The Ranchman Part 21

Her right hand struck his face-a full sweep of the arm behind it-burning, stinging, sending him staggering back a little from its very unexpectedness. And before he could make a move to recover his equilibrium she had gone like a flash of light, as elusive as the moonbeam in which she had stood when he had first come upon her.

He cursed gutturally and leaped forward, running with great leaps toward the rear of the house, where he had seen her vanish. He reached the door through which she had gone, finding it closed and locked against him.

Stepping back a little, he hurled himself against the door, sending it cras.h.i.+ng from its hinges, so that he tumbled headlong into the room and sprawled upon the floor. He was up in an instant, tossing the wreck of the door from him, breathing heavily, cursing frightfully; for he had completely lost his senses and was in the grip of an insane rage over the knowledge that she had tricked him.

Parsons heard the crash as the door went from its hinges. He got out of bed in a tremor of fear and opened the door of his room, peering into the big room that adjoined the dining-room. From the direction of the kitchen he caught a thin shaft of light-from the kerosene-lamp that Martha had placed on a table for Marion's convenience. A big form blotted out the light, casting a huge, gigantic shadow; and Parsons saw the shadow on the ceiling of the room into which he looked.

Huge as the shadow was, Parsons had no difficulty in recognizing it as belonging to Carrington; and with chattering teeth Parsons quickly closed his door, locked it, and stood against it, his knees knocking together.

Martha, too, had heard the crash. She bounded out of bed and ran to the door of her room, swinging it wide, for instinct told her something had happened to Marion. Her room was closer to the kitchen, and she saw Carrington plainly, as he was rising from the debris. And she was just in time to see Marion slipping through the doorway of her own room. And by the time Carrington got to his feet, Martha had heard Marion's door click shut, heard the lock snap home.

Martha instantly closed the door of her own room, fastened it and ran to another door that connected her room with Marion's. She swung that door open and looked into the girl's room; heard the girl stifle a shriek-for the girl thought Carrington was coming upon her from that direction-and then Martha was at the girl's side, whispering to her-excitedly comforting her.

"The d.a.m.n trash-houndin' you this way! He ain' goin' to hurt you, honey-not one bit!"

Outside the door they could hear Carrington walking about in the room.

There came to the ears of the two women the scratch of a match, and then a steady glimmer of light streaked into the room from the bottom of the door, and they knew Carrington had lighted a lamp. A little later, while Martha stood, her arms around the girl, who leaned against the negro woman, very white and still, they heard Carrington talking with Parsons.

They heard Parsons protesting, Carrington cursing him.

"He ain' goin' to git you, honey," whispered Martha. "That man come heah the firs' day, an' I knowed he's a rapscallion." She pointed upward, to where a trap-door, partly open, appeared in the ceiling of the room.

"There's the attic, honey. I'll boost you, an' you go up there an' hide from that wild man. You got to, for that worfless Parsons am tellin' him which room you's in. You hurry-you heah me!"

She helped the girl upward, and stood listening until the trap-door grated shut. Then she turned and grinned at the door that led into the big room adjoining the kitchen. Carrington was at it, his shoulder against it; Martha could hear him cursing.

"Open up, here!" came Carrington's voice through the door, m.u.f.fled, but resonant. "Open the door, d.a.m.n you, or I'll tear it down!"

"Tear away, white man!" giggled Martha softly. "They's a big 'sprise waitin' you when you git in heah!"

For an instant following Carrington's curses and demands there was a silence. It was broken by a splintering crash, and the negro woman saw the door split so that the light from the other room streaked through it. But the door held, momentarily. Then Carrington again lunged against it and it burst open, pieces of the lock flying across the room.

This time Carrington did not fall with the door, but reeled through the opening, erect, big, a vibrant, mirthless laugh on his lips.

The light from the other room streamed in past him, s.h.i.+ning full upon Martha, who stood, her hands on her hips, looking at the man.

Carrington was disconcerted by the presence of Martha when he had expected to see Marion. He stepped back, cursing.

Martha giggled softly.

"What you doin' in my room, man; just when I'se goin' to retiah? You git out o' heah-quick! Yo' heah me? Yo' ain't got no business bustin' my door down!"

"Bah!" Carrington's voice was malignant with baffled rage. With one step he was at Martha's side, his hands on her throat, his muscles rigid and straining.

"Where's Marion Harlan?" he demanded. "Tell me, you black devil, or I'll choke h.e.l.l out of you!"

Martha was not frightened; she giggled mockingly.

"That girl bust in heah a minute ago; then she bust out ag'in, runnin'

fit to kill herself. I reckon by this time she's done throw herself off the b.u.t.te-rather than have you git her!"

Carrington shoved Martha from him, so that she staggered and fell; and with a bound he was through the door that led into Martha's room.

The negro woman did not move. She sat on the floor, a malicious grin on her face, listening to Carrington as he raged through the house.

Once, about five minutes after he left, Carrington returned and stuck his head into the room. Martha still sat where Carrington had thrown her. She did not care what Carrington did to the house, so long as he was ignorant of the existence of the trap-door.

And Carrington did not notice the door. For an hour Martha heard him raging around the house, opening and slamming doors and overturning furniture. Once when she did not hear him for several minutes, she got up and went to one of the windows. She saw him, out at the stable, looking in at the horses.

Then he returned to the house, and Martha resumed her place on the floor. Later, she heard Carrington enter the house again, and after that she heard Parsons' voice, raised in high-terrored protest. Then there was another silence. Again Martha looked out of a window. This time she saw Carrington on his horse, riding away.

But for half an hour Martha remained at the window. She feared Carrington's departure was a subterfuge, and she was not mistaken. For a little later Carrington returned, riding swiftly. He slid from his horse at a little distance from the house and ran toward it. Martha was in the kitchen when he came in. He did not speak to her as he came into the room, but pa.s.sed her and again made a search of the house. Pa.s.sing Martha again he gave her a malevolent look, then halted at the outside door.

The man's wild rage seemed to have left him; he was calm-polite, even.

"Tell your mistress I am sorry for what has occurred. I am afraid I was a bit excited. I shall not harm her; I won't bother her again."

He stepped through the doorway and, going again to a window and drawing back the curtain slightly, Martha watched him.

Carrington went to the stable, entered, and emerged again presently, leading two horses-Parsons' horse and Billy. He led the animals to where his own horse stood, climbed into the saddle and rode away, the two horses following. At the edge of the wood he turned and looked back.

Then the darkness swallowed him.

For another half-hour Martha watched the Dawes trail from a window. Then she drew a deep breath and went into Marion's room, standing under the trap-door.

"I reckon you kin come down now, honey-he's gone."

A little later, with Marion standing near her in the room, the light from the kerosene-lamp streaming upon them through the shattered door, Martha was speaking rapidly:

"He acted mighty suspicious, honey; an' he's up to some dog's trick, shuah as you'm alive. You got to git out of heah, honey-mighty quick!

'Pears he thinks you is hid somewhares around heah, an' he's figgerin'

on makin' you stay heah. An' if you wants to git away, you's got to walk, for he's took the hosses!" She shook her head, her eyes wide with a reflection of the complete stupefaction that had descended upon her.

"Laws A'mighty, what a ragin' devil that man is, honey! I'se seen men _an'_ men-an' I knowed a n.i.g.g.e.r once that was--"

But Martha paused, for Marion was paying no attention to her. The girl was pulling some articles of wearing apparel from some drawers, packing them hurriedly into a small handbag, and Martha sprang quickly to help her, divining what the girl intended to do.

"That's right, honey; doan you stay heah in this house another minit!

You git out as quick as you kin. You go right over to that Squint man's house an' tell him to protect you. 'Cause you's goin' to need protection, honey-an' don't you forgit it!"

The girl's white face was an eloquent sign of her conception of the danger that confronted her. But she spoke no word while packing her handbag. When she was ready she turned to the door, to confront Martha, who also carried a satchel. Together the two went out of the house, crossed the level surrounding it, and began to descend the long slope that led down into the mighty basin in which, some hours before, the girl had seen the pin-point of light glimmering across the sea of darkness toward her. And toward that light, as toward a beacon that promised a haven from a storm, she went, Martha following.

From a window of the house a man watched them-Parsons-in the grip of a paralyzing terror, his pallid face pressed tightly against the gla.s.s of the window as he watched until he could see them no longer.

CHAPTER XVII-THE WRONG ANKLE

Bud Hemmingway, the tall, red-faced young puncher who had a.s.sisted Quinton Taylor in the sprained-ankle deception, saw the dawn breaking through one of the windows of the bunkhouse when he suddenly opened his eyes after dreaming of steaming flapjacks soaked in the sirup he liked best. He stretched out on his back in the wall-bunk and licked his lips.