Ranson's Folly (Fiscle Part 3), Richard Harding Davis [best novel books to read TXT] 📗
- Author: Richard Harding Davis
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You Left?" She Asked. "No One?"
Cahill Had Not Replaced The Bandaged Hand In His Pocket, But Had
Shoved It Inside The Opening Of His Coat. As Mary Cahill Caught His
Arm Her Fingers Sank Into The Palm Of The Hand And He Gave A Slight
Grimace Of Pain.
"Oh, Father," Miss Cahill Cried, "Your Hand! I Am So Sorry. Did I
Hurt It? Please--Let Me See."
Part 3 Title 1 (Ranson's Folly) Pg 39
Cahill Drew Back With Sudden Violence.
"No!" He Cried. "Leave It Alone! Come, We Must Be Going." But Miss
Cahill Held The Wounded Hand In Both Her Own. When She Turned Her
Eyes To Ranson They Were Filled With Tender Concern.
"I Hurt Him," She Said, Reproachfully. "He Shot Himself Last Night
With One Of Those New Cylinder Revolvers."
Her Father Snatched The Hand From Her. He Tried To Drown Her Voice By
A Sudden Movement Toward The Door. "Come!" He Called. "Do You Hear
Me?"
But His Daughter In Her Sympathy Continued. "He Was Holding It So,"
She Said, "And It Went Off, And The Bullet Passed Through Here." She
Laid The Tip Of A Slim White Finger On The Palm Of Her Right Hand.
"The Bullet!" Cried Ranson. He Repeated, Dully, "The Bullet!"
There Was A Sudden, Tense Silence. Outside They Could Hear The Crunch
Of The Sentry's Heel In The Gravel, And From The Baseball Field Back
Of The Barracks The Soft Spring Air Was Rent With The Jubilant Crack
Of The Bat As It Drove The Ball. Afterward Ranson Remembered That
While One Half Of His Brain Was Terribly Acute To The Moment, The
Other Was Wondering Whether The Runner Had Made His Base. It Seemed
An Interminable Time Before Ranson Raised His Eyes From Miss Cahill's
Palm To Her Father's Face. What He Read In Them Caused Cahill To Drop
His Hand Swiftly To His Hip.
Ranson Saw The Gesture And Threw Out Both His Hands. He Gave A
Hysterical Laugh, Strangely Boyish And Immature, And Ran To Place
Himself Between Cahill And The Door. "Drop It!" He Whispered. "My
God, Man!" He Entreated, "Don't Make A Fool Of Yourself. Mr. Cahill,"
He Cried Aloud, "You Can't Go Till You Know. Can He, Mary? Yes,
Mary." The Tone In Which He Repeated The Name Was Proprietary And
Commanding. He Took Her Hand. "Mr. Cahill," He Said, Joyously, "We've
Got Something To Tell You. I Want You To Understand That In Spite Of
All I've Done--I Say In Spite Of All I've Done--I Mean Getting Into
This Trouble And Disgrace, And All That--I've Dared To Ask Your
Daughter To Marry Me." He Turned And Led Miss Cahill Swiftly Toward
The Veranda. "Oh, I Knew He Wouldn't Like It," He Cried. "You See. I
Told You So. You've Got To Let Me Talk To Him Alone. You Go Outside
And Wait. I Can Talk Better When You Are Not Here. I'll Soon Bring
Him Around."
"Father," Pleaded Miss Cahill, Timidly. From Behind Her Back Ranson
Shook His Head At The Post-Trader In Violent Pantomime. "She'd Better
Go Outside And Wait, Hadn't She, Mr. Cahill?" He Directed.
As He Was Bidden, The Post-Trader Raised His Head And Nodded Toward
The Door. The Onslaught Of Sudden And New Conditions Overwhelmed And
Paralyzed Him.
"Father!" Said Miss Cahill, "It Isn't Just As You Think. Mr. Ranson
Part 3 Title 1 (Ranson's Folly) Pg 40Did Ask Me To Marry Him--In A Way--At Least, I Knew What He Meant.
But I Did Not Say--In A Way--That I Would Marry Him. I Mean It Was
Not Settled, Or I Would Have Told You. You Mustn't Think I Would Have
Left You Out Of This--Of My Happiness, You Who Have Done Everything
To Make Me Happy."
She Reproached Her Father With Her Eyes Fastened On His Face. His Own
Were Stern, Fixed, And Miserable. "You Will Let It Be, Won't You,
Father?" She Begged. "It--It Means So Much. I--Can't Tell You--" She
Threw Out Her Hand Toward Ranson As Though Designating A Superior
Being. "Why, I Can't Tell Him. But If You Are Harsh With Him Or With
Me It Will Break My Heart. For As I Love You, Father, I Love Him--And
It Has Got To Be. It Must Be. For I Love Him So. I Have Always Loved
Him. Father," She Whispered, "I Love Him So."
Ranson, Humbly, Gratefully, Took The Girl's Hand And Led Her Gently
To The Veranda And Closed The Door Upon Her. Then He Came Down The
Room And Regarded His Prospective Father-In-Law With An Expression Of
Amused Exasperation. He Thrust His Hands Deep Into The Pockets Of His
Riding-Breeches And Nodded His Head. "Well," He Exclaimed, "You've
Made A Damned Pretty Mess Of It, Haven't You?"
Cahill Had Sunk Heavily Into A Chair And Was Staring At Ranson With
The Stupid, Wondering Gaze Of A Dumb Animal In Pain. During The
Moments In Which The Two Men Eyed Each Other Ranson's Smile
Disappeared. Cahill Raised Himself Slowly As Though With A Great
Effort.
"I Done It," Said Cahill, "For Her. I Done It To Make Her Happy."
"That's All Right," Said Ranson, Briskly. "She's Going To Be Happy.
We're All Going To Be Happy."
"An' All I Did," Cahill Continued, As Though Unconscious Of The
Interruption, "Was To Disgrace Her." He Rose Suddenly To His Feet.
His Mental Sufferings Were So Keen That His Huge Body Trembled. He
Recognized How Truly He Had Made "A Mess Of It." He Saw That All He
Had Hoped To Do For His Daughter By Crime Would Have Been Done For
Her By This Marriage With Ranson, Which Would Have Made Her A "Lady,"
Made Her Rich, Made Her Happy. Had It Not Been For His Midnight Raids
She Would Have Been Honored, Loved, And Envied, Even By The Wife Of
The Colonel Herself. But Through Him Disgrace Had Come Upon Her,
Sorrow And Trouble. She Would Not Be Known As The Daughter Of Senator
Ranson, But Of Cahill, An Ex-Member Of The Whyo Gang, A Highway
Robber, As The Daughter Of A Thief Who Was Serving His Time In State
Prison. At The Thought Cahill Stepped Backward Unsteadily As Though
He Had Been Struck. He Cried Suddenly Aloud. Then His Hand Whipped
Back To His Revolver, But Before He Could Use It Ranson Had Seized
His Wrist With Both Hands. The Two Struggled Silently And Fiercely.
The Fact Of Opposition Brought Back To Cahill All Of His Great
Strength.
"No, You Don't!" Ranson Muttered. "Think Of Your Daughter, Man. Drop
It!"
Part 3 Title 1 (Ranson's Folly) Pg 41
"I Shall Do It," Cahill Panted. "I Am Thinking Of My Daughter. It's
The Only Way Out. Take Your Hands Off Me--I Shall!"
With His Knuckles Ranson Bored Cruelly Into The Wounded Hand, And It
Opened And The Gun Dropped From It; But As It Did So It Went Off With
A Report That Rang Through The Building. There Was An Instant Rush Of
Feet Upon The Steps Of The Veranda, And At The Sound The Two Men
Sprang Apart, Eyeing Each Other Sheepishly Like Two Discovered
Truants. When Sergeant Clancey And The Guard Pushed Through The Door
Ranson Stood Facing It, Spinning The Revolver In Cowboy Fashion
Around His Fourth Finger. He Addressed The Sergeant In A Tone Of
Bitter Irony.
"Oh, You've Come At Last," He Demanded. "Are You Deaf? Why Didn't You
Come When I Called?" His Tone Showed He Considered He Had Just Cause
For Annoyance.
"The Gun Brought Me, I--" Began Clancey.
"Yes, I Hoped It Might. That's Why I Fired It," Snapped Ranson. "I
Want Two Whiskey-And-Sodas. Quick Now!"
"Two--" Gasped Clancey.
"Whiskey-And-Sodas. See How Fast One Of You Can Chase Over To The
Club And Get 'Em. And Next Time I Want A Drink Don't Make Me Wake The
Entire Garrison."
As The Soldiers Retreated Ranson Discovered Miss Cahill's White Face
Beyond Them. He Ran And Held The Door Open By A Few Inches.
"It's All Right," He Whispered, Reassuringly. "He's Nearly Persuaded.
Wait Just A Minute Longer And He'll Be Giving Us His Blessing."
"But The Pistol-Shot?" She Asked.
"I Was Just Calling The Guard. The Electric Bell's Broken, And Your
Father Wanted A Drink. That's A Good Sign, Isn't It? Shows He's
Friendly, What Kind Did You Say You Wanted, Mr. Cahill--Scotch Was
It, Or Rye?" Ranson Glanced Back At The Sombre, Silent Figure Of
Cahill, And Then Again Opened The Door Sufficiently For Him To Stick
Out His Head. "Sergeant," He Called, "Make Them Both Scotch--Long
Ones."
He Shut The Door And Turned Upon The Post-Trader. "Now, Then, Father-
In-Law," He Said, Briskly, "You've Got To Cut And Run, And You've Got
To Run Quick. We'll Tell 'Em You're Going To Fort Worth To Buy The
Engagement Ring, Because I Can't, Being Under Arrest. But You Go To
Duncan City Instead, And From There Take The Cars, To--"
"Run Away!" Cahill Repeated, Dazedly. "But You'll Be Court-
Martialled."
Part 3 Title 1 (Ranson's Folly) Pg 42
"There Won't Be Any Court-Martial!"
Cahill Glanced Around The Room Quickly. "I See," He Cried. In His
Eagerness He Was Almost Smiling. "I'm To Leave A Confession And Give
It To You."
"Confession! What Rot!" Cried Ranson.
"They Can't Prove Anything Against Me. Everyone Knows By Now That
There Were Two Men On The Trail, But They Don't Know Who The Other
Man Was, And No One Ever Must Know--Especially Mary."
Cahill Struck The Table With His Fist. "I Won't Stand For It!" He
Cried. "I Got You Into This And I'm Goin'--"
"Yes, Going To Jail," Retorted Ranson. "You'll Look Nice Behind The
Bars, Won't You? Your Daughter Will Be Proud Of You In A Striped
Suit. Don't Talk Nonsense. You're Going To Run And Hide Some Place,
Somewhere, Where Mary And I Can Come
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