The Short Cut Read online

  CHAPTER XIV

  IN WANDA'S CAVE

  Willie Dart's sunny nature seemed to grow ever brighter as the dayswore on. Once or twice he sighed at Wayne Shandon's failure to respondto his levities; and when he felt particularly unappreciated he carriedhis dimpling personality to the bunk house where he was hailed withdelight. When a flask that had come in with Long Steve, who had made abrief trip to the outer world, disappeared before that joyous gentlemanhad consumed half of the potent contents, and when later the emptyflask was found in the covers of Emmet's bunk, Willie Dart looked onwith sorrowful, innocent eyes while Steve and Emmet resorted tophysical argument. When a game of crib was being played while half adozen men looked on, and a portion of the deck vanished, only to turnup ten minutes later in the hip pocket of Tony Harris, who had not oncebeen near the table and was most thoroughly mystified, no one thoughtof blaming the cheerful Mr. Dart. It was only when he offeredprivately to collect for Big Bill a debt of six bits long owing to himfrom Dave Platt that the real gift of those wonderful hands of hisbegan to be at all apparent.

  Then, too, the method of his progress over the range was another sourceof unfailing delight and unbounded admiration. He had ridden a horseto the Bar L-M, but no man of them ever saw his little legs astride ahorse again. He found, back of the blacksmith shop, the wreck of anold cart which years ago had been used for breaking colts; heimprovised shafts and seat; he discovered the encouraging fact that OldBots, a shambling derelict who had lost an eye when Wayne Shandon wasquite young, was gentle and trustworthy. After that, wherever he wentabroad, and he travelled all over the countryside, he rode in the cart,steering Old Bots this way and that with much shouting, prodding andjerking of reins. And he drove where perhaps no man had ever drivenbefore. His smiling confidence in Old Bots, in his rattling, creakingold cart, in his own ability as a driver were all characteristic of hisjoyous optimism.

  In the meantime Wayne Shandon had at last seen Wanda. His reasons formaking no effort to see her immediately after his heated interview withMartin Leland were clear in his own mind; he expected to find that theyhad been equally as clear to her, and that she would have understood.But the Wanda he found one riotously brilliant morning was rather cool,distant, unapproachable.

  He had ridden up on the cliffs which towered at the upper end of theEcho Creek ranch, from which he could look down the valley and see herwhen she left the house, as he felt confident that she would. He sawher when it was not yet nine o'clock. She was riding out across thevalley toward the cliffs opposite at the north end of the valley,toward the cave she had found there. Shandon marked the course she wastaking, swung his horse across a ridge and hastened to the meeting withher. He came upon her as she dismounted near the big cedar against therocks.

  "Wanda!" he called softly.

  She turned toward him, her face paler, he thought, than it should be.He slipped from the saddle and came swiftly toward her, his eyesshining, his arms out. Then she raised her hand, stopping him.

  "Good morning, Wayne," she said quietly.

  "Wanda," he cried, a little perplexed. "What is it? Aren't you gladto see me?"

  She smiled, put down the parcel she had been carrying, and perched upona big broken boulder forcing her eyes to look merrily into his. Andwhat she read in his look sent a quick, glad flutter into her heart.But she did not let him know it.

  "Glad to see you?" she replied gaily. "Why, of course I am. But,"teasingly, a little cruelly, "aren't you the least bit afraid?"

  "Afraid of what?" he asked blankly.

  "Of papa!" she retorted, her dimples playing because she meant to lookas though she was quite a heart whole maiden, and because the very ringof his earnest voice swept away all the uncertainty that had come toher during these last days of waiting. "You are on his land, you know."

  "Surely you don't imagine--" he began.

  She laughed lightly.

  "My dear Wayne, how should I know?"

  "I don't understand you, Wanda," he said a little stiffly. "After whathappened the other day--"

  In spite of her a little glowing colour ran up into her cheeks.

  "Goodness," she exclaimed, persisting in the part she had vowed manytimes a day she would play for him, "haven't you forgotten that?Really, after you'd had time to think about it didn't you have tolaugh? Weren't we a couple of precious kidlets?"

  For a moment he stared at her as though dazed. This was a Wanda he hadnever seen before; he did not know what to make of her. And thensuddenly he put his head back, the gladness that had sung in his heartwhen first he rode to meet her surged back and he laughed the great,deep, happy laugh the girl knew so well.

  "You little witch!" he cried gaily, as gaily as Wanda had spoken atfirst and more genuinely so. "You've just set out to plague me. AndI'll show you how I treat little girls who tease!"

  Without more ado he came close to the rock upon which she sat lookingdown at him with demure eyes, swept her off into his arms and kissedher before he put her down.

  "Now, Wanda Witch," he said softly, his eyes laughing into hers. "Areyou sorry? And do you love me so hard it almost hurts?"

  "So," she said when at last he released her, not certain in her heartthat she had held out quite long enough, "that is the way you treatlittle girls who tease, is it? All little girls who tease? The'Roosian' princess, for instance?"

  "The _what_?" he demanded, having for the moment forgotten Dart's wildtale.

  "Helga," she told him quite as seriously as she could, rearranging herdisturbed hair and meanwhile looking up at him with eyes that werebeginning to defy her and smile.

  As he remembered, as he thought of the things Dart had told her to"boost his game" he became for one of the rare times in his life just atrifle embarrassed. She must think him a fool for letting that littlecur yap all kind of nonsense into her ears, or the ears of any one whowould listen. He flushed under her teasing eyes.

  "I'm going to wring Willie Dart's little neck the first thing when Iget home," he said. "Look here, Wanda--"

  "Oho!" Her brows lifted and she looked at him speculatively. "Sothere really is a Helga, is there?"

  But he was laughing again, again threatening to kiss her adorable redmouth if she did not behave and tell him all about herself.

  "If you had really wanted to know couldn't you have ridden oversooner?" she asked.

  Then he told her why he had stayed away, how he had wanted to see herevery day, how he had thought that she would understand.

  "Your father forbade me the ranch," he reminded her. "At first Ithought that it would be impossible for me to bring myself to set footupon property belonging to him. I thought of sending word to you byGarth, by Dart even, asking you to meet me somewhere, anywhere that Iwould not be trespassing. And, dear, even before I would ask you tomeet me, if you still cared!" with mock seriousness, "I wanted time tofight things out with myself, a few days in which to see if there wasnot some way out better than this one. I hoped, even, that your fatherwould change his mind, that he would be fair with me as it is his wayto be. And then at last, when I could not wait any longer, I came.And now, my Wanda Witch, I am going to stay until you come and put botharms around my neck and admit that you love me so hard that you've beenperfectly miserable since you saw me!"

  "And Helga?" she insisted lightly but with just a hint of curiosity.

  "If you go on that way much more," he assured her, "I'll say, 'DamnHelga!' Tell me about yourself."

  There was much to tell and it came at last as they sat together underthe cedar, oblivious of the world about them, careless of what mightlie in the future for them. There was the story of her rides, themurder of a bear cub, the meeting with Willie Dart, and--

  "And, first of all," she cried triumphantly, "the discovery of awonderful secret."

  She refused to tell him what it was until he obeyed her bidding. Shesent him scouting to see that no human eye could spy upon them, andthen she sent him climbing the cedar.

&nb
sp; "What's this?" he rebelled. "At least tell me whether I'm supposed togather an armful of clouds or wait until dark and bring down somestars."

  "Go straight up until I tell you to stop," she laughed. "And be sureyou don't fall."

  "Would you care very much, Wanda?" he asked loverlike and foolishly.

  "I should," she informed him, her eyes twinkling. "For I shall beclimbing right under you."

  "Oh, I know, then. We're going to heaven."

  And up he went. Laughing, calling back and forward like two children,their hearts gay and surcharged with something sweeter than meregaiety, they made their way steadily, he always above, she just belowhim and carrying the parcel done up in a newspaper.

  "You might at least let me carry our baggage upon our journey," heoffered more than once. But she insisted that this too was a part ofthe secret.

  At last he came to the limb that lay out across the ledge of rock andwould have kept on climbing, he was so busy looking down at the rosyface that was looking up at him. But she commanded him to use his eyesfor something else than just to make love with, and he understood.

  "You mean to say you've been up here before? That you've gone outacross that sort of a bridge?" he exclaimed in amazement. "Aren't youafraid of anything in the world, Wanda?"

  "Yes," she answered. "Yes, to both questions. I'm inclined to beafraid of spiders; I think that I'd be afraid of an alligator. And nowthe secret!"

  "A cave," he cried. "Way up here! How in the world did you happen tofind it?"

  When he had crossed first and given his hand to her she came swiftly tohis side, thanked him with a nod and set him to work.

  "This is my own private estate," she told him. "No one enters myportals until he has been invited. You are not invited yet. In thatseam in the rock you will find plenty of wood and dry cones. If you'llput them at the doorway I'll let you know when you can come in. And,Wayne--"

  "Yes?"

  "No one knows of this place except we two. Keep behind the cedar,won't you, so that if any one should be about you won't be seen?"

  Wayne gathered great armfuls of wood, piled cones conveniently, and inthe meantime got no single glimpse of the interior of the cavern. ForWanda had slipped within, had drawn over the wide opening the screen ofbranches her own hands had made against the occasion, and wascompletely hidden by that and the curtain which reinforced it against aray of light. He could hear her singing softly, happily as she wentback and forth. At last her voice came to him, calling merrily.

  "You may come in, Mr. Shandon. Don't bring the wood with you yet; justcome to look and admire."

  He thrust aside the screen, stepped through and his short exclamationamply repaid her for the many hours of preparation.

  A dozen tall candles burned here and there, set into niches in therough walls, gummed in their own grease to knobs of stone, theirpointed flames standing still like fairy spear blades menacing theshadows which still clung to the lofty ceiling. Giving added light wasa blazing fire of pine cones at the far side of the cave, near themouth of the passage leading to the cleft where the water shot down.Strewn across the whole floor, masking its rough surface, were pineneedles which, while they made a thick mat underfoot, filled the cavewith their resinous tang. And there was another odour, agreeable,homelike. Shandon looked again at the fire; set on each side of a bedof coals were two flat stones, perched on the stones a battered,blackened old coffee pot.

  "I called you a witch, didn't I, Wanda?"

  "You might at least have called me a Fairy," she retorted, her eyesbright with the joy of a day-dream come true.

  "Did you conjure this out of a broken eggshell with a wand? Is thishow you got your name, Wanda?"

  She took him on a tour of exploration, pointing out each little thingwhich she had already seen alone, which, when she had seen it hadpromised her a day like to-day when she could show it to him. Theywent down the sloping passageway and stood for a little while silentlybefore the chasm with its din of falling waters. They speculated uponwhat might lie upon the farther side if a man could cross. They cameback to the fire and Wayne was shown how the air drew through the caveso that the passageway at the back gave exit to the smoke. They hadjust a peep, for Wanda would allow him no more now, into a hiddenrecess not five steps from her fireplace where there were mysteriouspackages hinting that they might be bacon and butter and sugar andcoffee. And then they came back to the screened entrance and steppedoutside. Wanda held up her field glasses to him.

  "Look out that way," she ordered him. "No, Goosy. Not at the trunk ofthe tree. Between those two branches yonder. What do you see?"

  He adjusted the glasses while she watched his face. And he found theclearing about the Bar L-M headquarters, the buildings themselves setupon the knoll.

  "It's wonderful," he cried. "Why, we could signal--"

  "Wait a minute," she interrupted brightly. "This isn't your discovery,not a bit of it. It's all mine and I'm jealous of it. And I'vethought it all out. Now, if you'll come inside we'll have a cup ofcoffee and a sandwich which you'll eat politely just as though you werehungry."

  "I'm starved!"

  "And I'll tell you _my_ invention. First, though, while I serveluncheon you can be the hired man and bring in all your wood. I'mperfectly willing to be cook but I refuse to get my wood any longer."

  When he had completed his task he came to her. She had poured two tincups of coffee, sweetened and cooled with condensed milk, and upon aclean piece of bark served her sandwiches. And they sat on the floorupon heaped-up pine needles and she told him her plan.

  There was an old spy glass at the Bar L-M, wasn't there? All right.Then his first duty when he got back home would be to spend a patienttime locating with it her cedar and the cliffs back of it. To-morrowmorning, early, she would be here--no, no. Not in the cave nor evenupon the ledge outside; they must guard so carefully against theirsecret being lost; but upon the big boulder at the top of the cliff.She would have her field glasses. He could step out upon the frontporch at the Bar L-M, and if any of the boys were about he couldpretend to be looking idly at a herd of cows somewhere, or at a hawk orat anything but at her. They could see each other quite distinctly.

  "If it wasn't so far we could talk on our fingers!"

  "Do I have to remind you again that this is my discovery, my invention?"

  She tried so charmingly to be severe, and failed so delightfully thathe assured her he was going to put down his coffee cup and come overand kiss her. But when she threatened that if he misbehaved she wouldnot stir out of the house again for a week he sighed and finished hiscoffee and listened obediently.

  "Suppose," she went on, "that you stood very still on your porch, bothhands holding your spyglass? That would mean one thing. Suppose youleaned lazily against the door post? That would mean another. If youcame down the steps, if you took off your hat, if you put on your hat,if you sat down on the bench, if you turned your back to me, if youlifted both arms above your head as if you were yawning and stretching,if you stooped to pick up something, if you stooped once, walked fivesteps and stooped again--don't you see that even with your whole outfitlooking on we can say 'Good morning,' and 'Good night,' and anythingelse we choose to say? Isn't it splendid?"

  For an hour they worked on what Wayne termed the Wanda-code. She had apencil and tiny memorandum book and they made duplicate copies of theircode of signals as they worked them out. Thus:

  _1. Standing straight, both hands up--I love you, dear, with my wholeheart. (That was Wayne's contribution to the code, and he insistedthat it be number one in the book.)_

  _2. Leaning against a tree or post--I must see you immediately._

  _3. Removing hat--Be careful. We are being watched._

  _4. Turning back--Something has happened to prevent our meeting to-day._

  _5. Stooping once--That's all. Good bye._

  And so on until there were no less than two dozen signals each with itsmeaning, each to carry
across the miles a lover's message.

  They agreed upon the exact time when every day their love would laughat the miles separating them; an early hour when they had waited justlong enough to give Wanda time to ride hither and the Bar L-M men timeto have gone about the day's work. And if Wayne were not upon hisporch then Wanda was to understand that he was already riding to meether.

  "But your mother," he said. "Doesn't she often go with you?"

  "Not when I want to be alone," Wanda smiled back at him. "Mamma knows,Wayne."

  "You have told her? Your father told her?"

  "It isn't something that papa talks about, dear. I told. And, Wayne--"

  Suddenly they ceased to be children playing and became very serious.For while the love brimming their young hearts had been like a fountainfrom which laughter bubbled up, still its song had not deafened theirears to the murmur of life about them. There were things to be toldeach other, questions to ask and answer, their own future to looksoberly in the face.

  Day after day Shandon had looked for word from Martin Leland, hadcounted on receiving from him an offer for the water to be employed inbringing fertility to Dry Valley. He told her of Ruf Ettinger and hiscounter scheme, how close he had come to being drawn into it; hewondered if something had happened to cause Leland and Hume to give uptheir proposition.

  No, whatever this proposition was they had not given it up, Wanda wassure of that. Her father was away much of the time; she knew that hehad been often in Dry Valley, that he had had some sort of dealingswith Ruf Ettinger. She had heard him say to her mother last night thatthe man was a hog, that when offered an unheard of price for his landhe had held out for something still better, and that Leland had brokenoff negotiations with him entirely. Yes, it must be the sameproposition about which Ettinger had gone to Shandon. Strange thatGarth had not told him anything. She knew that Garth regularly met herfather and Sledge Hume; she knew that whatever the business was thathad drawn Leland and Hume together had drawn Conway into it also.

  That matter finally disposed of, left with the unsatisfactoryconclusion that Garth had his own reasons for remaining silent, andthat Shandon would soon hear from Leland, Wanda broached the othersubject which had all along been the one cloud upon her happiness.Driven to the rim of her mind by her gayer moods it was still there,sinister and black upon the horizon.

  "I should have told you the other day," she said slowly, "the day whenwe found so much else to talk of. You will understand why papa hasrefused to let you come to the house."

  "What is it, Wanda?" he asked eagerly, hoping there would be a directcharge so that he might vindicate himself.

  "Have you no idea, Wayne?" a little curiously. "Have you never had asuspicion of the reason that makes papa hate you so?"

  "He disliked my father--"

  "It is not that. Maybe that makes him the more ready to suspect you--"And then she blurted it out, a little defiantly, laying her hand softlyupon his arm. "He thinks, he has thought all along, that you killedArthur!"

  He stared at her gravely, the shock of such a charge too great to beappreciated to its fullest extent in a moment.

  "He thinks that I killed Arthur?" he repeated incredulously. And then,bitterly, "My God, Wanda. This is too horrible."

  "Listen, Wayne. We must talk this over calmly and see what is to bedone. You see papa has disliked you because he hated your father. Oh,it's unjust but it's so human! He has believed all the hard things menhave said of you and they have said many. He knows that the day beforeArthur was killed you and he quarrelled. Then you went away, you weregone a year and he didn't think that you would ever come back. Youcame back, you made me love you. Believing as he did, papa did thenatural thing when he refused to let you come again."

  "He had no right to believe it," he cried angrily. "I shall tell himso. I shall make him tell me of a single thread of the wildestcircumstantial evidence to point to this hideous thing!"

  "It will do no good," she said simply. "Nothing in the world can bedone unless--oh, I have thought so much about this, Wayne--unless thereal murderer can be found. Surely if you offered rewards, if youhired detectives, if you talked with MacKelvey--"

  "Wanda," he interrupted, his voice at once stern and troubled. "Do youremember when you gave me the revolver that morning? I didn't explainto you, even you. I couldn't. If I went away and stayed so long, if Ididn't remain here doing the thing you suggest, offering rewards,hiring detectives to hunt his murderer down, couldn't you guess why?You found the revolver that killed him."

  "Wayne!"

  "And the day Arthur and I rode into El Toyon I gave the thing to him.It was his own then. He shot himself. God knows why. I should havespoken then, I should have told MacKelvey, your father, every one. ButI hated to, I hated the thought of it, of having people know thatArthur had committed suicide, of having men talk of it. I thought thatthere would be investigations, of course, but that they would die down.I knew that no man would be accused; it was my secret. I would keep itfor Arthur's sake."

  He broke off sharply, moved strongly by his own words that conjured upsomething he had striven manfully to shut out of his mind, stronglymoving the girl who heard him. She watched him with piteous, sad eyeswhile he strode up and down, back and forth in the candle lighted cave.Suddenly he stopped, exclaiming bitterly,

  "Your father thinks this of me. Who else? Does half the countrysidebelieve me a murderer? Does Garth believe it? Does Hume? Does yourmother?"

  "I don't know what Garth and Sledge Hume think," she answered. "I doknow about mamma. Wayne, even she was afraid at first, even mamma.But she knows you too well, dear. She says that you are the otherWayne Shandon, over and over; that you may have been a spendthrift anda brawler,--forgive me,--dear, but that you have always been an honestand manly man. She knows that we love each other, Wayne. She knowsthat I have expected to see you. Isn't that enough?"

  "Next to you, Wanda, she is the sweetest woman in the world." He tookthe girl's hands in his and stood looking down at her gravely. "Andyou, you have never been afraid? You recognised the revolver, youbrought it to me. Are you very sure--"

  "Kiss me, Wayne," she said for answer.

  And yet, when they parted lingeringly, the little cloud was still uponthe horizon, the uneasy feeling of uncertainty upon them. If, at thislate hour, he went to the sheriff and told the truth, what would be theresult? Would it sound like the truth to MacKelvey? To Martin Leland?