What Henry Falkins had said became in a fashion Minerva's standards. She found herself hating the lawlessness of the feud and the squalor of backwoods ignorance. She found herself wishing to be a recruit in the little army that sought to raise other ideals—but most of all she found herself longing rebelliously for the chance to have in her own life the companionship of some man like that. To herself she put it that way. She did not say that man, but, when she said "some man like that," the features and bearing and voice of young Falkins portrayed themselves, and as she sat with the medal in her fingers, listening to the whippoorwills, her fancy conjured up his image.
CHAPTER VI
When Newt Spooner had begun his search for Henry Falkins that afternoon he had not been so unobserved as he thought himself. Not very far behind him had walked Red Newton. He had not left Cawsler's with any intention of spying upon the boy and had seen him only by chance, yet when the latter halted in front of the hotel and stood there with the telltale expression which the recognition of Falkins brought to his face, Red Newton observed it and slipped silently into the door of a convenient store. When Newt went running excitedly back to Cawsler's place, the brain of the older clansman began to work rapidly. To his memory recurred the tirade that had broken so tempestuously from the boy's lips.
"I knows what I'm atter. I knows who I'm ergwine ter git. Thar's a feller I'm ergwine ter kill." The unforgiving malice in the boy's eyes, the rigid posture of his whole body as he stood contemplating his enemy, told Red Newton the whole story. This, then, was the man Newt meant to kill. It was logical enough. This was the witness who had riddled the alibi.
At first, Red Newton shrugged his shoulders in the fashion of one who has no call to meddle in the affairs of others, but as fresh aspects of the matter presented themselves to his consideration, a very real danger to all his family arose to confront him.
If Newt should shoot Henry Falkins on the streets of Winchester before the speaking of this afternoon, it would stir into action such a tidal wave of public indignation against the mountaineers that the more vital conspiracy would be thwarted. He surmised that Newt was rushing back to Cawsler's place to arm himself, and his first instinct was to follow. Then he remembered that the place was now empty save for the drunken Dode, and Cawsler himself, whose discretion could be trusted. So, he took no action, and, when later the same buggy passed the court-house and within a few moments Newt went swinging along after it on foot, the disappointed face of the boy told the other that he had failed. Red Newton rubbed his stubbled chin reflectively, bit off a large chew of tobacco and withdrew into his inner consciousness for reflection. As the result of those cogitations he strolled over to the hitching rack where he found a lowland farmer with whom he had spent a part of the morning talking cattle.
"Stranger," he suggested, "I 'lowed I'd love to ride out the road a piece, an' I figgered I'd ask ye ter lend me yore horse fer about a half-hour. I hain't ergwine fur, an' I won't ride him hard. I'll do es much fer you when you come up my way."
With ready assent, the farmer went over and untied his plug, and Red Newton swung himself to the saddle. Then he rode slowly and casually after the boy. He did not try to overtake him, satisfying himself with keeping him in sight, while he himself remained too far back to be recognizable. But Red Newton had affairs of consequence in town, so, as soon as he was satisfied that Newt had lost sight of the buggy, he turned back. He intended to mention the circumstance to Black Pete, but Black Pete was keeping discreetly out of sight, and so he found no opportunity for speech with him.
Meanwhile, the throng about the court-house was thickening, and Red Newton caught sight of Jake Falerin making his way to a place near the stand. That was his own cue for action, so, forgetting minor things, and keeping as inconspicuous as possible, he began edging toward a position of proximity in Falerin's rear. He signaled with a nod to one of his kinsmen, who was standing silently, but alertly, a little way off, and who at once began working forward in answer to the sign. The plan worked with well-oiled smoothness. Red Newton came so close that he almost brushed shoulders with his intended victim, and even when he stood at Jake Falerin's back, chewing his tobacco with as little expression as a cow chewing its cud, Falerin did not turn around or suspect his presence.