37. True Blue
Sandy Metcalf confirmed it. "They sure are the law-brlngers, with Varmint Currie in the lead! We've got to head 'em away from the still-house until "
"By God," the old man interrupted, starting after his son, "we-all can't lose out now that we've won! I'll shoot the whole kit-caboodle before I let the spies get evidence on me."
"Wait!" Parker's call halted the down-rushing blockaders. "No need to shoot anybody this afternoon. Let them look for the still-house. They won't find it or the worm either."
"You mean to say, Parkerman, that you "
Vernaluska seized him by the arm in an agony of hope.
"I mean that you have nothing to fear. Just at the last, after I had done all I could. Judge Crumbly Bald sent out an edict destroying the last bit of evidence."
Her face lifted to his in the rain, now become a drizzle. It seemed to reflect the waxing light from above as she queried, almost afraid to believe:
"The judge - our judge - has acquitted us-all through his court of hills?"
Perhaps she noticed, certainly Parker did, that the sun broke through the clouds in the direction of Fallaway Rim as they descended to meet the posse.
Rex Currie indeed headed the cavalcade. The two strangers behind him evidently were the "real'' revenuers. Riding just back of them was the doughty sheriff warranted to "get 'em." With the rear guard rode Colonel Dryden, Dr. Prosch, and one who was visibly suffering from the rigors of unwonted equestrianism - that champion "jumper" of molars, Strength-of-the-Lord Plott.
Tugging viciously at his short mustache, Currie stared about him at the havoc which the mountain had wrought upon itself. When the officers looked to him with impatience, he only shook his head. Perforce they set about their own search, but with diminishing ferocity. After the ground had been gone over thoroughly and nothing discovered, there seemed not much for them to say - nothing they could do in the name of the law.
One began to discuss the recent eruption quite pleasantly with him who had been reported as the most reprehensible blockader of both the Carolinas. In preparation for an ignominious retreat, he expanded to an explanation of where he and the rest of the gentlemen out "pleasure riding" had weathered the recent storm.
Bidding Vernaluska stay close to her father and Sandyred, Parker strode across to where Currie stood scowling beside his horse. At his approach, the hillbilly made a movement toward his hip.
"Don't try to draw." The counter-command came bitingly. "I've had you covered these fifteen minutes."
Perhaps then It was that the turncoat noticed where Parker carried the hand of his well arm - in his right coat-pocket. At any rate, he did not finish his movement toward self-defense.
Although the audience was attentive, none heard the brief exchange.
"I haven't told the Metcalf men the real object behind your plan, Currle, because I don't want them to redden their hands with your blood."
"Don't see as my object is any concern of "
"But it is. If I hadn't something to live for too worth-while to miss, I'd have It out with you right here. As It is, I'm going to give you one chance at a getaway. Tobe Riker will be waiting for you at the mouth of Roaring Fork at dark to-night. Are you going to keep your appointment with him?"
"Which nor whether, I ain't going to be dictated to by ---"
"Oh, yes, you are - by me. Safety first demands that you don't disappoint Tobe in the matter of the twenty-five dollars and one passenger at least. After dark. If you're not gone, have an eye for a smaller posse than the one you led here to-day. It will be after you. Good-by and better luck In the next elopement you plan. No tricks, now ! I'll keep your back covered, and, really, I'm not a bad shot at some one I dislike, once I make up my mind to shoot."
The hillbilly's curse was the only fragment the onlookers caught as he began picking his way over the slide. He was followed shortly by as dejected a revenue posse as ever started on a back trip sans copper worm or prisoners.
On the short, jolting wagon-ride home, Parker noticed through his utter weariness that a shadow lay on the face of Verne. That through all the exultation a shadow should rest on her face, other than that cast by the drooping hat of ruined roses, spoiled his joy. Then, all at once, he remembered ' - he understood.
They had been interrupted by old Tom's start up the mountain in that sweet, vital moment when she had given him her lips. Of course he had been unthinking of her, selfish in his own relief, really unforgivable. The shadow was from those words he still had not said.
He could make no chance to speak until after they had entered the living-room, until Miss Emmy had evolved one conclusion from the garbled tales poured into her ears - to get her recalcitrant invalid back under control without further delay.
But he caught Vernaluska's hand and drew her aside. With pain for what was hurting her deeper than that from his shoulder, he noted her reluctance.
"I know It is no time to stop you - to discuss future plans. We're all soaked to the skin and - and about worn' out, I guess." He spoke through white lips and laid a hand on the window frame for support. "But I just can't wait to know. Verne" - he forced himself to speak more briskly - "would you prefer to marry me at once or wait until after I ---"
"Why - why " she stammered, the color that had been so conspicuously absent rushing back to her face.
"Of course no client should try to interpose his own for the judgment of his counsel," he pled, with a wraithlike reminiscence of the Cal Parker smile, "but If you would decide to marry me right away, dear - if you could take just one more step in your proof of faith in me "
"Your return to New York? The child woman - what about her?"
"My return is postponed until you go with me. Sylvia - she's an angel. And the man I persisted in thinking my friend is just a yellow cur. Only wait until I show you the engagement gift they have sent us!"
He pointed to an upside-down picture of a lady in a Gainsborough hat which newly adorned the wall - the only clipping, he explained, upon which Miss Emmy's hand had "slipped." Aloud he read from the "gentled-down" text that had come with it, pasted beneath the sill.
The marriage of Miss Sylvia Bralnard to Mr. Spencer Pope, deputy collector of United States Internal Revenue, was solemnized at high noon yesterday at the home of the bride's parents. The ceremony was a surprise, even to immediate friends, as it was hastened by an illness which Mrs. Brainard, mother of the bride, had contracted on a recent trip South. The latter was able, however, to appear at the ceremony, and her speedy recovery is predicted as one of the happy results of the alliauce.
Parker straightened from his reading of this news. Something in the look of the fawn-green eyes made him fear that Verne was about to flee again. He caught her hand.
"This was why I couldn't speak - not until I was free," he said quickly. "Of course, if you'd rather wait until I've shown myself a safe bet as a marriage proposition "
"You? I reckon you've done proved yourself a-plenty." Words came to her in defense of him against himself. "When the judge roars 'Not guilty!' so that all our world can hear, should your counsel object? Sure enough, Cal, you have been tried by fire."
"The dross is all burnt away," he assured her when he held her close, "by the flame of what I feel for you."
That particular flame of the many in their afterlives proved to be strong, controlled, steady.
And it was blue - true blue.
THE END