The Wind Before the Dawn Part 48

Elizabeth would not stay for the reading that night, and had a bad hour before she fell asleep. Her love for Hugh looked even worse to her since John's arrival than it had done before. This new phase of her life was even less able to command respect than any which had preceded it. Why was she vexed with such unheard of temptations? It did not comfort her to reason it out that this thing had fallen upon her without any wish of hers, that the thrill which had followed his use of her name was not a thing she had deliberately fostered within herself; she demanded of herself that she should not thrill at his voice, not knowing that she demanded the impossible.

The rye was to be cut at Silas Chamberlain's. John suggested to Elizabeth that she had better go over to help Liza Ann, since she was alone, saying that he would take her over when he went. Hugh was to go with the machine.

Jake would drive the extra team over, and the other two men would plow corn at home. A few minutes before nine o'clock John announced that he was ready. He had come in to carry Jack to the buggy for her. John had gone away with the impressions of Elizabeth's illness still upon him, and looked out for her with the same care he had accorded her when an invalid.

"How long?" he asked, dropping down on the foot of the bed beside the machine upon which she had been putting in the spare time.

"Just this one little seam; I'll have it done then."

She stooped over the machine to finish the seam quickly, not liking to keep John waiting when he was already somewhat late.

Jack slipped from his father's lap, and fascinated by the swiftly moving wheel on a level with his face, put out a pudgy little forefinger to feel of it as it went around. His mother saw it and stopped short with a little cry of alarm.

"Don't do that, Jack!" she said sharply. "It'll take your finger right off of your hand if you get it in there."

Jack put his hand behind his little back, and stood in round-eyed wonder watching the wheel as she started to sew again.

John was getting restless and wanted to go.

"Aren't you about----"

Elizabeth looked up at him as he started to speak, and Jack's finger shot out to the forbidden wheel on the instant. Elizabeth saw it at a point when she could not control the pedal with her foot. Mother love brought a scream to her lips, and to save the child she gave him a shove with her hand. Jack fell on the floor in a heap, striking his head on the bedpost as he did so.

John had clutched at him ineffectually as he fell and caught him up as soon as he could get hold of him, turning him over in his arms to see where he was hurt. The blood spurted from the little nose, giving an appearance of serious injury to the matter all out of proportion to the exact nature of the damage sustained, but as usual, when excited, John saw only surface indications.

"What does possess you when you're cross?" he exclaimed as he relinquished his hold on the baby, who, however badly he might be hurt, was struggling to get to his mother's arms.

Elizabeth carried the screaming child to the kitchen to bathe the bruised nose and apply a wet cloth to the nasty blue ridge beginning to form where the little cheek had encountered the bedpost.

"I never saw any one act like you do with a child," John said with his usual irritation.

"I didn't intend to knock him over, but I couldn't stop my foot and I thought he'd get his little finger taken right off before my very eyes."

"Well, you shouldn't go at him so rough. You always treat him as if he were a block of wood."

Elizabeth's lips closed down tight, and to keep Jack from hearing further criticisms of her management she went back to the bedroom. When John was ready to go he called to her from the lane, and she carried Jack to the door instead of laying him down.

"Take Hepsie with you. Tell Mrs. Chamberlain that I got ready to come.

He'd probably be cross if I went now. Hepsie's in the potato patch,"

Elizabeth said in a low voice, and went back so promptly that John could not reply.

John took Hepsie with him, and explained to Liza Ann, as Elizabeth requested, that she was unable to come because Jack had hurt himself.

The day was dry and hot, and John Hunter consumed water like a fish upon all occasions. The discovery that the water-jugs had been left at home called for instant action when he arrived in the field. Silas had put his team on the binder and Patsie was free for use on just such errands as this. The machine had just been driven up to where Hugh could ask for water also. John crossed over and laid his hand on the lines.

"Here, you take the horse and go for the water. I forgot the jugs; You'll have to go clear home after them."

"Why don't you do it?" Hugh asked.

John Hunter looked him over rather sharply and replied:

"Because I'm going to drive this binder to-day. I don't like your voice very well since I got home, Hugh."

"You won't hear very much more of it if I can get away day after to-morrow," Hugh replied, smiling at the turn he had given to John's sympathy.

John Hunter grinned back at him, but kept his hand on the lines, and Hugh got down.

"You can't start day after to-morrow, for we won't get this rye done, and you won't start then, my boy, with such a note in your voice as that. I've spoken to Jake about it and he'll go. I don't propose to have you that far away when you are not well--it ain't what we want you for. Go on and get that water," he added when he saw the expression of protest in Hugh's face.

Hugh went without argument, but his determination was as strong as ever.

Instead of going around the road he drove across the field to the fence between the two places, and, tying Patsie, walked through the cornfield to the pasture and on toward the house.

The hot sun blazed fiercely down on his thinly clad back, and he noticed as he struggled through the ta.s.selling corn that the leaves were already firing about the roots. Rain was essential, but he reflected that enough rain to do the corn any good would ruin the small grain now ready to cut.

"Kansas luck," he muttered as he crossed the deep ridges thrown up by his own cultivator a few days before. Not a breath of air was stirring, and by the time he had reached the house he was hot and tired. Reflecting that John had taken Elizabeth to Chamberlain's, he decided to rest before he started back with the heavy water-jugs. He stopped in the kitchen for a drink and took a small bottle out of his pocket.

"Two, I guess, this time," he said as he poured the tablets into his hand.

He dropped his finger on the other wrist a moment, and then swallowed both pellets.

Elizabeth heard him settle himself in a rocking chair with a long-drawn breath of comfort. She was giving Jack little pats to ease him off to sleep and the house was very quiet. She decided to keep still and let him return to the field without seeing her tear-stained face, but Jack roused with a low whimpering cry which she felt sure Hugh must have heard, and as soon as the child was asleep she walked out without further effort at concealment.

At the noise of the opening door Hugh Noland sprang to his feet in surprise; he had been half-asleep.

"Why, I didn't know that you were here!" he exclaimed when he saw that it was Elizabeth. "I thought you went to Chamberlain's."

His eyes riveted themselves upon her swollen eyelids, and when she stood embarra.s.sed before him and did not reply readily, conscious only of his searching gaze, he misunderstood and added gravely:

"Elizabeth, there is something I must speak about. I cannot have you worried over matters between us----"

Elizabeth Hunter's eyes ceased to be shy and troubled and came up to his in such complete astonishment that he broke off in confusion.

There was a pause for one short second, and then Elizabeth spoke in nervous haste, and as if to ward off something.

"I--I--I wasn't crying about--that is, I hurt Jack accidentally and--and John misunderstood."

Even while the words were still in her mouth, she realized by his expression that what she was saying sounded like a complaint, as if she were exposing a difference between herself and her husband, and that was the one thing that under no circ.u.mstances had she ever done. She made a frightened stop without ending the sentence.

As if to save his mother from needless embarra.s.sment, Jack slipped to the floor and came stumbling out on sleepy legs, tired and cross, and rubbing his sweaty little face with hot, sweaty little fists, and demanding his mother's attention. Elizabeth turned to him with a relief beyond words.

Hugh Noland, who had always loved the child, was never so glad to see him, and slipped away while he was being soothed and petted out of his tears and discomfort. Both Hugh and Elizabeth knew that but for Jack's timely interruption words would have escaped Hugh that they both preferred should not be uttered. Both knew the situation, but both saw that it would be easier, as well as safer and more honourable, not to discuss it.

"I'll not think any more about going away--I wouldn't do it if I had money," she decided as she watched Hugh return with his jug. "I married John Hunter in good faith, and I'll live with him in good faith and straighten things out." The thought of her love for Hugh came up and she added, "I don't care! I didn't go out to hunt up a love for him and I can't help it if it has come to me; but I hope he gets away to Mitch.e.l.l County day after to-morrow."

CHAPTER XXI

BOUND TO THE STAKE