The Branding Iron - Page 25/142

"She can't stay here," he said presently, in the tone of a man who has

fallen into the habit of talking aloud to himself. He looked about in

a hesitant, doubtful fashion. "God!" he said abruptly and snapped his

fingers and thumb. He looked angry. Again he bent over Pierre,

examined him with thoroughness and science, his face becoming more and

more calm. At the end he rose and with an air of authority he went in

again to Joan. She lay with her face turned to the wall.

"It is impossible for you to stay here," said he in a voice of

command. "You are not fit to take care of yourself, and I can't stay

and take care of you. You must come with me. I think you can manage

that. Your husband--if he is your husband--is dead. It may or may not

be a matter for sorrow to you, but I should say that it ought not to

be anything but a merciful release. Women are queer creatures,

though.... However, whether you are in grief or in rejoicing, you

can't stay here. By to-morrow or next day you'll need more nursing

than you do now. I don't want to take you to a neighbor, even if there

was one near enough, but I'll take you with me. Will you get ready

now?"

His sure, even, commanding voice evidently had a hypnotizing effect

upon the dazed girl. Slowly, wincing, she stood up, and with his help

gathered together some of her belongings which he put in the pack he

carried on his shoulders. She wrapped herself in her warmest outdoor

clothing. He then put his hand upon her arm and drew her toward the

door of that outer room. She followed him blindly with no will of her

own, but, as he stopped to strap on his snowshoes, her face lightened

with pain, and she made as if to run to Pierre's body. He stood before

her, "Don't touch him," said he, and, turning himself, he glanced back

at Pierre. In that glance he saw one of the lean, brown hands stir.

His face became suddenly suffused, even his eyes grew shot with blood.

Standing carefully so as to obstruct her view, he caught at the corner

of an elk hide and threw it over Pierre. Then he went to Joan, who

stared at him, white and shaking. He put his arm around her and drew

her out, shutting the door of her home and leaning against it.

"You can't go back," said he gently and reasonably. "The man tried to

kill you. You can't go back. Surely you meant to go away."