The Girl from Montana - Page 5/133

"I told you I didn't want any help," she said, trying to speak in the same

tone she had used when she thanked the men.

"Yes, but you're all alone," said the man insinuatingly; she felt a menace

in the thought, "and I am sorry for you!"

He came nearer, but her face was cold. Instinctively she glanced to the

cupboard door behind which lay her brother's belt with two pistols.

"You're very kind," she forced herself to say; "but I'd rather be alone

now." It was hard to speak so when she would have liked to dash on him,

and call down curses for the death of her brother; but she looked into his

evil face, and a fear for herself worse than death stole into her heart.

He took encouragement from her gentle dignity. Where did she get that

manner so imperial, she, born in a mountain cabin and bred on the wilds?

How could she speak with an accent so different from those about her? The

brother was not so, not so much so; the mother had been plain and quiet.

He had not known her father, for he had lately come to this State in

hiding from another. He wondered, with his wide knowledge of the world,

over her wild, haughty beauty, and gloated over it. He liked to think just

what worth was within his easy grasp. A prize for the taking, and here

alone, unprotected.

"But it ain't good for you to be alone, you know, and I've come to protect

you. Besides, you need cheering up, little girl." He came closer. "I love

you, Bess, you know, and I'm going to take care of you now. You're all

alone. Poor little girl."

He was so near that she almost felt his breath against her cheek. She

faced him desperately, growing white to the lips. Was there nothing on

earth or in heaven to save her? Mother! Father! Brother! All gone! Ah!

Could she but have known that the quarrel which ended her wild young

brother's life had been about her, perhaps pride in him would have salved

her grief, and choked her horror.

While she watched the green lights play in the evil eyes above her, she

gathered all the strength of her young life into one effort, and schooled

herself to be calm. She controlled her involuntary shrinking from the man,

only drew herself back gently, as a woman with wider experience and

gentler breeding might have done.

"Remember," she said, "that my brother just lay there dead!" and she

pointed to the empty centre of the room. The dramatic attitude was almost

a condemnation to the guilty man before her. He drew back as if the

sheriff had entered the room, and looked instinctively to where the coffin

had been but a short time before, then laughed nervously and drew himself

together.