The Girl of the Golden West by David Belasco (cool books to read txt) 📖

narrative she told him only what she thought was necessary and good for him to know, keeping the rest to herself. And when she had related all that there was to tell she insisted upon his going to sleep again, giving him no opportunity whatsoever to speak, since she left his bedside after drawing the curtains.

Unwillingly the man lay back and tried to force himself to be patient; but he fretted at the enforced quietude and, as a result, sleep refused to come to him. From time to time he could hear the Girl moving noiselessly about the room. The knowledge that she was there gave him a sense of security, and he began to let his thoughts dwell upon her. No longer did he doubt but what she was a real influence now; and the thought had the effect of making him keenly alive to what his life had been. It was not a pleasant picture that he looked back upon, now that he had caught a glimpse of what life might mean with the Girl at his side. From the moment that he had taken her in his arms he realised to the full that his cherished dream had come true; he realised, also, that there was now but one answer to the question of keeping to the oath given to his father, and that was that gratitude--for he had guessed rightly, though she had not told him, that she had saved him from capture by the Sheriff and his posse--demanded that he should put an end to his vocation and devote his life henceforth to making her happy.

Once or twice while thus communing with himself he fancied that he heard voices. It seemed to him that he recognised Nick's voice. But whoever it was, he spoke in whispers, and though the wounded man strove to hear, he was unsuccessful.

After a while he heard the door close and then the tension was somewhat relaxed, for he knew that she was keeping his presence in her cabin a secret with all the wiles of a clever and loving woman. And more and more he determined to gain an honoured place for her in some community--an honoured place for himself and her. Vague, very vague, of course, were the new purposes and plans that had so suddenly sprang up because of her influence, but the desire to lead a clean life had touched his heart, and since his old calling had never been pleasing to him, he did not for a moment doubt his ability to succeed.

The morning was half gone when the Girl returned to her patient. Then, in tones that did her best to make her appear free from anxiety, she told him that it was the barkeeper, as he had surmised, with whom she had been talking and that she had been obliged to take him into her confidence. The man made no comment, for the situation necessarily was in her hands, and he felt that she could be relied upon not to make any mistake. Four people, he was told, knew of his presence in the cabin. So far as Rance was concerned she had absolute faith in his honour, gambler though he was; there was nothing that Nick would not do for her; and as for the Indians, the secret was sure to be kept by them, unless Jackrabbit got hold of some whisky--a contingency not at all likely, for Nick had promised to see to that. In fact, all could be trusted to be as silent as the grave.

The invalid had listened intently; nevertheless, he sighed:

"It's hard to lie here. I don't want to be caught _now_."

The Girl smiled at the emphasis on the last word, for she knew that it referred to her. Furthermore, she had divined pretty well what had been his thoughts concerning his old life; but, being essentially a woman of action and not words, she said nothing.

A moment or so later he asked her to read to him. The Girl looked as she might have looked if he had asked her to go to the moon. Notwithstanding, she got up and, presently, returned with a lot of old school-books, which she solemnly handed over for his inspection.

The invalid smiled at the look of earnestness on the Girl's face.

"Not these?" he gently inquired. "Where is the Dante you were telling me about?"

Once more the Girl went over to the book-shelf; when she came back she handed him a volume, which he glanced over carefully before showing her the place where he wished her to begin to read to him.

At first the Girl was embarrassed and stumbled badly. But on seeing that he seemed not to notice it she gained courage and acquitted herself creditably, at least, so she flattered herself, for she could detect, as she looked up from time to time, no expression other than pleasure on his face. It may be surmised, though, that Johnson had not merely chosen a page at random; on the contrary, when the book was in his hand he had quickly found the lines which the Girl had, so to say, paraphrased, and he was intensely curious to see how they would appeal to her. But now, apparently, she saw nothing in the least amusing in them, nor in other passages fully as sentimental. In fact, no comment of any kind was forthcoming from her--though Johnson was looking for it and, to tell the truth, was somewhat disappointed--when she read that Dante had probably never spoken more than twice to Beatrice and his passion had no other food than the mists of his own dreaming. However, it was different when,--pausing before each word after the manner of a child,--she came to a passage of the poet's, and read:

"'In that moment I say most truly that the spirit of life, which hath its dwelling in the most secret chambers of the heart, began to tremble so violently that the least pulse of my body shook herewith, and in the trembling it said these words: "Here is a deity stronger than I who, coming shall rule over me."'"

At that the Girl let the book fall and, going down on her knees and taking both his hands in hers, she raised to him a look so full of adoring worship that he felt himself awed before it.

"That 'ere Dante ain't so far off after all. I know jest how he feels. Oh, I ain't fit to read to you, to talk to you, to kiss you."

Nevertheless, he saw to it that she did.

After this he told her about the Inferno, and she listened eagerly to his description of the unfortunate characters, though she declared, when he explained some of the crimes that they had committed, that they "Got only what was rightly comin' to them."

The patient could hardly suppress his amusement. Dante was discarded and instead they told each other how much love there was in that little cabin on Cloudy Mountain.

The days that followed were all much like this one. Food was brought up from The Polka and, by degrees, the patient's strength came back. And it was but natural that he became so absorbed in his newly-found happiness that he gradually was losing all sense of danger. Late one night, however, when he was asleep, an incident happened that warned the Girl that it was necessary to get her lover away just as soon as he was able to ride a horse.

Lying on the rug in front of the fire she had been thinking of him when, suddenly, her quick ear, more than ever alert in these days, caught the sound of a stealthy footstep outside the cabin. With no fear whatever except in relation to the discovery of her lover, the Girl went noiselessly to the window and peered out into the darkness. A man was making signs that he wished to speak with her. For a moment she stood watching in perplexity, but almost instantly her instinct told her that one of that race, for she believed the man to be a Mexican, would never dare to come to her cabin at that time of night unless it was on a friendly errand. So putting her face close to the pane to reassure herself that she had not been mistaken in regard to his nationality, she then went to the door and held it wide open for the man to enter, at the same time putting her finger to her lips as a sign that he should be very still.

"What are you doin' here? What do you want?" she asked in a low voice, at the same time leading him to the side of the room further away from her lover.

Jose Castro's first words were in Spanish, but immediately perceiving that he failed to make her understand, he nodded comprehendingly, and said:

"All righta--I espeak Engleesh--I am Jose Castro too well known to the _Maestro_. I want to see 'im."

The Girl's intuition told her that a member of the band stood before her, and she regarded him suspiciously. Not that she believed that he was disloyal and had come there with hostile intent, but because she felt that she must be absolutely sure of her ground before she revealed the fact that Johnson was in the cabin. She let some moments pass before she replied:

"I don't know nothin' about your master. Who is he?"

An indulgent smile crossed the Mexican's face.

"That ver' good to tella other peoples; but I know 'im here too much. You trusta me--me quita safe."

All this was said with many gestures and an air that convinced the Girl that he was speaking the truth. But since she deemed it best that the invalid should be kept from any excitement, she resolved to make the Mexican divulge to her the nature of his important errand.

"How do you know he's here?" she began warily. "What do you want 'im for?"

The Mexican's shifty eyes wandered all over the room as if to make certain that no inimical ears were listening; then he whispered:

"I tella you something--you lika the _Maestro_?"

Unconsciously the Girl nodded, which evidently satisfied the Mexican, for he went on:

"You thinka well of him--yees. Now I tella you something. The man Pedro 'e no good. 'E wisha the reward--the money for Ramerrez. 'E and the woman--woman no good--tell Meester Ashby they thinka 'im 'ere."

The Girl felt the colour leave her cheeks, though she made a gesture for him to proceed.

"Pedro not 'ere any longer," smiled the Mexican. "Me senda 'im to the devil. Serva 'im right."

"An' the woman?" gasped the Girl.

"She gone--got away--Monterey by this time," replied Castro with evident disappointment. "But Meester Ashby 'e know too much--'ees men everywhere searched the camp--no safa 'ere now. To-norrow--" Castro stopped short; the next instant with a joyful gleam in his eyes he cried out: "_Maestro_!"

"Castro's right, Girl," said Johnson, who had waked and heard the Mexican's last words; "it is not safe a moment more here, and I must go."

With a little cry of loving protest the Girl abruptly left the men to talk over the situation and sought the opposite side of the room. There, her eyes half-closed and her lips pressed tightly together she gave herself up to her distressing fears. After a while it was made plain to her that she was being brought into the conversation, for every now and then Castro would look curiously at her; at length, as if it had been determined by them that nothing should be