LEECH AND STILL MAKE A MOVE, AND TWO WOMEN CHECK THEM

The departure of Leech and Still from the County was followed by the quieting down which always signalized their absence. The County breathed the freer and enjoyed the calm, knowing that when they returned there would be a renewed girding of loins for the struggle which the approaching campaign would inevitably bring. It was not even disquieted over the rumors of some unusual move which, it was reported, the Government, on the application of Leech and Still, would make to strengthen their hands. These rumors had been going on so long that they were hardly heeded now. It would be time enough to meet the storm when it came, as it had met others; meanwhile, the people of Red Rock would enjoy the calm that had befallen. The calm would be broken when Leech and Still returned for the trial of the Red Rock case at the approaching term of court. Steve Allen and Jacquelin, meanwhile, were applying all their energies to preparation for the trial. Rupert, filled with the desire to do his part, was riding up and down the County notifying their witnesses, and, it must be said, talking with a boy’s imprudence of what they were going to do at the trial. “They were going to show that Still was a thief, and were going to run him and Leech out of the County,” etc.

Rupert left home one morning to go to the railway, promising to return that evening. Jacquelin sat up for him, but he did not come; and as he did not appear next morning, and no word had come from him, Jacquelin rode down in the evening to see about him. At the station he learned that Rupert had been there, but had left a little before dark, the evening before, to return home. He had fallen in with three or four men who had just come from the city on the train, and were making inquiries concerning the various places and residents in the upper end of the County, something about all of which they had appeared to know. They said they were interested in timber lands and had a good deal of law business they wished attended to, and they wanted advice as to who were the best lawyers of the County; and Rupert said he could tell them all about the lawyers: that General Legaie and Mr. Bagby were the best old lawyers, and his brother and Steve Allen were the best young lawyers. They asked him about Leech and McRaffle.

Leech wasn’t anything. Yes, he was—he was a thief, and so was Still. Still had stolen his father’s bonds; but wait until he himself got on the stand, he’d show him up! McRaffle was a turncoat hound, who had stolen money from a woman and then tried to run her out of the County.

One of the men who lived about the station told Jacquelin that he had gone up and tried to get Rupert away from the strangers, and urged him to go home, but that the boy was too excited by this time to know what he was doing.

“He was talking pretty wildly,” he said, “and was abusing Leech and Still and pretty much all the Rads. I didn’t mind that so much, but he was blowing about that old affair when the negro soldiers were shot, and about the K.K.’s and the capture of the arms, and was telling what he did about it. You know how a boy will do! And I put in to stop him, but he wouldn’t be hearsaid. He said these men were friends of his and had come up to employ you all in a lawsuit, and knew Leech and Still were a parcel of rascals. So I let him alone, and he went off with ’em, along with a wagon they’d hired, saying he was going to show them the country, and I supposed he was safe home.”

By midnight the whole population of that part of the County was out, white and black, and the latter were as much interested as the former. All sorts of speculation was indulged in, and all sorts of rumors started. Some thought he had been murdered, and others believed he and his companion had gotten on a spree and had probably gone off together to some adjoining county, or even had turned at some point and gone to the city; but the search continued. Meantime, unknown to the searchers, an unexpected ally had entered the field.

That evening Ruth Welch was sitting at home quietly reading when a servant brought a message that a man was at the door asking to see Major Welch. It happened that Major Welch was absent in town, and Mrs. Welch had driven over that afternoon to see a sick woman. So Ruth went out to see the man. He was a stranger, and Ruth was at once struck by something peculiar about him. He was a little unsteady on his feet, his voice was thick, and, at first, he did not appear to quite take in what Ruth told him. He had been sent, he repeated several times, to tell “Mazhur Welth” that they had taken his advice and had made the first arrest, and bagged the man who had given the information that started that riot, and had gotten evidence enough from him to hang him and to haul in the others too.

“But I don’t understand,” said the girl. “What is all this about? Who’s been arrested, and who is to be hung? My father has never advised the arrest of anyone.”

“Tha’s all I know, miss,” said the man. “At least, tha’s all I was to tell. I was told to bring him that message, and I guess it’s so, ’cause they’ve got the young fellow shut up in a jail since last night and as drunk as a monkey, and don’t anybody know he’s there—tha’s a good joke, ain’t it?—and to-morrow mornin’ they’ll take him to the city and lodge him in the jail there, and ’t ’ll go pretty hard with him. Don’t anybody know he’s there, and they’re huntin’ everywheres for him.” He appeared to think this a great joke.

“But I don’t understand at all whom you mean?”

“The young one. They bagged him, and they’re after the two older ones too,” he said, confidentially. He was so repulsive that Ruth shrank back.

“The one they calls Rupert; but they’re after the two head devils—his brother and that Allen one. Them’s the ones the colonel and your friend over there want to jug.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of Red Rock.

It all flashed on the girl in a moment.

“Oh! They have arrested Mr. Rupert Gray, and they want Mr. Jacquelin Gray and Captain Allen? Who has arrested him?”

“The d—tectives. But them’s the ones had it done—Major Leech and Mist’ Still.” He winked elaborately, in a way that caused Ruth to stiffen with indignation.

“What was it for?” she asked, coldly.

“For murder—killin’ them men three or four years back. They’ve got the dead wood on ’em now—since the young one told all about it.”

“Has he confessed? What did he say?”

“Enough to hang him and them too, I heard. You see they tanked him up and led him on till he put his head in the noose. Oh! they’re pretty slick ones, them detectives is. They got him to pilot ’em most to the jail door, and then they slipped him in there, to keep him till they take him to the city to-morrow. He was so drunk—don’t nobody know who he was, and he didn’t know himself. And they huntin’ all over the country for him!” He laughed till he had to support himself against the door.

The expression on Ruth’s face was such that the man noticed it.

“Oh! don’t you mind it, miss. I don’t think they’re after the young one. They’re after the two elder ones, and if he gives it away so they ever get them they’ll be easy on him.”

Ruth uttered an exclamation of disgust.

“He’ll never give it away——” She checked herself.

“Don’t know—a man’ll do a heap to save his own neck.” He made a gesture, drawing his hand across his throat significantly.

“I know that young man, and I say he’ll die before he’d betray anyone—much less his cousin and brother.”

“Well, maybe so.”

Just as the messenger turned away Ruth caught sight of someone standing in the shrubbery, and as the man went out of the gate the person came forward. It was Virgy Still. She appeared to be in a state of great agitation, and began to tell Ruth a story in which her father and Rupert Gray and Major Leech were all mixed up so incoherently that, but that Ruth had just heard the facts, she could never have been able to unravel it. At length Ruth was able to calm her and to get her account. She had sent a man over to tell Ruth, but she was so afraid he had not come that she had followed him. “They want to get rid of Mr. Rupert. It has something to do with the case against pa and your father. They are afraid Mr. Rupert will give evidence against them, and they mean to put him in jail and keep him from doing it. Do you know what it is?”

Ruth shook her head.

“I do not either. I heard them talking about it, but I did not understand what it was. They ain’t after Mr. Rupert; they’re after Mr. Jacquelin and Captain Allen.”

She suddenly burst into tears.

“Oh, Miss Ruth,” she sobbed, “you don’t know—you don’t know——”

“I don’t know what?” asked Ruth, gently.

“He is the only one that was always kind to me.”

“Who?”

“Mr. Jacquelin. He was always good to me; when I was a little bit of girl he was always kind to me. And now he hates me, and I never wanted the place!”

“Oh, I don’t think he does,” said Ruth, consolingly.

“Yes, he does; I know he does,” sobbed the girl. “And I never wanted the place. I have been miserable ever since I went there.”

Ruth looked at her with new sympathy. The idea that the poor girl was in love with Jacquelin had never crossed her mind. She felt an unspeakable pity for her.

“And now they want me to marry Mr. Leech,” moaned the girl, “and I hate him—I hate him! Oh, I wish we never had had the place. I know he would not want to marry me if pa did not have it, and could not help him get the governorship. And I hate him. I hope we’ll lose the case.”

“I would not marry anyone I did not want to marry,” said Ruth.

“Oh, you don’t know,” said Virgy. “You don’t know Wash. And pa wants me to marry him too; he says he’ll be Governor. Pa loves me, but he won’t hear to my not marrying. And I’ll have to do it—unless we lose the case,” she added.

She rose and went away, leaving Ruth with a new idea in her mind.

Ruth sat still for a few moments in deep thought. Suddenly she sprang up, and, calling a servant, ordered her horse. While it was being got she seized a pencil and scribbled a few lines on a piece of paper, which she put in her pocket.

She blushed to find what an interest she took in the matter, and how warmly her feeling was enlisted on the side opposed to that which she felt she ought to espouse. And she hated herself to recognize the cause. She tried to think that it was on account of the poor wild boy, or on account of Blair Cary and Miss Thomasia; but no, she knew it was not on their account—at least, not mainly so—but on account of another.

When her horse came, Ruth muttered something to the servant about telling her mother that she would be back in a little while; sprang into the saddle and galloped away, leaving the negro gazing after her with wonderment, and mumbling over the message she had given him.

Blair Cary was one of the best horsewomen in the State, and it was fortunate for Ruth Welch’s project that night that, emulating her friend, she also had become a capital horsewoman, self-possessed and perfectly fearless; else she could not have managed the high-mettled, spirited horse she rode.

Ruth knew her road well, and as soon as she turned into the highway that led to the county seat she let her horse out, and they fairly flew. She passed a number of men, riding all of them toward the court-house, but she dashed by them too rapidly for them to speak to her or to recognize her in the dark. As she came near the village the riders increased in numbers, so she drew in her horse and turned into a by-lane which skirted the back of the court-green and led near the lawyers’ offices. Jumping her horse over the low fence, she tied him to a swinging limb of a tree where he would be in the shadow, and, with a pat or two to quiet him and keep him from whinnying, she made her way on foot into the court-green. There were a number of lights and many men moving about over across the street that ran between the tavern and the court-green; but not a light was visible in any of the offices. Ruth walked down as far as she dared, keeping close beside the fence, and tried to recognize some of the men who were moving about on the tavern veranda or in the road before it; but there was not one that she knew. While she was listening the sound of a horse galloping rapidly came from the direction of the road that led to the railway, and the next minute the rider dashed up. Ruth’s heart gave a bound as she recognized Captain Allen. His coming seemed to give her a sense of security and protection. She felt reassured and certain that now everything would be all right. As Steve sprang from his horse, he was surrounded by the crowd with eager questions. His first words, however, damped Ruth’s hopes.

No, no trace had been found of Rupert. Jacquelin and many others were still searching for him, and would keep it up. No, he felt sure he had not been murdered by any negro—that he had not been murdered at all. He would be found in time, etc. All this in answer to questions.

Suddenly he singled out one man and drew him away from the crowd, and to Ruth’s horror they came across the road straight toward where she stood. She gave herself up for lost. She turned and would have fled, but she could not. Instead, she simply dropped down on the ground and cowered beside the fence. They came and leant against the fence within ten feet of her, on the other side, and began to talk. The other person was a stranger to Ruth; but his voice was that of an educated man, and Steve Allen called him Helford, which Ruth remembered to have heard somewhere before.

“Well, where is he?” the stranger asked Steve, as soon as they were out of earshot of the crowd.

“Somewhere, shut up—hidden,” said Allen.

“Drunk?”

“Yes, and that’s not the worst of it.”

“What do you mean? He’ll turn up all right.”

“You think so! He’ll turn up in jail, and you and I shall too, if we don’t mind. He’s been trapped and spirited away—by detectives, sent up here on purpose.”

“What! Oh, nonsense! You’re daft about the boy. Many another young fellow’s gone off and disappeared, to turn up with nothing worse than a splitting head and somewhat damaged morals. You yourself, for instance, when you were not much older than he——”

“Never mind about that,” interrupted Steve; “wait until I tell you all, and you’ll see. I’m not given to being scary, I think.”

He went on to tell of Rupert’s falling in with the men at the station, and of his disappearance, including all that his friends had learned of him both before and after he left. The man gave a low whistle of amazement and dismay.

“The little fool! What makes you think they were detectives?” He was groping for a shred of encouragement.

“I know it,” said Steve; and he gave his reasons.

Ruth was astonished to see how closely his reasoning followed and unravelled the facts as she knew them.

“Well, where is he now? Back in the city?”

“No. They haven’t got him there yet. They have hid him somewhere and are keeping him drunk, and will try taking him off by night.”

“Well, what are you going to do?”

“Find him and take him away from them,” said Steve. “If Leech or Still were in the County I’d find him in an hour; but they’re both in the city—been away a fortnight hatching this thing.”

“All right, I’m with you. But where’ll we look? You say Leech and Still are both away in the city, and you don’t think he’s at either of their places? Where can he be?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll find out if he’s above ground,” said Steve, “and some day I’ll call Jonadab Leech and Hiram Still to a settling.”

“I’ll tell you, Allen, where you may find him, or, at any rate, find a trace of him. At that new carpet-bagger’s, Mr. Welch’s.”

“Nonsense! Why don’t you look in my office?”

“You may say so; but I’ll tell you you’d better look. You all over here think he’s different from the rest: but I tell you he isn’t. When it comes to these questions, they’re all tarred with the same stick, and a d——d black stick it is.”

Ruth stirred with indignation. She wished she could have sprung up and faced him.

“We won’t discuss that,” said Steve, coldly. “Major Welch certainly differs widely from you and me on all political questions—perhaps on many other questions. But he is a gentleman, and I’ll stake my life on his being ignorant of anything like this. Gentlemen are the same the world over in matters of honor.”

“Well, maybe so—if you think so,” said the other, impressed by Steve’s seriousness. “But I don’t see why you should think he’s so different from all the rest of them. You didn’t use to find one Yankee so much better than another.”

Steve declared haughtily that he did not wish to discuss that question further, and that he would have his horse fed and go to his office to make out a few notices and be ready to start off again in an hour.

“The roads are all picketed, and if they get him to the city it will be by a route they won’t want to take themselves,” he said grimly, as he turned away.

“Suppose he’s already in jail somewhere?” asked his friend.

“We’ll take him out,” said Steve, stopping short. “There isn’t a jail in this commonwealth that will hold him, if I discover where he is.”

“All right, we’ll be with you, old fellow,” said his friend, his good-humor restored; “and if we could get a pull at some of your carpet-bag friends at the same time so much the better. You are not the only one who holds a due-bill of McRaffle’s, and has a score against Leech. He arrested my father and kept him in jail a week.” His voice had suddenly grown bitter.

When they moved off, Ruth rose and crept hurriedly away, stealing along by the fence until she was in the shadow of the offices. She knew she had not a moment to lose. She went up to the offices and scanned the doors. Fortunately, by even the faint glimmer of the stars she could make out the big names on the signs. She tried the door on which was the name of “Allen and Gray,” and, finding it locked, slipped her envelope under it and crept quickly away.

She was just in time, for she heard steps behind her and caught sight of a tall figure striding across the green toward the door she had just left. She found and mounted her horse and rode away, keeping well in the shadow of the trees. As she turned into the road at a sharp canter she almost ran over an old negro who was walking rapidly toward the village. It was so close that she could not avoid calling out to him; but she was not quite in time, for her horse touched him enough to topple him over. Ruth pulled in instantly and, turning around, went back to the man, who was scrambling to his feet grumbling and mumbling to himself:

“Who d’name o’ King dat ridin’ over me?”

Ruth recognized old Waverley.

“Oh! Are you hurt, uncle? I hope not. I’m so sorry. It was so dark I couldn’t see you,” she said, solicitously. The tone removed the old man’s irritation immediately.

“Yes’m—’tis mighty dark, sho nough. Nor’m, I ain hut none—jes kind o’ skeered, dat’s all. I did’n hut yo’ hoss, did I? Ken you tell me, is dee done heah anything o’ my young marster? I jes hurryin’ down heah to git de lates’ wud ’bout him.”

Ruth told him that his young master had not been seen yet; but that he would certainly be found within the next twenty-four hours, and that she was sure he would be discovered to be all right.

“Well, I certney is glad to heah you say dat, mistis,” said the old fellow, “‘cause my mistis is almost distracted, and so is he mammy and all de fam’ly. I done walked down heah three times to-day to git de news, an’ I know I ain’ gwine shet my eyes till he found. Hits all de wuck of dat Cun’l Leech an’ dat debble, Hiram Still, an’ he son. I knows ’em,” he broke out, fiercely, “and I’ll git at de bottom of it yit.” He came near and gazed up at Ruth with a look of such keen scrutiny, that to get away from him Ruth made her horse start. “I shall have to let him go,” she said, and at a touch of her heel her horse bounded away.

“I knows your hoss and I knows you too, now,” said the old man, looking after her as she dashed away in the darkness. “Well, well!” and he went on into the village.

When Ruth reached home, to her relief she found that her mother had not yet returned. A message had come that Miss Bush was ill and she would be detained until very late, but would certainly be back by bedtime.