Lahoma

CHAPTER XVI

THE ONYX PIN

When the next letter came from Lahoma, Wilfred Compton and Bill Atkins hurried to the crevice in the mountain-top according to agreement. It was a cloudless afternoon, but at the farther end of the retreat the light of the lantern was necessary for its perusal. Brick Willock, who was there before them, read the letter in silence before handing it to the young man to read aloud.

"It's just addressed to me, this time," he remarked grimly, in explanation of his proprietary act; "they ain't no foolishness of 'Dear Brick and Bill.' But I treats you as friends should be treated, and lays before you everything Lahoma has found out. For Brick Willock, he says 'Friends is better friends when they don't know all about each other,' says he; and I tells you only what Lahoma has been told, according."

Wilfred took the letter, tingling with excitement. The strained watching and waiting for the sudden appearance of an unknown Red Kimball had made his bed in the cabin as sleepless as had been Bill's pallet in the dugout. They squatted about the lantern that rested on the stone floor, Willock always with eyes directed toward the narrow slit in the ceiling that they might not be taken by surprise.

The long natural corridor was bare, except for the old Spanish sword hanging upon the wall. A stout cedar post, firmly fixed in the extremity of the walls, formed a rude barricade against the abyss of unknown depth that yawned a few yards away from where they sat. This railing and the sword were the only evidences of man's possession, save for the ladder that would presently be carried back to the cove. No inquiries were made as to how Brick came and went, where he found food and a bed, or how he happened to be present at the precise moment of the arrival of the bearers of news.

"Dear Brick," Lahoma began: "By this time you have hidden where nobody can find you, for you've got my telegram and you know I wouldn't have sent it if it hadn't been necessary. You believe in me, and, as you would say,—how I'd love to hear you—you act 'according.' Well, and I believe in you, Brick, and you needn't imagine as long as you live that anybody could make me think you anything but what I know you to be, the kindest, most tender-hearted, most thoughtful man that ever lived. Get that fixed in your mind so when I tell what they say about you, you won't care, knowing I'm with you and will believe in you till death.

"I'm going to skip everything except the part about you, for this letter goes by next mail. There's ever and ever so many other things I'd love to tell you, and I don't see how I can wait, but I'm going to find out, for wait I must. Maybe I ought to begin with Mr. Gledware so you'll know more about him when I begin on the main news.

"We are at his house now and the house-party is in full swing. Mr. Gledware is pressing his suit to Annabel with all his might, and her mother is helping him. Nothing stands in the way—for she wants to marry him—except her love for Mr. Edgerton Compton. She told me all about her old romance with Wilfred—you remember him, I guess? She got to liking Edgerton after Wilfred went away because he looked so much like Wilfred. Maybe he does, but he isn't the same kind of man. Mr. Edgerton has spent all his money on fixing up the outside of the house, but Wilfred has spent his on the furnishings. Well! If Annabel could change her heart from one brother to the other just because Edgerton reminded her of Wilfred, I guess she won't have a very hard time making another transfer, especially as Mr. Gledware is traveling her way. When I love anybody, my love is the part of me that comes alive whenever that person is present, or is mentioned. So how could I slide it from one man to another, any more than the man himself could change to another man? And that's the way I love you, Brick, and not all the wealth or fame or good looks in the world (and you have neither) could get my heart away from YOU!

"Or from Bill.

"The first time I met Mr. Gledware, he acted in a curious way. Of course I was introduced as 'Miss Willock' and he started at the name, and at sight of me—two separate little movements just as plain as anything. Then he said he had heard the name 'Willock' in unusual surroundings, and that my face reminded him of somebody who was dead. That was all there was to it, then. But afterward he heard Annabel call me 'Lahoma,' and his face turned perfectly white.

"The first chance he had, after that, he sat down to talk to me in a corner where we wouldn't be overhead, and he asked me questions. So, of course, I told about father and mother taking me across the prairie to the Oklahoma country, and how mother died and father was killed, and I was with the Indians a while and then was taken to live with my cousin, Brick. He listened with his head down, never meeting my eye, and when I had finished all he said was, 'Did you ever bear my name before?'

"And I said I never had. Then he asked if I thought I had ever seen him, for he thought he could remember having seem ME somewhere. And I said I wasn't sure, I had met so many people, and there was something familiar about him. Then he said he guessed we hadn't ever met unless accidentally on the trail somewhere, as he had once been down in Texas,—and that was all.

"I don't like Mr. Gledware's eye because it always looks away from you. He would be considered a handsome man by anybody not particular about eyes. Afterward, I heard about his trip to Texas. Annabel and her mother were talking about Mr. Gledware's past. It seems that once Mr. Gledware and his first wife (I say his FIRST because I look upon Annabel as certain to be the second) joined the Oklahoma boomers and they were attacked by Indians, just as MY father and mother were, and they had with them his wife's little girl, for he had married a widow, just as MY father had (my stepfather) and there was a terrible battle. And Mr. Gledware, oh, he was SO brave! He killed ten Indians after the rest of his party, including his wife and daughter, had been slain, and he broke through the attacking party and escaped on a horse—the only one that got away.

"He doesn't look THAT brave. Later, I asked him if it could be possible that he was with the wagon-train we were in, but he said there wasn't any Mr. or Mrs. Willock in his party, and no little girl named Lahoma Willock. But he's been through what my father went through, and it made me feel kinder to him, somehow.

"But his eye is bad. Maybe it got in the habit of shifting about looking for Indians in the sagebrush. Sometimes he seems still to be looking for Indians. Well, I see where's he's right there, and I'm going to tell you why, which brings me to the biggest news yet.

"Now I've come to the day when I sent you the telegram, and why I sent it, so be prepared! There was to be a big picnic, today, near a town called Independence, and, as it happened, I didn't feel like going, so begged off—let me tell you why: I began a novel, last night, full of bright conversation, the pages all broken up in little scraps of print that hurry you along as if building steps for you to run down—it was ever and ever more interesting than real people can be. It was a story about a house-party and the writer just made them talk to suit himself and not to suit their dulness as a real house-party must, you know. So I stayed to finish that book. Oh, of course if I had had a lover to be with! But that's something I'll never have, I suppose; but I don't complain, Brick, for you've given me everything else I ever wanted.

"The reason I would like to have a lover is as follows: So I would understand the experience of being regarded that way. It would be like plowing up the sage-brush to plant kafir-corn and millo-maize, because until such time, there is bound to be a part of my nature unworked.

"Now, there is a nook in Mr. Gledware's library, a sort of alcove where you have a window all to yourself but are shut off from the rest of the room, and that is where I was when two men came in softly and closed and locked the door behind them. I couldn't see them but just as I was starting up to find out what it meant, one of them—it was Mr. Gledware, which surprised me greatly as he had gone with the rest to the picnic—spoke your name, Brick. As soon as I beard that name, and particularly on account of the way he spoke it, I determined to 'lay low' and scout out the trouble. So I just drew up as small as possible in my chair, as you would slip along through the high grass if Indians were near, and I listened. Maybe if I had finished my civilization I would have been obliged to let them know I was there; but fortunately, I haven't reached the limit, yet.

"The other man, I soon found, was Red Kimball; they had about finished their conversation before coming into the room, so the first part was lost. Mr. Gledware had come for his check-book, and the check was for Red Kimball. Red Kimball used to be the leader of a band of highwaymen up in Cimarron, when it was No-Man's Land; it was his hand that attacked the wagon-train when Mr. Gledware acted the hero—only, as they were disguised as Indians, Mr. Gledware didn't know they were such till later. He came on them, afterward, without their disguises, and they would have killed him if YOU, Brick, hadn't knocked down Red, and shot his brother! So, as I listened, I found out that Mr. Gledware wasn't the hero he claimed to be, but was THE MAN YOU SAVED; and he is MY STEPFATHER; and I was carried away BY HIM, and taken FROM HIM by the Indians; but he wasn't killed at all. And my name, I suppose is Lahoma GLEDWARE, at least not as Red Feather had taught me, "Lahoma WILLOCK." And I am NO kin to you, at all, Brick, you just took me in and cared for me because you ARE Brick Willock, the dearest tenderest friend a little girl ever had—and these lines are crooked because there are tears—because you are not my cousin.

"I'd rather be kin to you than married to a prince.

"Red Kimball says you were one of his gang of highwaymen but I know it ISN'T TRUE, so you don't have to say A WORD. But he is determined to be revenged on you for killing his brother. And the reason he's waited this long is because he didn't know where you were—good reason, isn't it? Tell you how he found out—it all comes from my getting civilized! He's a porter at our Kansas City hotel. So when he heard the men talking about how I had once been kidnaped by the Indians, and wrote nearly every day to my cousin Brick Willock, which they thought an odd name—he guessed the rest.

"It makes my blood turn cold to think that all the time we were living quietly and happily in the cove, that awful Red Kimball was hunting for you, meaning to have your life—and in a way that I'm ashamed to write, but must, so you'll know everything. He means to have you arrested and tried for his brother's murder—and he says HE CAN HANG YOU!

"And Mr. Gledware is his witness. That's why Red has come after him. You'll think it strange that after his gang were about to kill Mr. Gledware in the prairie, that he should come to ask him to act as witness against another man. That's what Mr. Gledware told him. But Red Kimball answered that it was all a bluff—they had never dreamed of shooting him or his little girl.

"When No-Man's Land was added to Oklahoma, a pardon was offered to Red Kimball and all his gang if they would come in and lay down their arms and swear to keep the peace—you see, most of their crimes had been committed where no courts could touch them. Well, all the gang came in— But what do you think? That terrible Red Kimball swears that YOU WERE ONE OF HIS GANG, and that as you didn't come in and surrender yourself, THE PARDON DOESN'T APPLY TO YOU! It was all I could do to keep from stepping right out and telling him you were one of the most peaceable and harmless of men and that you just HAPPENED to be riding about when you saw Mr. Gledware's danger, and just HAD to shoot Kansas Kimball to save me and my stepfather. You, a highwayman, indeed! I could laugh at that, if it didn't make me too mad when I think about it.

"Then Mr. Gledware talked. He said maybe it was a bluff against him, that standing him up against the moon to be shot at, but it wasn't one he was apt to forget, and he could never be on any kind of terms with Red; besides, he said, if Brick Willock hadn't saved his life, he'd always thought so, so wouldn't witness against him though he had no doubt he belonged to Red's gang. But that was nothing to HIM. And he couldn't understand how Red could have the face to come to him about ANYTHING, but was willing to pay a sum to keep all the past hushed up, as he didn't want any 'complications' from being claimed as a stepfather by Lahoma! The past was over, he said, and Lahoma had a home of her own, and he was satisfied to be free of her—and he would pay Red something to keep the past buried.

"Then Red spoke pretty ugly, saying it wasn't the past he was anxious to have buried, but Brick Willock. And he said that Mr. Gledware was a witness to the murder, whether he wanted to be or not, and Red was willing to confess to everything, in order to have Brick hanged.

"Then Mr. Gledware, in a cold unmoved voice, said he must go back to the picnic and 'Mr. Kimball' could do as he pleased.

"But that wasn't the end. 'Do you know,' says 'Mr. Kimball,' 'that Red Feather is in town, laying for you?' he says. Mr. Gledware gave a dreadful kind of low scream, such as turned me sick to hear. It reminded me of the cry of a coyote I heard once, caught in the trap, that saw Bill coming with his knife. The room was as still as death for a little while. I guess they were looking at each other.

"At last Red says, pretty slow and calm, 'Would you like to have that Indian out of the way?' Mr. Gledware didn't answer, at least not anything I could hear, but his eyes must have spoken for him, for Red went on after a while— 'It's a go, then, is it? Well, that'll take time—but in a few days—maybe in a few hours—I'll deal with the chief. And I want your word that after that's accomplished, you'll go with me to Greer County and stay on the job till Brick Willock swings.'"

"There was a longer silence than before. It lasted so long, and the room was so still, that after a while I almost imagined that they were gone, or that I had just waked up from a dreadful dream. My nerves all clashed in the strangest way—like the shivering of morning ice on a pool—when Mr. Gledware's voice jarred on my ears. He said, 'How will I know?'

"'Well,' says Red Kimball roughly, 'how WOULD you know?'

"There was another of those awful silences. Then Mr. Gledware said, 'When you bring me a pin that he always carries about him, I'll know that Red Feather will never trouble me again.'

"Kimball spoke rougher than before: 'You mean it'll show you that he's a dead 'un, huh?"

"'I mean what I said,' Mr. Gledware snapped, as if just rousing himself from a kind of stupor.

"'Well, what kind of pin?' That was Kimball's question.

"Then Mr. Gledware described the pin. He said it was a smooth-faced gold-rimmed pin of onyx set with pearls. And Kimball said boastingly that he would produce that pin, as he was a living man. And Mr. Gledware told him if he did, he'd go to witness against Brick Willock. So both left the room, and pretty soon, from the window, I saw them going away on horseback, in opposite directions.

"I mustn't hold back this letter to add any more, it must get off by the mail that's nearly due. The moment I learn anything new I'll write again. Of course I know you're no more a highwayman than myself, but since it's true that you did shoot Red's brother, and since he evidently died of the wound, I suppose Red could cause you a great deal of trouble. You could swear that if you hadn't killed Kansas Kimball, he would have killed my stepfather; and that they had ordered you to kill me, in my sleep. The trouble is that Mr. Gledware seems to be in terror about Red Feather, and if Kimball gets him rid of the Indian, I'm not sure that Mr. Gledware would tell the whole truth. It might be the word of those two against yours. It's certain that if they tried you and failed to convict, Kimball would try a knife or a gun as the next best way of getting even.

"My poor dear Brick, it seems that there's long trouble before you, hut the consciousness of innocence will uphold you, and just as soon as I do all I can at this end of the trail, by acting as your faithful scout, I'll come out in the open in my war clothes with my belt well-lined with weapons, and we'll defy the world. In the meantime—better keep hid! Good-by. Think of me when the wild winds blow.

"Your little girl,

"Lahoma.

"P.S. Tell Bill he can still claim his share.

"P.P.S. Got Bill's note of a few lines, read it with the greatest joy in the world, and guessed at the news. He says Wilfred Compton is there. What for?

"L."