CHAPTER XIII
A month, then two, passed in the desolate cabin in the Hollow. Winter clutched and held Pine Cone Settlement in a deadly grip. Old people died and little children were born. Lois Ann, when it was physically possible, got to the homes of suffering and eased the women, while she berated the men for bringing poor souls to such dread passes. But always Nella-Rose hid and shrank from sight. No need, now, to warn her. A new and terrible look had come into her eyes, and when Lois Ann saw that creeping terror she knew that her hour had come. To save Nella-Rose, she believed, she must lay low every illusion and, with keen and deliberate force, she pressed the apple of the knowledge of life between the girlish lips. The bitter truth at last ate its way into the girl’s soul and gradually hate, such as she had never conceived, grew and consumed her.
“She will not die,” thought the old woman watching her day by day.
And Nella-Rose did not die, at least not outwardly, but in her, as in Truedale, the fine, first glow of pure faith and passion, untouched by the world’s interpretation, faded and shrivelled forever.
The long winter hid the secret in the dreary cabin. The roads and trails were closed; none drew near for shelter or succour.
By springtime Nella-Rose was afraid of every living creature except the faithful soul who stood guard over her. She ran and trembled at the least sound; she was white and hollow-eyed, but her hate was stronger and fiercer than ever.
Early summer came—the gladdest time of the year. The heat was broken by soft showers; the flowers bloomed riotously, and in July the world-old miracle occurred in Lois Ann’s cabin—Nella-Rose’s child was born! With its coming the past seemed blotted out; hate gave place to reverent awe and tenderness. In the young mother the woman rose supreme and she would not permit her mind to hold a harmful thought.
Through the hours of her travail, when Lois Ann, desperate and frightened, had implored, threatened, and commanded that she should tell the name of the father of her child, she only moaned and closed her lips the firmer. But when she looked upon her baby she smiled radiantly and whispered to the patient old creature beside her:
“Miss Lois Ann, this lil’ child has no father. It is my baby and God sent it. I shall call her Ann—cuz you’ve been right good to me—you sholy have.”
So it was “lil’ Ann” and, since the strange reticence and misunderstood joyousness remained, Lois Ann, at her wit’s end, believing that death or insanity threatened, went secretly to the Greyson house to confess and get assistance.
Peter was away with Jed. The two hung together now like burrs. Whatever of relaxation Martin could hope for lay in Greyson; whatever of material comfort Peter could command, must come through Jed, and so they laboured, in slow, primitive fashion, and edged in a little pleasure together. Marg, having achieved her ambition, was content and, for the first time in her life, easy to get along with. And into this comparative Eden Lois Ann came with words that shattered the peace and calm.
In Marg’s private thought she had never doubted that her sister had often been with Burke Lawson in the Hollow. When he disappeared, she believed Nella-Rose was with him, but she had supported and embellished her father’s story concerning them because it secured her own self-respect and covered the tracks of the degenerate pair with a shield that they in no wise deserved, but which put their defenders in a truly Christian attitude.
Marg was alone in the cabin when Lois Ann entered. She looked up flushed and eager.
“How-de,” she said genially. “Set and have a bite.”
“I ain’t got no time,” the old woman returned pantingly. “Nella-Rose is down to my place.”
The warm, sunny room grew stifling to Marg.
“What a-doing?” she said, half under her breath.
“She’s got a—lil’ baby.”
The colour faded from Marg’s face, leaving it pasty and heavy.
“Burke—thar?”
“He ain’t been thar all winter. I hid Nella-Rose and her shame but I dare not any longer. I reckon she’s going off.”
“Dying?”
“May be; or—” and here Lois Ann tapped her head.
“And he—he went and left her?” groaned Marg—“the devil!”
Lois Ann watched the terrible anger rising in the younger woman and of a sudden she realized how useless it would be to voice the wild tale Nella-Rose held to. So she only nodded.
“I’ll come with you,” Marg decided at once, “and don’t you let on to father or Jed—they’d do some killing this time, sure!”
Together the two made their way to the Hollow and found Nella-Rose in the quiet room with her baby nestling against her tender breast. The look on her face might well stay the reproaches on Marg’s lips—she almost reeled back as the deep, true eyes met hers. All the smothered sisterliness came to the surface for an instant as she trembled and drew near to the two in the old chintz-covered rocker.
“See! my baby, Marg. She is lil’ Ann.”
“Ann—what?” whispered Marg.
“Just lil’ Ann for—Miss Lois Ann.”
“Nella-Rose” (and now Marg fell on her knees beside her sister), “tell me where he is. Tell me and as sure as God lives I’ll bring him back! I’ll make him own you and—and the baby or he’ll—he’ll—”
And then Nella-Rose laughed the laugh that drove Lois Ann to distraction.
“Send Marg away, Miss Lois Ann,” Nella-Rose turned to her only friend, “she makes me so—so tired and—I do not want any one but you.”
Marg got upon her feet, all the tenderness and compassion gone.
“You are—” she began, but Lois Ann was between her and Nella-Rose.
“Go!” she commanded with terrible scorn. “Go! You are not fit to touch them. Go! Dying or mad—the girl belongs to me and not to such as has viper blood in their veins. Go!” And Marg went with the sound of Nella-Rose’s crooning to her child ringing in her ears.
Things happened dramatically after that in the deep woods. Marg kept the secret of the Hollow cabin in her seething heart. She was frightened, fearing her father or Jed might discover Nella-Rose. But she was, at times, filled with a strange longing to see her sister and touch that wonderful thing that lay on the guilty mother-breast.
Was Nella-Rose forever to have the glory even in her shame, while she, Marg, with all the rights of womanhood, could hold no hope of maternity?
For one reason or another Marg often stole to the woods as near the Hollow as she dared to go. She hoped for news but none came; and it was late August when, one sunny noon, she confronted Burke Lawson!
Lawson’s face was strange and awful to look on. Marg drew away from him in fear. She could not know but Burke had had a terrific experience that day and he was on the path for revenge and any one in his way must suffer. Freed at last from his captivity, he had travelled across the range and straight to Jim White. And the sheriff, ready for the recreant, greeted him without mercy, judging him guilty until he proved himself otherwise.
“What you done with Nella-Rose?” he asked, standing before Burke with slow fire in his deep eyes.
Lawson could never have been the man he was if he were not capable of holding his own council and warding off attack.
“What makes you think I’ve done anything with her?” he asked.
“None o’ that, Burke Lawson,” Jim warned. “I’ve been yo’ friend, but I swear I’ll toss yo’ ter the dogs, as is after you, with as little feelin’ as I would if yo’ were a chunk o’ dead meat—if you’ve harmed that lil’ gal.”
“Well, I ain’t harmed her, Jim. And now let’s set down and talk it over. I want to—to bring her home; I want ter live a decent life ’mong yo’-all. Jim, don’t shoot ’til yo’ make sure yo’ ought ter shoot.”
Thus brought to reason Jim sat down, shared his meal with his reinstated friend, and gave him the gossip of the hills. Lawson ate because he was well-nigh starved and he knew he had some rough work ahead; he listened because he needed all the guiding possible and he shielded the name and reputation of Nella-Rose with the splendid courage that filled his young heart and mind. And then he set forth upon his quest with these words:
“As Gawd A’mighty hears me, Jim White, I’ll fetch that lil’ Nella-Rose home and live like a man from now on. Wipe off my sins, Jim; make a place for me, old man, and I’ll never shame it—or God blast me!”
White took the strong young hand and felt his eyes grow misty.
“Yo’ place is here, Burke,” he said, and then Lawson was on his way.
A half hour later he encountered Marg. In his own mind Burke had a pretty clear idea of what had occurred. Not having heard any suggestion of Truedale, he was as ignorant of him as though Truedale had never existed. Jed, then, was the only man to hold guilty. Jed had, in passion and revenge, wronged Nella-Rose and had after, like the sneak and coward he was, sought to secure his own safety by marrying Marg. But what had they done with Nella-Rose? She had, according to White, disappeared the night that Jed had been tied in the cave. Well, Jed must confess and pay!—pay to the uttermost. But between him and Jed Marg now stood!
“You!” cried Marg. “You! What yo’ mean coming brazen to us-all?”
“Get out of my way!” commanded Burke, “Where’s Jed?”
“What’s that to you?”
“You’ll find out soon enough. Let me by.”
But Marg held her ground and Lawson waited. The look in his eyes awed Marg, but his presence enraged her.
“What you-all done with Nella-Rose?” Lawson asked.
“You better find out! You’ve left it long enough.”
“Whar is she, I say? And I tell you now, Marg—every one as has wronged that lil’ girl will answer to me. Whar is she?”
“She—she and her young-un are up to Lois Ann’s. They’ve been hid all winter. No one but me knows; you’ve time to make good—before—before father and Jed get yo’.”
Lawson took this like a blow between the eyes. He could not speak—for a moment he could not think; then a lurid fire of conviction burned into his very soul.
“So—that’s it!” he muttered, coming so close to Marg that she shrank back afraid. “So that’s it! Yo’-all have damned and all but killed the po’ lil’ girl—then flung her to—to the devil! You’ve taken the leavings—you! ’cause yo’ couldn’t get anything else. Yo’ and Jed” (here Lawson laughed a fearless, terrifying laugh), “yo’ and Jed is honourably married, you two, and she—lil’ Nella-Rose—left to—” Emotion choked Lawson; then he plunged on: “He—he wronged her—the brute, and you took him to—to save him and yourself you—! And she?—why, she’s the only holy thing in the hills; you couldn’t damn her—you two!”
“For the love o’ Gawd!” begged Marg, “keep yo’ tongue still and off us! We ain’t done her any wrong; every one, even Jed, thinks she is with you. Miss Lois Ann hid her—I only knew a week ago. I ain’t told a soul!”
A look of contempt grew upon Burke’s face and hardened there. He was thinking quick and desperately. In a vague way he realized that he had the reins in his hands; his only concern was to know whither he should drive. But, above and beyond all—deep true, and spiritual—were his love and pity for Nella-Rose.
They had all betrayed and deserted her. Not for an instant did Lawson doubt that. Their cowardice and duplicity neither surprised nor daunted him; but his pride—his sense of superiority—bade him pause and reflect before he plunged ahead. Finally he said:
“So you-all depend upon her safety for your safety! Take it—and be damned! She’s been with me—yo’ followin’ me? She’s been with me, rightful married and happy—happy! From now on I’ll manage lil’ Nella-Rose’s doings, and the first whisper from man or woman agin her will be agin me—and God knows I won’t be blamed for what I do then! Tell that skunk of yours,” Lawson glared at the terrified Marg, “I’m strong enough to outbid him with the devil, but from now on him and you—mind this well, Marg Greyson—him and you are to be our loving brother and sister. See?”
With a wild laugh Burke took to the woods.