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"I couldn't touch his hand!" said Rhetta, shuddering at the thought. "Never mind," said Violet, soothingly; "never mind." Violet said no more, but took Rhetta by the hand, and it was wet with tears from her streaming cheeks.
He had come through it according to Rhetta Thayer's wish, according to his own desire, with no man's blood upon his hands. There were many willing ones who came forward to make light the labor of Seth Craddock's packing. They unbound his hands with derision and bundled him into the capacious long box against his strivings and curses with scorn. Morgan suggested the enclosure of a jug of water.
Stilwell inquired, hurrying out, followed by his wife and son. Violet was already beside her perturbed visitor, looking up into her terror-blanched face. "Oh, they've come, they've come!" Rhetta gasped. "Who?" Stilwell asked, mystified, laying hold of her bridle, shaking it as if to set her senses right. "Who's come, Rhetty?" "I came for Mr.
If they come over here they'll find him Cal ain't makin' no secret of where he's at. And they'll find somebody standin' back to back with him, any time they want to come." Stilwell's resentment of Ascalon's ingratitude toward his friend was plainer in his mouth than print. "They're going to burn the town to drive him out!" Rhetta said, gasping in the terror that shook her heart.
Morgan knew well enough how the place would appear in that bitter season; he had lived in the lonely desolation of a village on the bald, unsheltered plain. How did Rhetta Thayer endure the winter, he wondered, when she could not gallop away into the friendly solitude of the clean, unpeopled prairie? Where did she live?
Rhetta, leaning to peer under the lintel of the low door, could see him there, and she reached out her hand, appealing without a word. "He is here, honey," Mrs. Stilwell repeated, assuringly, comfortingly. "Tell him tell him Craddock's come!" Rhetta said. "Craddock?" said Stilwell, pronouncing the name with inflection of surprise. "Oh, I thought something awful had happened to somebody."
When they returned to Judge Thayer's office Morgan took the oath to enforce the statutes of the state of Kansas and the ordinances of the city of Ascalon, Rhetta standing by with palpitating breast and glowing eyes, hands behind her like a little girl waiting her turn in a spelling class.
And so, watching and considering, thinking and devising, the night came down over him, guardian of the peace of Ascalon, where there was no peace. Rhetta Thayer, leaving the Headlight office at nine o'clock, saw two men come down the courthouse steps, shadowy and indistinct in the dusk of starlight and early night.
Among the home workers Rhetta Salmonsen, a Russian woman of forty, the mother of four children, used to finish at night the cloaks brought to her by her husband, who worked through the day as an operator in a cloak factory. Between them they would earn $12 and $15 in busy weeks. In these weeks there were some occasions when Mrs.
Judge Thayer should not have interfered with the last decree of public justice. It would have been over with by now. Rhetta Thayer was in the door of the newspaper office. She came to the edge of the sidewalk as Morgan approached, leading his horse. She did not reflect the public satisfaction from her handsome face and troubled eyes that Ascalon in general enjoyed over Craddock's humiliation.
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