days had come to an end, and they were certainly about the longest days that he had ever lived, Bothwell had examined, most minutely, every inch of wall and floor and ceiling, and had given up all idea of regaining his freedom by forcing his way out. Of course, too, he had thought of overpowering the jailer. But it is altogether likely that such a possibility was not entirely absent from the mind of that worthy, for he never gave Bothwell the chance of trying. Bothwell gave it up at last, while calling himself a fool for having spent so much time and thought on the possibilities of such abominable quarters. He concluded, finally, that so far as he was concerned, a cell in the m A Western Delilah 219 Tower of London could not have been a more hopeless situation from which to escape. For the time being he resigned himself to his fate. But he groaned in spirit and cursed his betrayer more vindictively than ever. For those two first days, Bothwell was like a caged wild beast for restlessness. All day long and far into the night he paced the room. He must have walked miles ! Such endless miles, which brought him nowhere. Such weary miles, which tired him beyond the verge of sleep. The exercise of walking seemed to stir in him only an increased bitterness and longing for revenge. All that he wanted now was to get his hands upon that woman. He told himself again and again that he did not want his liberty as he wanted to make her pay for what she had done. Indeed he even went so far as to tell himself that he would willingly forfeit his life for the chance of making her pay. Another two days past ! Two days ! Bothwell felt that they had been two years ! Two years ! Why, his whole life had not 220 A Western Delilah ill been so long as the eternity he had spent in that empty, ugly room ! And he had only spent four days in it. And there were years yet to be lived through in just such another room. More years in number than those days he had already spent in this one. The horror of it shook him. It was life now that he dreaded, with its menace of illimitable time. Now that his days had become as years, the years as aeons. If he had only known, if he had only realized what it had meant, he would never have been taken alive. As many another had before him, he felt that the punishment was out of all proportion to the offence, and cursed the injustice of his fellows. In due course the first week dragged its interminable length to an end. And still the fires of hate and revenge seethed in Bothwell's mind. Still he walked his cell and cursed all womankind. Already his captivity, with the turmoil of his mind, was marking him indelibly. His savage scowl was limning lines upon his brow. His deadly, murderous A Western Delilah 221 thoughts had banished what little kindliness might have dwelt in his eyes. An added grimness had settled upon his lips, while an ugly note of harshness was seldom now absent from his voice. Even the very buoyancy that was once in his step seemed to have left it. It seemed to drag more now, as though a sneaking shuffle had usurped the spring in it. Indeed, the whole man, mentally as well as physically, seemed to have changed and fallen. On the first morning of the second week Bothwell awakened later than usual. Indeed, he had slept more soundly through the night. For a time he lay drowsy and comfortable, beneath warm blankets. At length he heard his jailer, in the adjoining room, busy with the breakfast dishes. For a few minutes longer he lay listening to him. While he listened an idea occurred to him. Drowsily he turned it over in his mind. Of a sudden it flamed with the brilliancy of hope, and on the instant he was broad awake. He even laughed a little. It was many days since he 222 A Western Delilah had laughed. He had not hoped to laugh again—so soon. But the idea ! It was so wonderful ! so simple ! He marvelled that he had not thought of it before. The idea that had come to him that morning was of how he might escape : of how he might see Barbara again : of how he might attain his revenge. The very simplicity of the idea, he thought, smacked of genius. He actually felt like whistling—but refrained.* In order to work out his idea, it would be necessary, first of all, to make friends with his jailer, Peter Brown. Bothwell felt that that would be sufficiently easy ; Peter having, on more than one occasion, evinced his willingness to indulge in a little chat. The friendly overtures, hitherto, had been received by Bothwell hardly in the spirit in which they had been offered. Peter Brown, however, bore no malice. He had known Bothwell in the days of his prosperity and breezy anecdote and, like many others, had looked upon him as a credit to the valley in those days. In those days, too, like those A Western Delilah 223 others, he would have been pleased and proud to have taken a drink with him. Now times were changed, and if Bothwell was not in the humour for a gossip, well— Peter Brown merely shrugged and returned to the companionship of his pipe and the contemplation of his boots which, from force of habit, he invariably placed on the table before him. That morning, when Peter brought Both- well his breakfast, which he pushed through a little shuttered opening, about nine inches square, beside the door, he was agreeably surprised to find the prisoner in a most amiable frame of mind. He praised his cooking and asked the news. For a moment the scowl which had left his face for the time being returned to it, when he was informed by Peter Brown that both Herrick and his daughter had been in town the day before. While Peter Brown was preparing the midday meal a light tapping on the shutter attracted his attention. J 224 A Western Delilah ' WeU ? ' he called out. ' Only a biscuit and a cup of tea for me, Peter, if you please.' Peter Brown was possessed of all the kindly sympathy of your genuine ne'er-do- weel. He shot across the room, and with his rugged, cheery face at the little opening, asked Bothwell what was the matter. ' Oh, nothing, Peter, nothing,' responded Bothwell in a manner that implied that there was something very much the matter. ' Come now, partner,' said Peter, sympathetically, ' I kind o' know thar is somethin' wrong ; tell us what it is.' ' I'm just off my feed a bit, nothing more ; I'll be fit as ever by supper-time.' His words were hopeful, but his tone foreboding, Peter thought. His aspect, too, expressed discomfiture, mental, perhaps, rather than physical. It struck Peter that he looked like a man who dreaded something that might happen, rather than one who suffered in the present. ' Now, partner,' Peter went on, ' to ac' like A Western Delilah 225 this ain't neither right nor reasonable ; y'ur sick, or y'ur gettin' sick, same thing, but might be stopped, if physic's what y'u want, an' if a party knoo. Come now, don't be bull-headed an' or'nary, jest tell us, an' if it's physic y'u need I'll get it if I've got to wreck the town.' ' It is awfully decent of you, Peter, but upon my soul I don't believe it's anything. Indeed, I think I am better now. After my tea, I'm sure I'll feel as right as lain.' ' Well, well, partner, it's your funeral, an' they say thar ain't nothin' more or'nary than a broncho mule with the britchin' under its tail.' With a sigh, Peter Brown returned to his interrupted preparations for luncheon. His tea and biscuit partaken of, Bothwell declared, in response to further anxious inquiries from Peter Brown, that he felt ' Just topping ! ' They smoked together then, and Bothwell told a story which made Peter fairly double up with laughter. Later on that afternoon Peter left the jail 15 226 A Western Delilah for an hour or so to make some purchases at The Canadian Store. When he returned, he went at once to the little shutter, opened it and peered through. Bothwell was stretched full length upon the bed. ' Hullo ! ' cried Peter. ' Hullo/ responded Bothwell, in a languid voice, but he did not move. ' Ailin' ag'in, partner ? ' Peter anxiously inquired. Bothwell sat up with laboured slowness, as a sick man might, looked at Peter, and smiled a sick man's smile. ' I do feel a bit off colour, Peter,' he said; then placing a hand upon his brow, went on : ' I'm dizzy. I feel as though a band was bound tightly round my forehead. I'm very weak, too. I had the same symptoms many times twelve years ago.' ' What ailed y'u then ? ' asked Peter. ' The fact is, Peter, you are the first man I've told out here. I wouldn't have it get about for anything, but I know I can A Western Delilah 227 trust you. You're not the kind of man for ever talking. Of course, after I leave here, it does not matter much who knows, but while I'm here I wouldn't have it known for worlds.' The sigh that Bothwell uttered then amounted almost to a moan. Peter was deeply stirred. ' Whatever is it, man ? Maybe I could help y'u, if y'u was to tell me.' ' I'll tell you, Peter, but you mustn't mention it." ' Partner,' said Peter solemnly, ' y'u said y'urself I ain't the brand o' man as talks. Them was y'ur words ; ain't that right ? ' ' Quite right, Peter,' ' That bein' the case, if I can't do nothin' for y'u, me tongue's between me teeth whar y'u're concerned. I tell y'u, partner, the grave ain't closer than what I be. But if it's physic y'ur wantin', lid stir up Hell with a long tepee pole for one little harmless-lookin' pill, if the pills would ease y'u ! ' ' I know it, Peter, I know you're white, but it isn't likely that I shall suffer again as 1 238 A Western Delilah 1 did then. That was twelve years ago and twelve years is a long time, eh, Peter ? ' ' It sure is—when it's rainin'. But what in blazes was it, partner ? ' ' The doctors, you know, said I was completely cured. They pronounced it a wonderful cure.' ' I ain't never doubtin' that, but what in ' ' Why, one of them, Dr. Graves—I thought his name appropriate, some kind of fatal specialist—said he would stake his reputation —a cheap form of advertising—that I should never have another attack. But, of course, the very best of doctors sometimes——-' ' Jumpin' maniacs, partner ! but what in blazes was the matter with y'u ? ' ' Twelve years ago, Peter,' said Bothwell, solemnly, ' I had fits.' ' Fits ! ' exclaimed Peter, ' well, if that wouldn't skin y'u now ! But however did y'u come by 'em ? ' 'You mustn't alarm yourself, Peter; the chances are a thousand to one that I shall never have another.' A Western Delilah 229 ' Sufferin' Moses ! ' exclaimed Peter, * but yu fair give me a turn, for if thar's one ailment that clean knocks me gaily-west its fits. I mind seein' a lad in one, in the Royal, in Calgary, an' the way he rolled round an' kicked an' chewed things generally, an' hollered, was a holy terror. Why, it took three o' the boys to hold him an' they couldn't. Fits ! Je-rusalem ! ' ' Ah/ said Bothwell, smiling. ' But that's quite another kind of fit.' ' I'm real pleased to hear that,' said Peter. ' To be sure, I'm told that for the first few minutes I used to be a bit violent, but that quickly passed and I lay quite still and rigid. While rigid, they tell me, I was unconscious.' 'An' what's best to do when y'u're past the buckin' stage ? ' ' They used to unbutton my collar and sprinkle a little cold water on my face. But they would always unbutton my collar first of all. They would even turn it back as far H ! 230 A Western Delilah as possible, so that nothing could interfere with my breathing,' 'Does it leave y'u sick?' ' Not sick—no, not exactly sick, but weak. I really can't tell you how weak it makes me. I remember they used always to lay me on my back on a bed, and leave me there. In half an hour or so I would be well again, excepting for the weakness, which would stay by me for most of the day. I do hope another attack won't come on, though I must confess I rather dreaded one. 1 felt just as I used to ; the same symptoms exactly.' ' Ain't thar nothin' them doctors can do for y'u ? ' ' I am afraid not.' Bothwell smiled in melancholy fashion, shaking his head ; then added, ' With me it is hereditary, you know.' ' It's what ? ' asked Peter Brown. ' It's hereditary. My father was subject to them, you know, and my grandfather before him.' ' Kind o' a family failin', lid call it.' A Western Delilah 231 ' Exactly,' said Bothwell, laughing. ' Do y'u think y'u're liable to be headin' for a fit now ? ' asked Peter, somewhat anxiously. ' The chances are that I shall never have another, but of course there is always the remote chance that I may, so I thought I would just tell you, then you will know what to do. Always best to be on the safe side.' ' Y'u're dead right, but lid like to tell y'u right now, that I ain't got no particlar leanin' to fits.' Bothwell smiled. ' You needn't feel alarmed. I'm not likely to get one, and if I do, just wait till the paroxysm passes and then do as I said/ Peter then withdrew. An hour or so later he opened the shutter once more and asked Bothwell how he was feeling. His mind was relieved on being informed by that worthy that he felt ' as fit as a fiddle and hungry as a hawk.' ' Will I get y'u a little snack now, or will y'u wait till supper-time ? ' J 232 A Western Delilah ' Oh, don't bother, Peter ; I'll wait,' responded Bothwell. 'It ain't a mite o' trouble; thar's bacon ready sliced an' the spuds on'y need warmin'. The water's b'ilin', too. It won't take more'n a jiffy.' ' No, no, Peter, thank you, I'll wait.' ' Suit y'urself,' said Peter. ' It ain't no trouble.' He withdrew his head as he finished speaking and closed the shutter. No sooner was it closed than Bothwell rose to his feet and took up his position at the window. The window was so situated as to command a view of the Recorder's office and the last hundred yards or so of trail, before dropping to the river bottom, at the Wild Horse ford. At the window Bothwell could get a glimpse of the outside world and watch the occasional passer-by. He spent much of his time at that window. The blue sky, the woods and mountains had never possessed the same indescribable charm for him as they did then. A Western Delilah 233 He longed to feel a horse under him again in the easy lope or swinging gallop ; to hear the merry jingle of the bit and spur ; to feel once more the free air of heaven blowing freshly on his cheek. It was while looking out from that barred window, on all that he had lost, that he felt most bitter against the woman who had betrayed him. Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday passed since the conversation with Peter Brown above recorded, and Bothwell had not again referred to the subject of his fits. On that day when Sherrington left Herrick's ranch to ride to Fort Steele for his pay, just as he was crossing the Wild Horse ford, Bothwell took up his position at the window and looked out upon the world. He had not been there many minutes when Sherrington and Jones appeared. At the sight of the former a murderous light shone in Bothwell's eyes, his brow darkened. Sherrington rode placidly on, dismounted in front of the J 234 A Western Delilah Recorder's office, tethered his pony to the tie-rail and entered. Bothwell remained at the window, waiting for him to reappear. In a little while he did so. Sherrington had mounted his pony and was starting in the direction of the store when the Recorder came to the door and called to him. ' Well,' said Sherrington, pulling up, 'what is it ? ' ' I want some one I can depend upon to ride to Paget's, on Joseph's prairie, with a letter. Like the job ? There's five bucks in it, son.' ' I like the money.' Sherrington grinned. 'But I must get back to Herrick's without fail this evening. I've a job there, you know.' ' 'Bout what time do you want to get back ? ' ' Oh, any old time before they turn in, ten or eleven.' ' That's dead easy. You can ride my horse to Paget's. Wouldn't think of asking you to A Western Delilah 235 ride that prize package pony of yours. It would kill him,' The Recorder grinned, ' It's a go. Got the letter ready ? ' ' Not yet ; but you will be having your grub here, I suppose ? ' Sherrington nodded. ' Well, the letter will be ready when you are.' ' Right-o.' Sherrington rode on, Jones trotting at the pony's heels. At the beginning of the conversation Bothwell had pulled the window- a little open. Sherrington was as close to him as he was to the Recorder and he had not missed a word. It was the first intimation that Bothwell had had that Sherrington was again at Herrick's place. At the mere thought of it he ground his teeth. He closed the window and paced the room. His brows knit in a fierce scowl. ! Barbara, you fiend,' he muttered, ' perhaps I may yet show you why I never mentioned the part you played in my arrest.' He then walked over to the little shutter tm 236 A Western Delilah and rapped on it. A moment later Peter opened it. ' Well,' remarked that worthy, ' what's up? ' ' Want my grub,' said Bothwell. ' Hungry as the devil.' ' Be ready in a shake,' Peter responded, closing the shutter. When Bothwell had finished his midday meal he once again took up his position at the window. Before he had been there many minutes Sherrington passed, but this time on foot, and entered the Recorder's office. A little later on they both came out and took their way to the stables. Bothwell looked at his watch. It was just a little after two. 'If he rides quickly he can make it and get back here by eight,' thought Bothwell. He thought, too, ' It will be an hour before he pulls out from here, then two hours to Herrick's ; that will be eleven. Yes, it will be eleven before he gets there.' About the middle of the afternoon Peter A Western Delilah 237 went out. He did not return till nearly supper-time. When he did so he at once went to the shutter and peered through. It was getting dark in the room, but he could dimly make out Bothwell's figure on the bed. ' Y'aintnever ailin' ag'in? ' inquired Peter, anxiously. ' I am, Peter, I am ashamed to say, but I'm hungry just the same. I expect it's only the confinement. Don't you worry, Peter ; it will pass off, no doubt.' Peter was blasphemously sympathetic and withdrew. A little after six he looked in again. ' Well, partner, how goes it ? ' ' Much the same, Peter. 1 am not at all well, but I'm hungry, and I dare say that's a good sign.' ' Y'ur dead right,' responded Peter, slightly relieved, adding with some cheerfulness, ' A corpse ain't never dead when it's hungry.' A little later on Bothwell's supper was ready ; a meal to which he did ample justice. 238 A Western Delilah When he had finished it and smoked a pipe, he looked at his watch to find that it was nearly seven o'clock. Knocking the ashes out of his pipe he put it in his pocket, and rising to his feet he stretched his arms out to their fullest extent, inhaled a deep breath, and laughed softly. ' I wonder,' he muttered to himself, ' if that ass, Peter, will remember what to do. ' That ass, by the way, was washing the dishes. While so occupied he was suddenly startled by hearing a curious muffled scream, followed by the sound of a heavy fall. ' Jumpin' maniacs ! ' exclaimed Peter, dropping a plate he was in the act of wiping, ' it's a fit, surer'n Hell ! ' He flew to the sliding shutter, opened it and looked through. Undoubtedly Bothwell was in a fit, and it struck Peter that it was a very bad fit. He was twisting, turning and kicking to the accompaniment of loud mutterings and moaning, varied by an occasional snort, as Peter afterwards described it. A Western Delilah 239 He stared aghast ! In a few moments the struggles became less violent, and by the end of a minute—it was more like ten to Peter—Bothwell was lying on his back, his right arm across his chest, breathing stertorously. Peter was greatly shocked at what he saw, but he remembered the sick man's instructions. First of all he must unbutton anything about his throat that might impede his breathing. Unlocking the door of his cell he approached the sufferer and stooped over him. He lifted the hand which lay across his chest, let go of it and it fell back again, just as a dead man's might have fallen. It struck Peter as inexpressibly pathetic. He voiced his sympathy by that strange chirping sound people, like birds and squirrels, invariably make when shocked or grieved. Next squatting on his heels beside Bothwell he proceeded to unbutton his collar. With one hand it was not easily managed. He squatted lower and used both. While thus employed it was impossible for 240 A Western Delilah Peter to perceive that both his patient's hands were silently and steadily creeping forward until their fingers lightly touched each boot. The stertorous breathing ceased—grew normal. Peter's dull brain questioned, ' Why ? ' perhaps subconsciously. To that inert substance, however, doubtless 'twas not significant enough. At any rate, it did not breed suspicion. In all likelihood he thought, that's if he had the time to think, that it was just some symptom peculiar to a person in a fit. When Suddenly a grip like steel closed round each ankle ! Why, Peter hadn't even time to shout, or kick, or damn his something eyes, or blast his soul to everlasting Hell, when with a sudden, frantic wrench and jerk he was thrown prone, and Bothwell was upon him like a panther, a strangling grip upon his throat, death's pressure on his windpipe ! Peter, though a strong man and a plucky one, was no match for such an adversary, least of all, at such a time, for Bothwell was fighting just then for everything that he m. A Western Delilah 241 prized, for which he would willingly jeopardize his life. His honour was gone, of course, and so there was one thing the less to handicap him. Or perhaps it would be more exact to say that he was fighting for a single object, and so could concentrate every endeavour, both of faculty and muscle, in the attainment. It was an object that he valued far more than that gold for which he had risked his soul and lost his liberty. Ever since his arrest he had looked upon it as a debt he owed. Even thieves and murderers are punctilious about some debts. Bothwell was fighting now to regain his liberty, so that he might pay that debt. With the advantage of that terrible grip, the struggle, though a furious one, was of short duration. Peter's efforts grew feebler, and at length merely convulsive. His eyes became fixed in a ghastly stare ; his face assumed a leaden, purplish hue ; his tongue slightly protruded from his mouth. Both- well had no desire to murder his adversary, so he slackened his grip. Peter Brown 16 242 A Western Delilah was now as still as though he were dead. Bothwell rose to his feet, stepped into the outer room, and taking a pair of handcuffs from a nail returned with them and secured Peter's hands behind his back. He then bound his feet together at the ankles. Last of all, with the aid of a cork and a silk handkerchief, he gagged him, and lifting him in his aims laid him on the bed. Bothwell then walked out of the cell and locked his quondam jailer in. On a table in the outer room lay Peter's heavy Colt revolver and cartridge belt. Buckling it round his waist, he also took possession of a warm pea-jacket and broad-brimmed Stetson hat. The former was a little short in the sleeves, the latter fitted him as though it were his own. For a moment he stood looking about him, as though wondering if there was anything else in the room that he might need. His own coat he noticed hanging on a nail. He went to it, and in a pocket found his gloves. He also found a jack-knife, pipe, matches and tobacco in another. He A Western Delilah 243 felt now that he was fortified to stand much that might happen. The thought occurred to him just then that his future looked as though it might fairly bristle with adventure. He fancied, too, it might be short, and hoped it would be sweet. He laughed then, but his laughter showed more recklessness than mirth and ended in the middle, as it were. A few moments later and he stood outside the jail, beneath the wide heavens and stars, a free man ! Turning to the right, after leaving the jail, he followed the road towards the hotel. Before he had gone many paces he met Peavine Johnston. Peavine Johnston was 'loaded for beer,' or in the language of an effete East, 'he was gloriously and superlatively drunk ! ' ' Judas Iscariot ! ' exclaimed Peavine, who plainly saw three escaping prisoners, not that he for one single moment realized that such a multiplicity of prisoners were escaping, or cared a button whether they were or not, 244 A Western Delilah so that when he added to his exclamation, ' Is that you ? ' it really meant nothing at all. ' No,' responded Bothwell, coolly. ' It's the other chap.' Peavine, apparently satisfied, pursued his devious way. Bothwell reached the hotel without meeting any one else. In front of it several ponies were tethered to the tie-rail. Choosing a strongly put up buckskin pony from among them, he untied the halter-shank, tightened the girths and deliberately mounted. Gathering up the reins, he touched him with his heels, at the same time remarking to himself with a curious laugh—curious because it sounded so utterly devoid of mirth : ' Now, my beautiful Barbara, I am going to pay that debt ! ' A little later on Bothwell, on the borrowed buckskin, was crossing the Wild Horse ford in the direction of Herrick's ranch ! A Western Delilah Chapter XVII SHERRINGTON made a little better time to Paget's and return than Bothwell had thought he would. He was an excellent horseman and light, while the Recorder's horse was a well-bred one, grain fed, and in tip-top condition. When Sherrington returned and after he had unsaddled and tied the horse in a stall, he looked at his watch, to find that it was just twenty minutes to eight o'clock. In an adjoining stall his pony, Little Dick, stolidly munched hay. Sherrington spoke to him and received a whispered whinny in response. From a barrel Sherrington dipped out some water and offered it to the pony. Dick only mouthed it, however. Sherrington patted him and was about to leave the 245 «4 246 A Western Delilah stable when Smiley Jay appeared, accompanied by the Kid. The three men greeted one another, and the former began his perpetual grouch : ' My luck y'u see, my luck, every goll darned time. I tell y'u, Kid, I can't leave this here shinin' stable for five minutes but folks jest crowd in and have to put up thar own cayuses. What is the select, nickel-plated, god-fearin' public liable to dedooce under them circumstances ? I tell y'u, Kid, it vexes me ter'ble.' 'Like as not they're thankful y'ur gone, Smiley, while likely thinkin' y'ur drunk or courtin' But say, Jack, where'd y'u corral the meat-hound ? ' The Kid patted him. Jones smiled and wagged, and sat down. ' I don't know as I ever seen a dog simlar to that one,' remarked Smiley. ' He's a Russian terrier,' said Jack, who thought he might as well name the species. ' For a man o' your time o' life,' said the Kid, again addressing Smiley, 'it seems to me that y'ur strong holt now should be prayer. It wouldn't be a bad notion neither, if y'u was to put in, say, ten minutes every day learnin' texts ; thar ain't nothin' like texts to hearten a party up ; but this here courtin' o' yours do strike me as carryin' the love business a little too far. The first thing you knows, an' I'm speakin' to y'u friendly now, y'u 11 have that innocent young thing, Sorrel-Top, a-suing y'u for breach o' promise. I tell y'u, Smiley, 'taint right to trifle with no young lady's sacred feelin's that way.' ' Don't y'u pay no 'tention to him at all, Jack; the Kid's jest taikin' out o' pure love an' admiration o' the sound o' his own voice. Besides that, y'u must always bear in mind the pore fellow's loco'd. Why, thar ain't neither man, woman, maid nor child in this here town don't know that, an' knowin' it thar one and all willin' to make all doo allowances.' Sherrington smiled. ' Say, Jack, do y'u happen to have the 248 A Western Delilah makin's of a cigarette anyways handy ? ' inquired the Kid. Sherrington promptly handed him tobacco and papers. ' Will y'u be stoppin' in town to-night ? ' asked Smiley. Sherrington replied in the negative, telling him that he would try for some supper at the hotel and then ' hit the trail for Herrick's.' When Sherrington arrived at the hotel and went into the dining-room, he found a tired waitress sitting at the end of one of the tables, with a mirror propped against a jug before her, a swinging lamp above her head, curling her hair. Sherrington looked at her with his brightest smile and said : ' I wonder if you could get me anything to eat ? Anything at all will do. I've had a long ride, you know, and I'm very hungry.' ' Land sakes ! ' exclaimed the girl, after removing some hair-pins from between her teeth, ' this ain't no all-night joint.' ' I know,' said Sherrington. ! I'm awfully A Western Delilah 249 sorry. I know I'm a beastly nuisance. Really I'm ashamed of myself.' He smiled again. The girl thought she had never seen a better- looking young man in her life. His smile, too, was the acme of good-fellowship, and it disarmed her. She smiled in response, rose to her feet and disappeared into the kitchen. In a few minutes she returned with a supper which Sherrington assured her, enthusiastically, was ' Just ripping.' She laughed at his enthusiasm. And even though she was tired she waited on him without repining, because of his good looks and those blue, blue eyes of his, and his soft voice and his smile. And after the meal he thanked her as though she were a duchess, and left a great hideous silver dollar beside his plate for her because Oh, well, just because he was a ne'er-do-weel, perhaps, and could not afford it, and overflowed then, as always, with the milk of human kindness. And it is, and has been, ever such as he who are the salt of the earth ! j 250 A Western Delilah Sherrington had finished his meal and was making a cigarette when suddenly there came a hubbub of voices in the adjoining room, which was the bar-room, and the riot of hurrying feet. The girl hurried to the door, opened it a few inches, and peered through. ' What's up ? ' inquired Sherrington lazily. But interest dulled her ears ; she did not reply. Through the partially open door Sherrington could occasionally catch a word—a portion of a sentence. For a moment there was a lull in the din of voices, and only the sound of one. Apparently the others listened. Sherrington heard the name ' Bothwell ' pronounced distinctly; more followed that he did not catch. The girl opened the door a little wider. Before she could give utterance to any ready and descriptive slang, Jones pressed through, saw Sherrington, when his whole body and the worship of fond eyes proclaimed contentment. A Western Delilah 251 ' Land sakes, a dog ! ' exclaimed the girl ; ' we can't have them beasts here.' ' He's mine,' said Sherrington, ' and I'm going at once ; but what's the racket, anyway ? What's struck the town to-night ? ' As he spoke he put down a plate, well filled with scraps. The girl said, ' Wait,' and disappeared again into the kitchen, to reappear a moment later with more scraps for Jones. ' It's awfully good of you,' said Sherrington. ! I love most any kind of dog,' said she. ' But what's the excitement ? ' Sherrington had to inquire a second time. ' Gracious, I'll never tell y'u ! ' She shrugged, then said, ' It's jest them men, you know, talkin' 'bout that Bothwell man, somethin' more he's b'en up to I reckon, but there's no ... ' The door opened a second time and Dave Smith came in. Dave carried the large walking-stick, with a crooked handle, affected by the aged and infirm, and walked with an excessive limp. 252 A Western Delilah Sherrington stared. ' How do do,' said Dave, in his gravely humorous voice. ' Billy,' with an over shoulder jerk of his head in the direction of the bar, ' told me y'u was in here havin' one o' them fashionable late dinners so poplar 'mong millionaires an' id jits ; an' as I wanted a little private conversation with y'u I took the liberty of intrudin' on y'ur privacy. Nice intelligent lookin' pup, I see. Friendly, too,'—as Jones looked up at him from his dinner and wagged his tail. ' Sorry to see you crippled, Dave. What's wrong ? ' asked Sherrington. ' Ole Tamarac come down with me. Hosses like men, y'u know, Jack, fall occassional.' Dave's eyes smiled. He then addressed the waitress : ' How do do, Miss Guinivere ; y'u must ex-cuse me, but I didn't notice thar was ladies present.' He politely removed his hat, adding, ' Nice seasonable weather, ain't it ? ' ' How do do, Mr. Smith,' responded the young lady. ' I'll jest hustle out these here A Western Delilah 253 dishes an' leave you g'nl'men to y'ur own company.' Dave produced three letters which he handed to Sherrington, saying : ' I got them a couple o' days ago, intendin' to forward them to y'ur trail cut tin' outfit, first opportoonity, but didn't have no chance. Then I seen Smiley at the stable, an' y'ur little hawse, very pleasant lookin' little pony, speedy, too, I reckon from the make o' him, an' was informed you was here.' While the dishes were being removed Sherrington glanced through his letters. Two of them, in large square envelopes, addressed in the same lady's handwriting, were from Ms sister in England. The earlier one of the two, judging by the postmarks, he opened first. It informed him, among other things, that, ' Poor dear Aunt Kate is laid up with a very severe cold, which makes us all very anxious.' Aunt Kate, by the way, was the relative Sherrington had once mentioned to Barbara. The other letter from his sister was written about ten days or a fortnight 254 A Western Delilah i later. It was very short, little more than a note, informing him that the cold had turned into pneumonia, of which his Aunt Kate had died. The third letter, from the family lawyer, in the usual unintelligible legal jargon, also informed him of the illness and death of his aunt. It further told him that she had left him the sum of twenty thousand pounds, and would he kindly etc., etc., etc. There was also enclosed a copy of the will. Sherrington drew a long breath and looked at Dave. ' Good noos, Jack, I hope.' ' Good and bad, Dave.' ' Consid'ble like life, Jack, some good an' some bad, most generally always.' Just as Sherrington finished his letters Miss Guinivere disappeared into the kitchen with the last of the dishes, and Dave's easy drawling manner suddenly changed; his eyes, too, lost their habitual smile. He leaned forward and placed a hand on the shoulder of the younger man» A Western Delilah 255 ' Jack,' he said solemnly, ' Bothwell's broke jail.' ' What ! ' ' Bothwell's loose, I'm teUin' y'u.' ' Well, they've got to get him again, I suppose ; but how in thunder did he manage to get out ? ' Sherrington flicked the ash leisurely from his cigarette. He did not realize yet how the prisoner's escape could affect him particularly. ' That ain't the question, Jack. The question is, how long a start has Bothwell got ? How long will he have at Herrick's to do his devil's work ? How long . . .' ' At Herrick's ! What do you mean, Dave ? ' \ I mean Bothwell's swiped Peavine's buckskin an' that's whar he'll ride, an' then Gawd help Herrick's gal ! ' ' What is the danger to Miss Herrick ? What has she done ? ' Sherrington's voice was strangely quiet; as he spoke, he rose to his feet. So, too, did Dave. A door from the dining-room led outside. L 256 A Western Delilah As the former put the question they passed through it. It was a night of stars, with no moon, but cloudless. ' Miss Herrick give the information,' Dave replied, then added, ' Bothwell's ripe for bloody murder this night—or worse. Have you y'ur gun with y'u ? ' Sherrington shook his head. ' I never carry one in this blooming country.' ' An' you a shot, Gawd ! ' They were half-way to the stables now— Dave limping frantically ! ' Give me yours, Dave.' ' It ain't a cannon, Jack, but it's a good little gun.' He pressed a 38-calibre polt into Sherrington's hand. ' None better/ responded Sherrington as he slipped it into an inside emergency pocket high in the left breast of his coat. Sherrington had not knocked about in Texas for seventeen years for nothing. ' Is Peavine's horse a good one, Dave ? ' m A Western Delilah 257 ' Slower'n molasses in January, an' cinch galled, a fright ! ' They hurried on. ' While y'ur saddlin' up, Jack, I'll see if I can't get one o' the boys to go with y'u. Ild go meself, but I couldn't set a hawse with this fool leg o' mine.' Sherrington gave a queer laugh. ' I don't think I want anybody with me, Dave.' ' Bothwell's a bad 'un, Jack, an' he won't be took alive this night.' Sherrington merely laughed a second time. Dave spoke again : \ Y'u're pretty near certain to meet Henry Briette ridin' from Sand Crick. He's comin' in, sure, to-night. Get him. Y'u couldn't have no better man,' urged his friend. 1 Oh, that'll be all right ; don't you worry.' ' Some folks' dogs,' remarked the Kid, looking at Jones, ' is overfed an' don't get sufficient runnin' round ; I don' know as y'uld suspicion it of that one.' 17 «4 258 A Western Delilah ' Some folks,' remarked Smiley Jay, snappishly, ' is like them dogs.' The Kid looked thoughtful. A moment later Sherrington swung into the saddle and with a cheery, ' So long, boys,' rode away at the easy gallop which must stay and never falter along those thirteen miles of trail to Herrick's ranch—and Barbara ! A Western Delilah Chapter XVIII AT their evening meal that day Herrick had told his daughter that he was going up Bull River to a salt-lick he had found the previous week, to see if he could get a little fresh meat. ' I am getting a bit fed up on beef and bacon, and I expect you are too, eh, Barbara ? ' he remarked with a smile. To which she had assented. ' When will you be back, daddy ? ' she called to him as he rode away, his rifle stuck beneath his leg, Indian fashion. ' Search me.' He laughed and waved to her. Which meant, of course, that in all likelihood he would not return till the following day. He was invariably successful, too, in those 259 tm? 26o A Western Delilah hunting expeditions, and seldom returned empty handed. He delighted in spending the night alone, wrapped in a blanket, moccasined like a Siwash, his back to a log, a blazing, crackling fire before him, drinking tea and smoking pipe after pipe of tobacco. He revelled in it. It was life to him, that courting of a primitive nature he knew and understood so well. Nature never showed her savagery to him. To him she was ever soft and alluring. He was her lover ! He felt now, too, that he could leave Barbara at the ranch without compunction, now that Sherrington was there to see to things. Nor was there any Mrs. Grundy in his comfortable scheme of existence to perplex him with thoughts of the proprieties. His daughter he understood—or fancied he did ; while Sherrington Well, Sherrington was a gentleman. At least, he understood that. Thus reasoning, knew not worry—where they were concerned. About noon Curly Pete dropped in at the A Western Delilah 261 ranch. Curly was hunting the range for a lost pony which he intended breaking, and which he assured Barbara, ' Was the makin's of a jim-dandy cow-pony.' She insisted upon him putting his horse in the stable for a feed, telling him that he would find oats in a bag, in the saddle room. She told him, too, of a bushrat that had kept her daddy awake for two nights, which, so far, they were unable to catch. Curly very naturally then told her what he knew about those pests, also what he thought of them. Barbara, of course, insisted upon his staying for luncheon, and gave him hot buttered toast and poached eggs. Curly was extremely partial to both. Afterwards he helped her to wash the dishes, and carried in a supply of water ; and they enjoyed themselves hugely. Early in the afternoon Curly rode away and Barbara was left to her own devices. She expected Sherrington back that afternoon, Indeed, she was a little surprised -# 2Ô2 A Western Delilah that he had not already returned. She only hoped he would be back in time for supper. Taking some knitting, she made herself very comfortable before the open fire, which invariably burned in the sitting- room, in a big arm-chair designed and built by her daddy. Barbara knitted quickly and well, and she enjoyed the occupation. She found it soothing, much as a man finds smoking. Her thoughts attuned themselves to the clicking of her needles. To the cheering, busy, gentle sound they flowed easily. Her thoughts were very pleasant that afternoon. It was natural that she should think of Sherrington, the man she loved, and of the years, ultimately, that they should spend together. Apart from the beauty of such a life, and beyond it, nothing else could exist—she felt. Perhaps Barbara was somewhat of a pagan, but she did not realize it. Often, too, Barbara would think with a sigh, ' If Jack could only make a little money, discover a mine, or something. He could A Western Delilah 263 then take up that section of land adjoining daddy's, and build a little house. It would be too lovely ! ' She would sigh again. It never occurred to her to blame her lover for his inability to make money. Her daddy had very successfully instilled into her mind that that talent was an inherited trait, how, then, could she expect it of Jack. His people had been soldiers and parsons and sailors for generations. While other people's people had been making money his had been fighting England's battles, dying for England ; of course he was poor and would always remain so. The thought would annoy her, while at the same time she gloried in the thought. The afternoon dragged on. A dozen times she went to the door and looked out, hoping to see her lover coming on his little roan horse, with Jones following. She was sorry now that she had not kept Jones, though doubtful of her ability to do so. Supper-time came at last. But still Jack did not come. 264 A Western Delilah They had, of course, long since fallen into the country's fashion of early meals, and had their supper at six o'clock. She waited till nearly se^en, then ate hers, a mere makeshift of a meal, consisting of a cup of tea, with jam and bread and butter. Afterwards she washed the few dishes and seated herself again before the fire, with a lamp on the table at her elbow and a novel by Oppenheim. One of those cheap alarum-clocks occupied a shelf, called by courtesy a mantelpiece, over the fireplace. When Barbara sat down with her book she glanced at the clock. It lacked but a few minutes of eight. But even Oppenheim could not wholly distract her thoughts that evening. She felt unaccountably restless and ill at ease. Again and again she glanced at the clock, while always she listened for her lover's step. The hours lagged woefully. She had never known them pass so slowly. Nine o'clock came at last, then half-past, still Sherrington did not come. She determined to sit up till he did come ; at least, A Western Delilah 265 she would wait up for him till midnight. She allowed her book to fall in her lap, and sat staring into the fire. She glanced again at the clock. Was he not coming at all that night ? Did he not know ? A step sounded at the door ! The latch was raised and the door opened ! A smile lovely as an angel's glorified Barbara's face. She turned to welcome her lover ! Then all the love-light fled from her eyes, the glory from her face, and in their place a look of horror leaped, a hunted, woeful expression pitiful to witness. She shivered in the genial warmth of that crackling fire, as a man might shiver, houseless, on an Arctic night. Slowly she rose to her feet, staring wildly at the man. Her Nemesis had overtaken her at last, just as her life seemed brightest, when love had come into it ; when she was learning to know the supreme happiness of living. But the cruelty of it did not grip her just then, only the horror. 266 A Western Delilah Bothwell stood before her, the man she had betrayed ! She was alone in that little house, alone with the man whom her action had changed into an incarnate fiend, so far as his feelings for her were concerned. She realized that there was no use in her screaming ; there was no one for miles around to hear her scream. The man before her was a big, strong man. In his iron hands she would be but as a child. Behind him, there yawned a prison ! Before him, so much of life and liberty as he could grasp with those strong hands and hold : a world to hide in ! What could one crime more or less matter ? His life henceforth, that span of it which he might wrench from just and righteous rule, would, in all probability, reek with crime. In those first dreadful moments when she faced him there came to her mind the last words he had said to her, on the morning of his arrest, in this same room : ' May God have mercy on you, if we ever meet again ! ' A Western Delilah 267 The time had come ! They had met again ! ' Would God have mercy ? ' she wondered dumbly, doubting, and stared with anguished eyes, while clutching at the bosom of her dress. Upon Bothwell's face there was a look of triumph, a sneering, evil smile upon his lips ; while in his eyes there lurked a dreadful purpose, For a few moments they faced one another in silence. Barbara's lips twitched pitiably. Horror, of she knew not what, dried them like a fever. She moistened them with her tongue. The pallor of her face, the haggard misery in her eyes, proclaimed more plainly than words the hopelessness she conceived of her predicament. At length Bothwell spoke : ' Barbara,' he said, in a voice that stabbed her, it was so full of devastating hate, ' my beautiful Barbara, I have come to pay that debt.' As he spoke he thrust his hands into the pockets of his coat and looked at her. She made no reply. She only looked at 268 A Western Delilah him, as though she could not wrench her eyes from his ; while every moment now she would moisten her lips. With a sudden movement, indescribably feminine, in its hint of a support it lacked, inexpressibly pathetic, she brushed her hair back from her forehead. A strand fell about her cheek and added a little touch of dishevelment to her, which seemed but to accentuate her look of anguish. A harsh laugh broke from Bothwell's lips. ' You did not expect to see me here again, eh, Barbara ? ' She did not reply. ' Come, come, I shall not hurt you yet— not yet, my pretty one. But when I do, sweet Barbara ! you will wish you never had been born ; you will wonder why men say that God is merciful. But you do not speak, Barbara ? A little while ago you welcomed me. A little while ago you sang to me. Did you hope to sing to Sherrington this evening, Barbara ? A little while ago I kissed those lying, beautiful lips.' A Western Delilah 269 She shuddered ! ' A little while ago I spent my evenings in a jail. While I was there, doubtless, you spent your evenings with your lover. Of course Sherrington is your lover. I thought I was in that enviable position once. You fooled me then, didn't you, Barbara ? ' Still she looked at him in silence. ' Do you know what I used to do in that damned, awful jail you sent me to ? I shall tell you. I used to stand and look out of the window and think about Whom do you suppose ? ' Again she put her hand to her forehead and pushed back her hair. ' Why, of you, Barbara, to be sure, and of how I could pay my debt to you. I used to think how willingly and gladly I would sacrifice my life to pay that debt. Funny, isn't it, to think that to-night I shall pay it? ' What, still you do not answer me ? A little while ago you had so much to say, you were so ready with your answers. But that 270 A Western Delilah was only to deceive me, to get me in your power, I suppose. Now, it strikes me that you are in mine. ' It was only a little while ago, too, that you betrayed me. Have you forgotten, that morning ? But no, I don't think you have. 1 do not think you will ever forget that morning, pretty Barbara, nor this evening, never, never. At least, not till the weight of my indebtedness crushes your soul. But I am inclined to think that there will be but little for you to remember, then. ' But talking of remembering,' he went on, ' it would astonish you the amount of poetry I can remember, for instance. Do you remember the sonnet I read to you beginning : "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" I often used to recite that sonnet to myself while thinking of you, and think that, in all likelihood, it was written for just such another woman. Just such another woman. Good God ! Why, Barbara, I did not think even myself good enough for you A Western Delilah 271 —then. What a fool you made of me ! But I am a fool no longer, at least where you are concerned, you beautiful, miserable creature ! ' He paused a moment to look at her, then continued : ' Do you know why I only pleaded.guilty at the trial, why I did not mention your name, why I did not tell all Steele of your treachery ? I shall tell you. Because I was afraid that you might leave the Kootenay ; that a general knowledge of it might interfere with my revenge. It was thoughtful of me, was it not ? ' Oh, the envenomed irony of his voice ! The scorn, the insult and the hatred in it ! It stung her like a whip lash. She found her voice at last, words came to her : ' Kill me/ she exclaimed, ' for God's sake, kill me and have done ! ' ' No,' he replied, ' for my sake, not yet.' He laughed a little, softly. ' Have you no pity ? Have you lost all sense of decency and manhood ? ' Her voice grew steadier, braver with the words. She thought, ' If only Jack would come.' j 272 A Western Delilah ' No,' he answered, ' I have none. No pity for you, Barbara. If you suffer, I am glad of it. I, too, suffered. There was a time, perhaps Ah, yes, but that won't mend matters. To all of us, I have no doubt, there has been a time ; but it passes, just as ours has passed : yours and mine, Barbara —and Sherrington's. Then follows bitterness and tears, and prayers. Have you any prayers to say ? If you have say them now, pretty one. Pray for the man you love ; he is coming to you to-night.' At the mention of her lover a look of agonized daring came into her eyes. With shaking hands she seemed to strain at the lace about her throat as though its tiny weight oppressed her. ' If you must be revenged,' she exclaimed, ' revenge yourself on me. Leave him alone. He never wronged you ; never by word nor action. Had he known of my conduct, he would have been the first to condemn it. If it is my unhappiness you seek, there need be no violence. TeU him of my treach- 9 A Western Delilah 273 ery. I swear before God I shall not contradict you.' Her voice, weak at first, strengthened as she proceeded, till it rang clear and full. ' He is honest, he will condemn me ; noble—he will despise me. Do this and my life will be a torment. Must his dear life be risked for my vile sin ? Richard Bothwell, I did not . . .' ' Silence ! ' His eyes were blazing now ; his face grey white, like ashes. ' I will not be silent.' She stamped a foot. Courage and reckless daring shone in her eyes. ' Silent ? Oh, no, I shall not be silent. You don't know me, Richard Bothwell. You will kill me to-night, you great strong man ! Oh, yes, I know you will. There is death in your eyes. But I do not fear death now. It is brave of you, is it not, to come in here, armed, and threaten a woman ? Oh, it is very brave. It is the kind of bravery I should expect from such as you.' She paused. ' Have you anything more to say ? ' He spoke quietly, relentlessly. His very calm- 274 A Western Delilah ness contrasting sharply with her reckless excitement. ' Oh, yes,' she said, ' I have. I would like to tell you what a coward you are. A pretty name, is it not. Even such as you, I think, can appreciate such a name. You will think of it to-morrow, after you have done your devil's work, and the next day, and the next, and the next. I would like to tell you how I loathe you, and hate you, and despise you, but I think you know it.' The look in her eyes told it more plainly than any words. Then she struck at him again : ' If Jack Sherrington were here,' she said, ' you would not treat me so.' ' Then let us go to Jack Sherrington/ he replied. The scarlet shawl she had worn in the morning while watching Sherrington ride away hung on a nail. Bothwell tossed it to her. ' Wrap yourself up well, the night is cold/ he said, ; ' you must not be cold when you embrace your lover.' A Western Delilah 275 For a moment, hesitating, she looked at him, then wrapped it about her with nervous haste. ' Yes,' she replied, ' let us go.' She walked to the door, opened it and passed out, and Bothwell followed her. In front of the house his horse waited patiently with drooping head and reins upon the ground. A trail from the door led to a junction with the wagon road to Fort Steele. ' We shall take that trail,' said Bothwell, and mounting his horse he followed her. The road from Herrick's place joined the road or trail, as it was more generally called, from Bull River ford to Fort Steele. At the intersection of the two, in the angle formed by them, stood a clump of spruce. From the house to the spruce was but a short distance. Along that portion of the trail it had been muddy at the time of the general freeze up, so that Barbara, with the scarlet shawl about her head and shoulders, frequently stumbled as she hurried over its rough, 276 A Western Delilah frozen surface. She was terribly frightened, too, while her breath came quickly, brokenly, as though she was sobbing. The thought that she was going to her lover alone sustained her. She did not reason or wonder why they should go to him like this, she was past such exercise of her faculties ; she only felt that when they met Sherrington she would be safe and everything would be right again, and stumbled blindly on. She was wearing thin shoes and the rough, frozen ground bruised her feet. It struck her that the night was very dark, but that was really not the case, for it was cloudless, and the wide dome of Heaven joyous with stars. It was only a little after ten o'clock when Bothwell and Barbara left the house. The former thought that Sherrington would not arrive for some time yet. But he had not made allowances for his escape being discovered before morning ; even then it might not be, for it was seldom that any one visited the jail. When they reached the junction of the A Western Delilah 277 two trails and Barbara was continuing on at the same stumbling, hurried pace, she was halted by a word from Bothwell. ' Hold on,' he called to her. She turned towards him. He reined in his pony and dismounted. At the horn of his saddle, as was the invariable custom, Peavine had slung his lariat, which Bothwell untied. Next, stepping to Barbara's side, he caught her by the wrist. His hated touch seemed to electrify her ; she flung from him and tugged in desperation, panting. ' What—-- What do you want ? Let go of me, you brute ! ' Suddenly, then, her strength forsook her, her knees shook. She felt that she might faint. ' Oh, oh, let go of me,' she repeated. Her voice was little more than a whisper now. ' You're scared/ said Bothwell, ' you devil's cat ! ' He laughed. ' But I am not going to hurt you. Why should I ? Though on my soul ! if I did right, lid thrash you with my quirt. What ! does my hand hurt your wrist ? Poor little cat ! ' He gripped 278 A Western Delilah ' it tighter, leering at her, his white teeth gleaming. ' What are you going to do ? ' she gasped. ' What am I going to do ? you ask. I'll tell you, pretty Barbara, though I fear I can't do much, you being a woman—a weak woman.' Again he laughed. ' God's Truth ! were there much more such weakness in this world weld need no hell in which' to pay for sinning. Indeed, I think, when all is done, I'll not do half enough. Think what you've done to me ! ' She looked at him. Her face, framed in her shawl and hair, looked white as linen in the night. Her eyes were big and dark, and deep, but even in the gloom he seemed to read the loathing of him in their depths. He loosed her wrist then, and she leaned against one of the spruce, she felt so weak, and listened to him while he told her what he said he intended doing. ' I am going to leave you here, my beautiful Barbara, to wait for your lover. There's forgiveness for you ! There's Christian L A Western Delilah 279 charity ! I wager you would not have thought it of me, for I am a man, you know, who need fear nothing more upon this earth. My fellow men, sweet Barbara, having exalted me above the need of any such fear, or perhaps you may think, have lowered me beneath such need. Whichever 'tis they've entrenched me properly.' While Bothwell talked he was busy with the rope, uncoiling it. Taking the ' hondoo,'1 in his hand, he made a little noose. She, meanwhile, watching, wondered in a dazed fearful way. Holding the noose in his hand he took her by the wrist. A choking sob broke from her lips. ' My God ! ' she said. He passed the noose over her head then downwards till it was encircling her about the crook of her elbow, then tightened it. Thus far she had stood still as though all sense in her was deadened, paralyzed. Only her -1 1 ' Hondoo/ ring at the end of the rope through which passes the rope to form noose. 280 A Western Delilah eyes seemed living, they were watching him. Suddenly she made a quick, convulsive effort. Again he caught her wrist and twisted it in an iron grip. A horrid pain shot up her arm. ' Oh, oh ! ' she cried. ' Damn you,' growled he, ' keep still ! ' The oath was almost like a blow to her ; she trembled and stood motionless. He bound her to a tree standing at the very apex of the clump, with both trails at her feet. ' What—what are you doing ? ' she moaned. 'He cannot pass you now,' he soliloquized aloud, as though he had not heard her question, stepped back a pace, looked at her and continued : ' Even in this light he'll see you, I should think. You may tell him all your trouble then and how I've used you. Then you may kiss one another and hell comfort you—perhaps.' Bothwell then passed his hands about the rope which bound her body, examining the knots to see that everything was secure. Last of all he took a large black A Western Delilah 281 silk handkerchief, almost a scarf, from his pocket. 'Now,' said he, 'I'm going to gag you.' There was nothing that she could do to prevent him and he did so. He fit his pipe then and paced backwards and forwards before her. His pony, resting a leg, waited patiently. For a few moments Bothwell smoked, then he halted, and facing Barbara, with his hands in his pockets, again addressed her : 'Now that everything is in readiness for the reception of your lover, I shall tell you what I really intend doing. I fooled you with that story I told you about leaving you and riding away, just as you fooled me with your pretence of loving me, that's tit for tat, my pretty Barbara. My revenge I can assure you is a very much more complete affair than that. I shall wait here with you for your lover, in the shadow of the trees, sitting on my horse. When he is but a few paces distant I shall hold him up, as I did those Chinamen. Sherrington is never 282 A Western Delilah armed, as you know, probably, so that he will be absolutely at my mercy, and I shall shoot him as I would a dog, before your eyes. That is my revenge, pretty one ; rather complete, is it not ? ' He laughed, then continued : ' To-morrow all Steele will be hunting me. If the fools find me I shall in all likelihood kill a couple more of them, for after this night it will not matter in the least how many I kill.' As he finished speaking, he took his watch from his pocket, struck a match and looked at it, to find that it was just a quarter to eleven. ' Your lover should be along at any time now, my pretty Barbara,' he said. He went up to his pony, picked the reins from the ground, swung into the saddle and moved to the side of the spruce trees along the trail to Bull River ford. Turning his pony round then, he faced in the direction of Steele, and waited. There was no breath of wind ; the night was wonderfully still On the wooded moun- A Western Delilah 283 tain slope, behind Herrick's, an owl made its weird, melancholy note resound. There was a renewal of the silence. Once again it was broken, as from the near distance came the shrill whinny of a mare. A moment later there came another sound ; this time from the direction of Fort Steele. Faint and far away it sounded, now it swelled, as though wafted by a breath, to die away again. It was so faint, indeed, that Bothwell could not be sure that he had heard anything at all, and stillness hummed once more in his ears. He listened. The sound was repeated, there was no mistaking it now. It was the even, rhythmic beat of horse-hoofs travelling at speed. Some moments passed, when—— Dim, ghostly, indistinct, a shadow left the wood, grey white against their ebon blackness, and rapidly approached. J A Western Delilah Chapter XIX VHEN Sherrington left Fort Steele that evening he was in an agony of apprehension. He crossed the Wild Horse ford more quickly than he had ever done before. Once Dick plunged into a hole, almost to his girths. Sherrington barely escaped wet feet, which would have been more than unpleasant, for the night was wintry cold. Up the further slope Little Dick went at a tearing trot. The eagerness of the man had communicated itself to the horse, as it always will to a good one. When they struck the level, Sherrington rose a little in his stirrups and took the pony by the head. There was no need to touch him with the heel, no need of more. With an impatient toss of his head and a snort, Little Dick stretched out in a swinging gallop. 285 286 A Western Delilah If his sire was only a native bred, on his dam's side he could trace his pedigree back to the Godolfin Arabian, for his dam was a clean, straight thoroughbred, and blood always tells ! That night Little Dick did n.ot disgrace even his illustrious dam. If tall and broad shouldered, Sherrington was not a heavy man, and though he rode a stock saddle it was a true Mexican with the large, flat short horn, which he had brought with him from San Antonio, and it was very light. With such bone and muscle, courage and breeding, to carry him, Sherrington was as nothing to the pony. Little Dick could have galloped twice the distance and been none the worse. Before he had gone a mile he had settled to his stride and swung along at the even pace and with the tirelessness of a wolf. They came to Fen wick's old place, at the valley, an awful place for flies in the summer. Sherrington steadied the pony down the slope. His hoofs emitted a hollow sound as he crossed, in a single stride, the little A Western Delilah 287 bridge, or rather culvert, in the bottom. From the house came the barking of a dog, as the pony galloped by. Sherrington spoke encouragingly to Dick as he breasted the further slope. They reached the more level country beyond, with only slight undulations every little way. Here the trail ran continuously through thick woods and it was dark as a tunnel, but Sherrington knew the trail well and that there was no treacherous tree or branch to sweep him from the saddle. He trusted, too, to Little Dick's unerring instinct or sight, or extraordinary cleverness to keep his feet, and let him go. They had made about seven miles now, and Dick's neck—Sherrington felt it with his hand—was wet with sweat. But he seemed to be going stronger now than ever, with a greater reach and spring to his stride, telling the miles so quickly. He would soon be there now, Sherrington told himself. He would soon know whether Bothwell had been up to any blackguard act, or whether Dave was wrong. He began to feel easier in his mind, to think that the 288 A Western Delilah chances were that Dave was wrong. ' Surely,' he thought, ' Bothwell would never be such a fool as to risk his liberty for the sake of satisfying his revenge upon a woman. ' Knowing that he would not, he judged Bothwell by himself. He then thought of what Dave had told him of Henry Briette's coming and looked to meet him every minute. At length he reached a part of the trail where the woods were thinner, the trees not so tall, and he caught a glimpse of the Rockies. He judged from their shape that he had not much farther to go—not more than another mile and a quarter at the outside. He patted the pony's neck, saying : ' Good old Dick ! ' Suddenly he thought of Jones; in his anxiety he had forgotten all about him. He looked back over a shoulder. Yes, sure enough Jones was at the pony's heels. ' He must have had a devil of a run,' Sherrington thought, and called cheerily to him. He then put his hand to the high pocket A Western Delilah 289 in the left breast of his coat and felt the revolver in it. Once again his thoughts reverted to Both- well, and the chance of his having stopped at Herrick's ranch to wreak his vengeance on Barbara. It struck him as highly improbable, a little too melodramatic and absurd. No sane man would do such a thing, with escape open before him, and behind—the penitentiary ! The absurdity of it suddenly struck him as too glaringly evident. He was almost disposed to pull up the pony, but, no, he was almost there ; he might as well go the rest of the way. He began thinking of Barbara then, and wondered if he would find her up. He decided that Herrick would be in bed, while hoping that he would be. Would Barbara laugh when he told her of his gallop ? No, he did not think she would. She would understand his feelings. By the lightness ahead he judged that they were coming to the edge of the prairie. In a minute he would be able to see the light in the house—unless they were all in bed. 19 murmured. 290 A Western Delilah He patted Dick's neck again, and felt his mouth. He was going just as strongly as ever. Another moment and they swept out on the prairie. It almost seemed like daylight after the woods. Yes, he could see a light at the house. ' Thank goodness, somebody is up ! ' he The clump of spruce trees was now a bare two hundred yards ahead of him, black against the surrounding dun colouring of prairie, in the soft harmony of night. The peacefulness of the scene, its atmosphere of repose, suddenly struck him as it had never done before. It may have been the contrast, perhaps, to the turmoil and worry of his mind. The light in the window of the little house, indeed, seemed to breathe only of rest and simple comfort. Only to think of man's anger, man's hatred and revenge, was sacrilege in such a lovely setting. Again Dave Smith's words recurred to Sherrington. Now the latter could smile at them. Dave's kindness L_ A Western Delilah 291 of heart had prompted him, causing him to exaggerate the danger. Undoubtedly Dave was wrong. Sherrington felt now a knowledge that Bothwell could not be there. ' Bothwell was no fool,' he told himself, and laughed. Dick was galloping still ! They had covered half the distance now between the woods and the clump of spruce trees. Suddenly Sherrington descried a dark figure on a horse to the right of the spruce trees, on the trail to Bull River ford. ' Henry Briette, by Jove ! ' he thought. Thrusting his hand into a pocket he found, among some loose matches, a broken cigarette. He felt that he needed one and put it between his lips. ' Hullo, me buck-o ! ' he called to the horseman and waved a hand, then pulled Little Dick to a walk, struck a match and smoked. The advancing horses were now within a length of one another, the spruce trees not over fifteen paces distant. Sherrington heard Jones whining, then he heard him growl. He A Western Delilah remembered afterwards thinking it strange at the time. It suddenly struck him that the man riding from Bull River was not Henry at all, and then Why, then he was looking into the muzzle of a heavy Colt revolver, and on the instant, too : ' Put up your hands,' and then a rattling oath. ' So Dave was right,' the thought blazed in his mind. A lovely setting sometimes enhances murder ! Before that night Bothwell would unhesitatingly have said that he knew Sherrington, But in that he would have erred. He did not know him. He had always looked upon him as a vagrant and a failure. Neither the one nor the other had he ever been. Indeed, what went to form the character of a vagrant, Bothwell had never known ; nor had he ever known, like many others, what constituted failure. In fact he was just as well able to pronounce on those two states as he was now upon that man who smoked a cigarette, with both hands shoulder high, A Western Delilah 293 before a pistol's muzzle, on a sweating pony. ' I've got you now, you swine ! ' said Both- well. 'Why "swine"?' asked Sherrington, and smiled. Jones growled again. Bothwell merely damned him and his dog. ' What I can't understand,' said Sherrington, ' is why you hold me up. Do you want to steal my money, too ? Do you . . .' A string of curses interrupted him, with an indignant denial of any such intention. 'Then why in hell do you stop me with a gun ? ' asked Sherrington. ' Because I mean to kill you, son.' ■ Quite an idea, too,' said Sherrington, ! but what's the reason of it ? ' 'I want your horse, for one thing; this crock's a rank one. Is that reason sufficient ? ' ' It's a big price for Dick, certainly, but he's a good pony. Why, man, he can do his quarter in twenty-four; work it right and you can win money on him.' 294 A Western Delilah I Bothwell muttered in his beard. Jones growled again. For a few moments the two men faced one another in silence ; Sherrington was the first to speak. ' Any special time fixed for my murder ? ' he asked. Bothwell cursed him again, saying : ' I will kill you now, damn you ! ' Sherrington noticed, however, that he made no move to do so, but sat with his revolver lowered, though ready, knowing his supposed victim to be unarmed—so he believed. ' Isn't that a little vague ? ' asked Sherrington, smoking placidly. '"Now" does not always mean at once, you know. In fact, it often means some time in half an hour, but oftener still, five minutes. Whichever time, though, I suppose this will be my last cigarette. How would it do, Both- well, to call this " now " of yours three minutes. Three minutes isn't a long time to live and smoke. Come now, is it a go ? May I have three minutes ? ' A Western Delilah 295 ' Hurry up, then, Smoke, I can't stay here all night.' ' Your nerves are getting jumpy, man.' ' Smoke, damn you, smoke.' ' But it's tiring holding one's hands this way, Bothwell. If I could only rest them a bit. You know you've got me. You know . . .' ' Hold on now, son.' ' You know my gun's at Herrick's, man. I never carry it. I swear I haven't got it now. I don't ask to put my hands down, I would not offend all precedent ; but just let me hold the lapels of my coat. That would be a rest, I could then enjoy my last cigarette.' 'Go on, go on,' growled Bothwell. ' Thank you,' said Sherrington, and took hold of them. Why, the man before him was the veriest novice, and Dave had thought him dangerous. Sherrington laughed. ' You seem to think it funny.' 'Oh, violent death is not uncomfortable, I'm told.' 296 A Western Delilah ' The time is nearly up.' 'A puff or two will finish my cigarette.' With his hands as they were now Sherrington could feel the butt of Dave's thirty-eight with the knuckles of his right. He blew the charred remainder of his cigarette away, leaned, a little forward and spoke in a slow drawl, in which there seemed to lurk a queer indescribable menace : ' Bothwell,' he said, ' a child like you shouldn't be' about alone at night without a nurse. Do you know what weld do with the likes of you down Texas way? Why, this . . .' The buckskin wheeled and galloped at the shot. Dick only tossed his head. ' Fancy being held up by a tenderfoot like that; upon my soul, it makes me sick. And the buckskin gone, too. Peavine'11 be more than vexed when he finds that out.' As he spoke Sherrington slipped the revolver back into his pocket, then addressed his dog : ' Come, Jones, we'll leave the amateur where he lies ; they'll find him in the morning. A Western Delilah 297 Hell never dun Herrick now for that thousand. My word, but he was easy ! ' Sherrington laughed a little, softly, as he turned his pony. He was in the very act of starting Dick again, when suddenly Jones raced into the shadow of the nearer spruce. Sherrington could hear him leaping about, as though in a state of joyous excitement. ' Whatever's struck the meat-hound now ? ' he marvelled. He whistled ; Jones came back obediently, but returned. He whined and barked as though beside himself. His master, however, could see nothing. In the covert of the spruce there reigned the blackness of the pit. At length Sherrington dismounted and walked towards the dog. When almost on him, he saw what looked to be a curious bulging of a tree trunk, against which, to Sherrington's surprise, Jones leaped and barked and whined. A moment later and he knew ! ' Barbara ! ' he exclaimed, ' you poor, dear girl ! My God ! what has the coward done to 298 A Western Delilah you ? ' A moment sufficed to undo the scarf which gagged her. ' Oh, Jack ! ' she exclaimed. He kissed her. Next he unwound the lariat, and she was free^! Barbara turned to him. The hood formed by her scarlet shawl had fallen back, her splendid hair was tossed. Even in the darkness her lover noted a deeper darkness in her eyes. There was a lovely gesture of appeal and yielding in the way she raised her hands. 'Oh, Jack,' she murmured brokenly, then seemed to sway a little. He caught her in his arms ! Printed tnjGreat Britain by Butler & Tanner Frame and London Purchased. LG^...QrujL \<%**H From fsTTTit{jtidL& _ „ Place of Purchase..AêQ&tàËL* PMCE^^ffiTZ.
Other copies: http://www.worldcat.org/oclc/560220550
Books
PR9217.O88 W3
English
Vancouver : University of British Columbia Library
London : Hodder and Soughton Limited
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Original Format: University of British Columbia. Library. Rare Books and Special Collections. PR9217.O88 W3
A western Delilah
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