The U. P. Trail by Zane Grey (historical books to read TXT) 📗

or kill her, the sudden and amazing recognition between her and her father—these became dwarfed and blurred in the presence of the glorious truth that Neale was there.

She had recognized him with reeling senses and through darkening eyes. She had seen him leap before her father to confront that glittering-eyed Durade. She had neither fear for him nor pity for the Spaniard.

Sensations of falling, of being carried, of the light and dust and noise of the street, of men around her, of rooms and the murmur of voices, of being worked over and spoken to by a kindly woman, of swallowing what was put to her mouth, of answering questions, of letting other clothes be put upon her; she was as if in a trance, aware of all going on about her, but with consciousness riveted upon one stunning fact—his presence. When she was left alone this state gradually wore away, and there remained a throbbing, quivering suspense of love. Her despair had ended. The spirit that had upheld her through all the long, dark hours had reached its fulfilment.

She lay on a couch in a small room curtained off from another, the latter large and light, and from which came a sound of low voices. She heard the quick tread of men; a door opened.

“Lee, I congratulate you. A narrow escape!” exclaimed a deep voice, with something sharp, authoritative in it.

“General Lodge, it was indeed a narrow shave for me,” replied another voice, low and husky.

Allie slowly sat up, with the dreamy waiting abstraction less strong. Her father, Allison Lee, and General Lodge, Neale’s old chief, were there in the other room.

“Neale almost killed Durade! Broke him! Cut him all up!” said the general, with agitation. “I had it from McDermott, one of my spikers—a reliable man.... Neale was shot—perhaps cut, too.... But he doesn’t seem to know it.”

Allie sprang up, transfixed and thrilling.

“Neale almost killed—him!” echoed Allison Lee, hoarsely. Then followed a sound of a chair falling.

“Indeed, Allison, it’s true,” broke in a strange voice. “The street’s full of men—all talking—all stirred up.”

Other men entered the room.

“Is Neale here?” queried General Lodge, sharply.

“They’re trying to hold him up—in the office. The boys want to pat him on the back.... Durade was not liked,” replied some one.

“Is Neale badly hurt?”

“I don’t know. He looked it. He was all bloody.”

“Colonel Dillon, did you see Neale?” went on the sharp, eager voice.

“Yes. He seemed dazed—wild. Probably badly hurt. Yet he moved steadily. No one could stop him,” answered another strange voice.

“Ah! here comes McDermott!” exclaimed General Lodge. Allie’s ears throbbed to a slow, shuffling, heavy tread. Her consciousness received the fact of Neale’s injury, but her heart refused to accept it as perilous. God could not mock her faith by a last catastrophe.

“Sandy—you’ve seen Neale?”

Allie loved this sharp, keen voice for its note of dread. “Shure. B’gorra, yez couldn’t hilp seein’ him. He’s as big as a hill an’ his shirt’s as red as Casey’s red wan. I wint to give him the little gun wot Durade pulled on him. Dom’ me! he looked roight at me an’ niver seen me,” replied the Irishman.

“Lee, you will see Neale?” queried General Lodge. There was a silence.

“No,” presently came a cold reply. “It is not necessary. He saved me—injury perhaps. I am grateful. I’ll reward him.”

“How?” rang General Lodge’s voice.

“Gold, of course. Neale was a gambler. Probably he had a grudge against this Durade.... I need not meet Neale, it seems, I am somewhat—overwrought. I wish to spare myself further excitement.”

“Lee—listen!” returned General Lodge, violently. “Neale is a splendid young man—the nerviest, best engineer I ever knew. I predicted great things for him. They have come true.”

“That doesn’t interest me.”

“You’ll hear it, anyhow. He saved the life of this girl who has turned out to be your daughter. He took care of her. He loved her—was engaged to marry her.... Then he lost her. And after that he was half mad. It nearly ruined him.”

“I do not credit that. It was gambling, drink—and bad women that ruined him.”

“No!”

“But, pardon me, General. If—as you intimate—there was an attachment between him and my unfortunate child, would he have become an associate of gamblers and vicious women?”

“He would not. The nature of his fury, the retribution he visited upon this damned Spaniard, prove the manner of man he is.”

“Wild indeed. But hardly from a sense of loyalty. These camps breed blood-spillers. I heard you say that.”

“You’ll hear me say something more, presently,” retorted the other, with heat scarcely controlled. “But we’re wasting time. I don’t insist that you see Neale. That’s your affair. It seems to me the least you could do would be to thank him. I certainly advise you not to offer him gold. I do insist, however, that you let him see the girl!”

“No!”

“But, man.... Say, McDermott, go fetch Neale in here.”

Allie Lee heard all this strange talk with consternation. An irresistible magnet drew her toward those curtains, which she grasped with trembling hands, ready, but not able, to part them and enter the room. It seemed that in there was a friend of Neale’s whom she was going to love, and an enemy whom she was going to hate. As for Neale seeing her—at once—only death could rob her of that.

“General Lodge, I have no sympathy for Neale,” came the cold voice of Allison Lee.

There was no reply. Some one coughed. Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and a hum of distant voices.

“You forget,” continued Lee, “what happened not many hours ago when your train was saved by that dare-devil Casey—the little book held tight in his locked teeth—the letter meant for this Neale from one of Benton’s camp-women.... Your engineer read enough. You heard. I heard.... A letter from a dying woman. She accused Neale of striking her—of killing her.... She said she was dying, but she loved him.... Do you remember that, General Lodge?”

“Yes, alas!... Lee, I don’t deny that. But—”

“There are no buts.”

“Lee, you’re hard, hard as steel. Appearances seem against Neale. I don’t seek to extenuate them. But I know men. Neale might have fallen—it seems he must have. These are terrible times. In anger or drink Neale might have struck this woman.... But kill her—No!”

A gleam pierced Allie Lee’s