The Merry Anne

“Cut that – get up!”

Roche, who had been eating in the next room, came in, looked at them, and then hurried out, where the leader of the party awaited him.

“Aren’t they ‘most ready?”

“Yes – coming right along – if it don’t kill her.”

But when they heard a step and turned, only the woman appeared in the doorway.

“Where’s Joe, Estelle?”

“He – he’s coming.” She staggered. Roche caught her, helped her down the steps, and with his arm about her waist led her out to the road. “He says to go along, and he ‘ll catch us.” She was plucky, or frightened, for she staggered along biting her lip.

This was what McGlory had said to Van Deelen after he had got her to the door: “Give me some paper and a pen – quick!”

They were promptly placed on the diningroom table; and he scrawled off a few lines, folded the paper, and looked up with a scowl. The strain of the week had not improved his expression. “Give me an envelope; I want you to mail this for me.”

“I haven’t got one.”

“The – you haven’t!”

“Honest – that’s the truth. I’d have to go to Hewittson, anyway. It ‘ll be quicker for you to take – ”

“Oh, shut up. I’m sick o’ your voice. Here, take this.” He thrust the letter into his pocket and counted out twenty-five dollars in bills. “This is for you. And mind, nothing said. You don’t know us – never seen four men coming through here in the night. Don’t remember ever having seen four men come through. Understand?”

Van Deelen drew back a step, and nodded. “No mistake about this now. If you say a word, the world ain’t big enough to hide you.” His hand was straying toward a significant pocket. “None of your hemmings and haw-ings – if you’re in a hurry to get to heaven, just give us away. Understand?”

Another nod, – all the farmer was capable of; and McGlory was gone with a bound, out the door, on toward the little group at the farther side of the clearing.

They heard his step and his loud breathing. “What’s this?” He had just made out Roche’s arm across Estelle’s back. “What’s this?” He tore the arm away, whirled Roche around, and slapped his face so hard that he —

“By – !” gasped Roche. “By – !”

They glared at each other; Estelle sobbed. “Try that again, Joe McGlory! Just try it! Hit me again! Why, you – why, I ‘ll break your neck!”

“You will?”

“Yes, I will. Just hit me again!”

McGlory looked him over, decided to accept the invitation, and plunged forward. Roche, without a moment’s hesitation, turned and bolted up the road, – ran as if the fiends were on his heels. McGlory finally stopped, laughed viciously, and hurled a curse after him.

The third man let them go; he merely took Estelle’s arm and helped her along, soothing her a little, trying to calm the outburst of hysteria that had been threatening for twenty-four hours. McGlory waited for them in the shadow of the woods; and a little farther on Roche fell in behind, muttering softly, and keeping well away from McGlory.

Estelle could hardly stagger along. McGlory passed his arm through hers and dragged her forward. Now she was silent, now she stifled a sob, now she begged piteously to be left behind. “Let me go back to Van Deelen’s, Joe – please! I can’t go on.”

“I thought you was such a walker.”

“Oh, but – not so far as this. Let me go back there.”

“Wouldn’t that be smart, now! To leave you where you could blab the whole thing!” She tried to walk a few steps farther; then she broke away, stumbled to the roadside, and, sinking to the ground, covered her face with her hands.

Roche stopped short and stared at her. The other spoke up: “This won’t do, Joe. There’s no use killing her. We ‘ll drop back in the woods and take a rest. We ‘ll all be better for it.”

McGlory sullenly consented. He dragged Estelle off through the undergrowth to the clearer ground under the trees, and they all stretched out. In five minutes Roche was the only one awake of the three men. Without raising his head he slipped over close to Estelle and rested his hand on her shoulder. She rolled over with a start. “S-sh! Not so loud, Estelle.”

“Oh, it’s you?”

“Yes. You didn’t think I’d forgot, did you, Estelle?”

“I – I don’t understand.”

“Don’t you think it’s time to quit ‘em? What’s the use? I guess you know him now for what he is.”

“Yes, he’s mean to me. But – ”

“Don’t you see – we can skip out and leave ‘em here, and go back near the house and hide. He wouldn’t dast come back after us. The boss wouldn’t never let him.”

“Do you think we could? I’m afraid. He wouldn’t stop at anything.”

“You just leave it to me. I can take care o’ him:”

“I – I’m afraid. He’s so determined. And I told him I’d go with him.”

“What was he a-doin’ back there in the house after he sent you out?”

“I don’t know.”

“Not so loud – whisper. Didn’t you hear him say anything?”

“He asked for a pen and paper.”

“Must ‘a’ wrote a letter. There it is – look there – sticking out of his pocket. Wait a minute.”

“Don’t you try to take it. He ‘ll shoot you.”

“Oh, damn him! I ain’t afraid of two Joe McGlorys. Lemme go.” He crept over, drew out the letter skilfully, and returned. “I don’t like to strike a match here – ”

“Oh, no, no – don’t!”

“Can you crawl off a little ways – behind them bushes?”

“I guess so; I ‘ll try.” He helped her. “S-sh – careful.”

Behind the bushes they felt safer. Roche lighted a match and held up the paper. This is what they read: —

“Dear Madge: There’s a little misunderstanding up this way and I can’t get back for a little while I want some money you put the bills in a envelope to generel dilivry South Bend Indiana. Don’t you try to come to me because it ain’t a very pleasent situation I ‘ll tell you later where to come don’t forget the money and don’t you put my name on it call me Joe Murphy. Burn this soon as you read it.

Neither saw the insolent brutality of this letter; their thoughts were elsewhere. Estelle gazed, thunderstruck. Roche held the match until it burned his finger. As he dropped it and the paper to the ground, and the dark closed in again, one of the sleepers tossed and mumbled. Estelle caught his arm.

“He told me it wasn’t so,” she whispered. “He told me it wasn’t so.”

“Oh, he’s just a common, everyday liar. Madge is his wife. Didn’t I tell you so the first day I come to Spencer’s?”

“I don’t know. What can we do? Do you think we could get away?”

“Sure thing.”

“But how?”

“We ‘ll sneak back a ways and off to one side in the woods. He can’t come back and search the whole county for us. Don’t you see?”

“But wouldn’t they catch us?” She glanced toward the east, whence pursuit might come.

“Not a bit of it. Just trust me. Come on – now’s the time. Move cautious till we get on the road.”

He helped her up, and they stole away. For a few moments she was buoyed up by this new excitement, but soon fell back into the old weariness. She clung to Roche until he was almost carrying her. “Keep a-going,” he whispered. “I ‘ll skip back to the house and pick up something to eat, and then we ‘ll take to the woods. They can’t never catch me, I tell you. I ‘ll fool ‘em.”

They struggled along. Halfway back to the farm-house Estelle completely lost heart. “I can’t do it!” she moaned. “Stop – let me sit down.”

“Not here, Estelle! Not in the road!”

“Let me down, I tell you!”

“But he may be along any minute.”

“I don’t care. Let me down.”

“Look here, Estelle, can’t you see how it is? If he gets you, he ‘ll half kill you. And you ‘ll have to walk farther with him than you would with me.”

She was beyond reason. She clung around his neck, holding herself up even while she begged to be let down. Her condition and the terrible loneliness of the night were unnerving Roche. “Come along,” he said angrily, “or I ‘ll make you come!”

“Don’t hurt me!”

“By – ! Don’t you say another word!”

He jerked her roughly forward, while his wild eyes sought the road behind.

“You said you’d be good to me!”

“Well, ain’t I good to you? Ain’t I saving your life, and you haven’t got the sense to see it?”

“O dear! Don’t – ”

“Keep still, now – come on – Don’t you say any more.”

Soon they reached the clearing, and, pausing for breath in the shadows, they looked about. The night was far advanced, but a light showed in an upper window of the house. Over in the barn a horse was thrashing about his stall; the noise was deafening after the stillness. Roche released Estelle, and to his horror she sank to the ground in a faint. He spoke to her – she did not hear. He bent over and shook her, felt her wrist and her forehead. Then he straightened up and looked back along the road. His breath came fast and hard; the loneliness was closing in on his soul. He shivered, though the air was not cold, then stepped back, mopped the sudden sweat from his face, looked down again at the woman, – even stirred her with his foot, – then turned and ran. Not down the road, for the lowbrowed McGlory lay sleeping there; not to the south, for the stream barred the way; but skirting the clearing to the northern edge and then plunging into the woods, endlong and overthwart, with a thousand ugly fancies hounding him, with a traitor in his bosom that opened the door for the mad thoughts freely to enter and gnaw there. He tripped on a log, pitched headlong and rolled over, scrambled up with bleeding hands, and ran on in an ecstasy of fear. And the vast black forest shut in behind him and swallowed him.

When Estelle’s eyes opened, she returned from peace to wretchedness. Yes, the trees and the night and the swollen feet were real. She crawled toward the farm-house; something within her warned her not to try to rise. She lived months in dragging that hundred yards; the one goal of life was the low stoop and the door under the light. When she reached it, – her clothes torn, the dust ground into her face and hands, – she fainted again, and clung to the steps.

Dirck van Deelen was sitting at the window with a shot-gun across his knees. He had watched the – he could not see what it was – crawling to his door. Now he looked out and saw it lying there. Whatever, whoever it was, this would not do; so he opened the door and carried her up to the room where his frightened wife was trying to sleep.

“We ‘ll have to take her in, Saskia.”

“What is the matter? Is she hurt?”

“I don’t know. I found her on the stoop. Help me examine her.”

But they found no mark of bullet, knife, or blunt instrument. And while the Dutch woman worked over her, the man went for water. At last she was brought to a sort of consciousness, and, leaving his wife to care for her, Van Deelen returned to his window and his gun.

Roche and Estelle had not been gone an hour when McGlory, haunted by the fear of pursuit, awoke. He stretched himself, sat up, and looked over to the spot where Estelle had been lying when he fell asleep. At first he thought he saw her, a darker shadow, but on rising and walking over he found no sign of her. He looked about, and called. Roche, too, was not in sight. He hesitated, not yet fully awake, then turned back and woke his companion.

“Well, what’s the matter?”

“They’re gone.”

“Who’s gone?”

“Roche and Estelle.”

“How do you know? Have you looked around?”

“Come over here.”

They prowled behind the trees, parted the bushes here and there, called as loud as they dared, lighted matches, and examined the ground. Finally McGlory broke out with an oath: “The little fool! So she thinks she can serve me this way, eh?”

“You think they’ve skipped out?”

“Think? Do I think it? What do I want to think for? Didn’t I see him a-hugging her?”

“He was just helping her then.”

“Oh, just helping her, was he?”

“Well, what you going to do about it?”

“What’m I going to do?” McGlory was lashing his anger. His voice swelled until he was roaring out the words: “What’m I going to do? I’m going to run that Pete Roche down if I have to go to hell for him! I’m going to – ”

“Drop your voice, Joe. I can hear you. How’re you going to find him?”

“Who you telling to shut up?”

“Hold on, now. None o’ that talk to me!”

“Oh, you think you can boss me, do you?”

“Think? I know it. Don’t waste your breath trying to bluff me. I asked you how you’re going to find him.”

“How’m I going to – how’m I – why, I ‘ll break his head – I ‘ll – ”

“Don’t work yourself up. It won’t help you any.”

“You think you can talk like that to me? If you ain’t careful, I ‘ll break your head. I ‘ll – ”

“How are you going to find him?”

“You say another word, and I ‘ll knock your teeth down your throat.”

“I’ve got my hand in my pocket, Joe, and I’ve got a loaded gun in my hand, and if you threaten me again, I ‘ll blow a hole through you. I’ve half a mind to do it anyway. A fool like you has no business getting into a scrape if he can’t keep his head. I’d a heap rather kill you than get caught through your fool noise. The sooner you understand me, the better for you. Now tell me how you’re going to find out which way to take.”

“How – ” McGlory was not a coward, but he could not face down the seasoned courage of the man before him. “Why – that’s a cinch. Ain’t he headed the same way we are?”

“Now, Joe, hold on. Don’t be a bigger fool than you can help. You don’t really think he’d take her right along over this road, do you?”

“Why – dam’ it!”

“It’s no good talking to you if you can’t quiet down. You want to kill Roche, and you’re right. I want him killed, too. The longer he’s alive, the more danger for us. But if you go at him this way, he may kill you.”

“Him! Kill me! Why – ”

“I mean it. He’s desperate, too. You can’t be too sure that he ‘ll always run like he did to-night. He’s got Estelle to look out for, too. Now, it’s plain that he hasn’t gone down the road, because, look here, – she isn’t good for more than a mile an hour, and he’d have sense enough to know we’d catch him.”

“Where is he gone, then?”

“Not very far – we know that much. Likely they’re back here in the woods. Or maybe they went back to Van Deelen’s.”

“They’d never go there.”

“They might have to. I guess you don’t know much about women, Joe.”

“I reckon I know more ‘n’s good for me.”

“Then you ought to see she’s pretty near done for.”

“Estelle? She’s bluffing.”

“No, she isn’t. Not a bit of it. When a woman’s worked up and tired out at the same time, something’s likely to break. You were a fool to bring her, anyhow. I don’t know why I let you.”

“You! You let me!”

“You said so much about her being strong. Why, she’s a child.”

“Look here, you’ve said some things tonight that I don’t like.”

“Oh, have I? But this isn’t getting us along any. The first thing is to look around here a little more. There are any number of ways they might have taken without going down the road.”

Even McGlory could see the reason in this suggestion. They lighted matches and prowled about, peering behind trees and bushes, looking for broken or bent twigs, for any indication of the passage of a human being. But the heavy growth of trees shut out what light there was overhead, and neither was skilful enough to direct his search well.

“Find anything, Joe?”

“Not a thing. When it comes to sneaking off, Roche has head enough. It’s the only thing he’s good for.”

“The more I think of it, Joe, the more I believe they’ve gone to the house.”

“You’re off there.”

“No, I’m not. Listen a minute. Supposing they started off in the woods and tried to dodge the house. Pretty soon Estelle gives out – surer than New Year’s. And it would be pretty soon, too, because the excitement wouldn’t keep her up long. Now what is Roche going to do? He isn’t the man to face out a bad situation like that – never in this world. He’d do one of two things – he would skip out and leave her, or he would get her to the house. If he skipped, there isn’t one chance in a thousand of our finding either of them. If he took her to the house, we can get one or both. We can’t stay around here much longer. We’d better try the house, and if they aren’t there, or anywhere about the place, we ‘ll go on toward Hewittson.”

“You ‘ll have to go without me, then.”

“You think so?”

“I don’t leave this place till I see Roche curled up stiff.” This was said as quietly as McGlory could say anything, but it was convincing. The other looked keenly at him.

Suddenly McGlory, feeling in his pockets, muttered a curse and started back toward the spot where they had slept.

“What’s up? Lost something?”

“None of your business!” McGlory was searching the ground feverishly.

“If you told me what it was, maybe I could help you.”

No answer. McGlory’s temper was rising again. Finding nothing where he had lain, he began thrashing about the bushes.

“Unless it’s something important, Joe, you’re wasting a lot of time.”

“Well, say – you – you ain’t seen a paper – or anything, have you?”

“A letter?”

“Not exactly. It wasn’t in an envelope.”

“Oh, you mean this, maybe.” With a lighted match in one hand, he drew a folded paper from his pocket and started to open it. McGlory sprang forward, recognized it, and tried to snatch it away.

“It ain’t necessary to read that. It’s private business.”

“I have read it.”

“You have read it! You’ve been prying into my affairs, have you?”

“Not at all. I found this on the ground and read it. You must have written it back there when you kept us waiting. You had no business to do it. I never saw such a fool as you are.” As he spoke, he touched the match to the paper.

“Here, quit that! Don’t you burn that letter!”

“Now, Joe, you didn’t think for a minute I’d let you send this, did you?”

“What right you got – ”

“The right of self-preservation. We can’t do any letter writing yet awhile. I ‘ll help you out with money, but I won’t let you do this sort of thing. Let’s start back.” He led the way to the road, McGlory sullenly following; and side by side they stepped out for the farmhouse. “Beastly sort of a thing to do, Joe, – ask Madge for money to help you run off with this woman.”

“Well, I’d like to know – Ain’t she had enough from me – ”

“I don’t doubt she has stood a good deal from you. What sort of a woman is she, Joe?”

“Madge? Oh, she’s all right.”

“Pretty fond of you, isn’t she?”

“I guess there ain’t much doubt about that.”

“I’ve noticed her a little.”

“Oh, you have, have you?”

“Certainly. What else can you expect, skylarking around this way?”

“That’s all right. A man’s got to have his fling. But when it comes to – ”

“Madge is a fine-looking woman. I don’t believe you know how pretty she is, Joe. If you got her decent clothes, and took her out to the theatre now and then, so she could keep her spirits up, she would be hard to beat.”

This was a new idea to McGlory. But what he said was, “Seems to me you’ve done a lot of thinking about my wife.”

“It’s your own fault. But look here, do you think such an awful lot of Estelle?”

“Oh, yes. I’ve had some fun with her. Of course, she ain’t the woman that Madge is.”

“I was wondering a little – ” McGlory’s companion paused.

“What was you wondering?”

“What you’re going to do with Estelle when you find her.”

“Do with her? Why – why – ”

“You didn’t think she’d come right back to you – things the same as they was before – did you?”

“Why – ”

“Did she know you had a wife?”

“Well, no, – she didn’t know that.”

“But she does now. She has read the letter.”

McGlory had not thought of this.

“Estelle isn’t altogether a fool, you know. Not so bad as Roche – or you. If I were you, I’d stick to Madge. If you don’t, some better fellow will.”

“Who do you mean now, for instance?”

“Never mind who I mean. I don’t think you’ve seen yet how mussy this business is. Here Estelle is, like enough, on our hands. Now we can’t leave her behind. She wouldn’t come along with you; and even if she would, she isn’t strong enough. If we did leave her here, it simply means that she would be blabbing out the whole story to the first goodlooking chap that asked her a few questions.”

“But don’t you see? I can’t let a man insult me like Roche done.”

“No, you can’t. But if you could fix things so Roche nor nobody could get her, and still you’d be free to go back to Madge, you wouldn’t object, would you?”

“Why, no – sure not. How do you mean?”

“If you find her there at the house, or in the barn, or anywhere around, you’d better just – here, your knife ain’t much good. Take mine.” He opened his clasp knife – the blade was five inches long – and held it out.

McGlory took it, stood still in his tracks looking at it, and then raised his eyes to the face of his companion.

“Well – have you got the nerve?”

“Have I got the nerve!” McGlory laughed out loud, and thrust the open knife into his belt, at the side, under his coat.

“I wouldn’t use a gun unless I had to.” He paused, laid his hand on McGlory’s arm, and dropped his voice. “Look there! There’s a light in the window.”

McGlory swelled with rage. “I ‘ll put a stop to this!”

“Hold on a minute, Joe. I ‘ll slip around the bank of the creek here, the other side of the barn, so I can watch the road and the barn both.” He ran silently away, dodging among the trees, and in a moment had disappeared. While McGlory was standing there, breathing hard and twitching impatiently, he passed behind the barn-yard, keeping always among the trees of the bank, and on to the bridge. Here he looked carefully around, then stooped under the beams of the bridge flooring and got into a scow that lay there.

McGlory stood still as long as he could, then, throwing, the reins to his temper, he strode toward the house.