The Short Cut Page 3

  CHAPTER III

  SUSPICION

  Why had her mother come to her in such a way? Why had she been soquick to see what people would say? Did she believe that Wayne Shandonhad killed Arthur; was she afraid that Wanda might have found somethingthat would incriminate him; and did she want to warn her of what theinevitable result of such a disclosure would be?

  And she had found something! She had known from the first sight of it,half hidden by Shep's eager pays, that it was Wayne Shandon's. He hadshown it to her only last week.

  "I am going to teach you to shoot as I shoot," he had laughed, bringingthe revolver out of his pocket. "Then I am going to give it to you.And then you are going to make me a pretty bow and give me a prettysmile and say, 'Thank you, Red,' as you did when I chastised your firstsuitor! Remember, Wanda?"

  "Only I don't call you 'Red' any more," she had laughed back at him."We're grown up now, you know, and Wayne is much more dignifiedand . . . and respectful."

  "And you can handle your own suitors now," he had retorted. "Moreartistically and with equal finality!"

  Only a week ago out there in the orchard where now the sunlight lay ingolden splashes over the fruit trees, she and Red Reckless had banteredeach other as they strolled toward the house where Arthur was sittingon the veranda with her mother, watching them. It was a sparklingmorning like to-day's, and they had spoken of the old school daysbefore Mr. Shandon sent his two sons to the East to school, of the timewhen she was eight and he was fifteen and he had "licked" a boy whomshe did not like but who was stubborn in vowing that the little girlshould eat a red cheeked apple he had brought her. A week ago, and nowArthur Shandon was dead and men were ready to believe that WayneShandon had killed him.

  She sat very still, while her mind wandered in many directions. Theold days rose up vividly bringing back the young faces of Arthur andWayne and Garth Conway,--they had all played Prisoner's Base andAnti-over at the little white school house down in the valley. Sheremembered the day when a letter came from Mr. Shandon summoning Arthurand Wayne and Garth to the East, and how merry the boys had been overit. She missed them dreadfully after they went away until vacationcame and her own father had taken her with him on a tour of inspectionto his four other ranches, up and down the State. For three years shedid not see the three boys, their letters had ceased, and she was wellon the way to forget her playfellows. And then, when she was twelveand Wayne Shandon nineteen, he had come back.

  He had run away. He had quarrelled with his father, and Arthur hadtried to show him that he was unreasonable. Then the boy's hot temperhad flashed out at his brother and finally at Garth Conway who had longbeen accustomed to thinking as Arthur Shandon thought. So the youth,in whom love of adventure and hatred of restraint were already markedcharacteristics, had sold his books, the saddle pony which his father'sgenerosity had given him, his guns and fishing tackle, in facteverything which he might sell even to his spare clothing, had caught anight train and come West again.

  Wanda's mother had tried to reason with the boy when he came to them,laughing at the trick he had played his father, full of mockery of thehidebound ways of cities, and had wanted to send him back to Mr.Shandon. She had cried a little over him and kissed him and talkedgently with him as was her motherly way. But Wanda's father beratedhim severely and sternly and Wayne flushed and bit his lip and thenwent away from them as he had gone away from the East.

  More years, happy years for Wanda Leland, sped by and she did not seethe boy. Both Arthur and Garth came in the long summer vacations toMr. Shandon's range and were frequent visitors at the Echo Creek place.Word came now and then of Wayne Shandon, sometimes by infrequent andunsatisfactory short letters from him, more often in elaboratelyembroidered rumour from men making long trips across the country. Hehad gone to work for a cattle outfit, taking a dollar a day and doingan ordinary cowboy's work. Even before he was twenty-one, men calledhim Red Reckless. He had learned to gamble, and to gamble for bigstakes. He played poker; he took his chance with the "bank"; but heloved the dice. They were quicker; a man could "make or break" at onethrow. It was his way to hazard everything on a throw, to laugh if hewon, to laugh if he lost.

  Rumour said that he had been shot by a notorious gambler, Dash Dulac;and had come near dying; that he had shot another man up at Spanish DryDiggings where he had rushed with a frantic flood of men on news of agolden strike; that he had been sucked away with another flux of goldseekers to the Yukon country where he had lived lawlessly with hislawless companions; that he had drifted back to the lumber camps of themountains; that at last he had returned to the cattle country.

  Wanda had gone away to school in the East, spending only her summersupon the Echo Creek ranch. She had seen very little of Wayne Shandon.When Mr. Shandon died, leaving his wide reaching cattle range to hiselder son, Arthur had come promptly to take charge of the Bar L-MOutfit, and Garth Conway had come with him as foreman and generalmanager under him. Arthur, whose affection for his stormy souledbrother had lasted strong through the years, had at last prevailed uponWayne to "come home" and to go to work for him. That had been a yearago.

  A light knock at her door brought back her wandering thoughts toto-day, to Arthur Shandon, to the suspicion which was so quicklylifting its venomous head. She rose from the bed, pushed back the hairwhich had fallen unnoticed into confusion about her cheeks, and saidsoftly,

  "Come in, mamma."

  "We were just going to have lunch when you came, Wanda," her mothersaid quietly. "You must come and have a cup of tea."

  "Mamma! I can't."

  "But you can!" Her mother smiled a little at her and patted therestless hand she took in her own. "You had a very early breakfast andyou must have a cup of tea."

  Together they went back to the dining room.

  "Where are Garth and Mr. Hume?" asked Wanda.

  "They have gone . . . with the others, dear," Mrs. Leland told her.

  The two women sat down in silence. Wanda forced herself to drink halfof her tea and pushed the cup away from her. She got swiftly to herfeet and leaving the room, went out upon the north veranda, where shesaw Julia, the cook, standing at the window, her red hands upon herbroad hips, her eyes even redder than her hands. On the window sillwere half a dozen fresh, hot pies which Julia had made for "theboys" . . .

  Wanda bit her lips and her eyes went whither her mother's had gone,down the trail along which the men had ridden to the creek.

  It seemed a very long time before she saw them. The wagon, with Jimdriving slowly and carefully, climbed over a ridge and wound its waydown into the valley. Her father, Garth, and Sledge Hume, were ridingbehind it, abreast and close together. Wayne Shandon farther back wasriding alone, his head down, his hat drawn low over his brows.

  At last she could see the faces shaded by the wide brimmed hats. Theywere strangely alike in their hard, set expression, the gravity whichtold little. These were not, any of them, men given to wearing theirdeeper emotions on their sleeves. Her eyes ran to Wayne Shandon's facefirst. It was white, the mouth was sterner than she had ever thoughtRed Reckless' laughing mouth could be, the eyes were hard andinscrutable.

  From him she looked anxiously at her father, then at Sledge Hume, thenat Garth Conway. And these faces, stern like Wayne's, sent a littleshiver of fear through her.

  Her mother went out to meet the wagon, crying quietly. Wanda felt thetears rush with a hotness like fire into her own eyes, and then sheturned and hurrying out of sight of the slow procession ran down to theorchard. She was lying there, face down, sobbing like a child, whenshe felt a shadow over her, heard a man's spurs jingle, and knew who itwas that had come out to her.

  She looked up at him, wondering.

  "Wanda," he said very quietly, his voice strangely steady, "it was goodof you to give him your hat. If I were dead and you did a thing likethat for me I think I should come back to life to kiss your dear hands."

  This was so like him! Oh, just the thing Red Reckless w
ould do! Thelittle thoughtful act of hers had stirred him more deeply than most menare moved even by big things; and the impulse had come to him to gostraight to her and thank her. And he was a man who obeyed impulses.

  The other men had entered the house for their lunch. It seemedhorrible to her that people should be able to eat at a time like this.Wayne Shandon spoke to her again.

  "Your father is going to let Jim go with me," he said. "We are goingto El Toyon. Then I am going to take him back East."

  "East!" she exclaimed,

  "Yes. I have a fancy he'd like to be buried close to dad."

  "You are coming back soon?"

  "Immediately. Within ten days, I think. Good-bye, Wanda."

  "Wait a minute," she hesitated. "I want to think."

  She had not meant to tell him so soon, in the first shock of the death,about what she had found. But he was going away, and he ought to know,it was his right to know.

  "Will you wait here for me a moment, Wayne?" she asked lookingpitifully up into the face of the man whose grave eyes were fixed uponher. "Until I run to the house and get something?"

  She was glad then that the other men were able to eat, and that hermother and Julia were waiting on them. Hastening back to her room, shetook the revolver from its hiding place in her trunk, slipped it intoher blouse and ran back to the orchard.

  "Wayne," she whispered coming close to him, suspicious of every littlesound in the orchard, fearful of an approaching footstep. "I foundsomething near Arthur. I did not tell any one. As you are going awayI had better tell you."

  She held out the revolver. The sunlight fell on it, glinting brightlyfrom the polished silver. Wayne Shandon stared at it frowning, asthough he could not or would not believe his eyes. Slowly a deeperpallor crept into his white face. Then a terrible look which the girlcould not read came into his eyes.

  "Good God!" he whispered hoarsely. "You found that near him?"

  Suddenly he put his hand out and took it. His fingers touched hers.They were as cold as ice.

  "Wanda," he said, his voice frightening her, it was so hard andunfamiliar, "you were good to give it to me."

  That was all. She felt vaguely that his mind was groping for otherwords which it could not find. He slipped the revolver into hispocket, turned and left her.

  From the orchard she watched him ride away. Jim was driving the twobig greys, while Shandon followed close behind the wagon, sitting verystraight in the saddle, his face telling her nothing. . . . She sankback upon the grass under the apple tree and lay still, staring up atthe patches of blue seen through the green and white of the branchesand blossoms.

  When at last she went back to the house she heard her father's voicelifted angrily. He was talking to her mother and the name flungfuriously from his lips was the name of Wayne Shandon.

  "Hush, Martin," protested Mrs. Leland. "You mustn't . . ."

  Martin Leland, his face red, his mouth working wordlessly, swept up hishat and went away to the corrals by the stable. Wanda saw his eyes ashe brushed by her and she shivered, drawing away from him.

  Garth Conway had already gone, riding the half dozen miles to the BarL-M to carry word of the death of its owner, and to assume entirecharge there until Wayne should return. Sledge Hume was loitering downby the stable.

  The day passed, strangely silent. No reference was made in the Lelandhousehold to the tragedy which had stirred each member of it so deeply,so differently. Throughout the long afternoon Martin Leland remainedamong his cattle and horses, often flaring into anger at trifles. Mrs.Leland was in her room, alone, suffering as she might have suffered hadArthur and Wayne been the sons nature had denied to her. Wandawandered restlessly back and forth, from the house to the stable, aboutthe yard, where the pigeons whirled and circled and cooed.

  The days which followed were like this one, silent, tense, expectant.It was as though each one of these people was waiting for something,all but breathless. MacKelvey, a heavy set, quick eyed man, the countysheriff, came one day and talked long with Martin Leland. The two satfor an hour on the corral fence below the stable. After that MacKelveywent away and the waiting, the tense expectancy was more marked thanbefore.

  The tenth day came and went its laughing, blue way. Wayne Shandon didnot come with it, but Garth Conway rode over that evening. He had hadno word from Wayne, although he was expecting him hourly. Two weekspassed, and still no word from Wayne. One by one, slowly, heavily thedays went by.

  Then at last Garth Conway rode again to the Leland ranch house andbrought tidings of Wayne. He had tired of New York, but he was not yetcoming West. Instead he was sailing for Europe, and would probably godown into Africa for some hunting.

  "Where does he get the money?" demanded Martin Leland sharply.

  Garth's short laugh was rather full answer. But he elaborated it intowords:

  "I am to rush a forced sale of cattle," he said, lifting his shoulders."He wants two thousand dollars in a hurry. God knows what for. He isgoing to fritter his property away just as he fritters away everything!"

  Leland sprang up from his chair, his two fists clenched and lifted highabove his head, his eyes blazing.

  "Martin! Martin!" cried Mrs. Leland.

  He dropped his hands to his sides and turned away, the words on histongue checked.

  "Dear God," Wanda prayed within her soul. "Let him be a man. Let himcome back soon. Before every one believes he did that thing,before . . . they send for him!"