All this was amazing to Louisa. She hardly knew what to believe. He spoke so plausibly, in such an injured tone, that she began to feel herself in the wrong.
“Moreover,” Cyrus Sparks went on, “I’d like to know what right any one has to Stephen Hayward’s property. Ef he’s dead an’ gone why don’t his heirs come forrard? Ef he ain’t got no heirs one has as much right as another and I can’t see that I’d be any more stealin’ than John Ross is. ’Tain’t his, and if it ain’t mine whose is it? Not John Ross’s.”
This logic added to Louisa’s bewilderment. She felt as if the world were suddenly turned upside down. All her preconceived ideas were overthrown and she looked at the man in helpless amazement.
“Now, you see then, I’m the fellow that’s got the law on my side. I’m taking peaceable possession of my property and first thing I get a bullet in me.” He edged nearer Louisa. “Now, I ain’t goin’ to be hard on nobody, especially on no women folks. You just leave me loose an’ come go home with me and I’ll promise not to prosecute none of ’em. I see that little gal don’t know she was actin’ agin the law and I’d hate to see her in jail, so I’ll keep quiet if you will. What d’ye say? Is it a bargain?”
Poor Louisa, this turning of the tables was too much for her loyalty and she murmured a faint: “Yes.”
“Ye see,” continued Cyrus pressing his advantage, “I ain’t got no witnesses nor no writin’ to prove I bought that hoss often Steve, but ef he was here he’d tell ye it was all right. Now, as I ain’t got no guarantee, an’ nobody knows about the transaction, these fellers about here might think I really did try to steal him and you know what would happen ef ye give me up. You know I wouldn’t stand no kind of chanst; I’d git strung up instid of dyin’ fer my country or in my bed like an honest man. You’d hate to hev ’em say your dad died like a horse thief, now wouldn’t ye, Lou? An’ him innercent, too.”
“Oh, it would be dreadful,” murmured Louisa.
“Thought you’d feel as I do about it. So then, I’ll be generous an’ not press my claim to the hoss, not yet, anyhow. I’ll jest leave him here for the present, and if Steve never comes back to prove my word is true, why let these people keep him fer what they’ve done fer you.”
This speech struck a responsive chord in Louisa’s breast. She loved the Ross family one and all. The dreadful possibilities that Cyrus had suggested filled her with alarm. She had little knowledge of the world and of the workings of the law. She believed the man to be really her father. It was true that she had neither beauty nor fortune, then why indeed should he wish to claim her if not from fatherly affection? True he did not fulfil her ideal, but the fact was here to face. She ought to believe him innocent till he was proved guilty. If his story were true he was not to be greatly censured. She began to feel a faint stirring of filial affection and to respond to his desire that his home should be hers. She had always so boldly announced that she was going to Texas for her father’s sake and now had come a greater opportunity to prove it than she had ever dreamed of. After all, why was it not a great thing for the poor orphan girl? Fidgetty Lou to possess the protection of a father, to live under his roof, and some day to be an heiress! Why, it was like a novel. The man’s story appeared more and more plausible as she gave herself over to these thoughts, and at length she had persuaded herself that it would be absolutely wicked to yield up her own father to the authorities. If Steve should one day reappear and vouch for his story, and she had failed to save her father from an ignominious death what remorse would be hers. She leaned over and began to unfasten the bandages which bound hands and feet, then helped the man rise. He was not an attractive personality and Louisa did not feel a return of that sudden stirring of affection, but as the man staggered slightly she put out her strong arm to steady him.
“Little onsteady on the pins,” he remarked. “You’ll be a prop to your old dad in his declinin’ years, won’t you, Lou? Ye shan’t lose by it. To think of that little squeak of a gal doin’ up Cy Sparks, this-a way gits me. Jest leave me set down and get me a drop of somethin’ or other an’ I’ll be all right. I’ve got out of worse scrapes than this—when I was in the army,” he added. “Now you’ll get me home, won’t ye?”