The Max Brand Megapack (182 page)

“You?”

“To be here; to sit close to you; to watch you.”

Her glance was like the tip of a rapier, searching him through for some iota of seriousness under this banter.

“Ah?” and Nelly Lebrun laughed.

“Don’t you see that I mean it?”

“You can watch me from a distance, Mr. Donnegan.”

“May I say a bold thing?”

“You have said several.”

“No one can really watch you from a distance.”

She canted her head a little to one side; such an encounter of personal quips was a seventh heaven to her.

“That’s a riddle, Mr. Donnegan.”

“A simple one. The answer is, because there’s too much to watch.”

He joined her when she laughed, but the laughter of Donnegan made not a sound, and he broke in on her mirth suddenly.

“Ah, don’t you see I’m serious?”

Her glance flicked on either side, as though she feared someone might have read his lips.

“Not a soul can hear me,” murmured Donnegan, “and I’m going to be bolder still, and tell you the truth.”

“It’s the last thing I dare stay to hear.”

“You are too lovely to watch from a distance, Nelly Lebrun.”

He was so direct that even Nelly Lebrun, expert in flirtations, was given pause, and became sober. She shook her head and raised a cautioning finger. But Donnegan was not shaken.

“Because there is a glamour about a beautiful girl,” he said gravely. “One has to step into the halo to see her, to know her. Are you contented to look at a flower from a distance? That’s an old comparison, isn’t it? But there is something like a fragrance about you, Nelly Lebrun. Don’t be afraid. No one can hear; no one shall ever dream I’ve said such bold things to you. In the meantime, we have a truth party. There is a fragrance, I say. It must be breathed. There is a glow which must touch one. As it touches me now, you see?”

Indeed, there was a faint color in his cheeks. And the girl flushed more deeply; her eyes were still bright, but they no longer sharpened to such a penetrating point. She was believing at least a little part of what he said, and her disbelief only heightened her joy in what was real in this strangest of lovemakings.

“I shall stay here to learn one thing,” she said. “What deviltry is behind all this talk, Mr. Donnegan?”

“Is that fair to me? Besides, I only follow a beaten trail in The Corner.”

“And that?”

“Toward Nelly Lebrun.”

“A beaten trail? You?” she cried, with just a touch of anger. “I’m not a child, Mr. Donnegan!”

“You are not; and that’s why I am frank.”

“You have done all these things—following this trail you speak of?”

“Remember,” said Donnegan soberly. “What have I done?”

“Shot down two men; played like an actor on a stage a couple of times at least, if I must be blunt; hunted danger like—like a reckless madman; dared all The Corner to cross you; flaunted the red rag in the face of the bull. Those are a few things you have done, sir! And all on one trail? That trail you spoke of?”

“Nelly Lebrun—”

“I’m listening; and do you know I’m persuading myself to believe you?”

“It’s because you feel the truth before I speak it. Truth speaks for itself, you know.”

“I have closed my eyes—you see? I have stepped into a masquerade. Now you can talk.”

“Masquerades are exciting,” murmured Donnegan.

“And they are sometimes beautiful.”

“But this sober truth of mine—”

“Well?”

“I came here unknown—and I saw you, Nelly Lebrun.”

He paused; she was looking a little past him.

“I came in rags; no friends; no following. And I saw that I should have to make you notice me.”

“And why? No, I shouldn’t have asked that.”

“You shouldn’t ask that,” agreed Donnegan. “But I saw you the queen of The Corner, worshiped by all men. What could I do? I am not rich. I am not big. You see?”

He drew her attention to his smallness with a flush which never failed to touch the face of Donnegan when he thought of his size; and he seemed to swell and grow greater in the very instant she glanced at him.

“What could I do? One thing; fight. I have fought. I fought to get the eye of The Corner, but most of all to attract your attention. I came closer to you. I saw that one man blocked the way—mostly. I decided to brush him aside. How?”

“By fighting?” She had not been carried away by his argument. She was watching him like a lynx every moment.

“Not by that. By bluffing. You see, I was not fool enough to think that you would—particularly notice a fighting bully.”

He laid his open hand on the table. It was like exposing both strength and weakness; and into such a trap it would have been a singularly hard-minded woman who might not have stepped. Nelly Lebrun leaned a little closer. She forgot to criticize.

“It was bluff. I saw that Landis was big and good-looking. And what was I beside him? Nothing. I could only hope that he was hollow; yellow—you see? So I tried the bluff. You know about it. The clock, and all that claptrap. But Landis wasn’t yellow. He didn’t crumble. He lasted long enough to call my bluff, and I had to shoot in self-defense. And then, when he lay on the floor, I saw that I had failed.”

“Failed?”

He lowered his eyes for fear that she would catch the glitter of them.

“I knew that you would hate me for what I had done because I had only proved that Landis was a brave youngster with enough nerve for nine out of ten. And I came tonight—to ask you to forgive me. No, not that—only to ask you to understand. Do you?”

He raised his glance suddenly at that, and their eyes met with one of these electric shocks which will go tingling through two people. And when the lips of Nelly Lebrun parted a little, he knew that she was in the trap. He closed his hand that lay on the table—curling the fingers slowly. In that way he expressed all his exultation.

“There is something wrong,” said the girl, in a tone of one who argues with herself. “It’s all too logical to be real.”

“Ah?”

“Was that your only reason for fighting Jack Landis?”

“Do I have to confess even that?”

She smiled in the triumph of her penetration, but it was a brief, unhappy smile. One might have thought that she would have been glad to be deceived.

“I came to serve a girl who was unhappy,” said Donnegan. “Her fiancé had left her; her fiancé was Jack Landis. And she’s now in a hut up the hill waiting for him. And I thought that if I ruined him in your eyes he’d go back to a girl who wouldn’t care so much about bravery. Who’d forgive him for having left her. But you see what a fool I was and how clumsily I worked? My bluff failed, and I only wounded him, put him in your house, under your care, where he’ll be happiest, and where there’ll never be a chance for this girl to get him back.”

Nelly Lebrun, with her folded hands under her chin, studied him.

“Mr. Donnegan,” she said, “I wish I knew whether you are the most chivalrous, self-sacrificing of men, or simply the most gorgeous liar in the desert.”

“And it’s hardly fair,” said Donnegan, “to expect me to tell you that.”

CHAPTER 28

It gave them bo
th a welcome opportunity to laugh, welcome to the girl because it broke into an excitement which was rapidly telling upon her, and welcome to Donnegan because the strain of so many distortions of the truth was telling upon him as well. They laughed together. One hasty glance told Donnegan that half the couples in the room were whispering about Donnegan and Nelly Lebrun; but when he looked across the table he saw that Nelly Lebrun had not a thought for what might be going on in the minds of others. She was quite content.

“And the girl?” she said.

Donnegan rested his forehead upon his hand in thought. He dared not let Nelly see his face at this moment, for the mention of Lou Macon had poured the old flood of sorrow back upon him And therefore, when he looked up, he was sneering.

“You know these blond, pretty girls?” he said.

“Oh, they are adorable!”

“With dull eyes,” said Donnegan coldly, and a twinkle came into the responsive eye of Nelly Lebrun. “The sort of a girl who sees a hero in such a fellow as Jack Landis.”

“And Jack is brave.”

“I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Never mind. Brave, but such a boy.”

“Are you serious?”

She looked questioningly at Donnegan and they smiled together, slowly.

“I—I’m glad it’s that way,” and Donnegan sighed.

“And did you really think it could be any other way?”

“I didn’t know. I’m afraid I was blind.”

“But the poor girl on the hill; I wish I could see her.”

She was watching Donnegan very sharply again.

“A good idea. Why don’t you?”

“You seem to like her?”

“Yes,” said Donnegan judiciously. “She has an appealing way; I’m very sorry for her. But I’ve done my best; I can’t help her.”

“Isn’t there some way?”

“Of what?”

“Of helping her.”

Donnegan laughed. “Go to your father and persuade him to send Landis back to her.”

She shook her head.

“Of course, that wouldn’t do. There’s business mixed up in all this, you know.”

“Business? Well, I guessed at that.”

“My part in it wasn’t very pleasant,” she remarked sadly.

Donnegan was discreetly silent, knowing that silence extracts secrets.

“They made me—flirt with poor Jack. I really liked him!”

How much the past tense may mean!

“Poor fellow,” murmured the sympathetic Donnegan. “But why,” with gathering heat, “couldn’t you help me to do the thing I can’t do alone? Why couldn’t you get him away from the house?”

“With Joe Rix and the Pedlar guarding him?”

“They’ll be asleep in the middle of the night.”

“But Jack would wake up and make a noise.”

“There are things that would make him sleep through anything.”

“But how could he be moved?”

“On a horse litter kept ready outside.”

“And how carried to the litter?”

“I would carry him.” The girl looked at him with a question and then with a faint smile beginning. “Easily,” said Donnegan, stiffening in his chair. “Very easily.”

It pleased her to find this weakness in the pride of the invincible Donnegan. It gave her a secure feeling of mastery. So she controlled her smile and looked with a sort of superior kindliness upon the red-headed little man.

“It’s no good,” Nelly Lebrun said with a sigh. “Even if he were taken away—and then it would get you into a bad mess.”

“Would it? Worse than I’m in?”

“Hush! Lord Nick is coming to The Corner; and no matter what you’ve done so far—I think I could quiet him. But if you were to take Landis away—then nothing could stop him.”

Donnegan sneered.

“I begin to think Lord Nick is a bogie,” he said. “Everyone whispers when they speak of him.” He leaned forward. “I should like to meet him, Nelly Lebrun!”

It staggered Nelly. “Do you mean that?” she cried softly.

“I do.”

She caught her breath and then a spark of deviltry gleamed. “I wonder!” said Nelly Lebrun, and her glance weighed Donnegan.

“All I ask is a fair chance,” he said.

“He is a big man,” said the girl maliciously.

The never-failing blush burned in the face of Donnegan.

“A large target is more easily hit,” he said through his teeth.

Her thoughts played back and forth in her eyes.

“I can’t do it,” she said.

Donnegan played a random card.

“I was mistaken,” he said darkly. “Jack was not the man I should have faced. Lord Nick!”

“No, no, no, Mr. Donnegan!”

“You can’t persuade me. Well, I was a fool not to guess it!”

“I really think,” said the girl gloomily, “that as soon as Lord Nick comes, you’ll hunt him out!”

He bowed to her with cold politeness. “In spite of his size,” said Donnegan through his teeth once more.

And at this the girl’s face softened and grew merry.

“I’m going to help you to take Jack away,” she said, “on one condition.”

“And that?”

“That you won’t make a step toward Lord Nick when he comes.”

“I shall not avoid him,” said Donnegan.

“You’re unreasonable! Well, not avoid him, but simply not provoke him. I’ll arrange it so that Lord Nick won’t come hunting trouble.”

“And he’ll let Jack stay with the girl and her father?”

“Perhaps he’ll persuade them to let him go of their own free will.”

Donnegan thought of the colonel and smiled.

“In that case, of course, I shouldn’t care at all.” He added: “But do you mean all this?”

“You shall see.”

They talked only a moment longer and then Donnegan left the hall with the girl on his arm. Certainly the thoughts of all in Milligan’s followed that pair; and it was seen that Donnegan took her to the door of her house and then went away through the town and up the hill. And big George followed him like a shadow cast from a lantern behind a man walking in a fog.

In the hut on the hill, Donnegan put George quickly to work, and with a door and some bedding, a litter was hastily constructed and swung between the two horses. In the meantime, Donnegan climbed higher up the hill and watched steadily over the town until, in a house beneath him, two lights were shown. He came back at that and hurried down the hill with George behind and around the houses until they came to the pretentious cabin of the gambler, Lebrun.

Once there, Donnegan went straight to an unlighted window, tapped; and it was opened from within, softly. Nelly Lebrun stood within.

“It’s done,” she said. “Joe and the Pedlar are sound asleep. They drank too much.”

“Your father.”

“Hasn’t come home.”

“And Jack Landis?”

“No matter what you do, he won’t wake up; but be careful of his shoulder. It’s badly torn. How can you carry him?”

She could not see Donnegan’s flush, but she heard his teeth grit. And he slipped through the window, gesturing to George to come close. It was still darker inside the room—far darker than the starlit night outside. And the one path of lighter gray was the bed of Jack Landis. His heavy breathing was the only sound. Donnegan kneeled beside him and worked his arms under the limp figure.