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

me--"

He paused, and ended almost piteously with:

"Oh, I thought I'd have the courage not to ask, but, Oh, couldn't you let me--couldn't you--"

Once more Nick intervened by shrewdly prevaricating:

"Here's the Girl, boys!"

But this ruse of Nick's met with no greater success than his previous efforts, for Rance, putting his foot down heavily upon the stove, voiced a vigorous protest.

"All right," said the prisoner, resignedly. Nevertheless, his face reflected his disappointment. Turning now to Nick he thanked him for his efforts in his behalf.

"You must excuse Rance," remarked the little barkeeper with a significant look at the Sheriff, "for bein' so small a man as to deny the usual courtesies, but he ain't quite himself."

Weary of their cavilling, for he believed that in the end the Sheriff would carry his point, and determined to go before his courage failed him, Johnson made a movement towards the door. Speaking bravely, though his voice trembled, he said:

"Come, boys--come."

But, odd as it may seem, Nick's words had taken root.

"Wait a minute," Rance temporised.

The prisoner halted.

"I don't know that I'm so small a man as to deny the usual courtesies, since you put it that way," continued Rance. "I always have extended them. But we'll hear what you have to say--that's our protection. And it might interest some of us to hear what the Girl will have to say to you, Mr. Johnson--after a week in her cabin there may be more to know than--"

Fire leapt to Johnson's eyes; he cried hoarsely--

"Stop!"

"Rance, you don't know what you're sayin'," resented Nick, casting hard looks at him; while Sonora put a heavy hand upon the Sheriff and threatened him with:

"Now, Rance, you stop that!"

"We'll hear every word he has to say," insisted the Sheriff, doggedly.

"You bet!" affirmed Trinidad.

"Nick! Nick!" called the Girl once more, and while the little barkeeper went over to admit her the Wells Fargo Agent took his leave, calling back after him:

"Well, boys, you've got him safe--I can't wait--I'm off!"

"Dep, untie the prisoner! Boys, circle round the bar! Trin, put a man at that door! And Sonora, put a couple of men at those windows!" And so swift were the men in carrying out his instructions, that even as he spoke, everyone was at his post, the Sheriff himself and Sonora remaining unseen but on guard at the doors, while the prisoner, edging up close to the door, was not in evidence when the Girl entered.

"You can think of something to tell her--lie to her," had been the Sheriff's parting suggestion.

"I'll let her think I risked coming back to see her again," had replied the prisoner, his throat trembling.

"She won't know it's for the last time--we'll be there," had come warningly from the Sheriff as he pointed to the door that led to the bar-room.

* * * * * *


"Why, what have you got the door barred for?" asked the Girl as she came into the room; and then without waiting for an answer: "Why, where are the boys?"

"Well, you see, the boys--the boys has--has--" began Nick confusedly and stopped.

"The boys--" There was a question in the Girl's voice.

"Has gone."

"Gone where?"

"Why, to the Palmetter," came out feebly from Nick; and then with a sudden change of manner, he added: "Oh, say, Girl, I likes you!" And here he laid his hand affectionately upon her shoulder. "You've been my religion--the bar an' you. Why, you don't never want to leave us--why, I'd drop dead for you."

"Nick, you're very nice to--" began the Girl, gratefully, and stopped, for at that instant a gentle tap came upon the door. Turning swiftly, she saw Johnson coming towards her.

"Girl!" he cried in an agony of joy, and held out his arms to receive her.

"You? You?" she admonished softly.

"Don't say a word," he whispered hurriedly.

"You shouldn't have come back," she said with knitted brow.

"I had to--to say good-bye once more." And his voice was so filled with tenderness that she readily forgave him for the indiscretion.

"It's all right, it's all right," murmured Nick, his hand still on the door, which he had taken the precaution to bolt after the Girl had passed through it.

There was a moment's silence; then, going over to the windows, the Girl pulled down the curtains.

"The boys are good for quite a little bit," she said as she came back. "Don't git nervous--I'll give you warnin' . . ."

Nick, unwilling to witness the heartrending scene which he foresaw would follow, noiselessly withdrew into the bar-room, leaving the prisoner alone with the Girl.

"Don't be afraid, my Girl," said Johnson, softly.

But the Girl's one thought, after her first gladness, was of his safety:

"But you can't git away now without bein' seen?"

"Yes, there's another way out of Cloudy,--and I'm going to take it."

The grimness of his meaning was lost on the Girl, who answered urgently:

"Then go--go! Don't wait, go now!"

Johnson smiled a sad little smile:

"But remember that I'm sorry for the past, and--and don't forget me," he said, with an odd break in his voice,--so odd that it roused the Girl into startled wonderment.

"Forget you? Why, Dick . . .!"

"I mean, till we meet again," he reassured her hastily.

The Girl heaved a troubled sigh. Her fears for him were still on edge. Then, with a nervous start, she asked:

"Did he call?"

"No. He'll--he'll warn me," Johnson told her unsteadily.

"Oh, every day that dawns I'll wait for a message from you. I'll feel you wanting me. Every night I'll say to-morrow, and every to-morrow I'll say to-day . . . Oh, you've changed the whole world for me! I can't let you go, but I must, Dick, I must . . ." And bursting into tears, she buried her face on his shoulder, repeating piteously, between shaking sobs, "Oh, I'm so afraid,--I'm so afraid!"

He held her close, the strength of his arms around her reassuring her silently. "Why, you mustn't be afraid," he said in tones that were almost steady. "In a few minutes I'll be quite free, and then--"

"An' you'll make a little home for me when you're free--soon--will you?" asked the Girl, with a wan smile dawning on her trembling lips. She was drying her eyes and did not see how the light died out of the man's face, as he gazed down at her hungrily, hopelessly. This time he could not trust himself to speak, but merely nodded "yes."

"A strange feelin' has come over me," went on the Girl, brokenly, "a feelin' to hold you--to cling to you--not to let you go. Somethin' in my heart keeps sayin', 'Don't let him go!'"

Johnson felt his knees sagging oddly beneath him. The Girl's sure instinct of danger, the piteousness of their case, were making a coward of him. He tore himself from her in a panic desire to go while he still had the manhood to play his part to the end; then suddenly broke down completely, and with his face buried in his hands, sobbed aloud.

"Why, Girl," he managed to say, brokenly, "it's been worth--the whole of life just--to know you. You've brought me nearer Heaven,--you, to love a man like me!"

"Don't say that, Oh, don't say that," she hastened to say with a great tenderness in her voice. "S'pose you was only a road agent an' I was a saloon keeper. We both came out o' nothin' an' we met, but through lovin' we're goin' to reach things now--that's us. We had to be lifted up like this to be saved."

Johnson tried to speak, but the words would not come. It was, therefore, with a feeling of relief that, presently, he heard Nick at the door, saying, "It's all clear now."

Johnson wheeled round, but Nick had flown. Turning once more to the Girl, he said with trembling lips:

"Good-bye!"

The Girl's face wore a puzzled look, and she told him that he acted as if they were never going to meet again.

"An' we are, we are, ain't we?" she questioned eagerly.

A faint little smile hovered about the corners of the road agent's mouth when presently he answered:

"Why, surely we are . . ."

His words cleared her face instantly.

"I want you to think o' me here jest waitin'," she said. "You was the first--there'll never be anyone but you. Why, you're the man I'd want sittin' across the table if there was a little kid like I was playin' under it. I can't say no more 'n that. Only you--you will--you must get through safe an' come back--an' well, think o' me here jest waitin', jest waitin', waitin' . . ."

At these words a tightness gripped the man's throat, and in the silence that followed the tears ran steadily down his cheeks.

"Oh, Girl, Girl," at last he said, "that first night I went to your cabin I saw you kneeling, praying. Say that in your heart again for me now. Perhaps I believe it--perhaps I don't . . . I hope I do--I want to--but say it, say it, Girl, just for the luck of it--say it . . ."

Quickly the Girl crossed herself, and while she sent a silent prayer to Heaven Johnson knelt at her knees, his head bowed low.

"God bless you," he murmured when the prayer was finished and arose to his feet; then bending over her hand he touched it softly with his lips.

"Good-bye!" he said chokingly and started for the door.

"Good-bye!" came slowly in return, her face no less moist than his. Presently she murmured like one in a dream: "Dick, Dick!"

The man hastened his steps and did not turn. At the door, however, he burst out in an agony of despair: "Girl! Girl . . .!"

But when the Girl looked up he had reached the open. She listened a moment to the retreating steps, then raising her tear-stained face above her arms, she sobbed out: "He's gone--he's gone--he's gone . . .!" She started in pursuit of him, but half-way across the room she fell into Nick's arms, crying out:

"He's gone, he's gone, he's gone! Dick! Dick! Dick . . .!"

Terribly affected at the sight of the Girl's sorrow, the little barkeeper did his best to soothe her, now patting her little blonde head as it rested upon his arm, now murmuring words of loving tenderness.

Suddenly she raised her head, and then it was that she saw for the first time the men standing huddled together near the door. In a flash the truth of the situation dawned upon her. With a look of indescribable horror upon her face she turned upon Nick, turned upon them all with:

"You knew, Nick--you all knew you had 'im! You knew you had 'im an' you're goin' to kill 'im! But you shan't--no, you shan't kill 'im--you shan't--you shan't . . .!"

Once more she started in pursuit of her lover, but only to fall with her face against the door, sobbing as if her heart would break.

Outside there was nothing in the