Judith of the Godless Valley Part 51

"I'm not afraid of Scott," said Peter.

"Well, you'll need to be if you mix up in his affairs. He holds grudges over nothing."

"Awful bad man, Scott!" Douglas spoke with his quiet smile.

"I'm telling you he is!" insisted Inez. "He's been more than half in love with Judith for years and he'd just as soon double-cross Jude as anybody else. I want you to let him alone, please, Peter."

Peter was watching Judith. Only Douglas seemed aware of the concentrated entreaty in Inez' voice. "Poor Inez," he thought, "if she's caring for Peter, she'll be having her own little double Hades for everything she's done." He looked at Peter. Judith was staring thoughtfully at the stove and the postmaster's deep eyes were fastened on the girl's fine, clean-cut features, with a burning fire that suddenly brought Doug's heart to his throat.

"What's your opinion of Scott, Judith?" asked Peter.

"The same as Inez'. But I can't help liking him. He's done me lots of favors and he's kept me from making a fool of myself a number of times, even if he did double-cross me once. And he admires me. He certainly does!" She laughed with girlish navete and the others joined her.

"Then you must like me too!" said Peter.

"You are a nice old gentleman," retorted Judith.

Peter's lips closed grimly.

The preacher spoke with sudden vehemence. "Yet you people are allowing this same Scott to try to destroy Douglas' dream for Lost Chief."

"I say Scott is a valuable citizen," drawled Charleton. "He guards us from Mormons, from Christians, and from wild women."

Douglas did not join in the laugh that greeted this sally. An entirely new fear had come upon him. He bit his lip and stared from Judith to Peter and back again.

Inez rose suddenly. "Well, the moon is up. Come, Judith! It's time for wild women to retire to their caves."

Judith gave a gigantic yawn, stretched her beautiful long body till the tips of her fingers almost touched the low rafters, and said, "It's a good thing Charleton and Peter will be going along to protect us from Scott, the bad man."

The four presently jingled off down the snowy trail. Prince took up his s.h.i.+vering night-watch on the steps. Douglas and Mr. Fowler looked at each other soberly and went to bed.

CHAPTER XIII

PRINCE GOES MARCHING ON

"A wise dog won't tackle a trapped wolverine."

--_Old Prince_.

The next morning Johnny Brown trotted up on his old cow-pony. The preacher and Douglas were at breakfast. All the world was bristling with frost and a million opalescent lights danced on every snowdrift. Douglas swung the door open.

"Well, Johnny, did you finally break away from everybody?"

The little old man slid briskly from the saddle, brushed the icicles from his beard, and grinned broadly.

"Even Inez, she tried to stop me. Says some one has got to get her some cedar wood for her heater stove. 'You get you some squaw-wood, Inez,' I deponed. 'Them that can't make the men chop regular wood for 'em, don't deserve nothing better than brittle stuff like alder. Get you some squaw-wood, Inez,' I deponed. Douglas, they are plumb jealous of you.

Since you seen there was something to me beside a old half-wit, they've all been horning round, jealous like, to get me."

Douglas, his yellow hair a glory in the rising sun, nodded seriously.

"Look to your saddle, Johnny, then come in to breakfast. I've got a few steers I want to dehorn to-day, so you're just in time."

The preacher was still at breakfast when old Johnny came in. The two old men stared at each other with unmixed interest. Douglas stood with his back to the stove, a cigarette drooping from his lips, a remote twinkle in his eyes.

Johnny lushed down his second saucer of coffee before he attempted to marshall his thoughts into speech. But, having accomplished this, he said, "Doug and me are gregus great friends, Mr. Fowler. There ain't anybody in Lost Chief thinks as much of him as I do."

The preacher nodded. "Douglas says he's fond of you."

"I guess he is," returned Johnny, condescendingly. "I guess if the truth be deponed he's fonder of me than he is of anybody--excepting maybe Judith. And Judith, she sure-gawd don't apregate Doug like I do, even if I am a half-wit. Judith's awful smart but she ain't got much sense."

"Judith is pretty fine, Johnny!" exclaimed Douglas, with the faint glow in his blue eyes that mention of her name always brought.

"Yes, she is," agreed Johnny. "But she's just like her mother was. All fire. And you can squench fire so it's just ashes. It would be a gregus good thing for the Valley if John Spencer was to break his neck."

"Don't say that, Johnny!" protested the preacher. "After all, he's one of G.o.d's creatures."

Johnny chuckled. "Now, who is half-witted, huh?"

"Young Jeff back on the mail route, Johnny?" asked Douglas hastily.

"Yes. Peter Knight, he's awful fond of Judith."

Douglas looked at Johnny keenly, his jaw setting as he did so. Was there, he thought, something obvious here, or was it only the half-wit's curiously sharp but confused intuition at work? At any rate, he must know the truth. He could not endure this added uneasiness.

"On second thoughts," he said aloud, "I think I'll not dehorn to-day. I want to get an order off for a new saddle on to-day's mail stage.

Johnny, one of your main jobs is to guard the sky pilot and the chapel, when I'm not here. You're not to let anything happen to either of them."

"Shall I shoot on sight?" demanded the little old man.

Mr. Fowler smiled. Douglas shook his head. "No; let's not get into that kind of trouble. You don't carry a gun anyhow, do you?"

"No," plaintively. "Grandma won't let me. But I thought you'd loan me something."

"I haven't got anything but my old six-shooter, which I can't spare.

Listen, Johnny! When you think somebody needs to be shot, you come to me and tell me about it, see? You know I know you have a lot more self-control than these Lost Chief folks think you have. You aren't one of these guys that shoots first and thinks afterward."

Johnny turned to the preacher triumphantly. "Didn't I tell you he was my friend?" he asked.

"Yes," replied Mr. Fowler, "and he's mine too, and you and I must take care of him. Lost Chief needs him."

Old Johnny rose and solemnly offered a gnarled hand to the preacher.

Douglas laughed in an embarra.s.sed way and went out to the corral, to saddle the Moose.

Judith was feeding the chickens as he trotted past the Spencer place. He waved his hand but would not permit himself to stop. He found Peter alone in his room, mending a belt.