CHAPTER VI—LILA
The fall term of school was about ready to start, and Lila was offered her board and room with the Parker family. Jim Parker was proprietor of the Red Arrow General Merchandise Store, and was also one of the trustees of the school.
Jim Parker was a big, bluff, self-opinionated sort of person, while Mrs. Parker was a little old lady at forty, whose sole aim in life was to take care of their two children and make Jim comfortable. She welcomed Lila for companionship, and Jim welcomed her for what added instructions she might impart to his offspring.
Angel did not like the idea of Lila living with the Parker family, because of the fact that he and Jim Parker had never been friends. Angel had never mentioned marriage to Lila since the day they had talked with Billy DuMond. In fact, he had seen little of her.
No one had asked Lila why she had left the Circle Spade, and it seemed that many thought it was because she was merely starting out to make her own way in the world. No hint of the suspicions against Angel McCoy had come to her ears. She did not know that Angel had written to the sheriff of Medicine Tree, seeking information of what had happened to Jim Stevens years ago.
Quite a number of the Red Arrow cowboys had looked with favor upon Lila McCoy, but none of them had summoned up enough nerve to visit her at Parker’s home, except Slim Caldwell, the sheriff. He had known Lila for years, and came to congratulate her on her new job. It took him from eight o’clock to midnight to offer his congratulations, much to the amusement of Jim Parker, who sat with them all that time in the living-room. Slim resolved to get even with Jim at the first opportunity. And Jim Parker added insult to injury when he told Chuck Ring about it.
Chuck’s version was rather wonderful.
“And there they sat, all night long; Lila asleep in her chair, and Slim and Jim glarin’ at each other until about five o’clock in the mornin’, when Slim went to sleep. Jim wakes Lila up and she goes to her room, and Jim goes to bed. Slim didn’t wake up until Mrs. Parker starts gettin’ breakfast, and then he sneaks out.”
But he came again, and though nobody knew what had happened, Jim Parker let Lila and Slim strictly alone.
All of which did not set so well with Angel McCoy. He was in the proper frame of mind to take Chuck’s version without reservations. Things were going worse with Angel. He had kept only one dealer, and was thinking seriously of cutting him off the payroll of the Eagle.
And it was about this time that Lila heard Jim Parker talking to another man about Angel McCoy. They were discussing the business at the Eagle, and Parker remarked that Angel had no one to blame except himself.
“You know what they’re sayin’,” said Parker. “He took twenty-five hundred away from old Rance McCoy, and some of the boys say it was a crooked deal. I never heard the old man say a word about it—but he wouldn’t.”
“I guess it was a crooked deal all right,” agreed the other man. “Doesn’t seem to be any secret.”
Lila went to her room to think it over. Angel a thief! Dealt a crooked game to beat his own father! And old Rance McCoy had given him the money to buy out that gambling-house. She went downstairs and talked to Mrs. Parker, trying to find out what she knew about it.
“Yes, I heard about it,” admitted Mrs. Parker. “I didn’t want to say anything about it, Lila. Angel has made a lot of enemies over it, and has practically ruined his business.”
“But he surely wouldn’t steal from his father, Mrs. Parker.”
“Honey, a gambler don’t recognize relationship. Angel always was a queer sort of a boy—rather cold-blooded. I don’t care if he is your brother——”
“But he isn’t,” said Lila softly. “Oh, I don’t think there is any use of keeping it a secret. That was why I left the Circle Spade ranch. Haven’t you wondered?”
“A little—yes. Others have wondered, too. But I supposed it was merely because you wanted to earn your own living.”
“Rance McCoy is not my father, Mrs. Parker. He—he shot my father when I was a baby. I don’t know why, but he adopted me and gave me his name. Angel and I are no relation. My father was named Stevens.”
“Well, heavens above! Can you imagine that? Honey, that’s like something you read about. A-a-a-w, don’t cry about it! You can’t help it, can you? Pshaw! Did Rance McCoy tell you?”
Lila shook her head quickly, her lips trembling.
“A-Angel told me. Rance McCoy didn’t deny it.”
“Well.” Mrs. Parker thought it over carefully. “Well, I don’t think that it’s so bad. Rance took care of you and gave you an education. You’ve got to give him credit for that.”
“Oh, I do give him credit. But I’ll pay him back for all that.”
“If I know anything about Rance McCoy, he ain’t looking for pay. And it’ll take you a mighty long time to ever earn enough to pay him back.”
The next day was payday on some of the ranches, and, being Saturday, nearly all the cattlemen came to town. The Red Arrow Saloon was crowded with chap-clad gentry all day. Some of the boys would drop in at the Eagle, buy a round of drinks and go out, none of them offering to buck the games.
Jim Langley came in from the JML, bringing Jess Fohl and “Roper” Briggs, two of his cowboys. Langley was a well-built, dark-faced man, whose hair was sprinkled with gray. He was not a mixer, and seldom came to town. Chuck Ring swore that Langley had a “past.”
“Don’t talk much,” observed Chuck wisely. “Does a lot of thinkin’. And he packs his gun too handy for a feller that’s easy in the mind.”
But there was nothing reticent about Fohl and Briggs. They were a tough pair, and they wanted it understood. Both were less than thirty years of age. Fohl was bow-legged, his head typically Prussian. Briggs was wry-necked, had little chin, and a pair of tiny blue eyes, which were so round that it gave one the feeling that here was a piece of human taxidermy in which the workman had inserted bird-eyes in a human head.
These three men had a drink at the Eagle, sized up the place curiously, and went over to the Red Arrow to find out the why-for of the boycott on the Eagle. And they found out. Several of the boys were just drunk enough to speak plain about Angel McCoy. Billy DuMond was there, drinking plenty, but keeping an eye on the front door and keeping his gun handy.
The lamps were already lighted when Langley and his two men came to the Red Arrow. The games were crowded.
“Well, is it true that Angel crooked the old man out of twenty-five hundred?” queried Langley, talking to those at the bar.
“He did!” said DuMond emphatically. “Not that I give a damn about it, yuh understand. Me and old McCoy ain’t been friends for years, and I hope I live long enough to tip over his tombstone, but it was a dirty deal. Angel’s a crook if there ever was one.”
DuMond hammered on the bar with his glass and indicated to the bartender that they would drink again.
“Old Rance was in town today,” offered Eddie Marsh, one of the 77 punchers. “I seen him at the bank.”
“Thasso?” DuMond cleared his throat harshly. “Mebby he knowed I was comin’ in, and that’s why he pulled out.”
“You’re crazy,” declared Butch Reimer. “He’d fill you full of lead before yuh could reach to yore gun.”
“Like hell!” flared DuMond. “He ain’t so fast. You gimme an even break with that old hound, and I’ll—I’ll——”
DuMond’s voice trailed off into space. He was staring at the back-bar mirror as though hypnotized. Butch Reimer leaned forward, staring into the mirror too. Directly behind them stood old Rance McCoy, his stony old eyes looking at them in the mirror. DuMond choked softly. His elbows were on the top of the bar, and it seemed that he was unable to lift them off.
Langley turned and looked at the old man.
“Hyah, Rance,” he said, smiling. “Long time I no see yuh.”
But the old man’s eyes did not shift.
“Turn around, DuMond,” he said softly.
DuMond whined deep in his throat, a sort of a strangle. With a supreme effort he drew his elbows off the bar and turned around, his hands held almost shoulder-high. He blinked at old man McCoy painfully. The old man had his hands resting on his hips, his head thrust forward.
“Let yore hands down, DuMond.”
“No,” said DuMond hollowly. “I—I—what did yuh say, McCoy?”
“Yuh can’t draw from up there, DuMond. Let yore hands down to yore waist. I’m givin’ yuh that even break yuh wanted.”
“Even break?” DuMond’s eyes shifted and he looked around at the hazy faces of the many men in the place. There was nobody directly behind McCoy. DuMond’s eyes were full of tears, as though he had been looking at a bright light.
“Yuh wanted an even break, yuh said,” reminded old Rance evenly.
“Not me,” said DuMond in a strained voice. “Oh, not me, McCoy. What I said was——”
DuMond swallowed heavily, but was unable to go ahead with his explanation. Rance McCoy moved slowly ahead until he stood within a foot of the shrinking DuMond. Then he deliberately slapped DuMond across the mouth, knocking him back against the bar. But DuMond did not drop his right hand. His left slowly went to his lips and he stood there, leaning back against the bar, the back of his left hand held tightly against his lips, as though to ward off a blow. There was a crimson trickle down his stubbled chin below the protecting hand.
“Get out of here,” commanded Rance McCoy, pointing toward the open door. “Get out of here, you pup; I want to talk to men.”
And DuMond went—still holding his right hand high, his left hand guarding his bruised lips.
Old Rance watched him leave the place before he turned to the men who had seen him humiliate Billy DuMond. Then he stepped in against the bar and turned to face them. His hard old eyes looked from face to face, as he said:
“I know what’s been said about the Eagle. You’ve heard that Angel McCoy is a crooked gambler and that he stole a lot of money from me. That’s a damned lie, and the man who says it is a liar!”
No one contradicted him. He gave them plenty of time. Then—
“I’ve played cards before a lot of yuh was born, and I know a crooked deal. It’s none of my business where yuh lose yore money, but I jist wanted to tell yuh that I’m goin’ to play mine at the Eagle.”
Then he surged away from the bar and walked from the place. The room had been silent from the first word he had spoken to Billy DuMond, and no one spoke until he had left the place, but now they all tried to talk at once.
Langley and Butch Reimer left the bar together and went across the street, followed by nearly every man in the Red Arrow, impelled by curiosity.
But Angel McCoy was not there; he was sitting on the steps of Jim Barker’s home, trying to argue Lila into agreeing to marry him. But all his arguments were fruitless.
“Well, yuh can’t teach school all your life,” he declared.
“I can if I want to, Angel.”
“Oh, I suppose yuh can. Mebby you was foolish to quit the old man the way yuh did. You’ll never get anythin’ more out of him. I got my share, I’ll tell yuh that. I got more than you’ll ever get.”
“I have no gambling game to entice him,” said Lila meaningly.
Angel got quickly to his feet.
“So yuh heard about that little deal, eh?” angrily. “That’s why yuh act so cool, is it? What is there about it to bother you, I’d like to know? Who told yuh about it?”
“It doesn’t seem to be any secret, Angel.”
“Secret! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! No, I guess not.”
“It doesn’t seem to amuse any one, except you, Angel.”
“No?” Angel moved closer to her in the dark. “Yuh don’t see anythin’ to laugh about, eh? Well, I don’t either. I’m not laughing because it’s funny. Every cent I own is tied up in that saloon. And these hypocrites have boycotted me. They don’t know it was a crooked deal. Old Rance McCoy came in there to beat me. He drew twenty-five hundred from the bank to try and break me. But he failed. I know my own game. I’m not in that business to let anybody break me. I went into it to make easy money.”
“But he is your father, Angel.”
“What of it? You think blood is thicker than water, eh? Not in my business. Everythin’ is grist that comes to my mill. They think I’m crooked, eh? I’ll sell out here and go to another place. You come with me and I’ll see that yuh wear diamonds, Lila. I can make more money than yuh ever seen. Think it over. You wasn’t born to teach school, or marry a forty-a-month puncher.”
“Thank you, Angel.”
“What for? I mean every word of it. Don’t let old Rance McCoy worry yuh.”
“Does he think you played a crooked game?”
“What if he does?”
“Don’t you want the respect of your father, Angel?”
“What good will it do me? The respect of Rance McCoy!”
“You are a queer son, Angel.”
“Am I? Well, I’m what I am—and I’m satisfied.”
“Satisfied to be known as a cheat?”
Angel laughed angrily.
“Who cares? Nobody can prove I cheated him.”
“You can, Angel; and you must have a conscience.”
“Not a damned bit! That’s somethin’ that wasn’t in the McCoy family; so where could I inherit it? I don’t mind tellin’ you that if I had played a square game, I’d be broke now. That ain’t admittin’ anythin’, is it? Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Well, you think it over, Lila. It’s the difference between wearin’ diamonds and—and what you’re goin’ to do.”
Angel walked away from her, and she heard the rusty hinges of the old gate creak behind him. She shivered slightly and drew the pale blue shawl closer around her shoulders. She had not seen Rance McCoy since she had left the ranch, and in spite of her prejudice there was an ache in her heart for the old man who had raised her. He had been so glad to see her when she came back from the East, after five years of school. He had not said much, but she could see the pleasure and happiness in his eyes as he held her off at arm’s length and looked her over.
And she had been glad to see Angel. Somehow she had forgotten that Angel had been nicknamed for the same reason that a fat cowboy was usually known as “Slim.” He was a handsome man now, the handsomest man she had ever met; and he had told her that he loved her, almost in the same breath that he had told her she was not his sister. His whirlwind method had left her breathless, and she could not remember now just what she had told him.
But he was still the same Angel McCoy, cold-blooded, headstrong, sarcastic. She remembered one Sunday when Rance had taken them to Sunday School at Red Arrow. Angel was about ten years old. The lesson had made a strong impression on him, and late that afternoon one of the cowboys had found him out behind the stable, crucifying a cat against the corner of the corral fence.
Old Rance did not whip him. Lila could not remember that Rance had ever whipped Angel. He had whipped her. Somehow, she held that against him now. He would not whip his own child. He had never whipped her very hard, but it was the humiliation more than the actual pain.
She remembered that old Rance had whipped a cowboy who had slapped Angel. It was nearly a gun-fight. Angel had cut the strings all off the cowboy’s saddle and was using them to braid into a quirt for himself. Old Rance whipped the cowboy, and then paid a saddle-maker to put the strings back on the saddle again.
He had always protected Angel. She had heard Angel talking back to him one day, and old Rance had said:
“All right, son. Some day you’ll be twenty-one. Until that time, you’re a kid. When you’re twenty-one, you’ll be a man—and I’d shoot a man for sayin’ what you’ve just said to me. I don’t quarrel with kids, but just remember what I said.”
And she had seen Rance McCoy kill a man. Lila was twelve at the time. It was over a branding deal, she remembered. The men were all standing around the corral gate, and she had climbed halfway up the fence near them. She remembered that one of the men was standing apart from the rest, and his face was very white. Then she heard him say:
“McCoy, you’re a liar!”
There were two shots fired, spaced less than a second apart, and she saw this man crumple up and fall on his face. It was such a shock that she nearly fell off the fence. Then some one picked her off the fence, and she turned her head to see it was Rance McCoy. He said to the men:
“You saw and heard it all, boys. Better get the sheriff and tell him about it.”
Then he had carried her to the house and told her to run along and play. It was the first time he had ever picked her up since she could remember. And she had rather resented it, because she was twelve years of age.
It was growing cool out there on the porch, so she went into the house and sat down to read. Mrs. Parker was busy upstairs and Jim Parker had not come in from the store.