The Yukon Trail: A Tale of the North Read online

  CHAPTER XIV

  GENEVIEVE MALLORY TAKES A HAND

  Inside of an hour the news of the engagement of Macdonald was all overKusiak. It was through a telephone receiver that the gossip was buzzedto Mrs. Mallory by a friend who owed her a little stab. The voice ofGenevieve Mallory registered faint amusement, but as soon as she hadhung up, her face fell into haggard lines. She had staked a year of herwaning youth on winning the big mining man of Kusiak, together with allthe money that she had been able to scrape up for a campaign outfit.Moreover, she liked him.

  It was not in the picture that she should fall desperately in love withany man. A woman of the world, she was sheathed in the plate armor ofselfishness. But she was as near to loving Macdonald as was possible forher. She had a great deal of admiration for his iron strength, for thegrit of the man. No woman could twist him around her finger, yet it waspossible to lead him a long way in the direction one wanted.

  Mrs. Mallory sat down in the hall beside the telephone, her fingerslaced about one crossed knee. She knew that if Sheba O'Neill had notcome on the scene, Macdonald would have asked her to marry him. He hadbeen moving slowly toward her for months. They understood each other andwere at ease together. Between them was a strong physical affinity. Bothwere good-tempered and were wise enough to expect human imperfection.

  Then Diane Paget had brought in this slim, young cousin of hers andColby Macdonald had been fascinated by the mystery of her innocentyouth. Mrs. Mallory was like steel beneath the soft and indolentsurface. Swiftly she mapped her plan of attack. The Alaskan could not bemoved, but it might be possible to startle the girl into breaking theengagement. Genevieve Mallory would have used the weapon at hand withoutscruple in any case, but she justified herself on the ground that such amarriage could result only in unhappiness.

  But before she made any move Mrs. Mallory intended to be sure of herfacts. It was like her to go to headquarters for information. She gotMacdonald on the wire.

  "I've just heard something nice about you. Do tell me it's true," shesaid, her voice warm with sympathy.

  Macdonald laughed with an almost boyish embarrassment. "It's true, Ireckon."

  "I'm so glad. She's a lovely girl. The sweetest thing that ever lived.I'm sure you'll be happy. I always did think you would make a perfecthusband. Of course, I'm simply green with envy of her."

  Her little ripple of laughter was gay and care-free. The man at theother end of the line never had liked her better. Since he was not afool he had guessed pretty closely how things stood with her. She wasa game little sport, he told himself approvingly. It appealed to himimmensely that she could take such a facer and come up smiling.

  There were no signs of worry wrinkles on her face when the maid admitteda caller half an hour later. Oliver Dustin was the name on the card. Hewas a remittance man, a tame little parlor pet whose vocation was tofetch and carry for pretty women, and by some odd trick of fate he hadbeen sifted into the Northland. Mrs. Mallory had tolerated him ratherscornfully, but to-day she smiled upon him.

  Propped up by pillows, she reclined luxuriously on a lounge. A thinspiral of smoke rose like incense to the ceiling from her lips. Theslow, regular rise and fall of her breathing beneath the filmy laceof her gown accented the perfect fullness of bust and throat.

  Dustin helped himself to a cigarette and made himself comfortable.

  She set herself to win him. He was immensely flattered at her awakenedinterest. When she called him by his first name, he wagged all over likea pleased puppy.

  It came to him after a time that she was considering him for aconfidential mission. He assured her eagerly that there was no troubletoo great for him to take if he could be of any service to her. Shehesitated and doubted and at last as a special favor to him accepted hisoffer. Their heads were close in whispered talk for a few minutes, atthe end of which Dustin left the room with his chin in the air. He wasa knight errant in the employ of the most attractive woman north offifty-three.

  When Elliot took the down-river boat he found Oliver Dustin was a fellowpassenger. The little man smoked an occasional cigar with the land agentand aired his views on politics and affairs social. He left the boat atthe big bend. Without giving him much of his thought Gordon was a littlesurprised that the voluble remittance man had not told him where he wasgoing.

  Not till a week later did Elliot return up the river. He was asleep atthe time the Sarah passed the big bend, but next morning he discoveredthat Selfridge and Dustin had come aboard during the night. In theafternoon he came upon a real surprise when he found Meteetse and herlittle boy Colmac seated upon a box on the lower deck where freight forlocal points was stored.

  His guess was that they were local passengers, but wharf after wharfslipped behind them and the two still remained on board. They appearedto know nobody else on the Sarah, though once Gordon met Dustin just ashe was hurrying away from the Indian woman. The little remittance mantook the pains to explain to Elliot later that he was trying to find outwhether the Indians knew any English.

  Meteetse transferred with the other Kusiak passengers at the riverjunction. The field agent was not the only one on board who wonderedwhere she was going. Selfridge was consumed with curiosity, and whenshe and the boy got off at Kusiak, he could restrain himself no longer.Gordon saw Wally talking with her. Meteetse showed him an envelope whichevidently had an address written upon it, for the little man pointed outto her the direction in which she must go.

  Since leaving Kusiak nearly two weeks before, no word had reached Gordonof Sheba. As soon as he had finished dinner at the hotel, he walked outto the Paget house and sent in his card.

  Sheba came into the hall to meet him from the living-room where she hadbeen sitting with the man she expected to marry next week. She gave alittle murmur of pleasure at sight of him and held out both hands.

  "I was afraid you weren't going to get back in time. I'm so glad," shetold him warmly.

  He managed to achieve a smile. "When is the great day?"

  "Next Thursday. Of course, we're as busy as can be, but Diane says--"

  A ring at the door interrupted her. Sheba stepped forward and let in anIndian woman with a little boy clinging to her hand.

  "You Miss O'Neill?" she asked.

  "Yes."

  From the folds of her shawl she drew a letter. The girl glanced at theaddress, then opened and read what was written. She looked up, puzzled,first at the comely, flatfooted Indian woman and afterward at thehandsome little brown-faced papoose. She turned to Gordon.

  "This letter says I am to ask this woman who is the father of her boy.What does it mean?"

  Gordon knew instantly what it meant, though he could not guess who haddealt the blow. He hesitated for an answer, and in his embarrassment shefelt that which began to ring a bell of warning in her heart.

  The impulse to spare her pain was stronger in him than the desire thatshe should know the truth.

  "Send her away," he urged. "Don't ask any questions. She has been sentto hurt you."

  A fawnlike fear flashed into the startled eyes. "To hurt me?"

  "I am afraid so."

  "But--why? I have done nobody any harm." She seemed to hold even herbreathing in suspense. Only a pulse beat wildly in her white throat likethe heart of an imprisoned thrush.

  "Perhaps some of Macdonald's enemies," he suggested.

  And at that there came a star-flash into the soft eyes and a lifted tiltto the chin cut fine as a cameo. She turned proudly to the Indian woman.

  "What is it that you have to tell me about this boy's father?"

  Meteetse began to speak. At the first mention of Macdonald's nameSheba's eyes dilated. Her smile, her sweet, glad pleasure at Gordon'sarrival, were already gone like the flame of a blown candle. Clearly herheart was a-flutter, in fear of she knew not what. When the Indian womantold how she had first crossed the path of Macdonald, the color flamedinto the cheeks of the Irish girl, but as the story progressed, theblood ebbed even from her lips.

  With a sw
ift movement of her fingers she flashed on the hall light. Hergaze searched the brown, shiny face of the little chap. She read therean affidavit of the truth of his mother's tale. The boy had his father'strick of squinting a slant look at anything he found interesting. It wasimpossible to see him and not recognize Colby Macdonald reincarnated.

  "What is your name?" asked Sheba suddenly.

  The youngster hung back shyly among the folds of the Indian woman'sskirt. "Colmac," he said at last softly.

  "Come!" Sheba flung open the door of the living-room and ushered themin.

  Macdonald, pacing restlessly up and down the room during her absence,pulled up in his stride. He stood frowning at the native woman, then hiseyes passed to Elliot and fastened upon him. The face of the Scotchmanmight have been chipped from granite. It was grim as that of a hangingjudge.

  Gordon started to explain, then stopped with a shrug. What was the use?The man would never believe him in the world.

  "I'll remember this," the Alaskan promised his rival. There was a coldglitter in his eyes, a sudden flare of the devil that wasblood-chilling.

  "It's true, then," broke in Sheba. "You're a--a squawman. You belong tothis woman."

  "Nothing of the kind," he cried roughly. "That's been ended for years."

  "Ended?" Sheba drew Colmac forward by the wrist. "Do you deny that thisis your boy?"

  The big Alaskan brushed this aside as of no moment. "I dare say he is.Anyhow I'm paying for his keep. What of it? That's all finished and donewith."

  "How can it be done with when--when she's the mother of your child, yourwife before God?" The live eyes attacked him from the dusk that framedthe oval of her pale face. Standing there straight as an aspen, thebeautiful bosom rising and falling quickly while the storm waves beatthrough her blood, Sheba O'Neill had never made more appeal to thestrong, lawless man who desired her for his wife.

  "You don't understand." Macdonald's big fists were clenched so savagelythat the knuckles stood out white from the brown tan of the flesh."This is a man's country. It's new--close to nature. What he wants hetakes--if he's strong enough. I'm elemental. I--"

  "You wanted her--and you took her. Now you want me--and I suppose you'lltake me too." Her scornful words had the sting of a whiplash.

  "I've lived as all men live who have red blood in them. This woman is anincident. I've been aboveboard. She can't say I ever promised more thanI've given. I've kept her and the boy. It's been no secret. If you hadasked, I would have told you the whole story."

  "Does that excuse you?"

  "I don't need any excuse. I'm a man. That's excuse enough. You've beenbrought up among a lot of conventions and social lies. The one big factyou want to set your teeth into now is that I love you, that there isn'tanother woman on God's earth for me, and that there never will be again."

  Her eyes flashed battle. "The one big fact I'm facing is that you haveinsulted me--that you insult me again when you mention love with thatwoman and boy in the room. You belong to them--go to them--and leaveme alone." She had been fighting for self-control, to curb her growingresentment, but now it flamed passionately into words. "I hate the sightof you. Why don't you go--all of you--and leave me in peace?"

  It was a cry of bruised pride and wounded love. Elliot touched theIndian woman on the shoulder. Meteetse turned stolidly and walked outof the room, still leading Colmac by the hand. The young man followed.

  Macdonald closed the door behind them, then strode frowning up and downthe room. The fear was growing on him that for all his great drivingpower he could not shake this slim girl from the view to which sheclung. If the situation had not been so serious, it would have struckhim as ridiculous. His relation with Meteetse had been natural enough.He believed that he had acted very honorably to her. Many a man wouldhave left her in the lurch to take care of the youngster by herself. Buthe had acknowledged his obligation. He was paying his debt scrupulously,and because of it the story had risen to confront him. He felt that itwas an unjust blow of fate. Punishment was falling upon him, not forwhat he had done, but because he had scorned to make a secret of it.

  He knew that he must justify himself before Sheba or lose her. As shestood in the dusk so tall and rigid, he knew her heart was steel to him.Her finely chiseled face had the look of race. Never had the spell ofher been more upon him. He crushed back a keen-edged desire to take hersupple young body into his arms and kiss her till the scarlet ran intoher cheeks like splashes of wine.

  "You haven't the proper slant on this, Sheba. Alaska is the lastfrontier. It's the dropping-off place. You're north of fifty-three."

  "Am I north of the Ten Commandments?" she demanded with the inexorablejudgment of youth. "Did you leave the moral code at home when you camein over the ice?"

  He smiled a little. "Morality is the average conduct of the averageman at a given time and place. It is based on custom and expediency.The rules made for Drogheda won't fit Dawson or Nome. The laws made toprotect young women in Ireland would be absurd if applied to half-breedsquaws in Alaska. Meteetse does not hold herself disgraced but honored.She counts her boy far superior to the other youngsters of the village,and he is so considered by the tribe. I am told she lords it over hersisters."

  A faint flush of anger had crept into her cheeks. "Your view of moralityputs us on a level with the animals. I will not discuss the subject, ifyou please."

  "We must discuss it. I must get you to see that Meteetse and what shestood for in my life have nothing to do with us. They belong to my past.She doesn't exist for either of us--isn't in any way a part of mypresent or future."

  "She exists for me," answered Sheba listlessly. She felt suddenly oldand weary. "But I can't talk about it. Please go. I want to be alone."

  Again Macdonald paced restlessly down the room and back. He movedwith a long, easy, tireless stride. The man was one among ten thousand,dominant, virile, every ounce of him strong as tested steel. But he feltas if all his energy were caged.

  "Why don't you go?" the girl pleaded. "It's no use to stay."

  He stopped in front of her. "I'm going to marry you, Sheba. Don't thinkI'll let that meddler interfere with our happiness. You're mine."

  "No. Never!" she cried. "I'll take the boat and go home first."

  "You've promised to marry me. You're going to keep your word and be gladof it all your life."

  She shook her head. "No."

  "Yes." Macdonald had always shown remarkable restraint with her. He hadkissed her seldom, and always with a kind of awe at her young purity.Now he caught her by the shoulders. His eyes, deep in their sockets,mirrored the passionate desire of his heart.

  The color flamed into her face. She looked hot to the touch, an activevolcano ready to erupt. There was an odd feeling in her mind that thisbig man was a stranger to her.

  "Take your hands from me," she ordered.

  "Do you think I'm going to give you up now--now, after I've wonyou--because of a damfool scruple in your pretty head? You don't knowme. It's too late. I love you--and I'm going to protect both of us fromyour prudishness."

  His arms closed on her and he crushed her to him, looking down hungrilyinto the dark, little face.

  "Let me go," she cried fiercely, struggling to free herself.

  For answer he kissed the red lips, the flaming cheeks, the angry eyes.Then, coming to his senses, he pushed her from him, turned, and strodeheavily from the room.