PAGE 10
Smoke Of Battle
by
Nor was he under any actual pledge of secrecy. This girl had told it to him freely, of her own volition. It was not in the nature of her to keep her secret. She had told it to him, a stranger; she would tell it to other strangers–or else somebody would betray her. And surely this sickly, slack-twisted little wanton would be better off inside the strong arm of the law than outside it? No jury of Southern men would convict her of murder–the thought was incredible. She would be kindly dealt with. In one illuminating flash the major divined that these would have been the inevitable conclusions of any one of those ambitious young men at the office. He bent forward.
“What did you do then, ma’am?” he asked.
“I didn’t know what to do,” she said, dropping her hands into her lap. “I run till I couldn’t run no more, and then I walked and walked and walked. I reckin I must ‘a’ walked ten miles. And then, when I was jest about to drop, I come past this house. There was a light burnin’ on the porch and I could make out to read the sign on the door, and it said Lodgers Taken.
“So I walked in and rung the bell, and when the woman came I said I’d jest got here from the country and wanted a room. She charged me two dollars a week, in advance; and I paid her two dollars down–and she showed me the way up here.
“I’ve been here ever since, except twice when I slipped out to buy me somethin’ to eat at a grocery store and to git some newspapers. At first I figgered the police would be a-comin’ after me; but they didn’t–there wasn’t nobody at all seen the shootin’, I reckin. And I was skeered Vic Magner might tell on me; but I guess she didn’t want to run no risk of gittin’ in trouble herself–that Captain Brennan, of the Second Precinct, he’s been threatenin’ to run her out of town the first good chance he got. And there wasn’t none of the other girls there that knowed I ever knew Rod Bullard. So, you see, I ain’t been arrested yit.
“Layin’ here yistiddy all day, with nothin’ to do but think and cry, I made up my mind I’d kill myself. I tried to do it. I took that there pistol out and I put it up to my head and I said to myself that all I had to do was jest to pull on that trigger thing and it wouldn’t hurt me but a secont–and maybe not that long. But I couldn’t do it, mister–I jest couldn’t do it at all. It seemed like I wanted to die, and yit I wanted to live too. All my life I’ve been jest that way–first thinkin’ about doin’ one thing and then another, and hardly ever doin’ either one of ’em.
“Here on this bed tonight I got to thinkin’ if I could jest tell somebody about it that maybe after that I’d feel easier in my mind. And right that very minute you come and knocked on the door, and I knowed it was a sign–I knowed you was the one for me to tell it to. And so I’ve done it, and already I think I feel a little bit easier in my mind. And so that’s all, mister. But I wisht please you’d take that pistol away with you when you go–I don’t never want to see it again as long as I live.”
She paused, huddling herself in a heap upon the bed. The major’s short arm made a gesture toward the cheap suitcase.
“I observe,” he said, “that your portmanteau is packed as if for a journey. Were you thinking of leaving, may I ask?”
“My which?” she said. “Oh, you mean my baggage! Yes; I ain’t never unpacked it since I come here. I was aimin’ to go back to my home–I got a stepsister livin’ there and she might take me in–only after payin’ for this room I ain’t got quite enough money to take me there; and now I don’t know as I want to go, either. If I kin git my strength back I might stay on here–I kind of like city life. Or I might go up to Cincinnati. A girl that I used to know here is livin’ there now and she wrote to me a couple of times, and I know her address–it was backed on the envelope. Still, I ain’t sure–my plans ain’t all made yit. Sometimes I think I’ll give myself up, but most generally I think I won’t. I’ve got to do somethin’ purty soon though, one way or another, because I ain’t got but a little over three dollars left out of what I had.”