The riddle of Three-Way Creek

THE northern horizon was alight with a splendid aurora. It was still evening, with a prevailing sense of great peace. The two men and two women on the verandah were absorbed in the magnificence of the heavenly display. It was nothing unusual. There was nothing new in the magic of its movement. But its interest and beauty were a source of never-failing attraction, even to Molly, who had known its splendour from the days of her earliest childhood.

The yellow lamplight, shining through the window, lit the intimate little scene. It was the hour before supper, an hour of complete rest after the day’s work. Jim and Larry were lounging luxuriously in rocker chairs. They were smoking, and meditating over the long, cool drinks with which Blanche had provided them.

Molly was seated close beside the older girl. She had laid her sewing upon the table before her, and, with elbows resting upon it, she remained with her chin supported in the palms of her hands, staring thoughtfully out at the ceaseless movement of the heavenly mystery.

Blanche was talking. It was her way when her men-folk were present. She made no secret of her weakness, she even laughed at it openly.

“Isn’t it good to be right here sitting around on such a night?” she asked generally, turning almost reluctantly from the radiant night sky. She laughed a little self-consciously. “I can surely guess the thing Larry’s thinking in his queer red head. Maybe he’s wondering when I’ll get something new to scare him with. But then he hasn’t a soul for the beauties around him,” she added, with pretended regret. “There, Molly, look right down there at the barns and bunk-houses. Look at the lights winking out at us. Don’t they stand out like—like jewels? Then look down the valley into the darkness and shadows. See the mists gathering along the creek. And listen to the croaking chorus of the frogs, that never seem to get tired of their queer chatter. And the air, and the stars standing out overhead. It’s—it’s all glorious,” she breathed contendedly. “It’s so quiet and peaceful, and—and it makes you feel that God never meant us folk to build drab cities and things. It makes you think we were all meant to live in the open——”

“Till winter gets round. Then you guess again, and yearn for the Dago janitor who can fix the steam heat right.”

Larry chuckled amiably as he buried his nose in the glass of whisky that had been prepared for Jim, and caught Blanche’s smiling, censorious glance. Jim laughed outright in the depths of his chair.

“That’s the way they always go on, Molly,” he said, to the girl at the table. “If Blanche reckoned it was Tuesday, Larry here would assure her it was Broadway, New York, or something equally foolish. But Sis is right,” he went on. “She certainly is. There’s a peace around this valley that makes me feel good.” He laughed. “And it’s a peace that’s not a thing to do with stars, or northern lights, and not even frogs.” His smile died out. “I made a trip down to your farm to-day.”

Molly was startled out of her contemplation of the valley. She sat up, and her eyes were shining as she gazed at the white-haired creature who had brought her to this haven of rest and human kindliness.

Blanche’s efforts had succeeded far beyond her best hopes. The girl was daily growing stronger. She was no longer sick and ailing. But, best of all, her recovery, both mental and physical, was complete. The men had watched the progress, and applauded the nurse. But Blanche understood the reality of the thing that had happened. She knew that the last of Molly’s childhood had passed. The days of her child-dreaming were over. She was a woman now, with all the rest lost in the passionate storms that had swept over her. A real understanding of the hard things of life had come to her, for, in her agony, her eyes had been widely opened. The hate to which her love for Andy McFardell had turned was an act of Providence which had brought about the rest.

“Then you’ve seen Lightning?” she asked. “He’ll be harvesting.”

There was eagerness in Molly’s tone. It told of a mind that was again full of the affairs of life that had always been hers.

A quick glance passed between brother and sister. The man was questioning, and Blanche inclined her head. Jim leant back in his chair. He knocked out his pipe in a fashion intended to rob any words of his of unusual significance.

“No,” he said, “he wasn’t there.”

A moment passed before Molly spoke again. Blanche was observing her closely, and wondering. The red-headed Larry turned his freckled face in the girl’s direction.

“He—he wasn’t there?”

The question came with a curious little gulp.

Jim shook his head, which the lamplight transformed to something like burnished silver.

“I didn’t see him,” he said smilingly. “No, he wasn’t there,” he went on definitely. “It didn’t seem he’d been there since he came up here with Blanche, chasing after you. The harvest was standing in fine ear. Your team and cows were out at grass. There wasn’t a sign at the house, or his bunk-house, that he’d been around.”

Larry hastily devoured the remains of his drink. Jim was lighting his pipe. Blanche had forgotten the beauties of the night, and laid one hand gently on Molly’s shoulder.

“He borrowed my Pedro,” she said. “He left his horse here, down at the barn.”

Molly turned in a flash.

“You hadn’t told me,” she said sharply.

“No,” Blanche said. “You were sick.”

Molly drew a deep breath.

“Why did he borrow your Pedro?” she asked.

“He said he was scared to face the trail of Three-Way Creek with a horse that didn’t know it right.”

Molly’s eyes widened.

“He said that? Lightning?” she asked incredulously.

“Yes. He said that.”

“And you—you believed it?”

“I did—at the moment.”

Molly turned to Jim with disconcerting abruptness.

“Did you believe it, too?” she demanded. Then she looked over at the freckled face of Larry Manford. “And you?”

It was Larry who replied. He shook his fiery head. And his words came with a short laugh.

“I certainly didn’t,” he declared.

Molly looked into his keen eyes for a moment. Then she turned to Jim.

“And you?” she persisted.

“No.”

Jim turned himself about, and sat facing the girl whose whole manner had undergone so complete a change. Her eyes were alight. There was excitement and apprehension in them. There was something else. The men failed to recognise it, but Blanche had no illusion. The girl, like Jim and Larry, had read through Lightning’s subterfuge.

Molly shook her head. She was exercising a rather desperate control. She was striving for a calmness she found almost impossible.

“No,” she said, in a low voice. “How could you believe it? Lightning would ride his horse anywhere.” Her tone became less quiet. “Oh, I could laff if I wasn’t scared,” she cried. “You folk don’t know Lightning. I guess I know him through an’ through. Lightning didn’t loan your Pedro to make home on. He was looking for a beast that could make a big trail. He’s gone after Andy.”

Her manner was headlong. Her breathing had quickened. Her agitation was growing. Suddenly her hands clasped together. Then they fell apart in a movement of wringing. She turned on Blanche.

“Why—why did you lend him your horse, Blanche?” she cried. “Why—why did you let him go? Oh, it’s awful! If—if you’d told me I could have stopped him easy. He’d have done as I said. Don’t you see? I do. Oh,” she went on, turning again to Jim, “I know what you mean, talking of the peace of this valley. You reckon Lightning has headed Andy from getting the Police around. Ther’s only one way for Lightning when it comes to fixing things. If he’s after Andy McFardell he means to kill him. He will kill him. And it won’t be to head off the Police from this valley either. Oh, it’s all crazy. It’s terrible. It’ll be murder, and—and Lightning’s done it. He’s a reckless, crazy-headed savage. He’s the whitest, loyalest friend. And they’ll take him, and hang him, for—murder. I know,” she went on, in a surge of emotion. “None of you know, or can ever get the things lying back of Lightning’s head. He cares nothing for himself. Nothing for anybody but—me. He’s gone to kill Andy McFardell, and he’ll never quit till he’s done it.”

Molly stared out hopelessly at the winking lights which had seemed so beautiful, so peaceful, such a brief while before. Now everything was changed. Tears gathered unheeded as she yielded to the dread thoughts which her vision had conjured.

Jim stirred helplessly in his chair. He was yearning to take her in his arms and undo the mischief his words had brought about. But somehow he felt he had done right. And it was with Blanche’s knowledge and approval he had acted. He looked over at Blanche. She was calmly watchful. All that had happened she had foreseen. And, as certainly as it had happened, she knew the effect would swiftly pass.

It was left to Larry to break up the silence. It was left to him to distract Molly’s mind from the shock of her own feelings. And he did it in no uncertain fashion. He sprang from his chair and passed to the verandah post, and stood leaning his big body against it.

“Is it murder to shoot a wolf?” he cried hotly. “Is it murder to kill a foul, stenching skunk? Not on your life. If Lightning’s killed that swine, I’m out to see he makes a right getaway.” Suddenly he broke into a queer, short laugh. “Say, folk,” he cried, with a humour that was irresistible, “I was never so glad of this valley, and this crazy layout of Jim’s, as I am right now. Don’t worry a thing, Molly. Don’t you drop one of those dandy tears. We’re men on this ranch, not saints. And there isn’t a soul among us but says Lightning’s right—dead right. My only worry is that Lightning shall kill that feller good an’ plenty.”

Without pausing for the result of his utterly immoral approval of murder, he stepped off the verandah. But he turned at once at Blanche’s smiling challenge.

“Where now, Larry?” she asked gently.

The man made a little gesture of impatience.

“Why, to fix my horse right. I pull right out after supper. There’s going to be no darn hanging for Lightning.”

Blanche shook her head.

“No, boy,” she said, with decision. “You men are all mostly foolish when your heads get hot. You’re going to stop around here to see no hurt comes to the woman who doesn’t know better than to marry a man whose head Nature intended to get hot. Lightning doesn’t need your help. He borrowed my Pedro. And—he’ll bring him right back here. I know that. And I guess Molly knows it, too. She and Jim here can ride down to the farm to-morrow. She’ll ride her own pinto that Lightning insisted on bringing up for her. Maybe Molly’s quick eyes’ll see things Jim isn’t likely to.”

Then she turned to the girl beside her. She took possession of one of her hands, and caressed it between her own soft palms.

“Then you’ll come right along back here, dear,” she said. “You can’t quit us till you’re well and strong, and feel good for the work you belong to.”

“But you never told me Lightning brought my pinto along up,” Molly exclaimed.

Blanche smiled.

“Didn’t I?” she said. “Guess I must have forgotten.”

The two women looked into each other’s eyes, and the girl squeezed one of the hands caressing hers.

“I guess you’re right, Blanche,” she said, with a little sigh. Then her smile began to dawn again. “I—I think you’re most always right. Sure I’ll go to-morrow. The harvest must be fixed, and—I guess Lightning won’t fail me.”

Blanche sighed contentedly.

“No,” she said, “Lightning won’t fail you.”

Supper was over. At the girl’s request Jim had gone with her down to the barn where her pinto was stabled. She wanted to see her little mare again, that creature that was almost part of her life. Larry and Blanche were alone on the verandah. They were standing together where the others had left them. One of the man’s arms was about the woman’s shapely shoulders, and she was drawn close up to him.

“You’re all wrong, Blanche, sending that little kid down there to look at the show where all her trouble happened,” Larry said, with a wise shake of the head. “Jim ought to’ve bucked right away. What sort of good are you looking for? Look at the way she broke up over Lightning. You’re taking a hell of a chance. And if I’d been Jim——”

Blanche laughed softly.

“Oh, you boys,” she said. “You’re all so—so wise, and strong, and brave, and big. But you’re just big foolish kids when it comes to—women. The only chance I’ve taken is that Jim’s no fool. And I don’t guess he’s that way.”

The red head turned quickly and looked down into the fact that was laughing up at him.

“But you know Lightning’s not there,” Larry said. “You know as well as we do he’s gone after that miserable skunk. You know as well as that kid does he’ll kill him sure. Why not let me get out to pass him a hand, and you keep Jim and Molly right here? Say, there isn’t sense in the thing you’ve fixed. There surely isn’t.”

“Isn’t there?” Blanche sighed happily. She raised a hand to her shoulder and clasped it about the muscular fist she found there. “Of course I know all those things, Larry,” she went on. “All those things are so. It’s man’s way, so it’s Lightning’s. Molly’s right. He’ll never leave McFardell alive. He’ll follow him and kill him.” The man felt her shudder, for all the calmness with which she spoke. “Maybe I’m all wrong. Maybe I’m callous and wicked. But I’m not interested in anything but Jim’s happiness—Jim’s and Molly’s. Molly’s fallen for Jim. I know. You see, another woman can see these things. Well, to-morrow’s Jim’s opportunity. On the way down, before she sees for herself that—— Oh, psha! anything might happen. She’s impulsive. Lightning! If she thought he needed her help, good-bye everything else. Jim must fix things on the way down. And I’m wicked enough, vicious enough, to hope that Andy McFardell comes by his deserts.”

Blanche felt the squeeze of the man’s hand.

“There’s nothing wicked to you, Blanche,” he said. “I’m with you that McFardell gets his med’cine good an’ plenty. But say, kid,” he cried eagerly, “you’ll let me pass a hand to Lightning? I want him to kill that skunk. I do so. It’s queer. I got this place in my bones.” He laughed boyishly. “I just hate it I’m the only feller around this outfit that doesn’t need to worry in the daylight.”

Blanche’s laugh came low and full of humour. She glanced up at him slily.

“Oh, Larry,” she cried, “you are—you certainly are a crazy—— And what about me? Do you reckon I’m going to marry you to be toted along on the run from justice?”

The man remained quite undisturbed by the threat. His arm tightened about the girl’s slim body and his eyes lit mischievously.

“Why not?” he asked, with a grin. “I haven’t heard that Jim had to ask you twice, with him on the run.”

“Yes, but Jim needed me.”

“Well?”

Blanche’s eyes shone in the darkness. She reached up and tenderly kissed the freckled face she loved.

“Neither will you, Larry, boy,” she said, all her love shining in her eyes. “If Jim fixes things with Molly so he no longer needs us here, why, I’ll beat the longest trail with you you can figure out, just how and when you want me. Yes, and you can do all you fancy for Lightning.”