Part 15 (2/2)

”I'll say you're right. I haven't had a chance to talk it over with Greyson yet; he came back from the East only a few days ago. Uncle Nick relied on his judgment. Good Lord!”--as remembrance of the evening before flashed clear in his mind, ”do you know who came with him?

Your--your wife.”

Denbigh leisurely lighted a cigarette and as leisurely drew a long whiff of it.

”My wife! I haven't a wife. Felice will have her divorce in a few months. Desertion. Mamma Peyton's master-mind directed the campaign.

Trust an old-timer like her to know the ropes. Felice didn't love me when she married me; she merely contracted a virulent attack of the war-marriage epidemic. I found that out when you came home. I'm through with women, Steve, that is until I've proved myself a man whose sense of right and justice can't be twisted by them. If I hadn't been weak Mother couldn't have--oh, why go into it? It wasn't her fault; life had been too easy for her; she couldn't bear to be hurt. Well, she has lost me as effectually as though I had been shot to pieces in the Argonne where so many of my friends lie. The effects of gas and shot and sh.e.l.l aren't in it with the intolerable sense of shame which a man, who didn't do his best to get into the war, will carry through the years. G.o.d knows, I'm paying for my weakness. Don't mind this outburst, Steve. Forget it!

You're the first person I've seen from home. It--it just surged out.”

He leaned his head upon his horse's neck. The animal which had been pawing impatiently settled into bronze immobility at his touch. Only his sensitive nostrils quivered. Courtlandt laid a sympathetic hand on Denbigh's shoulder. His voice was unsteady as he protested:

”You're torturing yourself unnecessarily, Phil. The world has almost forgotten----”

”I haven't, Steve, but we'll let it go at that. Don't let Felice know that I am here. When she gets her divorce----”

”But, Phil, can't you and she patch things up? Divorce is a hard thing for a woman to live down.”

”Not in our set. Good Lord, man, Felice thinks no more of it than she would of discarding an unbecoming gown. It's in her blood. It's in mine.

Her mother had changed husbands once before Felice was born. Mine changed hers when he was young and unsuccessful. She had the money. When the Fates want to hand it to a man good and plenty they marry him to a girl who has slathers more money than he has.” Steve's face whitened.

”Was that a door closing? Go quick, Steve. If it is Mrs. Courtlandt I don't want her to see me. Don't tell her who I am.” He seized his horse by the bridle and vanished into the barn.

Steve met Jerry beside his car. His jaw set in the manner dreaded by his father as he looked at the girl's face. It was white with violet shadows under the wide, strained eyes. Her exquisite frock was torn where she had caught it on a hook. A long angry burn was visible on the wrist which the sleeve of her wrap didn't cover. Her lips quivered traitorously as she saw Steve's eyes on it. She hastily concealed it behind her back with a valiant attempt at a laugh.

”It's nothing. I hoped that it would escape your ruthless managerial eye. I tried to heat water and I'm not used to a kitchen range. In fact, I don't know what I can do that's vitally useful. When--when I go back to civilization I shall take a course in nursing, then I won't be so absolutely useless at a time like this.” Her voice was pitched in a key of nervous excitement, and she s.h.i.+vered as she spoke.

”Come here!” Courtlandt's face was as white as the girl's as he picked her up in his arms and put her into the car. He drew her wrap closer about her shoulders and tucked a light robe about her knees. She sat there tense, unresponsive, but as he started the car she suddenly relaxed with a stifled sob and covered her face with her hands. Steve stopped the car. With quiet determination he put his arm about her.

”Cry it out, child,” he encouraged tenderly. When the storm broke he wondered if he had been wise in the recommendation. He was frightened at the tempest of sobs which shook the slender body. He tightened his arm.

Then after a few moments, ”Was it as bad as that, girl?”

She sat up with a start and drew as far away from him as the limited s.p.a.ce would permit. He laid his arm across the back of the seat. She pushed the hair from her forehead and looked up at him through drenched eyes.

”Bad!” she controlled a shudder. ”Bad only because I was so powerless to help. An angel from heaven wouldn't have looked as good to me as Doc Rand.” There was an hysterical note of laughter in her voice as she continued, ”He must have thought I had gone suddenly mad for when he opened the door I flew at him and kissed him.” She made furtive dabs at her eyes. ”Don't think that I'm const.i.tutionally a cry-baby,” she laughed up at Courtlandt shamefacedly. He turned away from her quickly, removed his arm from the back of the seat and started the car.

”Now that you've got your grip again we'll go on. I'm famished,” he announced prosaically.

”Now that I think of it, so am I,” she agreed with gay camaraderie, but her breath came in a little sob as a child's might after crying, ”and--and so are they! Look, Steve! Over on that hillside--look!”

She gripped his arm with one hand as she pointed with the other. On the top of a low hill, outlined like shadow pictures against the morning sky, so near that their hanging tongues were plainly visible, were three dark, sinister shapes.

”Coyotes?” the girl whispered as though even at that distance they might hear.

”Timber wolves. See those sheep grazing in the coulee below? They are after them.”

”Oh, Steve, can't we do something?”

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