Settling Day, Nat Gould [phonics reading books .txt] 📗

his look that she fainted and rolled on to the ground.

Sal went to her assistance.

'She comes not into my house again,' said Jim.

'What of the man?' asked Sal.

'She can come in,' answered Jim.

'Carry her in.'

'No.'

'Then I will,' and Sal lifted the light form in her arms and placed it on her own bed. 'What you did for me I do for her,' she said.

Maud Dennis, for such it was, although she bore no right to the name, gradually recovered.

Sal was at the bedside and smoothed her hair.

'Who are you?'

There was a faint suspicion of jealousy in the tone of her voice.

'I am Sal, Jim Dennis's housekeeper.'

'Not his wife?'

Sal looked at her with contempt as she answered,—

'No, not his wife.'

'Forgive me. I loved him so much long ago.'

'Then why did you leave him? It was cruel,' said Sal.

'It was kind. I should never have made him happy,' she said.

Jim Dennis came in.

'Leave us alone,' he said to Sal.

'You'll not hurt me, Jim? You'll not kill me?' said the wretched woman. 'Oh, if you knew how I have suffered! I am dying, Jim, and I have come to tell you all.'

'No, I will not kill you, and you deserve to suffer. I want to hear nothing, only one thing—his name,' said Jim Dennis.

'You must hear. I was tempted, tried. I did not tell him who I was, and he would never have known but when he deserted me in London, I meant to follow him some day and denounce him for the villain he is. He knows now, and let him beware of you. He ill-treated me. I lived a wretched life, and then when he had tired of me he cast me off. I wronged you past forgiveness, but how have I suffered for my sins? I worked and slaved day and night until at last I had to fall still lower.'

She shuddered, and he turned his face from her. This was the mother of his Willie! The lad should never know it, never see her. He must send to Barragong at once and have him detained there until he could act.

'I scraped enough money together to pay a passage to Sydney in a sailing vessel, one of the poorer class, and the miseries of that long voyage I shall never forget. In Sydney I found my parents were dead. I had no friends, very little money. I started to walk here. A team-master gave me a lift to Barragong.'

Jim Dennis started. Willie was there. Then he recollected the lad would not have known her had he seen her.

'From Barragong I walked to Swamp Creek, where a kindly man gave me food and rest.'

'Had he a big dog?' asked Jim.

'Yes, it was the dog attracted his attention to me.'

'Dr Tom, just like him,' thought Jim. 'He little thinks who she is.'

'Then I came on here. Let me die here, Jim. I have not long to live. You cannot thrust a dying woman out.'

He made no answer.

She moaned piteously.

'Let me die here, Jim. Let me see Willie before I go and ask him to forgive his wretched mother.'

'You may die here,' said Jim, harshly; 'but you shall never see my boy. You disowned him and he thinks you are dead.'

She was crying bitter tears of repentance, but they had come too late, and she was afraid to die without forgiveness on earth.

'Jim!' she said suddenly as she caught his arm. 'Jim, I dare not die without your forgiveness.'

There was such a look of horror in her eyes that even he was softened, and said quietly,—

'I will forgive you, Maud, freely forgive you; but you must never let Willie know, and he shall not see you.'

'Not even when I am dead?' she asked.

'No, not even then.'

She sobbed bitterly, and Sal, hearing her, felt the tears well up into her eyes.

'I never knew him to be cruel before,' said Sal to herself.

'One thing more,' said Jim Dennis. 'Who was the man?'

'Your friend, Jim. Your black-hearted, treacherous friend,' she answered.

'I had no friends,' he said.

'A man who called himself your friend. He was in Sydney. I met him. He was going to England, and offered to take me and spend his wealth with me, marry me when it was possible.'

Light was dawning upon Jim Dennis, and his hands clenched so that the nails bit into the flesh.

'It was Rodney Shaw,' she said.

Jim Dennis sprang up with an oath.

'By God! can such a villain live?' he cried.

'He had not seen me at Wanabeen, you recollect; he had gone to Sydney before I came here, and lived there some time before he went to England. He is a cruel, heartless man, and ruined our lives. He deserves no pity.'

'He shall have none from me,' said Jim Dennis. 'I will flog him like a cowardly cur and then shoot him.'

'He is a dangerous man,' she said.

Jim Dennis laughed harshly. He was not afraid of such a man or a dozen of them.

'Sal,' he called, 'there is work for me to do before it is too late. Send Silas Dixon for Dr Tom as soon as he comes in.'

'Where are you going?' she asked.

'To kill the man that wronged me and tried to ruin you.'

'Rodney Shaw?' she exclaimed in horror.

'He is the man. Settling day has come at last.'

CHAPTER XXVI

SETTLING DAY

Jim Dennis rode towards Cudgegong, vengeance gnawing at his heart.

So Rodney Shaw was the man who had wronged him, and he, Jim Dennis, had clasped his hand in friendship since then.

How he hated the man, this thief who had robbed him and dishonoured his house. It was with a glow of exultation he thought the hour was at hand when he could call him to account. He meant to settle with Rodney Shaw before he got into the more tender clutches of the law. He would show him no mercy, for he had a double score to pay off now, as there was the insult to Sal to be wiped out.

He worked himself up to such a pitch of savage resentment that he was scarcely answerable for his actions.

This was what he desired, to deaden all the better feelings in him so that there was no possibility of his showing any mercy.

He had heard from Constable Doonan that he had hit Rodney Shaw as he escaped from the fight at Barker's Creek, and the wound might have proved dangerous. So much the better, his enemy could not escape him then.

And Rodney Shaw, what of him?

When he made good his escape from the Creek he rode on to Cudgegong, and arriving there in safety, had his wound dressed. The bullet struck him between the shoulders and caused him intense pain.

He explained as well as he could to Benjamin Nix how it happened, and accounted for his presence at the fight by saying the police had surrounded the place while he was at Dalton's house.

'Doonan fired at me as I was escaping, and that is how I got the wound. Do the best you can for me, Nix, I am in a bad way.'

'It serves you right,' thought Nix, and did his best to relieve him.

Rodney Shaw had something else to contend with in addition to his wound. He had heard from Maud Dennis and discovered who she was, and that she intended to let Jim Dennis know the name of the man who had wronged him.

This preyed upon his mind and made his wound worse. He tossed about restlessly and was soon on the high road to a bad attack of fever.

'I will send for Dr Sheridan,' said Nix.

'It is useless; he will decline to come,' said Shaw.

'I have never known him do so in a serious case,' answered Nix. 'He has even attended Abe Dalton and pulled him through a severe illness. If he attended Dalton surely he will come to you.'

'I tell you it is useless,' persisted Shaw. 'There are matters you know nothing of that will prevent his coming.'

Rodney Shaw, however, knew it would not be long before someone else came, the man he dreaded most to see—Jim Dennis. He wished the shot he had aimed at him had taken effect, then he would have been well rid of him.

He knew when Jim Dennis heard the truth nothing would keep him from Cudgegong. If it had not been for his wound he would have been well on his way to Sydney, and might have escaped. He made an effort to rise, but fell back exhausted. He felt it would be better to risk everything rather than face this angry, wronged man. He called Nix and said,—

'If Jim Dennis calls tell him I am too ill to see him.'

'I will,' was the reply; but Nix thought to himself, 'If Jim Dennis wishes to see you no one can stop him after what you have done.' He meant the abduction of Sal; he did not know of Rodney Shaw's greater sin.

When Jim Dennis arrived at Cudgegong he got off his horse and strode into the house.

Benjamin Nix barred the way, and asked,—

'Do you wish to see Mr Shaw? If so, he is too ill; it would be dangerous to disturb him.'

Jim Dennis laughed.

'I have no quarrel with you, Ben,' he said, 'but I must see him. If the shock of my presence kills him, well, so much the better, it will save me doing it.'

'You don't mean to harm him?' said Nix, alarmed.

'That's precisely what I do mean,' said Jim.

'Then you must be prevented from doing so,' said Nix.

Jim Dennis knew there were several people about the place, and he did not wish to be hindered in his work, so he tried to propitiate Ben Nix. 'I shall not be long with him,' he said; 'and when I have done with him, and you know all, you will side with me.'

'I always do that,' said Ben. 'You and I have never been bad friends.'

'But we shall fall out if I do not see him quietly,' said Jim. 'I mean to do so, and you had better let me pass.'

Benjamin Nix saw he meant it, and stood on one side.

He argued that a disturbance would probably be as dangerous to Rodney Shaw, or more so, as an interview with Dennis.

'Which room is he in?' asked Jim.

Ben pointed it out to him, and he went to the door.

He knocked, and Rodney Shaw said angrily,—

'Come in. There is no occasion for you to knock, Nix. I have not had a wink of sleep for hours.'

'You will have plenty of sleep shortly,' said Jim Dennis, entering the room.

Rodney Shaw lay on his bed and stared with glassy eyes at the speaker. He felt as though his last hour was at hand, and he wished he could rise and fight for his life. He could not move without causing intense pain, and there he lay, helpless, at the mercy of his bitterest enemy.

Jim Dennis strode up to the bedside and shook him roughly.

'Get up and answer for your sins, you black-hearted scoundrel!' he said in a voice of suppressed passion. 'No shamming sick with me, remember. Stand up and fight for your life like a man—Heaven forgive me for calling you one!'

Rodney Shaw groaned.

'I am wounded,' he said. 'I have been shot.'

'Where?' asked Jim Dennis. 'Show me the wound.'

'I cannot.'

'Show it me.'

'It is in my back, between my shoulders,' said Shaw.

Jim Dennis laughed savagely.

'In your back. A fitting place for it. Things such as you never face an enemy, they are always wounded in the back.'

He pushed him over and saw there was blood on the bed.

'So you have not lied this time,' said Jim. 'I have come to have a settling day with you. It is a long-standing account and a heavy one. You are the scoundrel who stole my