Valley of Wild Horses Part 15

replied Pan. "I've known cowmen to shoot rustlers. Cowmen who had themselves branded cattle not their own. This was a practice. They didn't think it crooked. They all did it. But it _was_ crooked, when you come down to truth. And though that may not be legally as criminal as the stealing of branded cattle, to my mind it is just as bad. Your father began that way, Hardman caught him, and perhaps forced him into worse practice."

"Pan, are you trying to give me some hope?"

"Reckon I am. Things are not so bad. My Lord, suppose I'd been a month later!"

Lucy shook her head despondently. "It's worse _now_ for me than if you had come--"

"Why?" interrupted Pan. She would say the things that hurt.

"Because to see you--be with you like this--before I'm--if I have to be married--is perfectly terrible.... Afterward, when it would be too late and I had lost something--self-respect or more--then I might not care."

That not only made Pan lose patience but it also angered him. The hot blood rushed to his face. He bit his tongue and struggled to control himself.

"Lucy! Haven't I told you that you're not going to marry d.i.c.k Hardman," he burst out.

"Oh, but I'll have to," she replied, stubbornly, with a sad little shake of her head.

"No!"

"I must save Dad. You might indeed get him out of jail some way. But that would not save him."

"Certainly it would," rejoined Pan, curtly. "In another state he would be perfectly safe."

"They'll trail him anywhere. No, that won't do. We haven't time.

d.i.c.k is pressing me hard to marry him at once, or his father will prosecute Dad. I promised.... And today--this morning--d.i.c.k is coming here to get me to set the day."

"_What?_" cried Pan, pa.s.sionately.

His word, swift as a bullet, made her jump, but she repeated what she had said almost word for word.

"And your answer?" queried Pan, in hot scorn.

"Sooner the--better," she replied, mournfully. "I can't stand--this--you--oh, anything would be--easier than your hope ...

your--love making!"

"Lucy Blake, have _you_ gone down hill like your father?" asked Pan, hoa.r.s.ely. "What kind of a woman are you? If you love me, it's a crime to marry him. Women do these things, I know--sell themselves. But they kill their souls. If you could save your father from being hanged, it would still be wrong. Suppose he _did_ go to jail for a few years. What's that compared to h.e.l.l for you all your life? You're out of your head. You've lost your sense of proportion.... You must _care_ for this d.a.m.ned skunk d.i.c.k Hardman."

"Care for him!" she cried, shamefaced and furious. "I hate him."

"Then if you marry him you'll be crooked. To yourself! To me!...

Why, in my eyes you'd be worse than that little hussy down at the Yellow Mine."

"Pan!" she whispered. "How can you? How dare you?"

"Hard facts deserve hard names. You make me say such things. Why, you'd drive me mad if I listened--if I believed you. Don't you dare say again you'll marry d.i.c.k."

"I will--I must--"

"Lucy!" he thundered. It was no use to reason with this girl. She had been trapped like a wild thing and could not see any way out. He shot out a strong hand and clutched her shoulder and with one heave he drew her to him, so her face was under his. It went pale. The telltale eyes dilated in sudden fear. She beat at him with weak fluttering hands.

"_Say you love me!_"

He shook her roughly, then held her tight. "I don't maul any other man's woman," he went on, fiercely. "But if you love me--that's different. You said it a little while ago. Was it true? Are you a liar?"

"No--No--Pan," she whispered, in distress. "I--I do."

"Do what?"

"I--I love you," she said, the scarlet blood mounting to her pale face.

She was weakening--sinking toward him. Her eyes held a sort of dark spell.

"How do you love me?" he queried relentlessly, with his heart mounting high.

"Always I've loved you--since I was a baby."

"As a brother?"

"Yes."

"But we're man and woman now. This is my one chance for happiness. I don't want you--I wouldn't have you unless you love me as I do you. Be honest with me. Be square. Do you love me now as I do you?"

"G.o.d help me--yes," she replied, almost inaudibly, with eyes of remorse and love and agony on his.

Pan could not withstand this. He crushed her to him, and lifted her arms round his neck, and fell to kissing her with all the starved hunger of his lonely loveless years on the ranges. She was not proof against this. It lifted her out of her weakness, of her abas.e.m.e.nt to a response that swept away all fears, doubts, troubles. For the moment, at least, love conquered her.

Pan was wrenched out of the ecstasy of that moment by the pound of hoofs and the cras.h.i.+ng of brush. He could not disengage himself before a horse and rider were upon them. Nevertheless Pan recognized the intruder and leaped away from the bench with the instinctive swiftness for defense that had been ingrained in him.

d.i.c.k Hardman showed the most abject astonishment. His eyes stuck out, his jaw dropped. No other emotion seemed yet to have dawned in him.

He stared from Lucy to Pan and back again. A slow dull red began to creep into his cheeks. He e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed something incoherent. His amaze swiftly grew into horror. He had caught his fiancee in the arms of another man. Black fury suddenly possessed him.

"You--you--" he yelled stridently, moving to dismount.

"Stay on your horse," commanded Pan.

"Who the h.e.l.l are you?" bellowed Hardman, sliding back in the saddle.

"Howdy, Skunk Hardman," rejoined Pan, with cool impudence. "Reckon you ought to know me."

"Pan Smith!" gasped the other, hoa.r.s.ely, and he turned lividly white.

"By G.o.d, I knew you last night. But I couldn't place you."

"Well, Mr. d.i.c.k Hardman, I knew you the instant I set eyes on you--sitting there gambling--with the pretty bare-armed girl on your chair," returned Pan, with slow deliberate sarcasm.

"Yes, and you got that little ---- over to you about as quick," shouted Hardman.

"Be careful of your language. There's a lady present," replied Pan, menacingly.

"Of all the nerve! You--you d.a.m.ned cowpuncher," raved Hardman in a fury. "It didn't take you long to get to _her_, either, did it? Now you make tracks out of here or I'll--I'll--it'll be the worse for you, Pan Smith.... Lucy Blake is as good as married to me."