“After that he never said a word to Ben, but as soon as the Old Man come he told him what he’d done, and handed in his resignation as ranch foreman. The Old Man was as hot as Harkness, the fellers say that saw it; fer a minute he looked as swelled up and porkupiny as a horned toad. Then he calmed down. ‘I’ll see Ben,’ he says, jest like, that. And he did see Ben; and of all the roastin’s, that feller got it; things couldn’t have been much warmer fer him if he’d let the horse go and stayed in the fire. And Harkness is still foreman. He’s too good a man, you see, fer Davison to lose. But there’s one thing to be said fer Ben, which I reckon he don’t want to say fer hisself. He was drinkin’ that day, up by the cañon. Nobody but a drunk man or a fool would have throwed that burnin’ cigarette butt into grass as dry as that. Ben was too drunk to realize the danger, and I reckon he was too drunk to know or care whose horse he took. But he was middlin’ sober, I tell you, when we met him. The scare did that. He was scared good. And I will say fer him that he turned right round, though he’d been ridin’ like the devil was after him, and went back with us, and afterward he done his part in puttin’ out the fire.”
Lucy Davison must have heard this story from Pearl Harkness; and it was possible, as Justin knew, that she had seen Harkness strike Ben. Yet she said nothing to Justin on the subject, but left him to his own conclusions.
In one way, the aftermath of that unpleasant experience was not unpleasant to Justin. Much of the time he had for a nurse no less a person than Lucy Davison herself. Whether engaged in the actual work of nursing him or otherwise, she made constant and solicitous inquiries which strengthened and soothed him more than anything within the range of Clayton’s skill. Her presence would have more than counter-balanced the suffering but for one thing. He knew that his appearance was worse than grotesque. Even a comely youth loses all comeliness, with his eyelashes and eyebrows gone, and his face disfigured by burns and bandages.
Somewhat reluctantly Justin was at length obliged to confess himself so nearly well that he could go home with Clayton. Thanks to the latter’s skill he had escaped permanent disfigurement. Nevertheless, his injuries confined him for some time to the house, and to short walks and rides near it.
Lucy made him many visits, and brought him the news and gossip of the valley. She had “finished” at Mrs. Lassell’s school, so was not to go East again, and that was a pleasant thought to both. Philip Davison was deep in his plans for Ben’s advancement, and Fogg was working earnestly to secure his own election. The thing that sorely troubled both Davison and Fogg now, as it also troubled Ben, was the story which was spreading, that Ben had cut the dam the night of the storm.
“I hope no one will think I told that!” thought Justin.
Yet the repositories of that secret, he was sure, were Lucy, Fogg and himself.
Justin inquired concerning the political action of the farmers. Apparently, they had not desired to turn to him again; they had chosen a candidate, and were working for Ben’s defeat.
When Fogg called at Clayton’s, Justin, in a private conversation with him, declared with heat that he had remained silent about the dam, even though that silence had distressed his conscience. Fogg, tricky himself, hence ready to impute trickery to others, might not have believed Justin, if it had not come out soon that Ben had given the story wings himself, as he boasted one night, while he sat gambling and drinking with Clem Arkwright and some cronies in the town. Ben denied this strenuously to his father. But after that, the suspicions of Lemuel Fogg against Justin were blown to the wind.
There was some wild talk among the farmers of prosecuting Ben, which ended in talk, for there was a lack of first-hand proof. But to the work of defeating him at the polls they had set themselves with might and main.