“You think I know where Billy Gee is——” she began with an effort.
“You got him hid out, an’ don’t lie to me!” he roared. “He’s too sick to ride, an’ you’re nursin’ him some place on this ranch. You can’t make no damn fool out of me, young lady. Where is he? You’re goin’ to tell me, or by hell, I’ll——” He raised his clenched fists menacingly above her head.
CHAPTER IV—LEMUEL YIELDS
Lemuel Huntington, as has been suggested, was not a forceful character. Even in this desperate moment when the strength of his life’s mania was being directed to gain that which would make the fulfillment of that mania possible, he lacked the stubbornness of will, the blind conquering egoism, to win his demands at all costs. He had never had occasion to present such a furious front to his daughter before. That he was doing it now, exerted a disconcerting influence upon him, embarrassed him, made him a little uncertain as to the fairness of his methods.
On the other hand, he had never even so much as suspected the existence of a broad strain of high-spiritedness in Dot’s nature and that firmness of purpose which he himself did not have. The launching of his threat roused her like the sting of a whip. Her terror vanished and left her cold. She strode up close to him now and let her eyes burn into his.
“Father! Another word from you, and I’ll leave the house. And I’ll never come back!”
He did not answer. He looked at her in a queer, dumb frenzy. Then slowly, amazement, incredulity, indecision grew on his face. He had never seen her so dreadfully calm, so white before. She had never threatened such a fearful thing before! A long minute dragged by.
From out in the darkness came the weird shriek of a predacious nighthawk. Presently, he turned away from her, walked back to his chair, and began filling with clumsy, trembling fingers his forgotten pipe. His mouth was distorted with what seemed to be some forlorn grief; his breath broke from his lungs in low distressful gasps.
It grew very quiet. The old clock on the shelf ticked tiredly. Some time afterward he heard a sob and, glancing around, saw Dot leaning against the wall, her face buried in her hands. Thereupon he put down his pipe and went over and took her in his arms. Hungrily he held her to his breast, and there was in his eyes the reflection of the fierce struggle that was taking place in his soul.
“Your poor, lonesome leetle heart,” he said, in a voice that shook with sobs. “I didn’t aim to act so cussed, darlin’. God knows, I wouldn’t do nuthin’ to hurt you, Dot! You know yore dad’d do anythin’ to make you happy. Don’t you, honey? I’d go through fire an’ brimstone, I’d die for your daughter, Emily, like I always said,” he added, his face turned to the rafters under the roof.