Judith of the Godless Valley/Chapter 7
CHAPTER VII
THE POST-OFFICE CONFERENCE
"Ride with your finger on the trigger but smile before you shoot'"
DOUGLAS had no luck at all on his mule hunt. And as if to add to his discomfort, while climbing down the trail from the cemetery, he saw Judith on Buster, accompanied by the leaping Wolf Cub, overtake Scott Parsons and saw them race toward the post-office. Twilight came on, with the mud of the trail stiffening in the frosty air. An overpowering sense of loneliness urged Douglas across the valley and brought him to pause beside the Rodman corral. He dismounted at the buck fence and stood for a moment in the shadow of the Moose, wondering why he had stopped here. He had stood thus but a few moments when two riders came up the trail. They trotted into the door-yard.
"I don't think I want to dance, after all, Scott," said Judith's voice.
"What harm is there in it?" demanded Scott.
"I make it a point never to go in here except when Inez is alone."
"I suppose you're afraid to meet Doug!" exclaimed Scott. "He's here half the time."
Douglas leaped over the fence, rushed to Scott's side and struck him twice.
"That's a lie! Get down and fight with your fists, you thief and murderer!" Doug's voice was low with passion.
There was a quick movement of Scott's right hand to his hip and Douglas felt a stinging pain in his left shoulder. Simultaneously with the shot, Scott put the spurs to Ginger, and Doug reeled as the mare's shoulder thrust against him. Judith jumped from Buster.
"Doug, did he get you?"
Douglas had not fallen. He pushed the girl aside and ran to the plunging Moose. Inez Rodman called from the door.
"Who's shooting?"
Still without speaking, Douglas threw himself on his horse and was off after the dim figure that raced down the west trail which led to the Pass. He did not heed Judith's call nor the quick patter of hoofs behind him. On and on through the frosty April night, Prince barking joyfully before, the Moose galloping at top speed, the stars sliding overhead. On past the Browns' noisy corral, past Falkner's brightly lighted cabin, and up the lifting trail to the Pass. The broken black line of the Pass, usually so clean-cut against the stars, looked wavering and uncertain. Douglas dropped forward and put his arms about the neck of the Moose.
Once in a while a horse is born with as much acumen as a mule plus the sensibility of a dog. The Moose, when he felt Doug's arms about his neck, dropped from a gallop to a trot and from a trot to a walk. Shortly, when Judith called, "Whoa-up, Moose!" he stopped and stood nickering uneasily. Judith dismounted and pulled the reins over Buster's head. Then she ran up to put her hand on Doug's knee.
"Doug! Doug! Where did he get you?"
"Don't hold me back, Jude!" said Douglas thickly. "Tie me onto the Moose and leave me after him. I'm going to finish him, now."
"You can't catch him. You're hurt too bad. Let me take you home, Doug."
There was no reply for a moment. The Moose moved his head uneasily up and down. Then, breathing heavily and brokenly, Douglas said, "Not—while you—think I told—Charleton."
That was the last he knew for some time. When he returned to consciousness, Peter and Judith were half dragging him, half lifting him into the post-office.
"1 don't care what you want, Jude," Peter was saying, "you aren't going to drag him another hour over the trail. We'll get him onto my bed and see how bad off he is."
"My shoulder!" grunted Douglas.
"All right, Doug! Now, Judith, one more heave onto the bed. Get off there, Sister. Jude, pass me that bottle of whiskey, then go lock the outside door so's no one can bother till I've finished. Then come back here."
Judith, her eyes wide and brilliant, her cheeks feverish, obeyed without a word. She drew off Doug's short leather rider's coat and cut off his blood-saturated shirt and undershirt. Douglas watched her with beads of sweat on his lips. Peter in the meantime had thrust his late supper back from the front of the stove and had put a couple of disreputable looking towels to boil in the dishpan. When Judith had finished and Doug's beautiful thin torso lay white against the dingy Indian blanket, Peter scoured his hands and examined the hole in the shoulder from which the blood pulsed slowly.
"It's gone clean through from front to back," said Peter cheerfully. "Guess I can fix him. Eight years in the regular service is useful sometimes. Come here and hold him, Jude. I'm going to clean this hole with peroxide and he'll try to climb the wall."
"No, I won't! Go to it!" whispered Douglas.
Nor did he, for as Peter, with a piece of stove-pipe wire he had boiled as a probe, began his very thorough process of sterilization, Douglas quietly fainted. When he came to his senses, his shoulder was bandaged and Judith was pulling an old shirt of Peter's over his head.
"Now, Judith, make a fresh pot of coffee and drink some of it," said Peter. "You are as white as a sheet. How are you, Doug, my boy?"
"Fine! Peter, you get me drunk. I'm going after Scott to-night."
"Let's have the story." Peter's lips were grim. "You begin, Judith."
Judith set the coffee-pot on the red-hot stove and perched on the edge of the bed. She was wearing a middy blouse of dull blue. It was small for her and showed her fine shoulder and full-muscled throat and chest. She drew a deep breath and began at once.
"I was riding past Inez' place with Scott. He teased me to go in for a dance. When I wouldn't go, he asked me if I was sore at Inez because Douglas spent half his time there with her. Doug must have been behind his horse. He came out like a crazy man, called Scott a liar and told him to come down and fight, and hit him. Scott drew on him and shot him. Then he rode away like mad, and Doug after him. I followed and caught Doug part way up the Pass and brought him here."
Judith paused and Peter turned to Douglas. "All correct, Doug?"
But the young rider was staring at Judith. "Did you believe Scott, Judith?" he demanded.
"How do I know what you've been up to? You were there to-night."
"I hadn't seen Inez. I haven't been near her place since I made you a promise, once. I went over to-night because I was discouraged. I'd made up my mind that there wasn't anything real about anybody. Even Charleton isn't real. Now, Peter, you give me a quart of whiskey and help me onto the Moose. I'll—"
"You'll calm down, that's what you'll do," said Judith succinctly. "Won't he, Peter? When Scott finds he hasn't killed you, he'll be back and then you can settle with him. Peter, you telephone my mother I'm going to stay down here for a while and take care of Doug."
Peter hesitated. "I don't need you, Jude, though of course, it'll be pleasant to have you here."
"It's just as well you feel that way," said Judith, "because I intend to stay, anyhow."
Douglas blinked round eyed at Judith, then smiled seraphically and closed his eyes. He was asleep before Peter had succeeded in getting Mrs. Spencer on the telephone. All Lost Chief was on a party line and he carried on his conversation not without difficulty. Judith sat listening with a broad grin of appreciation.
"Hello, Mary. This is Peter Knight. Doug had an accident and I have him here with me—O, Inez telephoned you. Well, Judith overtook him and brought him here. He's in no particular danger—That you, Grandma? How's Marion?—No, it was Scott drew on Doug.—Wait a minute till I finish with his mother.—Listen, Mary! Don't get excited—You keep quiet, Inez.—Everybody butt out! Now, listen, you folks, if you've got to, but don't interrupt!—Scott said something that riled Doug and Doug hit him. Scott drew and got Doug through the left shoulder, bad, but clean, and I've got the wound dressed.—Say, if you women don't keep quiet, I'll sure-gawd hang up. O, hello, Charleton! Yes, Scott made a clean get-away.—Now, listen, Mary. I'm going to keep Judith here to-night to help me and you can come down to-morrow.—Yes, that you, John? Well, you come along now, but not Mary. She's too weepy.—What's that you say, Inez? The sheriff and Jimmy gone out after Scott? When did they start—Hello, Mrs. Day. Half an hour ago? That's good. Now, listen, John. You stop by here before you go crazy. Understand me? All right! Good-night, everybody!"
He turned from the telephone with a wry smile. "John's coming down."
"He's been worse than a wolverine since Doug left," said Judith.
"How do you and he get along?" asked Peter, sitting down to his belated supper.
"O, I patch along for Mother's sake. But it's no way to live! I don't see what Dad gets out of his own ugliness."
"You'd probably find out, if he'd tell you the truth, that John doesn't consider himself ugly-tempered. He'd admit he was firm and misunderstood and unappreciated." Peter smiled grimly.
Judith laughed. "Well, thank heaven John doesn't belong to me, and I don't belong to him!" She sipped a cup of coffee slowly, her eyes on Douglas in his uneasy sleep.
He was still asleep when John came in. He nodded to Peter then strode over to the bed, where he stood for a moment scowling down at his son, his lower lip caught between his teeth. Douglas opened his eyes.
"Douglas," said John hoarsely, "before I go out after Scott, tell me all is straight between you and me. Judith made up, long ago."
"That's a whopper!" exclaimed Judith. "I'll never forgive you as long as I live! I'm just sticking round for Mother's sake. My mother that once could ride an unbroken mule. When I think of that—" She paused as Peter laid a hand on her arm.
"It's not a matter of making up," said Douglas. "It wasn't a thing you could make up. It was just one more fact to knock a fellow's faith in life's being a straight deal."
John did not answer for a moment, but something very like a blush rolled over his tanned face, For the first time in his life, perhaps, he felt that he had done something shameful. But he made no admission.
"You'll come home and let us nurse you, Doug?" he asked when the blush had gone.
"I guess I'd better stay with Peter. I never want to come home while Judith believes I squealed to Charleton."
"Jude doesn't believe anything of the kind. She's just a flighty, fool girl."
"Thanks, dear Father!" sniffed Judith.
John did not glance at the girl. He was watching Douglas eagerly. "I thought it was me that kept you away from home. I can make Jude apologize as soon as I get Scott back here. If I clear that up, then will you come home, old boy?"
"Yes, I guess so. But that won't keep me from settling with Scott for to-night."
"Sure! But you get well, Dougie!" John turned from the bed with the look of sullenness wiped as by magic from his face.
Douglas stared at Judith. His mind was confused but he realized that the loneliness and despondency of the day was gone. He was blindly angry with Scott yet grateful to the event which had brought Judith to his aid.
John held a low-voiced colloquy with Peter as to the nature of Douglas' wound; then with a cheerful good-night, he went out. Douglas closed his eyes.
"You fix yourself up a bed on the floor, Judith," said Peter. "I'll keep the fire going and an eye on Douglas. To-morrow you can take your turn."
Judith answered pleadingly, "I'm not tired or sleepy, Peter. And I almost never get a chance to talk alone with you. Let me sit up with you!"
Peter's long, harsh face softened. "All right, Jude! We'll keep the old coffee-pot going and make a night of it. Then—"
He was interrupted by the sound of wordy altercation among the dogs outside. Judith cocked a knowing ear. "Wolf Cub's in trouble! I'd better let him in, Peter. He and Sister will snarl and quarrel all night. They get along about like Dad and I do."
"It'll break Sister's heart, but go ahead. I always tell her, guests first," said Peter.
Judith opened the door a crack and whistled. There was a rush outside of many paws, and Wolf Cub's long gray muzzle appeared in the narrow orifice. There was a scramble, a yip from Wolf Cub, and he was inside, licking Judith's hand and trying to climb into Peter's lap at the same time. He was two-thirds grown now and as big as a day-old calf. Judith gazed at him with utter pride. "Isn't he a lamb, Peter? Now, you get over in the corner, Wolf, and don't let me hear a sound from you to-night!"
The great puppy looked up into her face with ears cooked, then turned slowly and crept into the corner indicated and with a groan lay down. Peter jerked his head in admiration.
"You are some person, Jude! Keep boiling water going. I'm going to wash that wound of Doug's every hour. This cattle country is the devil for infection."
"Oughtn't we to take him up to Mountain City?" asked Jude, in sudden anxiety. "We could get Young Jeff's auto."
"At the first sign of trouble, I will," replied Peter. "But I think I've had more experience with gunshot wounds than Doc Winston's had."
There was a renewed sound of scratching and whining at the door. Douglas opened his eyes. "Better let Prince in long enough to see that I'm all right," he said.
Peter groaned. "Another insult to Sister! However, if he and the pup won't fight—"
"I'll answer for Wolf Cub." Judith tossed a warning glance at the corner where gray ears were twitching restlessly.
Peter opened the door carefully. Sister and Prince stormed in. There was a mix-up, during which the pup did not stir from his corner and Sister was shoved out the door, snapping at Prince as she went. Prince wagged his tail at Judith and Peter, then put his forepaws on the bed and gazed anxiously at Douglas. He sniffed at the wounded shoulder, wriggled and gave a short, sharp bark.
Doug opened his eyes. "It's all right, Prince."
Prince licked Doug's cheek.
"So that's understood," said Peter, taking Prince by the collar, "and you can just step out and talk it over with gentle little Sister."
Douglas closed his eyes again. Judith sat down on the floor, her back against the bed. Peter lighted his pipe and put a fresh panful of towels on to boil, before settling himself in his homemade armchair.
"I understand Scott gave you a little blue roan that's a real bucker," he said.
"He didn't give him to me. It was pay for some work I did for him. "
"Uhuh! What do you aim to do with him?"
"Keep him unbroke for the Fourth of July rodeo. And, Peter, I'm going to enter my Sioux bull for some stunts."
"Dangerous work, I'd say. What kind of stunts?"
The young girl chuckled. "You wait and see! That Sioux weighs a good two thousand pounds and he thinks he's a bear cub!"
"Bear cub! I don't know what John Spencer's thinking of!" grunted Peter.
"John doesn't think. He just feels," said Judith. There was a short silence which the girl broke by saying, "Peter, were you ever in love?"
The postmaster took his pipe from his mouth, stared at Judith's earnest eyes, put the pipe back and replied, "Yes."
"How many times?"
"How many times? Can you really be in love more than once, Judith?"
"Now, what's the use of saying that to me, Peter? I'm not a baby!"
"In many ways you are," returned Peter, serenely. "Why this interest in love? What's his name?"
"I'm not sure it's any one. But of course I think a lot about it. You aren't laughing, are you, Peter?"
"God forbid! I feel much more like crying."
Judith smiled up at him, doubtfully.
"Crying?"
"Yes; you are so young, Jude. I hate to think of your dreams going by you."
"Well, I'm not such a kid as you think I am. I'll bet I know all there is to know about love."
"My God, Judith, you don't even know the real thing when it's offered you. All you know is the rot you've seen all your life. Love!" Peter snorted derisively.
Judith gave a little shiver of excitement. "Well, if you know so much about love, Peter, what is it?"
"I don't know what it is, except that all of it, every aspect of it, understand, is bred right here." He tapped his forehead. "It begins in the brain, not in the body. Love is not lust, Judith."
Judith scowled thoughtfully. Peter let the thought soak in; then he said ,"And when real love comes, it takes possession of your mind and turns it into heaven and hell."
"Is that the way it came to you, Peter?"
"Yes!"
"How many times?"
"Twice. And I wouldn't want to endure it again."
"There's a poem like that," said Judith, somewhat blushingly. "Do you mind poetry? I read lots of it."
"One should at sixteen," returned the postmaster. "No, I don't mind poetry. What were you thinking of?"
Judith, still blushing, gave a cautious glance at the bed and began:
"He who for love hath undergone
The worst that can befall,
Is happier thousandfold than he
Who never loved at all.
A grace within his soul hath reigned
Which nothing else can bring.
Thank God for all that I have gained
By that high suffering!"
Peter, watching Judith with something deeply sad in his blue eyes, nodded when she had finished. "Youth!" he muttered. "Youth!"
"Do you believe it, Peter?" demanded Judith.
"Yes, I do. Girl, how much high suffering will you get out of your goings on with Scott?"
"None at all, Peter."
"I wish I were twenty years younger," said Peter.
"If you were twenty years younger you wouldn't be as wise as you are now."
"And what happiness has wisdom brought me?" exclaimed Peter.
"It must be mighty fine to really know things," said Judith.
"What kind of things?"
"O, love and all that kind of thing."
"I'd like a drink of water, please!" Douglas opened his eyes.
"Have you been listening, Douglas?" demanded Judith.
"I don't think I missed any of it," Doug smiled. "You're growing up, Jude."
Judith tossed her head. "I think it was rotten of you to listen to my conversation with another man!" And although she and Peter talked in a desultory way until dawn, the vasty subject of love was not mentioned again.
About ten o'clock the next morning Charleton Falkner came to see Douglas. He hardly had established himself when the thunder of many hoofs sounded without, a wrangling of dogs began, and John Spencer thrust open the door to Peter's living quarters. He was spattered with mud from head to foot. So was Scott Parsons, who followed him, as well as Sheriff Frank Day and Jimmy Day, who brought up the procession.
Judith, who had been washing dishes, hastily dumped the dish-water out of the window. Charleton, with his familiar, sardonic grin, propped Douglas up on a pillow.
"What're you bringing him in here for, John?" demanded Peter harshly. "Doug's in no state for a row."
"I don't know why not!" exclaimed Douglas coolly. "I don't have to talk or listen with my shoulder. Where'd you pick him up, Dad?"
"Never mind that!" replied John impatiently. "He's here. What do you want done with him, Doug?"
All eyes focused on Scott. In mud-spattered chaps and leather coat, his sombrero on the back of his head, a cigarette hanging from his hard, handsome mouth, Scott leaned easily against the table, eying Judith. Douglas looked from Scott to Judith and from Judith out of the window where beyond the yellow green of rabbit bush that carpeted the valley there lay the green shadow of the Forest Reserve. After a moment's thought he said:
"What made you draw on me like that, Scott?"
"I thought you'd pulled your gun."
"I punched you right and left. You knew I hadn't pulled a gun. As far as I'm concerned, you're too free and easy with that six-shooter of yours."
"Me, too," agreed the sheriff, scratching Prince's ear.
"He's the gun pullingest guy in the Rockies," volunteered Jimmy.
"All I want to say," Doug announced, "is that when I get use of my shooting arm again, I'm going to pot Scott on sight."
Peter looked at Douglas' tanned face beneath the tumbled golden hair.
"Let's sit down," said Peter, "and go over this thing carefully. Scott's leading with the wrong foot in this valley, but I don't know as shooting him on sight is the answer."
Scott and Jimmy perched on the table, John and Judith on the foot of the bed. The others found chairs. Doug stared at Peter, at first with resentment, then with an air of curiosity.
"Don't you try any soft stuff, Peter!" protested John. "Scott's worn his welcome out in Lost Chief and that's all there is to it."
"My folks came here a year before yours did, John," retorted Scott. "I've got as good a right in this valley as anybody."
"Nobody that makes a nuisance of himself has got any rights in this valley," asserted Douglas. "I suppose you think because your grandfather killed Indians here you've got a right to shoot white men. Well, sir, I'm going to teach you different."
"Pot-shooting at him isn't going to teach him anything except perhaps what is over the Great Divide, Doug," said Peter dryly.
Scott laughed sardonically.
"The law has got something to say in this case," announced the sheriff, lighting a small black pipe.
"No, it hasn't," exclaimed Douglas; "not if I don't want it to."
"You aren't the whole of Lost Chief, Doug," said Charleton. "I've got a small grudge to settle with Scott, myself."
"And I've got several," added John.
"Enjoy yourself, folks," suggested Scott, winking openly at Judith over the cigarette he was lighting.
This infuriated John. "Jude, you clear out! Scott, you blank-blank—"
Douglas flung up a protesting hand. "O, cut that, Dad! Judith, you stay right where you are. You're at the bottom of this whole trouble and I want you to see and hear it."
"Draw it mild, Douglas!" protested the postmaster.
"Don't bother about me," said Jude. "I sure-gawd can take care of myself."
"What happens next?" inquired Jimmy Day.
Nobody spoke for a moment; then very deliberately, Peter turned to the sheriff.
"You remember Doug's mother, don't you, Frank? I can't help thinking how much he looks like her, to-day, although he's the image of John."
"Remember her! I tried for five years to get her to marry me. But her old dad wouldn't stand for it."
"You mean she couldn't see you because of me, Frank!" exclaimed John, a sudden light in his handsome eyes.
Douglas again favored the postmaster with a contemplative stare.
"Some old wolf, her dad, I've heard," Peter went on.
"He was," agreed the sheriff. "He ran the valley and he ran it right. Every Fourth of July he made a speech about making Lost Chief the Plymouth Rock of the West."
Charleton Falkner roared. "I rememer those speeches!"
Peter was grinning. "But in spite of them, from what I've heard I believe he came mighty near being a great man, old Bill Douglas."
"What did he lack?" demanded Douglas suddenly.
"Religion!" answered Peter, promptly.
"Religion? What's that?" asked John with a guffaw.
"You never had any, Peter."
"Right!" agreed Peter. "Worse luck for me that I didn't have that kind of a mind. But I know any kind of a social idea fails without it. And I know if old Bill Douglas had built a church up there beside the schoolhouse, the chances are that Scott wouldn't have plugged Douglas last night. And mind, I don't believe in God, or the hereafter, or any of the dope they drug you with."
"What the hell are you driving at, Peter?" demanded Charleton.
"Say," shouted John, "is this a trial or a sermon?"
"It's neither," replied Peter. "We're just talking things over. My idea is that Doug shall sort of sit in judgment on Scott and the rest of us abide by his decision."
"Now, listen here!" exclaimed Scott. "This may be a funny joke, but I don't see it!"
Charleton laughed. "I'm with you, Peter. Only that won't pay my grudge."
John laughed too, with a little glance of pride toward his son's set, white face. "I'm on! Make it include his leaving Jude alone."
"Aw, you folks act plumb loco!" snarled Scott.
"Wait and see! Wait and see!" protested Peter. "And while Doug thinks it over, let me add something to what we were saying about old Bill Douglas. He used to act as a kind of unofficial judge in the valley?"
The others nodded.
"Did he ever," Peter went on, "make an important decision that he didn't try to look to the good and the future of Lost Chief? At least, I gathered that from the things Doug's mother used to tell me about the old man's pipe dreams."
John spoke soberly. "He was a just man. They don't make 'em that way any more."
"He was more than just," insisted Peter. "He was forward looking. But he led with the wrong foot. He laughed at the church."
"Sure he did," agreed Charleton. "Why not? Remember old Fowler? A fine sample of the church!"
Peter rose and paced the floor a minute. "Let me tell you folks something. I laugh at the cant they've wrapped the church up in. But I don't laugh at the system of ethics Christ taught. I'm here to tell you folks, He put out the finest, most workable system of ethics the world has ever known. And folks can't live together without a system of ethics."
"It's a wonder you don't subscribe to 'em, Peter," jibed Charleton.
"It's too late. But that don't say that I don't realize clearly that I've failed in life because of it. What do you say to that, Charleton?"
Charleton's lips twisted.
"Why all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd
Of the two Worlds so wisely—they are thrust
Like foolish Prophets forth: their Words to Scorn
Are scattered and their mouths are stopt with Dust."
John laughed. Peter shrugged his shoulders and said, "Suit yourselves. As for me I believe everybody is destined sooner or later to deal squarely with right and wrong. Sooner or later every community has to wrestle with the question of social ethics, or fail. Fate has written it of Lost Chief. You'll see."
"I'm with you there." Frank Day spoke soberly. "I believe in fate. You can't ride these hills and not. It's all written beforehand."
Douglas cleared his throat. "I've got an idea," hesitatingly. "I've been thinking for a long time that somebody in Lost Chief that has a homestead right ought to homestead that shoulder of Lost Chief mountain that cuts off Elijah Nelson from our valley. If we don't, he will. I can't do it because I'm not of age. But Scott can, and he can find plenty of work for that six-shooter of his, worrying the Mormons and keeping 'em out of Lost Trail. I'll agree to let Scott alone if he'll let me alone and undertake that job."
There was silence, Scott staring at Douglas with a mixture of contempt, belligerency and surprise in his face.
"But," protested John, "that's no punishment, and it don't say a thing about Judith!"
Douglas shifted his feet impatiently. "I'm not going to punish any guy for running after Jude. That's a fair fight. What I'm sore about is his lying about me and shooting at me when I wasn't armed."
"I'd planned," said Scott gruffly, "to try to buy back our old place from the Browns. They've got more than they can carry and I'm sure getting nowhere renting that piece from Charleton."
"And," suggested Charleton with a grin, "if you encourage those broncos of yours, they each might have three or four slicks every spring, and if you keep up practice with the blacksnake on the old milch cow—"
"Dry up, Charleton!" exclaimed Peter. "What do you think of the idea, Frank?"
"It ain't bad," answered the sheriff slowly, "though I ain't afraid of the Mormons coming in."
"That's where you are wrong," said Charleton. "They are going to get Lost Chief Valley by any straight or crooked method they can think up. With an ornery devil like Scott to climb over, they won't try to come in that entrance, that's sure."
"How about it, Scott?" asked the sheriff.
"I'd just as soon, and I'd just as soon say that I sure went crazy when Doug gave me those two good ones and I did what I wouldn't have done if I'd taken time to think."
"Well," grinned Douglas, "nobody is going to kick if you don't take time to think over in the Mormon valley."
Sheriff Day rose with a laugh. "I've got to get to the alfalfa field I'm plowing. Come on, Jimmy."
Jimmy rose to his good six feet of height and pulled on his gloves. "I feel like I'd been praying," he said. "That is, if I'd ever heard a prayer, I'd say so." He made a face at Judith and followed his father.
John Spencer looked from Douglas to Peter and from Peter to Charleton with a little lift of his chin. Then he said, "When are you coming home, Doug?"
"Not till Jude believes I didn't tell on her last summer."
"I'll get the truth out of Scott!" exclaimed John, drawing his six-shooter.
"Aw, put it up, John, you feather-brain you," drawled Scott. "I told Charleton, Jude. He paid me for the information. I never supposed he'd hold it against a girl."
Judith turned very red. "Scott Parsons, I hope you go up that Mormon valley and that they get you, you blank-blank double-crosser you!"
Scott shrugged his shoulders. Judith glared at each of the men in turn. "I hate you all, every one of you!" she cried. "What chance has a girl among you? You're just like a lot of coyotes after a rabbit!"
"Rabbit! Say lynx-cat, Jude!" laughed John.
Judith tossed her head and rushed out of the room.
The men laughed hugely as she banged the door. Only Douglas remained sober.
"Well," said John, "'I suppose you'll be home in a day or two, Doug."
"If Charleton can find some one I will be."
"I'll give him half time," volunteered Scott.
"Nothing doing!" replied Charleton. "Nobody gets a second chance to double-cross me!"
Scott flushed angrily but shrugged his shoulders. Charleton went on, "Of course, Charleton, Jr. won't be able to ride for a month or so but Jimmy Day will help me out in the meantime."
"Son smoke yet?" asked Peter.
"No; I have to spend so much time doing jury duty on my neighbors, I haven't got round to teaching him. He weighs a big ten pounds, the little devil."
"Come on, let's get out," said Scott.
They clanked out, leaving Douglas alone with Peter, and he fell into a long sleep.