Horror was the first natural impulse for a man to experience on the knowledge of such a tragedy, but horror did not come to Jed Avery then or for many minutes. He put out a hand slowly and felt for the table as though dizzy.

Then, in a half tone, "You don't mean you suspected VB? d.i.c.k--_d.i.c.k!_"

The sheriff's face became troubled.

"Jed, didn't I tell you I knew it wasn't no use to ask them questions?"

he said rea.s.suringly. "I'd 'a' gambled my outfit on th' boy, 'cause I know what he is. When you tell me he got here by ten an' it wasn't a hard ride, I know they's no use even thinkin' about it. But th' fact is--

"You see, Jed, everybody in th' country has got to know what's up with VB. They know he's fightin' back th' booze! That gang o' skunks down at Ranger--Rhues an' his outfit--started out to rub it into VB, but everybody knew they was tellin' lies. An' everybody's thought lots of him fer th' fight he's made."

He got to his feet and walked slowly about the room.

"But th' truth is, Jed--an' you know it--when a man's been hittin' th'

booze, an' we ain't sure he's beat it out, we're always lookin' fer him to slip. n.o.body down at Ranger has thought one word about VB in this, only that mebby he could tell who'd been round there.

"But, bein' 'n officer, I had th' sneakin', dirty idee I ought to ask them questions about VB. That's all there is to it, Jed. That's all!

I'm deputy; VB's been a boozer.

"But I tell you, Jed Avery, it sure's a relief to know it's all right."

The warmth of sincerity was in his tone and his a.s.surances had been of the best, but Jed slumped limply into a chair and rested his head on his hands.

"It's a rotten world, d.i.c.k--a rotten, rotten world!" he said. "I know you're all right; I know you mean what you say; but ain't it a shame that when a man's down our first thought is to kick him? Always expect him to fall again once he gets up! Ain't it rotten?"

And his love for Young VB, stirred anew by this sense of the injustice of things, welled into his throat, driving back more words.

d.i.c.k Worth was a man of golden integrity; Jed knew well that no suspicion would be cast on VB. But the knowledge that serious-minded, clear-thinking men like the deputy would always remember, in a time like this, that those who had once run wild might fall into the old ways at any hour, stung him like a lash.

VB opened the door.

"h.e.l.lo, d.i.c.k!" he greeted cheerily. "Want me?"

Worth laughed and Jed started.

"No; I come up to get a little help from you if I can, though."

"Help?"

"Kelly was shot dead in his bed last night."

For a moment VB stared at him.

"Who?"

"That's what we don't know. That's what I came up here for--to see if you could help us."

And Jed, face averted, drew a foot quickly across the boards of the floor.

"One of Hank Redden's boys was with him--th' one who took your place--until dark. Little after eight old Hank heard two shots, but didn't think nothin' of it. Kelly was shot twice. That must 'a' been th' time."

VB put down his hat, his eyes bright with excitement.

"He'd planned to go back to Ranger," he said. "But, after being up most of the night before, he was too tired. He told them at Ranger he'd be back. And if I'd been there they'd have got me," he ended.

"Unless they was lookin' for Kelly especial," said d.i.c.k. "They took his money belt."

"Mebby," muttered Jed,--"mebby they made a mistake."

CHAPTER XVI

The Candle Burns

Time went on, and the country dropped back from the singing pitch of excitement to which the killing of the horse buyer raised it. Men agreed that some one of that country had fired the shots into that blanket, but it is not a safe thing to suspect too openly. d.i.c.k Worth worked continually, but his efforts were without result. A reward of two hundred and fifty dollars for the slayer, dead or alive, disclosed nothing.

After the evidence had been sifted, and each man had asked his quota of questions and pa.s.sed judgment on the veracity of the myriad stories, d.i.c.k said to himself: "We'll settle down now and see who leaves the country."

Jed and VB went about the winter's work in a leisurely way. For days after the visit of Worth the old man was quieter than usual. The realization of how the world looked on this young fellow he had come to love had been driven in upon him. There could be no mistaking it; and as he reasoned the situation out, he recognized the att.i.tude of men as the only logical thing to expect.

With his quietness came a new tenderness, a deeper devotion. The two sat, one night, listening to the drawing of the stove and the whip of the wind as it sucked down the gulch. The candle burned steadily in its bottle. Jed watched it a long time, and, still gazing at the steady flame, he said, as though unconscious that thoughts found vocal expression: "Th' candle's burnin' bright, VB."

The other looked slowly around at it and smiled.

"Yes, Jed; it surely burns bright."

At the instant an unusually vicious gust of wind rattled the windows and a vagrant draft caught the flame of the taper, bending it low, dulling its orange.

"But yet sometimes," the younger man went on, "something comes along--something that makes it flicker--that takes some of the a.s.surance from it."

Jed had started in his chair as the flame bowed before the draft.

"But it-- You ain't been flickerin' lately, have you?" he asked, with a look in the old eyes that was beseeching.

Young VB rose and commenced to walk about thumbs hooked in his belt.

"I don't know, Jed," he said. "That's the whole of it: I don't know.

Sometimes I'm glad I don't; but other times I wish--_wish_ that whatever is coming would come. I seem to be gaining; I can think of drink now without going crazy. Now and then it gets hold of me; but moving around and getting busy stifles it. Still, I know it's there.

That's what counts. I know I've had the habit, been down and out, and there's no telling which way it's going to turn. If I could ever be sure of myself; if I could ever come right up against it, where I needed a drink, where I wanted it--then, if I could refuse, I'd be sure."

He quickened his stride.

"Seems to me you're worryin' needless," Jed argued. "Don't you see, VB, this is th' worst night we've had; th' worst wind. An' yet it ain't blowed th' candle out! It bends low an' gets smoky, to be sure. But it always keeps on shinin'!"

"But when it bends low and gets smoky its resistance is lower," VB said. "It wouldn't take much at such a time to blow it out and let the darkness come in. You never can tell, Jed; you never can tell."