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Updated: June 10, 2025
"Dad Jorth is comin'," said Jean, huskily. How he hated to be forced to tell his father that! The boyish love of old had flashed up. "Whar?" demanded the old man, his eagle gaze sweeping the horizon. "Down the road from Grass Valley. You can't see from here." "Wal, come in an' let's get ready." Isbel's house had not been constructed with the idea of repelling an attack from a band of Apaches.
None but Queen are spoilin' for another fight. All the same they won't leave Tad Jorth heah alone." Then Colter leaned in at the door and whispered: "Ellen, I cain't boss this outfit. So let's y'u an' me shake 'em. I've got your dad's gold. Let's ride off to-night an' shake this country." Colter, muttering under his breath, left the door and returned to his comrades.
But I never knew how they ruined you or why or when. And I want to know now." Then it was not the face of a liar that Jorth disclosed. The present was forgotten. He lived in the past. He even seemed younger 'in the revivifying flash of hate that made his face radiant. The lines burned out. Hate gave him back the spirit of his youth.
The tremendous force of his spirit seemed to fling truth at Ellen. It weakened her. "But mother loved dad best." "Yes, afterward. No wonder, poor woman! ... But it was the action of your father and your mother that ruined all these lives. You've got to know the truth, Ellen Jorth.... All the years of hate have borne their fruit. God Almighty can never save us now. Blood must be spilled.
The door in each cabin faced the other, and there was a tall man standing in one. Ellen recognized Daggs, a neighbor sheepman, who evidently spent more time with her father than at his own home, wherever that was. Ellen had never seen it. She heard this man drawl, "Jorth, heah's your kid come home."
"Insulted you?..." laughed Isbel, in bitter scorn. "It couldn't be done." "Oh! ... I'll KILL y'u!" she hissed. Isbel stood up and wiped the red scratches on his face. "Go ahead. There's my gun," he said, pointing to his saddle sheath. "Somebody's got to begin this Jorth-Isbel feud. It'll be a dirty business. I'm sick of it already.... Kill me! ... First blood for Ellen Jorth!"
Sight of her was like a blade in my side. But the looks of her an' what she is they don't gibe. Old as I am, my heart Bah! Ellen Jorth is a damned hussy!" Jean Isbel went off alone into the cedars. Surrender and resignation to his father's creed should have ended his perplexity and worry.
The shadow in the eyes of his aunt, in the younger, fresher eyes of his sister Jean connected that with the meaning of his father's tragic words. Far past was the morning that had been so keen, the breaking of camp in the sunlit forest, the riding down the brown aisles under the pines, the music of bleating lambs that had called him not to pass by. Thought of Ellen Jorth recurred.
Ellen Jorth approached her home slowly, with dragging, reluctant steps; and never before in the three unhappy years of her existence there had the ranch seemed so bare, so uncared for, so repugnant to her. As she had seen herself with clarified eyes, so now she saw her home. The cabin that Ellen lived in with her father was a single-room structure with one door and no windows.
For I'd never have let you go off with him .... Yes, you killed him.... You're a Jorth an' I'm an Isbel ... We've blood on our hands both of us I for you an' you for me!" His voice of entreaty and sadness strengthened her and she raised her white face, loosening her clasp to lean back and look up.
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