The Second Western Megapack. Zane Grey

you don’t give it to me without five more words—”

      “And I’ve told you just as often that I’ve nothing to do with the paymaster’s money, and I wish you would put daylight anywhere, for then my husband would come home and make an end of you!” And with the great limpid tears overflowing her blue eyes, Rose Laughton knew that the face she turned up at him was enough to melt the sternest heart going.

      “Do you mean to tell me—” said he, evidently wavering, and possibly inclining to doubt if, after all, she were not telling the truth, as no man in his senses would leave such a sum of money in the keeping of such a simpleton.

      “I don’t mean to tell you anything!” she cried. “You won’t believe a word I say, and I never had any one doubt my word before. I hate to have you take that fifteen dollars, though. You never would in the world, if[Pg 1961] you knew how much self-denial it stands for. Every time I think I would like an ice-cream, out in this wilderness, where you might as well ask for an iceberg, I’ve made Tom give me the price of one. You won’t find anything but ribbons there. And when I’ve felt as if I should go wild if I couldn’t have a box of Huyler’s candy, I’ve made Tom give me the price of that. There’s only powder and tweezers and frizzes in those boxes,” as he went over the top of the dressing-case, still keeping a lookout on her. “And when we were all out of lager and apollinaris, and Tom couldn’t—that’s my laces, and I wish you wouldn’t finger them; I don’t believe your hands are clean—and Tom couldn’t get anything to drink, I’ve made him put in the price of a drink, and lots of ten-cent pieces came that way, and—But I don’t imagine you care to hear about all that. What makes you look at me so?” For the man had left his search again, and his glance was piercing her through and through. “Oh, your eyes are like augers turning to live coals!” she cried. “Is that the way you look at your wife? Do you look at your children the same way?”

      “That lay won’t work,” said he, with another grin. “I ain’t got no feelings to work on. I ain’t got no wife or kids.”

      “I’m sure that’s fortunate,” said Mrs. Laughton. “A family wouldn’t have any peace of their lives with you following such a dangerous business. And they couldn’t see much of you either. I must say I think you’d be a great deal happier if you reformed—I mean—well, if you left this business, and took up a quarter-section, and had a wife and—”

      “Look here!” cried the man, his patience gone. “Are you a fool, or are you bluffing me? I’ve half a mind to[Pg 1962] knock your head in,” he cried, “and hunt the house over for myself! I would, if there was time.”

      “You wouldn’t find anything if you did,” she returned, leaning back in her chair. “I’ve looked often enough, when I thought Tom had some money. I never found any. What are you going to do now?” with a cry of alarm at his movement.

      “I’m going to tie you hand and foot first—”

      “Oh, I wouldn’t! I’d rather you wouldn’t—really! I promise you I won’t leave this chair—”

      “I don’t mean you shall.”

      “Oh, how can you treat me so!” she exclaimed, lifting up her streaming face. “You don’t look like a person to treat a woman so. I don’t like to be tied; it makes me feel so helpless.”

      “What kind of a dumb fool be you, anyway?” said the man, stopping a moment to stare at her. And he made a step then toward the high chest of drawers, half bureau, half writing-desk, for a ball of tape he saw lying there.

      “Oh!” she cried, remembering the tar-baby. “Don’t! Don’t go there! For mercy’s sake, don’t go there!” raising her voice till it was like the wind in the chimney. “Oh, please don’t go there!” At which, as if feeling morally, or rather immorally, sure that what he had come for was in that spot, he seized the handles of the drawer, and down fell the lid upon his head with a whack that jammed his hat over his eyes and blinded him with pain and fury for an instant. And in that instant she had whipped the roll of money from her belt, and had dropped it underneath her chair. “I knew it!” she cried. “I knew it would! It always does. I told you not to go.”

      “You shet your mouth quick!” roared the man, with a splutter of oaths between each word.

      “That’s right,” she said, leaning over the arm of the[Pg 1963] chair, her face like a pitying saint’s. “Don’t mind me, I always tell Tom to swear, when he jams his thumb. I know how it is myself when I’m driving a nail. It’s a great relief. I’d put some cold water on your head, but I promised you I wouldn’t stir out of the chair—”

      The man went and sat down in the chair on whose back he had been leaning.

      “I swear, I don’t know what to make of you,” said he, rubbing his head ruefully.

      “You can make friends with me,” said she. “That’s what you can do. I’m sure I’ve shown you that I’m friendly enough. I never believe any harm of any one till I see it myself. I don’t blame you for wanting the money. I’m always in want of money. I’ve told you you might take mine, though I don’t want you to. But I shouldn’t give you Tom’s money, even if I knew where it was. Tom would kill me if I did, and I might as well be killed by you as by Tom—and better. You can make friends with me, and be some protection to me till my husband comes. I’m expecting him and Jules every moment.”

      The man started to his feet.

      “Do you see that?” he cried, holding his revolver under her nose. “Look right into that gun! We’ll have no more fooling. It’ll be your last look if you don’t tell me where that money is before I count three.”

      She put out her hand and calmly moved it aside.

      “I’ve looked into those things ever since I’ve lived on the prairie,” said she. “And I dare say it won’t go off—mine won’t. Besides, I know very well you wouldn’t shoot a woman, and you can’t make bricks without straw; and then I’ve told you I don’t know anything about that money.”

      “You are a game one,” said he.[Pg 1964]

      “No, I’m not,” she replied. “I’m the most tremendous coward. I’ve come out here in this wild country to live, and I’m alone a great deal, and I quake at every sound, every creak of a timber, every rustle of the grass. And you don’t know anything about what it is to have your heart stand still with horror of a wild beast or a wild Indian or a deserter—a deserting soldier. There’s a great Apache down there now, stretched out in his blanket on the floor, before the fire in the kitchen. And I came up here as quick as I could, to lock the door behind us and sit up till Tom came home, and I declare, I never was so thankful in all my life as I was just now to see a white face when I looked at you!”

      “Well, I’ll be—! Apache!” cried the visitor. “See here, little one, you’ve saved your husband’s money for him. You’re a double-handful of pluck. I haven’t any idea but you know where it’s hid—but I’ve got to be making tracks. If it wasn’t for waking that Apache I’d leave Red Dan’s handwriting on the wall.”

      And almost while he was speaking he had swung himself out of the window to the roof of the porch and had dropped to the ground and made off.

      Mrs. Laughton waited till she thought he must be out of hearing, leaning out as if she were gazing at the moon. Then she softly shut and fastened the sash, and crept with shaking limbs to the door and unlocked it, and fell in a dead faint across the threshold. And there, when he returned some three-quarters of an hour later, Tom found her.

      “Oh, Tom!” she sobbed, when she became conscious that she was lying in his arms, his heart beating like a trip-hammer, his voice hoarse with fright as he implored her to open her eyes; “is there an Apache in the kitchen?”

      WHILE SMOKE ROLLED, by Robert E. Howard

      “The War of 1812 might have had a very different ending if Sir Wilmot Pembroke had succeeded in his efforts to organize the Western Indians into