Then there had swept up into the girl's face one gleam of life that made
her beautiful for the instant, and she had bowed to them with a slow,
almost haughty, inclination of her head, and spread out her hands like one
who would like to bless but dared not, and said clearly, "I thank
you--all!" There had been just a slight hesitation before that last word
"all," as if she were not quite sure, as her eyes rested upon the
ringleader with doubt and dislike; then her lips had hardened as if
justice must be done, and she had spoken it, "all!" and, turning, sped
away to her cabin alone.
They were taken by surprise, those men who feared nothing in the wild and
primitive West, and for a moment they watched her go in silence. Then the
words that broke upon the air were not all pleasant to hear; and, if the
girl could have known, she would have sped far faster, and her cheeks
would have burned a brighter red than they did.
But one, the boldest, the ringleader, said nothing. His brows darkened,
and the wicked gleam came and sat in his hard eyes with a green light. He
drew a little apart from the rest, and walked on more rapidly. When he
came to the place where they had left their horses, he took his and went
on toward the cabin with a look that did not invite the others to follow.
As their voices died away in the distance, and he drew nearer to the
cabin, his eyes gleamed with cunning.
The girl in the cabin worked rapidly. One by one she took the boxes on
which the rude coffin of her brother had rested, and threw them far out
the back door. She straightened the furniture around fiercely, as if by
erasing every sign she would force from memory the thought of the scenes
that had just passed. She took her brother's coat that hung against the
wall, and an old pipe from the mantle, and hid them in the room that was
hers. Then she looked about for something else to be done.
A shadow darkened the sunny doorway. Looking up, she saw the man she
believed to be her brother's murderer.
"I came back, Bess, to see if I could do anything for you."
The tone was kind; but the girl involuntarily put her hand to her throat,
and caught her breath. She would like to speak out and tell him what she
thought, but she dared not. She did not even dare let her thought appear
in her eyes. The dull, statue-like look came over her face that she had
worn at the grave. The man thought it was the stupefaction of grief.