Kitabı oku: «A Prairie Courtship», sayfa 10
CHAPTER XIII
NEVIS PICKS UP A CLUE
A week had slipped by since the meeting of the creamery committee and it was about the middle of the afternoon when Nevis lay, cigar in hand, in the shadow of a straggling bluff. It was pleasantly cool there and scorching sunshine beat down upon the prairie, across which he had plodded during the last half hour, and he had still some miles to go before he could reach the farm at which he expected to borrow a team. He was not fond of walking, but the man who had driven him out from the settlement, being in haste to reach Graham's Bluff, had set him down some distance from the homestead he desired to visit. Nevis found it advisable to look his clients up every now and then and see how they were getting on. This enabled him to sell to those who were not too deeply in his debt implements and stores at top prices, and to put judicious pressure upon the ones whose payments had fallen behind.
He was, however, thinking of Hunter as he lay full length among the grass with a frown on his face. It seemed desirable to let the man who had deprived him of what looked like a promising opportunity for lining his pockets feel that it would be wiser to refrain from interfering with his affairs in future, and he fancied that if Winthrop, whom Hunter had confessed to befriending, should be brought to trial it would convey a useful hint. This course was also advisable for other reasons. It must be admitted that the bondholder does not always come out on top, especially in bad seasons, and Nevis had already decided that the arrest of Winthrop would serve as a warning to any of his neighbors who might feel tempted to evade their liabilities in a similar fashion. He was still on the absconder's trail, though as yet it had not led him very far.
By and by he heard a soft beat of hoofs and a rattle of wheels, and looking up was pleased to see Mrs. Hunter drive around a corner of the bluff. He had of late been conscious of a growing delight in her company, and, what was almost as much to the purpose, he had partly thought out a plan of attacking her husband through her. He had, however, too much tact to force himself on her, and he lay still, apparently unobservant of her approach until she pulled up the horse.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"Resting," replied Nevis, rising to his feet. "I'm going across to Jordan's place. Walking's no doubt healthy, but I'm afraid I'm not fond of it."
He waited to see whether she would take the hint, which he had made as plain as possible, and as he did so a gleam crept into his eyes. Florence had an eye for color and an artistic taste in dress, and she was attired then in filmy draperies of a faint, shimmering green – the color of clear sea-water rippling over sand. They suggested the fine contour of her form and emphasized the shifting tones of burnished copper in her hair and the clearness of her eyes. What she saw in his expression did not appear, but she smiled at him.
"Then if you will get in I can drive you part of the way," she said graciously.
Nevis did not wait for a second invitation and she turned to him when he had taken his place at her side.
"You haven't come back to call on us."
"No," responded Nevis; "I saw your husband at one of the creamery meetings and I'm sorry to own there were one or two matters upon which we couldn't agree."
He watched her to see how she would receive this, but she laughed.
"I'm not responsible for all Elcot's opinions, and I must do him the justice to say that he seldom attempts to force them on me. For all that, I shouldn't wonder if he were right."
Nevis was far too astute to disparage the man he did not like openly to his wife, so he made a sign of assent.
"Yes," he said thoughtfully, "it's possible that he was. In one sense, he generally is. Elcot's what one might call altruistic; he has a finer perception of ethical right than the rest of us, and one could fancy it occasionally makes difficulties for him. Indeed, it's bound to when he rubs against ordinary mortals who're content to look out for what's going to benefit them."
His companion recognized the truth of this, and, as he had expected, it irritated her. Deep down in her nature there was a hidden respect for the quiet, resolute man who, though he seldom proclaimed them, lived in what she now and then considered too strict compliance with his principles. He recognized his duty toward her and had discharged it, in most respects, with a conscientious thoroughness; but that accomplished, he had also recognized his duty to others, and had unwaveringly insisted on fulfilling this in turn. There, as Nevis had cunningly suggested, lay the grievance. It would have been more pleasant for her, and – she confessed this – in many little ways also for him, had she stood alone in his eyes, instead of merely standing first. There was a marked and often inconvenient distinction between the two things. Now and then his point of view appealed to her, but more often her pride received a jar and she thought of him bitterly when he befriended his neighbors, as she tried to convince herself, at her expense. She could, she felt, have loved the man, and perhaps have made an unconditional surrender to him, but he must first be hers altogether and think of nobody else.
Then Nevis interrupted her thoughts with a veiled purpose, and once more touched the tender spot.
"Most of the boys think a good deal of Elcot, and I guess it's natural. He has given quite a few of them a lift now and then. There's Winthrop and Thorne, for instance – he guaranteed Maverick for a thousand dollars, somebody told me – and now he's putting a good deal more into this creamery scheme. From experience of their habits, I should say he must find that kind of thing expensive now and then. Perhaps, if one might suggest it, that is why he lives as plainly as he does. In a way, it's rather fine of him, though it wouldn't appeal to me."
There was no doubt that any self-denial on her husband's part in which she might be compelled to share did not appeal to Florence either, but she noticed the tact with which Nevis had refrained from supporting his statement by a reference to his loan or the unpaid bills.
"Well," she declared, "I, at least, believe in getting the most one can out of life."
"That," said Nevis, "is my own idea, and it leads up to the question why you haven't gone away yet? Have your husband's benefactions made it impossible?"
He had at last attained his object. Florence had longed for the visit, and had resented the fact that Elcot had not been willing to indulge her in it at any cost. He had certainly given her a check, but, while Toronto is a cheaper place than Montreal, three hundred dollars will not go very far in any Canadian city, at least when one is satisfied with only the best that is obtainable.
"They have certainly helped," she replied curtly.
Nevis recognized that she would not have admitted this had she not been disposed to treat him on a confidential footing, and it was clear that the indignation she had displayed in her answer was directed against her husband and had not been occasioned by his presumption.
"Then," he suggested, "if you really wish to go, there's a way in which it could be managed; though it's an act of self-sacrifice on my part to further such an object."
Florence swallowed the last suggestion and looked at him sharply.
"You mean?"
"I could find you the money – on the same terms as the last." He added the explanation hastily lest her pride should take alarm.
There was silence for a moment, and during it Florence's resentment against her husband grew stronger. She was anxious for the visit, but had he been poor she would have given it up more or less willingly. That, however, was not the case, for, as her companion had cunningly hinted, he was at least rich enough to bestow his favors on men like Winthrop, the absconder, and the pedler Thorne. Now she blamed him for driving her into borrowing from the man at her side.
"I should be glad to have it on those conditions," she said at length.
She pulled up the horse presently while Nevis took out a fountain-pen and his pocketbook, and when she drove on again she held a check of his in her hand. Twenty minutes later he looked around at her as the horse plodded more slowly up a slight rise.
"I think I'll get out here," he said. "It's only half a mile to Jordan's place; you can see the house from the top."
There was not a great deal in the words, but Florence grasped their hidden significance. They conveyed a delicate suggestion that it might not be desirable for her to be seen in his company, and she was quite aware that to fall in with it would imply that there was already something in their relations that must be kept concealed from their neighbors' gaze. For a moment she felt inclined to insist on driving him up to the homestead door, and then the feel of his check in her hand restrained her. She stopped the horse and smiled when he got down.
"Thank you again," she said.
"That's a little superfluous," returned the man. "It's a business deal; but if you can spare a few minutes when you are in Toronto you might manage to write a line. After all, I can, perhaps, ask that much."
"I won't promise," Florence laughed. "Still, it's possible that I may make the effort."
She drove away and Nevis climbed the rise feeling very well satisfied. He had got a firmer hold on Hunter now and he meant to break ground for the next attack by picking up Winthrop's trail. In this also, fortune favored him, for when he drew up his hired rig outside Farquhar's house on the following evening he found that both he and his wife were out. Alison was in, however, and when she said that they would probably reach home shortly he got down and sat a while talking with her on the stoop, which in the summer frequently serves the purpose of a drawing-room at a prairie homestead. Alison had met him once or twice before and was sensible of a slight dislike toward the man, though she could not deny that he was an amusing companion. By and by a girl drove along the trail two or three hundred yards away in a wagon, and he gazed rather hard at her.
"She recognized you, didn't she?" he questioned. "I can't quite fix her."
"Lucy Calvert," Alison informed him.
"It's rather curious that I haven't seen her before, as I should certainly have remembered it, though I had once or twice a deal with her father."
Alison was conscious of a slight irritation, which, indeed, any reference to the girl in question usually aroused in her.
"Then," she said, "if Lucy has any say in the matter you are scarcely likely to do any further business with the family."
Nevis raised his eyebrows.
"I wonder what you mean?"
"Only that it's generally supposed Miss Calvert was to have married Winthrop. Whether she still intends to do so is more than I know."
She was puzzled by the sudden intentness of the man's face and for no particular cause half regretted the speech.
"It's the first time I've heard of it," he said thoughtfully. Then he smiled. "Anyway, she can't be very wise if she's anxious to marry him."
Alison, who had watched him closely, fancied that his smile was meant to cover his interest in the information she had given him. She also noticed how quickly he changed the subject, and they talked about other matters until at last, as Farquhar did not make his appearance, he stood up.
"I'll look in another time," he told her. "It's getting late, and I'm due at the bluff to-night."
Soon after he had driven away Farquhar turned up with his wife and Thorne, and Alison noticed the frown on the latter's face when she informed Mrs. Farquhar of Nevis's visit.
"I'm astonished that you have him here at all," he broke out.
"Why shouldn't I?" his hostess asked.
"That question," returned Thorne, "strikes me as a little superfluous, considering that he's an utterly unscrupulous, scoundrelly vampire. Still, I dare say you can forgive him a good deal for the sake of his appearance."
Mrs. Farquhar laughed.
"The last, I suppose, is after all his chief offense."
Alison saw that this shot had reached its mark by the way Thorne drew down his brows. The man, as she had heard, had a quick temper, but she was not displeased that he should obviously resent the fact that Nevis had spent half an hour in her company. Then, remembering that Winthrop was a friend of Thorne's, she felt a little guilty, and when later on they all sauntered out across the prairie, she drew him aside.
"There's something I think I should mention," she said. "I told Nevis that Miss Calvert was to have married Winthrop. He seemed unusually interested."
Thorne started and looked hard at her.
"What on earth made you do that?" he asked sharply. "Did he lead up to it?"
"No," replied Alison with some reluctance, "I don't think he did. So far as I can remember, I volunteered the information."
There was no doubt about the man's displeasure.
"He certainly would be interested, and I'm very much afraid you have made trouble. But you haven't told me why you did it."
"I spoke on the spur of the moment – without thinking."
"Without thinking clearly," Thorne corrected. "For all that, it's possible you had a kind of subconscious motive. You can't deny that you are prejudiced against Winthrop."
Alison was sensible of a certain relief, and she smiled at him. The man had shown some insight, but he had not gone quite far enough in his surmises, for it was not Winthrop but Lucy Calvert against whom she was prejudiced.
"What have I done?" she asked. "If it's any harm, I'm sorry."
Her companion's face relaxed. He never cherished his anger long.
"Well," he explained, "I'm afraid you have put Nevis on Winthrop's trail, though the thing's not certain. After all, it's possible that there's another reason for his interest."
"And that is?"
"He's a man with a weakness for pretty faces, which will probably get him into trouble by and by, though he's generally supposed to be a clever – philanderer. It's not quite the thing to abuse any one you don't like when he's absent, but in spite of that I can't help saying that he's absolutely unprincipled and should be avoided by every self-respecting woman."
Again Alison smiled. He had spoken strongly, though he had carefully picked his words, and she had little difficulty in following the workings of his mind, which on the whole were amusing. He had meant the speech as a warning to her.
"I suppose Miss Calvert could be called good-looking?" she suggested.
"That," answered Thorne, with a trace of sharpness, "is not quite the point. She's a girl who has a good deal to contend with and is making a very plucky fight. Whether she's wise in being as fond of Winthrop as she seems to be is another matter; one that doesn't concern us. Anyway, she has difficulties enough without it. It's not easy for two women to make a living out of a farm of the kind they're running when it's burdened with a heavy debt."
Alison could forgive him a good deal for his chivalrous pity, though the fact that it was Lucy Calvert who had excited it still somewhat irritated her. It seemed, however, that he had a little more to say.
"In any case," he added, "I'm glad you told me."
Then he turned back toward the others and she had no opportunity for further speech with him. She noticed, however, that he seemed unusually thoughtful during the rest of the evening.
CHAPTER XIV
WINTHROP'S LETTER
After breakfast the next morning Alison sat sewing in a thoughtful mood. She now genuinely regretted having given Nevis the information about Lucy Calvert, and in addition to this Thorne's reserve on the previous evening somewhat troubled her. He had not thought fit to tell her what he meant to do, but she was convinced that he would do something, and the most obvious course would be to warn Lucy against any attempt which Nevis might make to trace her lover. It was possible that the man might cunningly entrap her into some admission that would be of assistance to him. On the other hand, Alison realized that Thorne's task was not so simple as it appeared on the face of it. Though quick-witted, he was, she suspected, by no means subtle, and she supposed that he would find it difficult to put Lucy on her guard without betraying the part that she had played in the matter. She was quite sure that nothing would induce him to let this become apparent.
It was, however, necessary that Lucy should be warned as soon as possible, and Alison decided that as she was the one who had made the trouble it was she who should set it right. This would be only an act of justice, besides which it would give her an opportunity for forming a clearer opinion of Lucy than she had as yet been able to do. As the result of it all, she obtained Mrs. Farquhar's permission to visit the Calvert homestead, which was not very far away, during the afternoon.
In the meanwhile Nevis had been considering how he could best make use of the information she had supplied him, and his mind was still occupied with the question when he drove across the prairie that afternoon. It was a fiercely hot day, and the wide grassland, which had turned dusty white again, was flooded with dazzling light. The usual invigorating breeze was still, and Nevis's horse had fallen to a walk, pursued by a cloud of flies, when he made out the mail-carrier plodding slowly down the rut-marked trail in front of him. Nevis was quite aware that a prairie mail-carrier is usually more or less acquainted with the affairs of every farmer in the district he visits, and he pulled up when he overtook him.
"What's the matter with your horse?" he asked. "Isn't it stipulated that you should keep one?"
"That's so," assented the man. "The trouble is that you can't get a horse that won't go lame on a round like this. I had to leave him at Stretton's an hour ago."
"Going far?" Nevis asked.
"Round by Mrs. Calvert's to the ravine."
Nevis decided that he was fortunate, but he carefully concealed any sign of satisfaction.
"I can give you a lift as far as the first place, if you like to get in."
The man was glad to do so, and Nevis presently handed him a cigar.
"Do you get letters for all the farms every round?"
"No," replied his companion; "I'm quite glad I don't; guess I'd use up two horses if I did. It saves me a league or two when I can cut out some of my visits."
"Yes," agreed Nevis, who had a purpose in pursuing the topic. "One can understand that. It's the people back from the trail who will give you most trouble. It must be a morning's ride to Boyton's or Walthew's; and Mrs. Calvert's is almost as much off your round. Do you have to go there often?"
The question was asked casually, with no show of interest, and the mail-carrier evidently suspected nothing.
"Most every trip the last few weeks," he replied.
Nevis felt that the scent was getting hot. He made a sign of sympathy.
"That's rough on you; anyway, if you have to pack out any weight," he said. "Some of these people get a good many implement catalogues and circulars from Winnipeg, no doubt?"
"In Mrs. Calvert's case it's one blamed letter takes me most a league off the trail."
Nevis asked no more questions; they did not seem necessary. He had discovered that somebody wrote to Mrs. Calvert or her daughter once a week, and he had no trouble in deciding who it must be. He also remembered that letters bore postmarks, and he had a strong desire to ascertain where Winthrop was then located.
"If you like, I'll hand that letter in," he offered. "I'm calling on Mrs. Calvert anyway, and you can go straight to the next place if you give it to me."
The man hesitated a moment, and then shook his head.
"I'm sorry it can't be done," he said. "It's safer to stick to the regulations, and then if you have any trouble nobody can turn round on you."
Nevis was too wise to urge the point, though he meant, if it could by any means be managed, to get the letter into his hands.
"Well," he assented, "I guess you're right in that."
They drove on to the Calvert homestead, which was rudely built of birch logs sawed in a neighboring bluff, and Nevis sprang down first when an elderly woman with a careworn face appeared in the doorway. The mail-carrier, who followed him more slowly, stood still a moment fumbling in his bag until the woman spoke to him.
"Got something to-day, Steve?"
"I've got it all right," was the answer. "Letter for Lucy. The trouble is to find the thing."
Nevis, standing nearer the house, waited until the man took out an envelope. Then he stretched out his hand, as though willing to save him the trouble of walking up to the door, but the mail-carrier either did not notice the action or was too punctilious in the execution of his duty to deliver the letter to him.
"Here it is, Mrs. Calvert," he said. "Thank you, Mr. Nevis."
He strode away and Nevis turned to the woman with a smile.
"May I come in?" he asked. "I'll leave the horse here; he'll stand quietly."
Mrs. Calvert made no objections, though he noticed that she laid the envelope on a table across the room when he sat down.
"It's two or three years since I was in this house," he began.
"Three," corrected the woman.
"I suppose it is," acknowledged Nevis, who seemed to reflect. "I got on with your husband pleasantly, and I'm sorry in several ways that our connection has been broken off. I don't think the thing was any fault of mine."
Mrs. Calvert did not answer at once. Winthrop was not a great favorite of hers, and although she had made no attempt to turn Lucy against him she had on the other hand not altogether sympathized with the latter's views concerning her present visitor. She remembered that her husband had liked the man, and there was no doubt that the goods he supplied were of excellent quality. Nevis was certainly not scrupulous, and he had treated some of those who dealt with him with harshness, but he at least never descended to any petty trickery over the sale of a machine. For one thing, he was too clever; he recognized that it was not worth his while.
"Well," he added, "I don't like for old friends to leave me, and I decided to look you up again. Will you want a new binder or a back-set plow this fall?"
"We'll want a binder," answered his hostess, who was a woman of somewhat yielding nature. "Still, I guess we'll get it from Grantly."
"His things are good enough, though he stands out for the top price," responded Nevis, who was too wise to disparage openly a rival's goods. "Just now, however, I'm rather loaded up, and the orders aren't coming along, so I'm making a special cut. I'll knock an extra four dollars off the list figure for the binder, and wait for the money until you have hauled in your wheat."
Nobody would have suspected that he did not care in the least whether he secured the order or not, or that he had long ago decided that any business he was likely to do with the woman was not worth his attention. She, however, appeared to consider the offer.
"It's cheap, and that's a fact," she said. "It's most a pity I can't buy the thing from you."
"I suppose that trouble over Winthrop has turned Miss Calvert against me?"
"You have got it," was the answer. "Lucy's mad with you. She runs this place, and she deals with Grantly."
This was the lead Nevis had been waiting for, and he seized upon it.
"If she's about, I'd like a talk with her. I might reason her out of her prejudice against me."
"It wouldn't be easy. She drove over to the bluff, but she should be back at any time now."
Nevis had no particular desire to see Miss Calvert, but he had made up his mind to wait for an opportunity to examine the postmark on the letter, if it could be managed. Taking a catalogue out of his pocket, he proceeded to talk about the machines and implements described in it, until at length there was a rattle of wheels outside and, somewhat to his astonishment, Alison walked in. He rose when she greeted Mrs. Calvert, and noticed that there was something which suggested hostility in her eyes when for a moment she let them rest on him.
"Farquhar's hired man brought me; he's going to Bagshaw's place," she announced. "I came over to see Lucy, but she seems to be out."
Mrs. Calvert asked her to wait a little, and when she was seated Nevis sat down again. Alison, however, noticed that he had now moved to another chair which was nearer the table than the one he had previously occupied, and she wondered whether he could have had any particular motive for changing his place. Then, leaning one elbow on the table, she looked around the room.
There was only one window in it, for even with double casements it is difficult enough to keep a small prairie homestead warm in winter, and the place was somewhat shadowy. The log walls were uncovered, and she could see the chinking of moss and clay which had been driven into the crevices in them; and there was, as usual, nothing on the very roughly boarded floor. One bright ray of sunshine, however, streamed in, and fell dazzlingly across the table, upon which an apparently unopened letter lay. The white envelope which caught the light seized her attention, and she remembered that the mail-carrier visited the district that day. As Lucy Calvert was not in, it was reasonable to suppose that the letter was addressed to her, which would explain why her mother had not opened it, and this supposition carried her a little farther. The most likely person to write to the girl was her lover, and Alison was almost sure that it was a man who had inscribed the address on the envelope. By and by she saw Nevis glance at the square of paper in what did not appear to be an altogether casual fashion, and the half-formed idea in her mind grew into definite shape. There was a reason why he should be interested in the letter, and she decided to sit him out. She opened a conversation with Mrs. Calvert, and some time had slipped away when a distant rattle of wheels rose out of the prairie. Nevis, rising, addressed his hostess.
"I guess that's Miss Calvert, and as there's a point or two about our binder which I believe I forgot to mention, I'd like to explain the thing before she turns up," he said. "I want to get on again as soon as possible after I've had a word with her. No doubt Miss Leigh will excuse us for a minute."
He moved forward toward the table with what appeared to be a photograph of some harvesting machinery in his hand, and as he did so Alison, who remembered that they had been laughing and speaking rather loudly during the last three or four minutes, fancied she heard a footstep outside the open window. She was, however, not quite sure of this, and she watched the man with every sense strung up as he approached her hostess. It struck her that his object was to get near enough to see the writing or the postmark on the envelope, which would probably be impossible after Lucy arrived.
Leaning forward a little, she rested one arm farther on the table, which was covered with a light cloth, and drew the latter toward her with a slight movement of her elbow until a wider strip of it overhung the edge. She could not warn her hostess in the hearing of the man, when she had only suspicion to act on, but she was determined that he should not discover Winthrop's whereabouts if she could help it. Nevis's eyes, as she noticed, were fixed on the envelope, but he was evidently still too far off to read the postmark, and she waited another moment, watching him with mingled disgust and anger at the means he used.
In the meanwhile it was clear that Mrs. Calvert had no suspicion of what was going forward, for there was nothing to show that Alison's heart was beating a good deal faster than it generally did, or that the man was conscious of a vindictive satisfaction. His approach had been ostensibly careless, and there was only a faintly suggestive hardness in his eyes. The girl sat very still, and if her face was a little more intent than usual her hostess did not notice it.
Alison fancied that she heard a sound outside the window again, but she paid no heed to it, and as Nevis was about to lay his hand on the table and lean over it she moved her elbow sharply. The next moment the cloth slid down into a heap on the floor, and the letter disappeared.
Nevis closed one hand viciously, but he opened it again immediately as he turned to Alison. The man was quick, and held himself well in hand, and she felt a certain satisfaction in outwitting him, for it was clear that he had not suspected her of having any motive for jerking the cloth off.
"Am I accountable for the accident?" he asked.
"No," replied Alison; "it was my fault."
The danger, however, was not quite over. Alison quietly felt with one little, lightly shod foot beneath the cloth, part of which had caught and rested on her dress. Her shoe touched something that seemed harder than the soft fabric, and she contrived to draw it toward her.
"You knocked a letter off the table," said Nevis. "It must have fallen somewhere near. Permit me."
He stooped to pick up the cloth, and Alison saw that Mrs. Calvert was at last uneasy. It was obvious that she did not wish Nevis to lay his hands on the envelope. He raised the cloth, and after a glance beneath it moved a pace or two and shook it vigorously, but nothing fell out, and Alison quietly pushed back her chair.
"It's here beneath my skirt."
She picked it up and handed it to Mrs. Calvert, who laid it on a shelf across the room. After that there was a moment's silence, during which the two women looked at each other curiously, while Nevis, whose face was expressionless, looked at them both. Then the awkward stillness was broken by the entrance of Thorne. Ignoring Nevis completely, he turned to Mrs. Calvert with a smile.
"I don't know whether I need an excuse for this visit, but it occurred to me that I could drive Miss Leigh home," he explained. "I was hauling in logs for Gillow when Farquhar's hired man came along and told me he'd brought Miss Leigh over but wasn't sure when he could come back for her. Lucy will be here in a minute."
