The air was heavy with the perfume of Yucca that even the drouth could not kill, while faint and sweet came the lilt of a mocking-bird.

Katherine could not make herself believe that out of the beauty and peace of the night she would find the man she had sworn to 'love, honour and obey' with human blood on his hands--the murderer of an old, defenceless man who had done many an act of kindness for her and her boy.

Once she turned and spoke. "Where is he?"

"In the hotel;" answered Limber. "Alpaugh has charge of him till the inquest is over."

They rode again in silence, each absorbed in thought until, after weary hours, the lights of the town grew visible. At last the ponies stopped in front of the Willc.o.x Hotel. A few men loitering about, stared curiously as Limber helped Katherine from her saddle. It was after two in the morning. The by-standers who recognized Mrs. Glendon, lifted their hats respectfully. One of them spoke her name. She turned her dull eyes on him. Her lips moved but there was no sound. The man understood, and choked an oath.

Limber untied the bundle from her saddle, and she followed him stiffly into the hotel, shrinking in the narrow, dimly lighted hallway while the cowboy made arrangements with the sleepy nightman.

"I'll take you up to the room," said Limber. She nodded silently.

On the second floor the cowboy paused at the door and knocked.

"Come in!" called Glendon's voice.

Limber smiled rea.s.suringly to Katherine; then he turned and left her.

She stood biting her lips, trying to control her emotion, and holding the doork.n.o.b in a nerveless hand that was trembling with exhaustion.

"What the blazes is the matter? Come in, I say!"

The door was jerked open violently and Glendon stood staring at his wife. An oath rose to his lips.

"What brought you here?" he demanded roughly.

She pa.s.sed into the room, turned and held out her hands to him, saying simply, "Where else should I be, Jim, when you are in trouble? I thought you wanted me to come."

"Well, I didn't. I might have known you'd not be able to resist an opportunity to twit and remind me how you've begged me to stay away from town, and all that rot! I only asked Limber to go and tell you what had happened, and as usual, you go to extremes and come hiking in here in the middle of the night. You're making a mountain out of a mole hill.

I'd been home by this evening. There was not the least excuse for your coming here."

Obeying an impulse, she moved near and laid her hand on his shoulder. He shook it off roughly and started from the chair into which he had slumped.

"For G.o.d's sake, Katherine, cut out that rot! I'm sick of your saintly pose, and I don't want any preaching or praying. I had to shoot Lafferty or be shot myself."

"Was it self-defence, Jim?"

He noted the undercurrent of doubt and ripped out an oath.

"I told you once, and I'm not going to keep jabbering about it the rest of the night. You go to the inquest and hear Alpaugh's testimony, as long as you don't believe me."

He strode across the room to the table and poured out a generous gla.s.s of raw whiskey, which he followed by a second, then a third, and at last threw himself on the bed. In a few minutes the room was heavy with the fumes of liquor and noisy with snores of the drunken sleeper.

Softly Katherine lifted the little window, and let the clean pure air blow across her face. Somewhere a clock struck three. The woman, sitting in the darkness, stared with dry aching eyes, thinking of the past, wondering what the future held. It was like looking into a chasm.

When grey dawn, like a feeble, sick thing, crept through the window, Glendon woke refreshed and buoyant; but his wife was haggered and worn, with great dark rings under her eyes. Her husband looked at her critically, contrasting her with the flamboyant attractions of Panchita.

"Can't you fix yourself up a bit?" he demanded in aggrieved tones.

"You're losing your good looks completely. Anyone would take you for twice your age. Lot of good you do me, coming here with your glum face!"

She made no reply, which added to the anger he vented by kicking a chair out of his way. Glendon's hand shook as he poured out a drink of liquor to steady his nerves, while Katherine opened the parcel she had brought with her, laying out his razor, a clean shirt and collar. His clothes were creased and rumpled, as he had slept all night in them. Then she picked up a small pitcher and went in search of hot water. She finally obtained it from the Chinese cook in the kitchen, for the hotel bragged no bell-boys or bells.

The inquisitive glance of the Chinaman and a Mexican whom she pa.s.sed at the kitchen door, brought to her the full realization of the ordeal she was facing. If she could only believe that her husband had acted in self-defence, she would stand unshaken beside him, defying the entire world; but she could not make herself credit his story. Always when he had tried to deceive her, some subtle instinct betrayed him to her.

Through the night she had reiterated again and again, "It was self-defence," but louder and louder a chorus of voices kept whispering in her ears, "He is lying! It was murder!"

She seized the pitcher of water from the Chinaman's hand and hurried up stairs to her room. Glendon accepted her services as a matter of course, proffering no word of thanks.

Half an hour later Alpaugh knocked, and the three went to the hotel dining-room for breakfast. Glendon's appet.i.te was excellent. Alpaugh and he talked casually, occasionally interjecting a joke; but the food choked Glendon's wife, and with a feeling of relief she rose and returned to the bedroom followed by her husband. Alpaugh, as a matter of form, hovered at the entrance of the hotel.

"The inquest is at nine," said Glendon as they entered their room. "It's half-past eight now," he consulted his watch.

"Jim," she hesitated, "I think I will stay here in the room. I'm not feeling quite well this morning."

He looked at her and a sullen rage consumed him. He realized that she was not deceived by his story.

"Going to shirk it, eh?" he asked sneeringly, "Well, you will have to come, that's all there is to it. Look fine for me when everyone knows you rode here last night and then hid away just at the time when you, or any decent wife, should stand by a man. That would be enough to condemn any one in my fix."

It was not that he desired her company; but he was aware that her presence would have its influence, in case anything should upset Alpaugh's testimony. The bartender might have seen more then they thought; besides there was no telling what unexpected snag might be struck during the inquest. Paddy had many staunch friends.

As these thoughts beset him, Glendon looked at his wife. "Well, are you going to stand by me, or not?"

Her reply was to pick up her hat which she adjusted. As he opened the door, she said imploringly, "It was self-defence, wasn't it, Jim?"

"Good G.o.d, Katherine, you will drive me mad! I said it once. Now you can listen to Alpaugh and make up your mind about it as you please. Stop nagging me."

Without further conversation, husband and wife accompanied Alpaugh to the little office of the Justice of Peace, where the inquest was to be held. A group of men at the entrance, glanced peculiarly at Glendon; then their expressions changed as they saw the woman at his side.

Glendon was quick to notice this and congratulated himself that Katherine was with him. With a.s.sumed solicitude he led her to a chair and stood silently beside her, his eyes on her bowed head, until the proceedings began.

The inquest fully exonerated Glendon, as the bar-tender had not seen what occurred and Alpaugh was the only actual witness. The broken buckskin thong was admitted as proof that Paddy had drawn his gun, thus making it impossible for any jury to bring in a verdict against Glendon. There were many witnesses to the quarrel at the shipping-corral, when Paddy had refused to shake hands with Glendon after the latter had apologized to him; and as no one had heard Glendon utter any threats against Paddy, there was apparently no motive except that of self-defence. On the other hand, the old Irishman had often expressed his dislike for Glendon.

As soon as the verdict was rendered, Glendon was surrounded and congratulated by Bentz, Three-fingered Jack, Burks and Alpaugh. With smiles and light words he shook their hands; but other men exchanged glances and left the room, talking in subdued voices.

Katherine saw the doubt in many faces, and shrank at the reflection of the fear in her own heart. Glendon's callous indifference, his careless air, revealed her husband in a new and hideous light.

With trembling limbs she made her way to his side, placing her hand on his arm. He looked down in surprise, and an expression of annoyance crossed his face. He had completely forgotten his wife's presence and had been about to suggest to the crowd that drinks were in order at the most convenient place.

She realized it all, and wished that she had remained at the ranch.

"Jim--I don't feel very well. Will you take me to the hotel?"

He shrugged his shoulders, but remembering others were watching, answered, "Yes." Husband and wife moved side by side toward the door.

"See you later, Glen," said Three-fingered Jack, and Alpaugh added: "You're not going out today, are you?"

Katherine looked up. Glendon, with a sudden sense of shame, replied; "I'll go back with my wife this afternoon when it gets cooler, but I'll see you both before I leave town."

Her eyes were grateful. Glendon, conscious of a halo of self-importance and good intentions, walked down the street, speaking to pa.s.sers-by, though many of them responded only in deference to the woman at his side.

As they pa.s.sed along the street, several men standing in front of the post office, watched them disappear into the hotel.