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The Rose Of Tuolumne
by
He recoiled more from her wild face than her words. He saw from the first that her hollow cheeks and hollow eyes were blazing with fever. He was no coward; but he would have fled.
“You are ill, Jenny,” he said: “you had best return to the house. Another time”–
“Stop!” she cried hoarsely. “Move from this spot, and I’ll call for help! Attempt to leave me now, and I’ll proclaim you the assassin that you are!”
“It was a fair fight,” he said doggedly.
“Was it a fair fight to creep behind an unarmed and unsuspecting man? Was it a fair fight to try to throw suspicion on some one else? Was it a fair fight to deceive me? Liar and coward that you are!”
He made a stealthy step toward her with evil eyes, and a wickeder hand that crept within his breast. She saw the motion; but it only stung her to newer fury.
“Strike!” she said with blazing eyes, throwing her hands open before him. “Strike! Are you afraid of the woman who dares you? Or do you keep your knife for the backs of unsuspecting men? Strike, I tell you! No? Look, then!” With a sudden movement, she tore from her head and shoulders the thick lace shawl that had concealed her figure, and stood before him. “Look!” she cried passionately, pointing to the bosom and shoulders of her white dress, darkly streaked with faded stains and ominous discoloration,–“look! This is the dress I wore that morning when I found him lying here,–HERE,–bleeding from your cowardly knife. Look! Do you see? This is his blood,–my darling boy’s blood!–one drop of which, dead and faded as it is, is more precious to me than the whole living pulse of any other man. Look! I come to you to-night, christened with his blood, and dare you to strike,–dare you to strike him again through me, and mingle my blood with his. Strike, I implore you! Strike! if you have any pity on me, for God’s sake! Strike! if you are a man! Look! Here lay his head on my shoulder; here I held him to my breast, where never–so help me my God!–another man–Ah!”–
She reeled against the fence, and something that had flashed in Rance’s hand dropped at her feet; for another flash and report rolled him over in the dust; and across his writhing body two men strode, and caught her ere she fell.
“She has only fainted,” said Mr. McClosky. “Jinny dear, my girl, speak to me!”
“What is this on her dress?” said Ridgeway, kneeling beside her, and lifting his set and colorless face. At the sound of his voice, the color came faintly back to her cheek: she opened her eyes, and smiled.
“It’s only your blood, dear boy,” she said; “but look a little deeper, and you’ll find my own.”
She put up her two yearning hands, and drew his face and lips down to her own. When Ridgeway raised his head again, her eyes were closed; but her mouth still smiled as with the memory of a kiss.
They bore her to the house, still breathing, but unconscious. That night the road was filled with clattering horsemen; and the summoned skill of the countryside for leagues away gathered at her couch. The wound, they said, was not essentially dangerous; but they had grave fears of the shock to a system that already seemed suffering from some strange and unaccountable nervous exhaustion. The best medical skill of Tuolumne happened to be young and observing, and waited patiently an opportunity to account for it. He was presently rewarded.
For toward morning she rallied, and looked feebly around. Then she beckoned her father toward her, and whispered, “Where is he?”
“They took him away, Jinny dear, in a cart. He won’t trouble you agin.” He stopped; for Miss Jenny had raised herself on her elbow, and was levelling her black brows at him. But two kicks from the young surgeon, and a significant motion towards the door, sent Mr. McClosky away muttering. “How should I know that ‘HE’ meant Ridgeway?” he said apologetically, as he went and returned with the young gentleman. The surgeon, who was still holding her pulse, smiled, and thought that–with a little care–and attention–the stimulants–might be–diminished–and—he–might leave–the patient for some hours with perfect safety. He would give further directions to Mr. McClosky–down stairs.