"Oh! Belle, Belle, what will you say?"
Taking the hot coffee from the stove, Mrs. Bylow knocked at the door and went in.
"Take this, it will make you feel better."
She hoped he would talk, but he didn't. He only thanked her feebly. Then Charlie came back from his brother's shanty. He had remembered that, it being Sunday, the Preacher would be missed and he saddled his horse to set out for Cedar Mountain. As he left, his wife came out and said:
"While you are there, drop a hint to Belle Boyd," and Charlie nodded.
Arriving at Dr. Jebb's, Charlie explained the case to the pastor without detaiclass="underline"
"Sure, Mr. Hartigan had a little accident at our corner last night and sprained his ankle. My wife is nursing him, but he won't be able to preach to-day."
"Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Well, it is all right, I will take both services," and the blind and gentle old man turned to his books.
Then Bylow rode to the Boyd home. Here, he realized, was a much more difficult job. But he was determined to go into no details. It was Belle who answered his knock. Charlie began:
"My wife told me to tell you that Mr. Hartigan got hurt last night. He is at our house. He won't be in town to-day."
"What? Did he interfere in a spree?"
"Yes."
"Is he shot?"
"No."
"Is he wounded?"
"No, not exactly."
"What is the matter?"
"Only a general shakeup, he had a bad fall," and Bylow moved uneasily.
It was a simple matter to bluff a simple old clergyman, but it was another thing altogether to mislead an alert young woman. Belle knew there was something wrong—something more and different from what she had been told.
"Is the doctor with him?"
"No."
"I will get the doctor and come at once."
"No, I wouldn't; at least, not till morning."
Bylow's manner roused Belle all the more to prompt action. Seeing that all his explanations made things worse, Charlie abruptly left, mounted his broncho, and went "rockity rockity" as the pony's heels went "puff, puff" on the dusty trail around the hill and away.
The doctor was not to be found that morning and Belle found it hard to await his return. In the meantime, some strange rumour must have reached the town for in Sunday-school Belle met Eliza Lowe, the recently arrived sister of the schoolteacher. The look on her face, the gleam in her eye, were unmistakable. She had not yet learned of her brother's part in the affair. Belle found herself avoiding the sister's gaze.
As the hours passed the conviction deepened in Belle that there was something seriously wrong; she could feel it in the air. It was something more than an accident to Hartigan. There was the indefinable shadow of shame about it. The oppression became unbearable and on leaving Sunday-school, she went down to the doctor's house. He had just got in from a case near Fort Ryan and was eating a belated meal. Belle went straight to the point:
"Dr. Carson, I want you to take me at once to Bylow's Corner."
"Why?"
"There's something wrong. Mr. Hartigan is in serious trouble. I don't believe that he has fallen from his horse as they say. I want to know the truth."
Her face was pale, her mouth was set. The doctor looked keenly at her a moment and then, comprehending, said:
"All right, I will"; and in ten minutes the mudstained buckboard with a fresh horse in it was speeding over the foot of Cedar Mountain on the trail to Bylow's.
While Belle was fretting under the delay and marshalling her forces for the trip to the Corner, Hartigan lay in the quiet Bylow cabin and under the influence of cold water, coffee, and a more collected mind, gradually acquired some degree of composure. He had risen and dressed and was sadly musing on the wreck of all his life which that one fiery sip had brought about, when the thought of Blazing Star came to him. He went eagerly to the stable and as he rubbed the animal down he found help in the physical action. He hammered the currycomb on a log to clean it before putting it in the box, then gazing to the eastward along the trail that climbed around the shoulder of Cedar Mountain, he saw a buckboard approaching. In the Black Hills one identifies his visitor by his horse, and Jim recognized the Carson outfit. Sitting beside the doctor was a woman in a light-coloured dress with a red parasol raised above her. It smote him as no man's fist had ever done. He turned into the stable, put saddle and bridle on Blazing Star, swung to the seat, gave rein to the willing beast and, heading away from Cedar Mountain on the Deadwood Trail, went bounding, riding, stricken, too hard hit and shamed to meet the eyes of the woman whose praise he had come to value as the best approval he might hope to win.
The doctor's buckboard came to the door, tied up, and the two occupants went in.
"Where is your patient, Mrs. Bylow?"
The woman pointed to the bedroom door, went to it, knocked, opened it, and finding the room empty said:
"He was here a few minutes ago. I expect he is out to the stable."
Belle sat down. The nervous strain of the past hours was telling on her. She felt unstrung and vaguely depressed.
The doctor and Mary Bylow went to the stable. The empty stall, with no sign of saddle, bridle, or preacher, were enough. They returned to the house.
In answer to Belle's look the doctor made a gesture, and said simply:
"Gone."
"Where?"
The doctor shook his head and pointed northward.
"Please tell me all about it, Mrs. Bylow," said Belle.
"There is times to tell lies," said Mary naively, "but this ain't. I'll tell you the whole truth," and she did in a quivering voice, while tears ran from her eyes.
"Trapped, trapped," was Belle's only comment. "Where do you suppose he went?"
"Not to Cedar Mountain," said Carson, "that's sure. No one passed us."
Charlie Bylow, coming into the cabin, heard the doctor's last comment.
"He was heading due north and going hard when last we saw him," was his contribution.
"Dr. Carson, he's headed for Deadwood, and I'm going after him to bring him back." Belle stood up with sudden decision. The need for action once more present, all her strength responded.
The doctor shook his head. "I don't think you should go. You know what all the town would say."
"You are going with me," was the answer.
"When?"
"Right now."
"Better go home first."
"And have a fight with my folks? No, no! We go now. I have an aunt in Deadwood, you know!"
"It's forty-five miles, and we can't get there till midnight, even if my horse holds out."
"We may overtake him before that," said Belle, though she knew quite well they would not, for Hartigan would ride like a madman.
It had not been difficult to enlist Carson's sympathies. A sincere friendship had sprung up between the boyish preacher and himself and their total dissimilarity had made them congenial. Carson was amused in his quiet way to note how exactly Belle was moving as he thought best and surest, so now he merely added:
"Deadwood it is," and with a farewell word to the Bylows they were off.
CHAPTER XX
The Memorable Trip to Deadwood
It was a long, hard journey, and it was one o'clock in the morning before they reached Deadwood. Every public house that could get a license to sell liquor announced itself as a "hotel." Those few that could not, made a virtue of their failure and flaunted a sign, "Temperance House." The "wet houses" were on the main gulch, the "dry" ones in off nooks, or perched on breezy hills. To the best of these latter the doctor drove, had the luck to find the owner still on duty, and secured a room for himself. Then they drove to the home of Belle's aunt, Mrs. Collins. One has to take a hotel on its rules; but a relative may be called up and inconvenienced at any time.