They Of The High Trails Part 54

Hanscom was in no mood to dodge. "I am--and I'm going to save her from coming here if I can." He started for the door. "I'll see Judge Brinkley and get her released. Carmody has no authority to hold her."

"I hope you succeed," said the sheriff, sympathetically; "but at present I'm under orders from the coroner. It's up to him. So you think you've got the girl who made them tracks?"

"I certainly do, and I want you to hold these prisoners till Carmody gets home. Don't let anybody see them, and don't let them talk with one another. They'll all come before that jury to-morrow, and they mustn't have any chance to frame up a lie."

"All right. I see your point. Go ahead. Your prisoners will be here when you come back."

Hanscom went away, raging against the indignity which threatened Helen.

At Carmody's office he waited an hour, hoping the coroner might return, and, in despair of any help from him, set out at last for Brinkley's office, resolute to secure the judge's interference.

The first man he met on the street stopped him with a jovial word: "h.e.l.lo, Hans! Say, you want to watch out for Abe Kitsong. He came b'ilin' in half an hour ago, and is looking for you. Says you helped that Dutchman and his girl (or wife, or whatever she is) to get away, and that you've been arresting Henry, his nephew, without a warrant, and he swears he'll swat you good and plenty, on sight."

Hanscom's voice was savage as he replied: "You tell him that I'm big enough to be seen with the naked eye, and if he wants me right away he'll find me at Judge Brinkley's office."

The other man also grew serious. "All the same, Hans, keep an eye out,"

he urged. "Abe is sure to make you trouble. He's started in drinking, and when he's drunk he's poisonous as a rattler."

"All right. I'm used to rattlers--I'll hear him before he strikes. He's a noisy brute."

The ranger could understand that Rita's father might very naturally be thrown into a fury of protest by the news of his daughter's arrest, but Kitsong's concern over a nephew whom he had not hitherto regarded as worth the slightest care did not appear especially logical or singularly important.

Brinkley was not in his office and so Hanscom went out to his house, out on the north bend of the river in a large lawn set with young trees.

The judge, seated on his porch in his s.h.i.+rt-sleeves, exhibited the placid ease of a man whose office work is done and his gra.s.s freshly sprinkled.

"Good evening, Hanscom," he pleasantly called. "Come up and have a seat and a smoke with the gardener."

"I have but a moment," the ranger replied, and plunged again into the story, which served in this instance as a preface to his plea for intervention. "You must help _me_, Judge. Miss McLaren must not go to jail. To arrest her in this way a second time is a crime. She's a lady, Judge, and as innocent of that shooting as a child."

"You surprise me," said Brinkley. "According to all reports she is very, very far from being a lady."

Hanscom threw out his hands in protest. "They're all wrong, Judge. I tell you she _is_ a lady, and young and handsome."

"Handsome and young!" The judge's eyes took on a musing expression.

"Well, well! that accounts for much. But what was she doing up there in the company of that old Dutchman?"

"I don't know why she came West, but I'm glad she did. I'm glad to have known her. That old Dutchman, as you call him, is her stepfather and a fine chap."

"But Carmody has arrested her. What caused him to do that?"

"I don't know. I can't understand it. It may be that Kitsong has put the screws on him some way."

The judge reflected. "As the only strange woman in the valley, the girl naturally falls under suspicion of having made those footprints."

"I know it, Judge, but you have only to see her--to hear her voice--to realize how impossible it is for her to kill even a coyote. All I ask, now, is that you save her from going to jail."

"I don't see how I can interfere," Brinkley answered, with gentle decision. "As coroner, Carmody has the case entirely in his hands till after the verdict. But don't take her imprisonment too hard," he added, with desire to comfort him. "Throop has a good deal of discretion and I'll 'phone him to make her stay as little like incarceration as possible. You see, while nominally she's only a witness for the state, actually she's on trial for murder, and till you can get your other woman before the jury she's a suspect. If you are right, the jury will at once bring in a verdict against other parties, known or unknown, and she will be free--except that she may have to remain to testify in her own case against the raiders. Don't worry, my dear fellow. It will come out all right."

Hanscom was now in the grasp of conflicting emotions. In spite of Brinkley's refusal to interfere, he could not deny a definite feeling of pleasure in the fact that Helen was returning and that he was about to see her again. "Anyhow, I have another opportunity to serve her," he thought, as he turned down the street toward the station. "Perhaps after the verdict she will not feel so eager to leave the country."

VI

Meanwhile the fugitives on the westbound express were nearing the town in charge of the marshal of Lone Rock, and Helen (who had telegraphed her plight to Hanscom and had received no reply) was in silent dread of the ordeal which awaited her. Her confidence in the ranger had not failed, but, realizing how difficult it was to reach him, she had small hope of seeing his kindly face at the end of her journey.

"He may be riding some of those lonely heights this moment," she thought, and wondered what he would do if he knew that she was returning, a prisoner. "He would come to me," she said, in answer to her own question, and the thought that in all that mighty spread of peak and plain he was the one gracious and kindly soul lent a kind of glamour to his name. "After all, a loyal soul like his is worth more than any mine or mountain," she acknowledged.

The marshal, a small, quaint, middle-aged person with squinting glance and bushy hair, was not only very much in awe of his lovely prisoner, but so accustomed to going about in his s.h.i.+rt-sleeves that he suffered acutely in the confinement of his heavy coat. Nevertheless, in spite of his discomfort, he was very considerate in a left-handed way, and did his best to conceal the official relations.h.i.+p between himself and his wards. He not only sat behind them all the way, but he made no attempt at conversation, and for these favors Helen was genuinely grateful. Only as they neared the station did he venture to address her.

"Now the sheriff will probably be on hand," he said; "and if he is I'll just naturally turn you over to him; but in case he isn't I'll have to take you right over to the jail. I'm sorry, but that's my orders. So if you'll kindly step along just ahead of me, people may not notice you're in my charge."

Helen a.s.sured him that she would obey every suggestion, and that she deeply appreciated his courtesy.

Kauffman's spirit was sadly broken. His age, the rough usage of the day before, and this unwarranted second arrest had combined to take away from him a large part of his natural courage. He insisted that Helen should wire her Eastern friends, stating the case and appealing for aid.

"We need help now," he said. "We are being persecuted."

Helen, however, remembering Carmody's kindness, said: "Don't be discouraged, daddy. It may be that we are only witnesses and that after we have testified we shall be released. Wait until to-morrow; I hate to announce new troubles to my relatives."

"But we shall need money," he said, anxiously. "We have only a small balance."

It was nearly six o'clock as they came winding down between the gra.s.sy b.u.t.tes which formed the gateway to the town, and the girl recalled, with a wave of self-pity, the feeling of exaltation with which she had first looked upon that splendid purple-walled canon rising to the west. It had appealed to her at that time as the gateway to a mystic sanctuary. Now it was but the lair of thieves and murderers, ferocious and obscene.

Only one kindly human soul dwelt among those majestic, forested heights.

She was pale, sad, but entirely composed, and to Hanscom very beautiful, as she appeared in the vestibule of the long day-coach, but her face flushed with pleasure at sight of him, and as she grasped his hand and looked into his fine eyes something warm and glowing flooded her heart.

"Oh, how relieved I am to find you here!" she exclaimed, and her lips trembled in confirmation of her words. "I did not expect you. I was afraid my telegram had not reached you."

"Did you telegraph me?" he asked. "I didn't get it--but I'm here all the same," he added, and fervently pressed the hands which she had allowed him to retain.

Oblivious of the curious crowd, she faced him in a sudden realization of her dependence upon him, and her grat.i.tude for his stark manliness was so deep, so full, she could have put her hands about his neck. How dependable, how simple, how clear-eyed he was!

He on his part found her greatly changed in both face and voice. She seemed clothed in some new, strange dignity, and yet her glance was less remote, less impersonal than before and her pleasure at sight of him deeply gratifying. In spite of himself his spirits lightened.

"I have a lot to tell you," he began, but the sheriff courteously interposed:

"Put her right into my machine--You go too, Hanscom."

"I couldn't prevent this," he began, sorrowfully, as he took a seat beside her; "but you will not be put into a cell. Mrs. Throop will treat you as a guest."

The self-accusation in his voice moved her to put her hand on his arm in caressing rea.s.surance. "Please don't blame yourself about that," she said. "I don't mind. It's only for the night, anyway. Let us think of to-morrow."

The ride was short and Mrs. Throop, a tall, dark, rather gloomy woman, came to the door to meet her guests with the air of an old-fas.h.i.+oned village hostess, serious but kindly.

"Mrs. Throop," said her husband. "This is Miss McLaren and her father, Mr. Kauffman. Make them as comfortable as you can."

Mrs. Throop greeted Helen with instant kindly interest. "I am pleased to know you. Come right in. You must be tired."