Randall Parrish - Molly McDonald

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"I certainly hope so," he put in earnestly. "I couldn't very well help
being--with you."

"I believe that," and she lifted her eyes to his face.

"Yet I do not wish you to think me bold, or--or indiscreet. You do not
think so, do you?"

"That idea has never once occurred to me, Miss McDonald. I am only too
glad to be of service."

"It is good of you to say that; you see, there was no one else."

"Your father?" he suggested.

"But that is the very trouble," she insisted, rejoicing that he had thus
unconsciously opened the way to her confession. "It is because my father
is involved, is completely in her toils, that I am compelled to appeal to
you. He will not listen to a word against her."

"Her? You refer to Mrs. Dupont?"

"Of course; why, I hadn't mentioned her name! How did you guess?"

"Because I am not entirely ignorant of conditions," he answered soberly.
"Although I have only been at the post a short time, I have managed to
see and hear a good deal. You know I chanced to become involved in the
shooting of Lieutenant Gaskins, and then I saw you riding with Mrs.
Dupont, and recognized her."

"Recognized?" in surprise. "Do you actually mean you knew her before?"

"Not as Mrs. Dupont, but as Vera Carson, years ago. She knew me at once,
and sent your driver over to the barracks with a note."

"Why, how strange. She asked me so many questions, I wondered at the
interest shown. Do you mind telling me what the note was about?"

"Not in the least. She referred to the past, and asked me to meet her."

"Were you--very intimate? Great friends?"

"We were engaged to be married," he acknowledged frankly, his eyes upon
her face. "That was at the breaking out of the war, and I was in my
senior college year. We met at school, and I was supposed to be the heir
to a large property. She is a beautiful woman now, and she was a
beautiful girl then. I thought her as good and true as she was charming.
Since then I have learned her selfishness and deceit, that it was my
money which attracted her, and that she really loved another man, a
classmate."

She glanced up at him as he paused, but he resumed the story without
being interrupted.

"The war came, and I enlisted at once, and received a commission. Almost
our entire class went, and the man she really loved was next below me in
rank."

"Eugene Le Fevre?"

"Yes; how did you know? Oh, I told you of him out there in the
sand-hills. Well, I urged her to marry me before I went to the front,
but she made excuses. Later, I understood the reason--she was uncertain
as to my inheriting the property of an uncle. We were ordered to the
Army of Northern Virginia. Once I went home on furlough, severely
wounded. We were to be married then, but I had not sufficiently
recovered when I was suddenly ordered back to the front. I did suspect
then, for the first time, that she was glad of the respite. I afterwards
discovered that during all this time she was in correspondence with Le
Fevre, who had been detailed on Early's staff. It was his influence
which brought about my sudden, unexpected recall to duty. A few months
later I was promoted major, and, at Fisher's Hill, found myself
commanding the regiment. Early in the action Le Fevre brought me an
order; it was delivered verbally, the only other party present a corporal
named Shultz, a German knowing little English. Early's exact words were:
'Advance at once across the creek, and engage the enemy fiercely; a
supporting column will move immediately.' Desperate as the duty involved
appeared, there was nothing in the order as given to arouse suspicion.
In obedience I flung my command forward, leading them on foot. We
charged into a trap, and were nearly annihilated, and Shultz was either
killed, or made prisoner. Two days later I was arrested under charges,
was tried by court-martial, and dismissed from the service in disgrace.
Early produced a copy of his written order; it read 'cautiously feel the
enemy's position,' and Le Fevre went on the stand, and swore the original
had been delivered to me. I had no witnesses."

She watched him with wide-open eyes, her lips parted.

"And she--this Vera Carson?"

The man laughed bitterly.

"Wrote him a letter, which the man actually had the nerve to show me when
I was helpless, proving her falsity. I would not believe, and went back
seeking her. But she had departed--no one knew where--but had first
convinced herself that my name had been erased from my uncle's will. Two
months later I heard that she married Le Fevre in Richmond."

"And she--that woman--actually asked you to meet her again to-night?"

"Yes."

"Did you?"

"I must plead guilty."

"Where?"

"Here; just where we are now; we were together half an hour."

She half arose to her feet, her hand grasping the rail.

"But I cannot understand. Why should you? Do you--"

"No; wait," he interrupted, venturing to touch her arm. "I came, not
because of any interest in her, Miss Molly--but for you."

CHAPTER XX

MOLLY TELLS HER STORY

Her breath came in a little sob, and she sank back on the bench.

"For me? How do you mean?"

"Surely I had every reason to distrust her, to question her character,
and I could not believe you realized the sort of woman she is. I felt
it my duty to discover her purpose here, and to warn you if possible."

"And you have succeeded? You learned her purpose in your interview?"

"Not exactly," with regret. "My suspicion was merely stimulated. To
tell the truth, we rather drifted into a renewal of our old quarrel.
However, between what she said, and parts of another conversation
overheard, I know there is a blackmailing conspiracy on foot in which
you are involved. May I speak very frankly?"

"I certainly desire it," proudly. "I am not aware that I have anything
to conceal."

"Apparently the scheme these people have on foot originated about
Lieutenant Gaskins. He is wealthy, I understand?"

"I have been told so; yes, I know he is."

"This knowledge, coupled with the fact of your engagement--"

"My what?"

"Your engagement. I had heard it rumored before, and Mrs. Dupont
assured me it was true."

"But it is not true, Sergeant Hamlin"--indignantly. "I cannot imagine
how such a report ever started. Lieutenant Gaskins has been very
friendly; has--" her voice breaking slightly, "even asked me to marry
him, but--but I told him that was impossible. He has been just as kind
to me since, but there is nothing, absolutely nothing between us. I
have never spoken about this before to any one."

If Hamlin's heart leaped wildly at this swift denial, there was no
evidence of it in his quiet voice.

"The point is, Miss Molly, that Mrs. Dupont, and those connected with
her, think otherwise. They are presuming on Gaskins' being in love
with you. Mrs. Dupont can be very seductive. Little by little she has
drawn the Lieutenant into her net. Believing him engaged to you, they
have him now where he must either pay money for silence or be exposed.
Just how it was worked, I do not know. The shooting last night was
done to convince him they were serious. The fact that Gaskins later
denied knowing who his assailants were--even endeavored to accuse
me--is abundant proof of their success." He hesitated, wondering at
her silence. "What puzzles me most is why you were present."

"Present? Where?"

"At this quarrel with Gaskins last evening. As I ran by toward the
scene of the shooting I passed you hiding at the angle or the barrack
wall. Of course, I have mentioned the fact to no one. That was why I
made no attempt to defend myself when arrested."

She gasped for breath, scarcely able to articulate.

"You believe that? You think that of me?"

"I may have been deceived; I hope so; there was but little light, and I
got merely a glimpse," he explained hastily.

"You were deceived," impetuously. "I was not out of the house that
evening. I was in the parlor with my father when those shots were
fired. You are sure you saw a woman there--hiding?"

"There is no doubt of that; her foot-prints were plainly to be seen in
the morning. This discovery, together with the size of the weapon
used, resulted in my immediate release. I saw her, and imagined her to
be you. I cannot account for the mistake, unless you were in my mind,
and--and possibly what I had heard of your connection with Gaskins.
Then it must have been Mrs. Dupont. That looks reasonable. But she
stays at your home, does she not?"

"She makes our house her headquarters, but is absent occasionally.
Last night she was here at this hotel. Well, we are getting this
straightened out a little--that is, if you believe me."

"Of course."

"Then I am going to question you. You spoke of overhearing a
conversation?"

"Yes; it was after Mrs. Dupont had left. Captain Barrett came, and
took her away. I was sitting here thinking when two men came into the
parlor."

"Who were they? Do you know?"

"One was the soldier who drives you about--Connors; the other a
black-bearded, burly fellow called 'Reb.'"

"Mr. Dupont."

"What? Is that Dupont? Lord! No wonder she 's gone bad. Why, I
thought her husband was a ranchman down South somewhere! This fellow
is a tin-horn."

"He did run cattle once, years ago. I think he was quite well off, but
drank and gambled it away. Papa told me all about it, but I found out
he was the man by accident. He--is the one I am really afraid of."

She stopped, her eyes deserting his face, and stared out into the
darkness. He waited, feeling vaguely that he had not heard all she
intended to say.

"What more do you know?" he asked. "What was it you expected of me?"

She turned again, aroused by the question.

"Yes, I must tell you as quickly as I can, before I am missed. I did
not know about Mrs. Dupont and Lieutenant Gaskins. I realized there
was something between them--a--a--slight flirtation, but scarcely gave
that a thought. What brought me here was a much more serious matter,
yet this new information helps me to comprehend the other--the motives,
I mean. Mrs. Dupont's maiden name was Vera Carson?"

"Certainly; I knew her family well."

"She came here, and was received into our family as a daughter of my
father's sister. If true, her maiden name would have been Sarah
Counts. Papa had no reason to suspect the deceit. He does not now,
and I doubt if even your word would convince him, for he seems
thoroughly under her influence. There has been such a change in him
since she came; not all at once, you know, but gradual, until now he
scarcely seems like the same man. I--I do not dislike Lieutenant
Gaskins; he has been pleasant and attentive, but I do not care for him
in any other way. Yet papa insists that I marry the man. Lately he
has been very unkind about it, and--and I am sure she is urging him on.
What can I do? It is all so unpleasant."

Hamlin shook his head, but without reply.

"You will not tell me! Then I will tell you I shall say no! no! no!
In spite of them; I shall refuse to be sold. But how does that woman
control my father?" she leaned closer in her earnestness, lowering her
voice. "She has not won him by charms; he is afraid of her."

"Afraid? Are you certain of that?"

"Yes. I cannot tell you how I know; perhaps it is all womanly
instinct, but I do know that he is terrorized; that he dare not oppose
her wish. I have read the truth in his eyes, and I am sure he is harsh
to me only because he is driven by some threat. What can it be?"

"You have never spoken to him of your suspicions? Asked him?"

"Yes and no. I tried once, and shall never forget the expression of
his face. Then he turned on me in a perfect paroxysm of anger. I
never even dared hint at the matter again."

The Sergeant stared out into the street, not knowing what to say, or
how to advise. Almost unconscious of the action his hand stole along
the rail until it touched hers.

"If the woman has not ensnared him by her usual methods," he said
soberly, "and I think myself you are right about that, for I watched
them together in the dance hall--I did not comprehend what it meant
then, but it seemed to me he actually disliked being in her
company--then she has uncovered something in his past of which he is
afraid, something unknown to you, which he does not desire you ever to
know."

"Yes," softly, "that must be true."

"No; it may not be true; it may all be a lie, concocted for a purpose.
A clever woman might so manipulate circumstances as to convince him she
held his fate in her hands. We must find that out in this case."

"But how, Sergeant Hamlin? He will not tell me."

"Perhaps she will tell me if I can reach her alone," he said grimly,
"or else that husband of hers--Dupont. He 'll know the whole story.
It would give me pleasure to choke it out of him--real pleasure. Then
there 's Connors, just the sort of sneaking rat if he can be caught
with the goods; only it is not likely he knows much. I shall have to
think it all out, Miss Molly," he smiled at her confidently. "You see,
I am a bit slow figuring puzzles, but I generally get them in time.
You 've told me all you know?"

"Everything. It almost seems silly when I try to explain what I feel
to another."

"Not to me. I knew enough before to understand. But, perhaps, you had
better go--hush, some one is entering the parlor."

She got to her feet in spite of his restraining hand, startled and
unnerved.

"Oh, I must not be seen here. Is there no other way?"

"No; be still for a moment; step back there in the shadow, and let me
go in alone."

He stepped forward, his grasp already on the curtain, when a woman's
voice spoke within:

"Yes, that was what I meant; he does not know you--yet. But you must
keep away."

CHAPTER XXI

MOLLY DISAPPEARS

The speaker was Mrs. Dupont, but Hamlin's one thought was to prevent
any discovery of Miss McDonald. Without an instant's hesitation he
drew aside the curtain, and stepped into the room.

"Pardon me," he said quietly, as the two started back at his rather
abrupt entrance, "but I did not care to overhear your conversation. No
doubt it was intended to be private."

[Illustration: The two started back at his rather abrupt entrance.]

The woman stepped somewhat in advance of her companion, as though to
shield him from observation, instantly mastering her surprise.

"Nothing at all serious, Mr. Sergeant Hamlin," she retorted scornfully.
"Don't be melodramatic, please; it gets on the nerves. If you must
know, I was merely giving our ranch foreman a few final instructions,
as he leaves to-morrow. Have you objections?"

"Assuredly not--your ranch foreman, you say? Met him before, I think.
You are the fellow I ordered out of this room, are n't you?"

The man growled something unintelligible, but Mrs. Dupont prevented any
direct reply.

"That's all right, John," she broke in impatiently. "You understand
what I want now, and need not remain any longer. I have a word to say
myself to this man."

She waited an instant while he left the room; then her eyes defiantly
met Hamlin's.

"I was told you had driven every one out of here," she said coldly.
"What was the game?"

"This room was reserved--"

"Pish! keep that explanation for some one else. You wanted the room
for some purpose. Who have you got out there?" she pointed at the
window.

"Whether there be any one or not," he answered, leaning against the
window frame, and thus barring the passage, "I fail to see wherein you
are concerned."

She laughed.

"Which remark is equivalent to a confession. Dave," suddenly changing,
"why should we quarrel, and misjudge each other? You cannot suppose I
have forgotten the past, or am indifferent. Cannot you forgive the
mistake of a thoughtless girl? Is there any reason why we should not
be, at least, friendly?"

There was an appeal in her voice, but the man's face did not respond.

"I cannot say that I feel any bitterness over the past," he answered
lightly. "I am willing enough to blot that out. What I am interested
in is the present. I should like to understand your purpose here at
Dodge."

"Surely that is sufficiently clear. I am merely an exile from home, on
account of Indian depredations. What more natural than that I should
take refuge in my uncle's house."

"You mean Major McDonald?"

"Certainly--he was my mother's only brother."

"I think I have heard somewhere that the Major's only sister married a
man named Counts."

She drew in her breath sharply.

"Yes, of course--her first husband."

"You were a daughter then of her first marriage?"

"Of course."

"But assumed the name of Carson when she married again?"

"That was when you met me."

"The change was natural enough," he went on.

"But why did you also become Vera in place of Sarah?"

"Oh, is that it? Well, never attempt to account for the vagaries of a
girl," she returned lightly, as though dismissing the subject. "I
presume I took a fancy to the prettier name. But how did you know?"

"Garrison rumor picks up nearly everything, and it is not very kind to
you, Mrs. Dupont. I hope I am doing you a favor in saying this. Your
rather open flirtation with Lieutenant Gaskins is common talk, even
among enlisted men, and I have heard that your relations with Major
McDonald are peculiar."

"Indeed!" with a rising inflection of the voice. "How kind of you, and
so delicately expressed." She laughed. "And poor Major McDonald!
Really, that is ridiculous. Could you imagine my flirting with him?"

"I have no recollection of using that term in this connection. But you
have strange influence over him. For some reason the man is apparently
afraid of you."

"Afraid of me? Oh, no! Some one has been fooling you, Dave. I am
merely Major McDonald's guest. I wonder who told you that? Shall I
guess?"

Before he could realize her purpose the woman took a hasty step
forward, and swept aside the curtain, thrusting her head past to where
she could gain a view outside. Hamlin pressed her back with one hand,
planting himself squarely before the window. She met his eyes
spitefully.

"I was mistaken this time," she acknowledged, drawing away, "but I 'd
like to know why you were so anxious to prevent my looking out. Do you
know whom I thought you had there?"

"As you please," rejoicing that the girl had escaped notice.

"That little snip of a Molly. You made a hit with her all right, and
she certainly don't like me. Well, delightful as it is to meet you
again, I must be going." She turned away, and then paused to add over
her shoulder. "Don't you think it would be just as safe for you to
attend to your own business, Sergeant Hamlin?"

"And let you alone?"

"Exactly; and let me alone. I am hardly the sort of woman it is safe
to play with. It will be worth your while to remember that."

He waited, motionless, until assured that she had passed down the hall
as far as the door of the dining-room. The sound of shuffling chairs
evidenced the breaking up of the party, in preparation to return to the
ballroom. If Miss McDonald's absence were to escape observation, she
would have to slip out now and rejoin the others as they left the
house. He again turned down the light, and held back the curtain.

"The way is clear now, Miss Molly."

There was no response, no movement. He stepped outside, thinking the
girl must have failed to hear him. The porch was empty. He stepped
from one end to the other, making sure she was not crouching in the
darkness, scarcely able to grasp the fact of her actual disappearance.
This, then, was why Mrs. Dupont had failed to see any one when she
glanced out. But where could the girl have gone? How gotten away? He
had heard no sound behind him; not even the rustle of a skirt to betray
movement. It was not far to the ground, five or six feet, perhaps; it
would be perfectly safe for one to lower the body over the rail and
drop. The matted prairie grass under foot would render the act
noiseless. No doubt that was exactly the way the escape had been
accomplished. Alarmed by the presence of those others, suspecting that
the woman within would insist on learning whom Hamlin was attempting to
conceal, possibly overhearing enough of their conversation to become
frightened at the final outcome, Miss McDonald, in sudden desperation,
had surmounted the rail, and dropped to the ground. The rest would be
easy--to hasten around the side of the house, and slip in through the
front door.

Assured that this must be the full explanation, the Sergeant's
cheerfulness returned. The company of officers and guests had already
filed out through the hall; he could hear voices laughing and talking
in the street, and the band tuning up their instruments across in the
dance hall. He would go over and make certain of her presence, then
his mind would be at ease. He passed out through the deserted hallway,
and glanced in at the dining-room, where a number of men were gathering
up the dishes. Beyond this the barroom was crowded, a riffraff lined
up before the sloppy bar, among these a number in uniform--unattached
officers who had loitered behind to quench their thirst. Hamlin drank
little, but lingered a moment just inside the doorway, to observe who
was present. Unconsciously he was searching for Dupont, half inclined
to pick a quarrel deliberately with the fellow or with Connors,
determined if he found the little rat alone to frighten whatever
knowledge he possessed out of him. But neither worthy appeared.
Having assured himself of their absence, Hamlin turned to depart, but
found himself facing a little man with long hair, roughly dressed, who
occupied the doorway. The hooked nose, and bright eyes, peering forth
from a mass of untrimmed gray whiskers, were familiar.

"You keep the junk shop down by the express office, don't you?"

"Yep," briskly, scenting business in the question. "I 'm Kaplan; vot
could I do for you--hey?"

"Answer a question if you will, friend. Do you recall selling a
haversack to a traveller on the last stage out for Santa Fe in June?"

"Vel, I do' no; vas he a big fellow? Maybe de von vat vas killed--hey?"

"Yes; his name was Moylan, post-sutler at Fort Marcy."

"Maybe dot vos it. Why you vant to know--hey?"

"No harm to you, Kaplan," the Sergeant explained. "Only I picked it up
out there after Moylan was killed, and discovered by some writing on
the flap that it originally belonged to a friend of mine. I was
curious to learn how it got into your hands."

The trader shrugged his shoulders.

"Vud it be worth a drink?" he asked cannily.

"Of course. Frank, give Kaplan whatever he wants. Now, fire away."

"Vel," and the fellow filled his glass deliberately, "It vas sold me
six months before by a fellow vat had a black beard--"

"Dupont?"

"Dat vos de name ov de fellar, yes. Now I know it. I saw him here
again soon. You know him?"

"By sight only; he is not the original owner, nor the man I am trying
to trace. You know nothing of where he got the bag, I presume?"

"I know notting more as I tell you alreatty," rather disconsolately, as
he realized that one drink was all he was going to receive.

Hamlin elbowed his way out to the street. He had learned something,
but not much that was of any value. Undoubtedly the haversack had come
into Dupont's possession through his wife, but this knowledge yielded
no information as to the present whereabouts of Le Fevre. When the
latter had separated from the woman, this old army bag was left behind,
and, needing money, Dupont had disposed of it, along with other truck,
seemingly of little value.

The Sergeant reached this conclusion quickly, and, satisfied that any
further investigation along this line would be worthless, reverted to
his earlier quest--the safety of Miss McDonald. Merely to satisfy
himself of her presence, he crossed the street and glanced in at the
whirling dancers. There were few loiterers at the doorway and he stood
for a moment beside the guard, where he was able to survey the entire
room. Mrs. Dupont was upon the floor, and swept past twice, without
lifting her eyes in recognition, but neither among the dancers, nor
seated, could he discover Miss Molly.

Startled at not finding her present, Hamlin searched anxiously for the
Major, only to assure himself of his absence also. Could they have
returned to the fort as early as this? If so, how did it happen their
guest was still present, happily enjoying herself? Of course she might
be there under escort of some one else--Captain Barrett, possibly. He
would ask the infantryman.

"Have you seen Miss McDonald since supper?"

The soldier hesitated an instant, as though endeavoring to remember.

"No, I ain't, now you speak of it. She went out with that kid over
there, and he came back alone. Don't believe he 's danced any since.
The Major was here, though; Connors brought him a note a few minutes
ago, and he got his hat and went out."

Hamlin drew a breath of relief. "Girl must have sent for him to take
her home," he said. "Well, it 's time for me to turn in--good-night,
old man."

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