Collected Works of Zane Grey, page 958
“What’d you marry that hellion for?” he demanded, pierced by her supplication.
“To protect myself. Malpass and you — somehow would have forced me to marry him. I’d rather have died...It wasn’t a regular elopement...I was to blame. I almost begged Clifton to save me. He didn’t — he doesn’t care for me. He believes he’ll not live long...I thought — it seemed — oh, father, it was a mad thing to do. But I was desperate.”
He let her get up, and breathing like an ox, lowering at her, he stood there freed at least from murderous instincts. Virginia drew away on uncertain feet. With deliverance from terror her wits returned.
“Choose. Divorce this heah Forrest or leave my house,” said Lundeen, with dark and gloomy finality.
“In any case, I’ll leave,” she replied, and with that ultimatum, and safe distance between her and this ruffian parent, the hot blood of courage and insupportable outrage flooded over her. “You are no father. You’re a brute and a coward. You’re the tool of this thief — this low hounder of a woman...I rejoice to see him thus — a beaten dog!”
“No more. Get out!” roared Lundeen, black in the face, goaded past endurance.
“May I pack some things — and say good-by to mother?”
“Take your belongings. But you’re through with the Lundeens. Go!”
Virginia fled.
Chapter Twelve
THE ONLY UNHAPPINESS and mortification affecting Virginia on the moment shuddered round the fact that Clifton Forrest had broken faith with her. To be sure, Malpass was an atrocious liar. But from Clifton alone could have come the knowledge of her marriage. That was enough to condemn him. No other part of Malpass’ raving story need be considered. She was bitterly shocked and alienated.
Freed now from the ever-present fear of being waylaid by Malpass in and around every corner of the house, Virginia hurried first down to the barns. Jake and Con espied her coming and hastened to meet her.
“Boys, I want you to take all my horses away from Cottonwoods,” she informed them, abruptly, without wasting time or explanations. “Do you know where you can take care of them for the winter?”
“Shore do,” replied Jake, cheerfully. “I was thinking about winter range. Used to ride for Jeff Sneed. His ranch is south. Good water an’ feed. An’ Jeff will be glad to have us.”
“That relieves me. Here’s some money, all I can spare. But don’t worry. The horses are worth ten thousand.”
“Wal, you needn’t worry, either,” responded Jake, with a loyal smile.
“Where shall I write you?”
“Las Vegas, I reckon. Course we couldn’t never get in town, but mail would come out now an’ then.”
“Very well. Pack up, and start as quickly as possible. Don’t excite suspicion of your intentions. But don’t let anybody stop you. These horses are my property.”
“Reckon there ain’t anybody round who could stop us, Miss,” replied Jake, nonchalantly.
“Good-by then. I’m very happy to have you boys to rely on.”
They bade her good-by, haltingly, full of wonder, and sympathy they dared not speak.
Virginia rushed back up to the house. Before she reached her rooms she had decided upon a plan of action. She would pack her belongings, drive to Las Vegas with her bags and send a truck back for her trunks. Then she would wire to Ethel and take the night train for Denver.
Whereupon she plunged into the packing — no slight task — and before very long she discovered that ever and anon she would stop a moment to do nothing but stare at the wall. When she realized this and divined why, she was angered with herself. Her natural instinct was to fly to Clifton. How wonderful if only she could have yielded to it! But he had failed her — he would not welcome her; and besides, that would aggravate a situation already grave. She must dismiss Clifton from mind for the present. The effort seemed to rend her. Poor boy! The war had ruined him, and his home-coming had been forlorn, miserable, unbearable. Small wonder if he had transgressed loyalty! Still, she could not conceive of him boasting about her being his wife. Some day she would get at the bottom of what really had been said and done. A thrilling idea began to form and would not be denied — Clifton had beaten Malpass for her sake. She simply had to be cold and unreceptive to that incalculably far-reaching possibility. By Malpass’ own lips — swollen and discolored — she had learned that he had been beaten by Forrest, and it was enough.
As luck would have it, Virginia’s mother came in to see her, unsuspecting, and quite surprised to find her in the midst of packing.
“Mother, I’m going to Denver a little ahead of my invitation,” she explained, relieved that Mrs. Lundeen manifestly did not yet know of the upheaval.
“Dear me! Always on the go! Will you never settle down?” she complained, mildly.
“I guess I’m about settled now, mother,” said Virginia, “if you only knew it.”
“It would please me to see you married.”
“To the same individual father picked out for me?”
“No. I wouldn’t want you to tell it, but I don’t believe Malpass could make you happy.”
“You’re an angel to say that, mother. I promise you I’ll get a husband — pretty quick,” returned Virginia, gleefully.
“I wish you would be serious...Virginia, I came in to tell you I’d like to go to Atlanta soon. And if you are leaving I think I’ll go.”
“Mother, I approve of that. And I might run down to Atlanta to see you this winter.”
This delighted Mrs. Lundeen, and finally Virginia made the visit a certainty, providing her mother kept it a secret, and furthermore would not be distressed or influenced by any circumstance that might arise on Virginia’s account in the meantime.
“You’re mysterious, dear,” smiled her mother. “But I’m so glad you will come that I’ll agree to anything.”
Virginia experienced a rush of unusual tenderness for her mother. She was tempted to tell her everything, but decided that there might be the chance that her mother would get away to Atlanta without being the wiser, and would therefore have a quieter mind. Mrs. Lundeen lingered talking for some time, and bade her good-by without being any the wiser as to the catastrophe of the day.
Spurred on and cheered, Virginia finished her packing. Then hurriedly dressing, she was soon ready for departure, and as she had seen her mother, she felt that she could leave without overpowering regrets. But a perverse devil of self tempted her to drive down on the Forrest side of the valley. She was proof against weakness. Nevertheless, as she passed a point opposite the little red adobe house, she could not refrain from looking across. “Well, Cliff, my soldier man,” she soliloquized, “wonder what your dad said about your marrying a Lundeen?”
Arriving in town, she left her luggage at the station, and sent the car back, and also a truck with express order to fetch her trunks speedily. Then, after securing her railroad accommodations and telegraphing Ethel, she decided she would wait in the station, as at that hour some of her town acquaintances would probably be at the Castaneda. She wanted to think.
Three hours later Virginia was aboard the train. While in the dining-car she had a last glimpse of the slope above Cottonwoods, and the dark spot that was the Padre Mine.
Strange now to consider the events of the day. Not the gratifying downfall of Malpass, not her father’s rage and her expulsion from home, not the crystallizing sense of melancholy in Clifton’s disloyalty, but the astounding developments at Padre Mine dominated her thought.
Virginia went back to her Pullman, and leaning at her window she watched the end of that eventful day darken over the ranges.
The more she pondered over Jake’s discovery at the mine, the stronger grew her conviction that deception and dishonesty on a large scale had been perpetrated there. Padre Mine bore the earmarks of having been the keystone of some gigantic plot of Malpass’, through which he had made a fortune. Virginia was interested only in the deception. The question hammered at her — if she could prove Jake’s contention would she not have power to break the hold of Malpass upon her father?
Doubts and misgivings faded like misty clouds before the sun. The matter clarified with analysis. Once upon coming back home from school, four years and more ago, she had been elated by the wonderful development of the mine. Her father was soaring to the clouds. She rode up to the mine, to find there hordes of Mexican laborers, dust, noise, and confusion, every indication of a marvelous strike. Money appeared to be as abundant as the sage. This was the period when her father had bought her all the fine horses available.
Two years later, upon another of her infrequent visits home, she was astounded to hear that the Padre Mine had failed. It was a subject about which no one risked speaking to her father. Virginia knew him well enough to be sure that he had suffered poignant disappointment, the more as he had allowed himself to become obsessed and confident. His reaction had not been to questionable dealing. Jed Lundeen might be deceived once by one man, but never again. No matter what his subjection to a shrewder intellect, and notwithstanding the fact that he had driven hard bargains himself, he would never stand to be cheated.
Hope of reinstating herself in her father’s regard came as an afterthought, following the first and passionate desire to circumvent Malpass, and then it was more for her mother’s than her own sake.
Presently the porter brought her a telegram, which he informed her had been given the conductor as the train pulled out of Las Vegas. It was from Ethel. She said she would be “piflicated with joy” to see Virginia, that she should have her baggage put off at Colorado Springs, and meet her at the station there. This appeared to be more good fortune for Virginia. The quiet of the resort would be preferable to Denver. Virginia had her berth made up, and went to bed dreaming before she fell asleep.
Next day the hours grew tedious. Virginia had to change trains at La Junta, and at length arrived at Colorado Springs. As the train pulled in, Virginia espied Ethel through the window. How the bright eager little face warmed her! True friends were rare. She had come to a juncture of her life when she could appreciate their value.
Then presently the porter was handing her down the step to the platform. Ethel let out a squeal of rapture and rushed to embrace her. Certain it was that Virginia returned it in full measure.
“You darling — lovely, gorgeous thing!” cried Ethel, between kisses.
“Oh, Ethel — I never was so glad to see you,” returned Virginia, fervently. She was released at last, and Ethel condescended to remember baggage, trunk checks, cars, and other practical necessities. And soon they were speeding to the hotel where Ethel explained she had brought her mother for a rest.
“Ginia dearest, you look strange — now I can see you,” said Ethel.
“Do I? How so? I surely feel strange,” laughed Virginia.
Ethel studied her face with the keenness of loving, remembering eyes from which nothing could escape. “You’ve lost your bloom and your round schoolgirl cheeks. You’re pale, honey. There’s something dark in your eyes. It’s not my old roguish Virginia...Yes, you’re older. You’ve changed, and oh, how it becomes you!...You used to be handsome. But good night! Now you’re a sweet, sad, lovely woman.”
“I shore reckon I needed you,” murmured Virginia, fighting a perfectly silly and almost irresistible longing to cry.
But before she dared yield to the luxury and wholesomeness of such relaxation there was the hotel to reach, and the gauntlet to run of idle guests to whom a newcomer was an event, and the gracious Mrs. Wayne and her friends to meet, and moment after moment to endure.
Ethel’s room at last! Cozy, comfortable, light, and colorful, looking out upon the green-sloped, gray-cliffed, white-peaked Rockies, it seemed haven for Virginia.
“Lock the door — savior,” cried Virginia, her voice rich and full and breaking. She threw her gloves, her coat, she tossed her hat, and all the while she avoided the wondering, dreading eyes of her friend.
“Virginia! You scare me stiff. What has happened?”
“I am — an outcast,” sobbed Virginia, but with Ethel’s arm around her.
At length the paroxysm was over, and Virginia felt the better for it.
“When have I cried like that?” she asked, raising her flushed and wet face from Ethel’s shoulder.
“Never since I knew you,” replied Ethel, still awed and shaken. “It broke my heart, Virginia. But how happy it makes me to know you’ve come to me in your trouble!...Now, tell it, darling. I’m a punk fair-weather friend, but try me in storm.”
“I’m an outcast,” replied Virginia, mournfully, and wiping her tear-splashed eyes she faced Ethel bravely and yet with shame.
“Outcast!” ejaculated her friend, bewildered.
“Yes. My father turned me out. I have no home and very little money. I sent my horses away to try to save them. I’ve got my clothes and jewels. And here I am, Ethel.”
“Tell me — a little at a time,” rejoined Ethel, gasping. “Turned you out! — The damned old hard-shelled crab! — Because you wouldn’t marry Malpass?”
“No. Because I — I married some one else,” whispered Virginia, hanging her head. It was not easy to confess, even to gentle, worshipful Ethel.
“Virginia!” And Ethel plumped down to her knees, rapt and wild, her eyes starting, her hands clasping Virginia’s, her whole being shot through and through with vitalizing current.
“Married! — Married to whom?...I’d die if it were anyone but Clifton!”
“It was Clifton, dear.”
“Oh, thank Heaven! I liked that boy as if — as if he were ten brothers of mine all in one...Dear old sad-eyed, silent suffering Cliff! He was a hero...And to think you’ve been and gone and done what I prayed for! It’s just marvelous. You’re the most satisfactory girl in all the world. You keep romance alive. What’s all this bunk about modern girls and money, luxury, jazz, and loveless marriage?...And that old buzzard father of yours threw you out?”
“Almost. He said the Lundeens were through with me.”
“Humph! And what did Mr. Slick-haired, goofy-eyed Malpass say to your marrying Cliff? I’ll bet he threw a fit.”
“It was he who told father. He raved. He foamed at the mouth. Oh, he was not human!...Ethel, he had to be brought home — carried in. Cliff had beaten him with a whip. His clothes were slashed to ribbons. Bloody! Black and blue! Ugh! — Cliff beat him nearly to death.”
“Virginia Lundeen! You tell me!” screamed Ethel, frantically.
Thus inspired and impelled, Virginia, without realizing it in the least, fell to a Homeric recital of her story. She was to learn quickly, however, that her powers of narrative were supreme. Ethel quivered and shivered and wept over that rendezvous with Clifton in the garden; she went into ecstasies over the secret marriage; and when the sordid sequel ended — the passionate, vivid description of Malpass’ denunciation — he would drag her through the mud! and her father’s brutal hands at her throat, to prove which Virginia had but to show the discolorations on her neck, Ethel became a clenching-fisted, blazing-eyed little fury.
She launched out into an incoherent tirade that did not lose force until she lost her breath. And then she burst into tears. Virginia in turn ministered gentle consolation.
“And now what?” queried Ethel, recovering belligerently.
“Well, as I said before, here I am,” replied Virginia, smiling.
“Of course, for the present. And it’s great for me. But what are you going to do?”
“Ethel, I haven’t any idea. Except I intend to investigate the Padre Mine failure,” rejoined Virginia, and she gave Ethel minute details of her trip to the mine with the cowboys, and Jake’s discovery.
“You bet!” exclaimed Ethel, her eyes wide and shining. “When we get to Denver you must consult a mining engineer. And if he gives you any encouragement, take him back to Las Vegas. I’ll come with you. We’ll put it over on Mr. Malpass. Gee! wouldn’t it be great if we could prove he’s crooked? In court, I mean. Wouldn’t we make your father crawl?”
“I don’t care about that, though it would be a satisfaction,” continued Virginia. “I just want to free him from Malpass.”
“Strikes me one’s as bad as the other,” said Ethel, bluntly. “What you want is to see justice done. To yourself and your mother — and the Forrests.”
“Father has been led or forced into dishonest dealing. But even if he gets out of the clutches of Malpass, I doubt that he would ever square up with the Forrests.”
“That’ll be left for you, Virginia. And I should think you’d get much joy out of it.”
“I would indeed. But you know Clifton refused assistance from me.”
“That’s different. He couldn’t refuse now.”
“Couldn’t he? Much you know Cliff!”
“But you’re his wife.”
“Yes,” mused Virginia.
“Don’t you love him?” went on this indefatigable and relentless romancer.
“Terribly.”
“Well then, it’s perfect. Cottonwoods will belong to both of you. And I shall spend half my time there.”
“Ethel, come down to earth...Clifton doesn’t care for me.”
“Bunk!”
“But I tell you he doesn’t. He sympathized with me. Was sorry. Wanted to help me out of my plight. I’m sure he doesn’t believe he’ll live long. It didn’t matter to him. So he asked me to marry him.”
“Listen to her!...So he was very kind and practical. No sentiment. Just made himself convenient for a damsel in distress. Jollied you a little about dying soon, huh?...And you let him get away with it?”
Virginia stared at her volatile friend, on the verge of both shock and anger.
Ethel laughed at her. “Couldn’t you see poor, proud Cliff was madly in love with you?”
“No, you incorrigible little match-maker, I couldn’t.”
“You were as blind as a bat. Cliff didn’t want you to know. Why, I’ll bet right now he’s hugging you to his breast — figuratively speaking.”
