The Forfeit Part 42

The only way we know! Her memory flew to the man Sikkem. Oh, she knew him. She had recognized him on the instant of their meeting. She knew he came from Orrville. She had seen him there. But---- Was he one of the original Orrville gang, all unsuspected, or, at least, if not unsuspected, _unknown_ to be?

While she pondered the subject she heard her husband's arrival. She heard him cross the veranda and, pa.s.s into the house.

Then again she took up the thread of her thought. This man Sikkem. If he were one of the Orrville gang, what was more likely than that he should have sent that threat? If he sent it, what more likely than that he was one of the gang of rustlers operating here? If he were one of them, then what added significance did it give threat?

A wave of sudden excitement replaced the panic of a moment before.

"The only way we know." Did that mean raiding her husband's stock and endeavoring so to ruin the Obar? It looked like it. It would account for what was being done. But no. That might be part of what was contained in the threat. But not all. The only way we know! The only way this cla.s.s of man understood paying off a score was different from that. With these men it was always a life for a life. Whose? Hers?

It might be.

The sun had sunk beyond the mountain peaks. In the adjoining living-room she heard the clatter of supper things. Jeff was having his meal in the solitude which had become their habit.

If it were her life they intended it would not much matter. But was it? Would they punish her that way? To her it did not suggest the refinement of cruelty which would appeal to them. No, there were other signs. Their purpose looked to be to ruin the Obar, and then--what then? Rob her of the man she loved? It could be done. It would be easy, and surely the refinement of it would appeal to natures so ruthless.

Her sewing had dropped to the floor. Mechanically she picked it up.

Then and there she purposed to break in upon her husband's meal. But she hesitated, and the impulse pa.s.sed. Instead, she went to a drawer in her bureau and withdrew the folded paper. She read it over and returned to her seat. Decision was lacking. Her interpretation of the threat had taken strong hold upon her, but she could not decide what best to do. Her fine eyes were troubled as she gazed out into the growing dusk. Dared she go to him? Would he listen?

But once more her thoughts were diverted. The sound of a great clatter of hoofs reached her from the other side of the house. Some one had ridden up to the veranda at a great pace. Who? And what could the urgency be at such an hour?

She heard Jeff moving in the living-room. She heard him pa.s.s out on to the veranda. Then curiosity, perhaps apprehension, urged her. She pa.s.sed to the window beyond her bureau, which was near the angle of the building, and leaned out of it. Ordinary tones on the veranda would reach her there.

She waited, breathing lightly lest her hearing should be impaired. A strange voice was talking. She could not place it. It was rough, and the language was rough. No doubt it was one of the "hands" from some outlying point.

"They got him through the chest, an' I guess he's goin' to pa.s.s in. He sez to me, 'Ride like h.e.l.l an' fetch the boss. Tell him I got 'em plumb wher' he wants 'em. I located their lay-out. I ain't got above an hour or so to tell him in. Just hike an' ride like ----!'"

Then came Jeff's voice cold and undisturbed.

"Where is he?"

"Why, by his shack at Spruce Crossing. He jest got in, an' nigh fell plumb in his tracks out o' the saddle. I don't guess any feller but Sikkem could ha' done it. He's tough--mighty tough."

Sikkem! Elvine moved from the window. Sikkem! Her heart was pounding in her bosom, and, for a moment, her brain seemed in a whirl. Sikkem had discovered the raiders and was willing to give them away. In a flash she was back in Orrville, and her mind was searching amongst shadowy memories that had suddenly become acute. Sikkem! Sikkem! No.

She must see Jeff. She must tell him of--Sikkem. She must warn him, and show him her note. A sudden, crus.h.i.+ng foreboding descended upon her, and she hurried toward the door.

In a few seconds she was on the veranda confronting her husband. For a moment her courage well-nigh failed her. Jeff was standing with his back turned toward the sunset. The ranchman was no longer there. He had gone to the barn to order a fresh saddle horse for the master of the Obar. Apparently Jeff had turned to repa.s.s into the house.

His fair strong face, serious and cold, was turned directly upon the beautiful figure of his wife, and it was the coldness of it that daunted her now.

"Well?"

The bitterness of that frigid, surprised inquiry was crus.h.i.+ng. Elvine looked into his eyes for one single shadow of softening. She could find none. It shocked the hope she had been steadily building in her heart.

She had no words in which to answer. She stood thus for one uncertain moment. Then she thrust out her hand. It contained the threatening message.

"Will you read that--at once?"

His cold regard dropped from her face. The man noted the dirty paper in her soft white hand. Then he took it. Nor did their hands come into contact.

"Is it a matter of importance?"

Elvine could have cried out with the stab of the question. Only some matter of vital importance justified her action in his eyes. Her gaze was averted to hide her pain.

"I should not have come to you otherwise."

The man moved to the edge of the veranda to obtain more of the dying light. At that moment the ranchman approached with two saddle horses.

Elvine scrutinized him carefully. He was a complete stranger to her.

Jeff had read the note. He stood regarding the ranchman. Suddenly his voice broke sharply.

"Leave my horse at the tying post. Wait for me at the barn."

He watched the man secure his horse. Then he watched him return to the barn. Nor did he speak again till he was out of earshot.

At last he turned back to the waiting woman.

"Who sent this? When did you get it? How?" The questions came rapidly.

"It came the night you were at Orrville. It was flung in through the open window late at night. I'd fallen asleep in my chair--waiting. It hit me on the face. They'd made it fast around a gra.s.s-tuft."

"Who sent it?"

"It must have been the man, Sikkem, who's just sent in word to you he's--shot up."

"Sikkem? Why?"

Suddenly the restraint Elvine was exercising gave way. Even her husband's deliberate coldness was powerless to stem the tide of conviction which had steadily mounted up within her. The one thought in her mind was that he stood in danger. Her reason was slight enough, but her love accentuated her intuition. She saw in her mind the claiming of the toll these men demanded, and to her swift imagination the picture of her husband's murder was complete before her eyes.

"Sikkem comes from Orrville. He was there--four years ago. There was more than suspicion attached to him. My first day here I met him.

Maybe you'll remember. He knew me at once. I don't guess there was any mistake. And I knew him. When he heard I was--married to you he pretended he'd mistaken me for--some one else. And when he explained who, and his feelings against that woman--it was me he was describing--I knew he was, as was suspected, one of the Lightfoot gang at Orrville. Sikkem wrote that note. I could stake my life on it.

And--now he's sent for you. He's asking you to go out to Spruce Crossing--at night. A distant, lonely point in the hills. He says he's mortally wounded. He has found the rustlers hiding. Of course he has. He's known all along. Nor do I believe he's wounded. He--and the others--think the only way to get back on me is--through you. They mean to kill you. Who's the boy who brought in word?"

"A new 'hand' we've taken on to replace the boy who was shot up two days back."

"One of the gang."

The woman spoke with a decision she did not realize. But her belief had become conviction. No shadow of doubt remained.

Jeff gazed thoughtfully down at the note. When he raised his eyes his regard had undergone a shadow of change.

There was less coldness in them. He shrugged.

"Guess we'll leave that at present. Why all this now?"

"Because your life's in danger. That's how I figure."

There was a deep note of urgency in the woman's voice. Her eyes were alight with a sudden, unmistakable emotion. But even if the man realized these things he ignored them.

"My life?" There was something cruelly biting in the reflection. "And all this time you knew--Sikkem. You knew we were being raided."