An Oregon Girl: A Tale of American Life in the New West

“What is the trouble now, James?” called out Mrs. Harris.

“No time,” was all the satisfaction she got, and the two hastened down to the shingle.

“Dear me! Something serious has happened, I am sure!” and seeing a boy standing irresolute on the walk, addressed him:

“Here boy, do you know what is going on down there?”

“A crazy woman,” the boy answered, drawing near. “She’s wading in the river.”

“Poor thing!” sympathetically exclaimed Mrs. Harris. “What is she wading in the river for? Did you hear her speak?”

“Yes’m, a little; but I was afraid and didn’t stay but a minute. I came up to phone the police.”

“Dear me! What did the poor creature say?”

“She said her baby was drowned. I’m pretty sure she called it Dorothy.”

An agonizing shriek of “Constance!” broke from the three women simultaneously, and horror and consternation was depicted on every countenance.

“Almighty Heaven!” exclaimed Virginia, whose face had blanched at the news. “She has followed me here. I’ll get some wraps, for poor Constance must be chilled through and through,” and with that she hastened into the house.

“Virginia, dear!” Mrs. Harris called after her, “you will find wraps in my room.”

Hazel had already started toward the river, and noting the girl’s impatience, she went on: “Hazel and I will not wait for you.”

As Mrs. Harris followed after Hazel, she kept muttering: “Dear me! What a shock! What a shock to one’s nerves!”

CHAPTER XXII

The officers, with their prisoners, had reached the railway track, and were leisurely walking toward the little station when a commotion in a group of people on the shingle, a couple of hundred yards ahead, attracted their attention. Smith, who had accompanied the officers, started to investigate. He had proceeded but a short distance when his movement was accelerated by seeing Mr. Harris and Sam hastening down the slope toward the little group before mentioned.

Upon arrival at the station, one of the officers, Simms, hurried forward to ascertain the cause of the trouble, for evidently something serious had happened. The two prisoners were thus left, handcuffed, it is true, but under guard of only one officer, whose attention was also attracted by the excitement ahead. The officer gave his prisoners little attention, for he believed they were perfectly secure, as Jack’s right wrist was handcuffed to the officer and Rutley was linked to Jack.

Rutley soon found that he could “slip the bracelet” and, nudging Jack, displayed his free hand. Jack gave him a significant wink, at the same time gently nodded his head for him to “break.” For an instant Rutley was tempted to strike down the unsuspecting officer, and attempt to release Jack, but the chance of detection in the act, and inviting instant pursuit was so great, that he decided to try to escape alone. Silently he stepped apart; farther, then he slipped behind the station.

A swift, noiseless dash to a culvert, through it and up along a small ravine, soon put him out of sight of the officers. His last view of them convinced him that they were still unmindful of his escape.

Arriving at a considerable elevation, to where a clump of brush concealed him from the view of those below, he paused and took a hasty glance around. The sweep of the slope was too clear and unobstructed for any possibility of escape to the woods that covered the hill a couple of hundred yards distant, without him being seen. His determination was daring and instant.

He would enter “Rosemont house,” seek a hiding place, secure some sort of disguise, and in the night effect his escape.

Following the depression he soon appeared on a level with the house. Taking advantage of such cover as was afforded by shrubbery and hedges, and cowering close to earth, he quickly traversed the space that had separated him from the house. Throwing himself prostrate among some ivy that grew in thick profusion along the basement of the south side as a protection from the Winter rain, he lay there effectually concealed and listened with tense nerves for sounds of pursuit.

The silence was unbroken save for the spasmodic whirr of a lawn mower on a distant part of the grounds. Having recovered his wind, he looked up. Above him was an open window, but screened. If he could enter by that window he might gain the loft without discovery, and once there he felt satisfied that a good hiding place could be found. The front entrance would be easier, but the risk of being seen crossing the piazza was too great. He decided to try the window. Arising from his concealment, and refreshed by his short rest, enthusiasm bounded through his veins.

“I will get away yet,” he muttered between his clenched teeth. “I saw the women following Harris down to the shore and the house must be deserted by all save the servants, and they are likely in the kitchen.”

Another swift glance at the window, and mentally estimating its height from the ground, he felt certain that an entrance through it was practicable. There was no time to be lost.

The “water table” afforded a footing, and by the aid of an iron trellis erected to support a climbing vine, he reached the window. There an obstacle was encountered. He tried to raise the screen, but it would not budge. In his exasperation he nearly tore his finger nails off trying to raise it from the bottom. Realizing that he was becoming excited he at once forced a calmness which he deemed highly essential, if he was to succeed. Every moment, too, was fraught with danger of discovery.

Pushing his hand against one side of the screen edgewise in an attempt to loosen it, the thing suddenly fell in. The thick carpet smothered the noise. He had unwittingly pressed against the edge that inclosed the springs, and in so doing released the other edge of the screen from the groove. Noiselessly he sprang inside. It was the library. He turned and cautiously scanned the hillside. No persons were in sight. Then he quietly replaced the screen.

His daring coolness and nerve were now under full control. He stole out of the room, into the hall, with every sense alert to avoid discovery. His goal was the attic. He knew that the only way to reach it was by the service stairs, which he could use from the second floor. Before him was the main stairs. Without a moment of hesitation he leaped up the soft, thick, velvet-covered steps, his footfalls as silent as the tread of a cat.

A door was ajar on his left; he cautiously pushed it open and entered. He saw at once that it was Sam’s room. He glanced about, then opened a dresser drawer. “Ha, a revolver!” It was the work of a moment to examine the magazine.

“Empty!” he exclaimed, with disgust, and was about to replace it when, on second thought: “It may do for a bluff.” Another hasty look and he picked up a hunting knife, which he also appropriated. A slight noise at that moment startled him and caused him to look around alarmed. He slipped behind a door for concealment. After a moment of tense suspense, and the quietness continuing unbroken, he stole out of the room.

So far everything was in his favor. Further along two doors, a few feet apart, were open. He had passed one on his way to the attic stair, when, of a sudden, he heard a slight sound, as of a person moving lightly in the room. He instantly turned aside and passed through the second open doorway. Virginia stood before him. She was at that moment hastening from the room, absorbed in thoughts of Constance.

With a stifled, painful cry of “Oh!” she shrank from him in a vague terror. Her face paled and her eyes expanded in manifest fright. Speech deserted her. The power of motion fled and the shawl intended for Constance fell from her arm. She appeared paralyzed.

Rutley softly closed the door behind him and locked it and put the key in his pocket. The dressing room door received the same attention. Then he turned to her. He was surprised to meet her, but observing the terror his presence inspired, he at once determined to force her to aid him to escape. He misjudged her character. For one moment he stood silently watching her. All the sharp intensity of his gaze concentrated on her frightened eyes; then he laughed low and gloatingly – “Ha, ha, ha. The girl that took on cold feet and betrayed her pal! I meant to say ‘colleague,’” he corrected, with a sneer of apology. The smirk of his offensive stare and more offensive words irritated. She began to recover from her sudden fright and became immediately aware that her present situation required not only coolness but the most adroit handling. She accordingly nerved herself for the encounter.

Again he leered at her, and continued in the same soft, guarded, but suave voice: “To be caught alone and in a trap with her intended victim is one of the dispensations of an inscrutable and just Providence.”

Virginia was regaining her self-possession every moment now. Courage was surging through her nerves in increasing power. Her eyes commenced to blaze.

“Your effrontery is offensive. Your meaning an enigma!” she indignantly replied.

“Indeed! Then I’ll make it plain,” he hissed. “I want you to cover my flight for liberty.

“You see I have escaped,” he went on rapidly. “The officers are baffled – my trail so far is undiscovered.”

“You mistake!” she corrected, with surprising coolness and decision. “By the dispensation of an inscrutable, but just Providence, the blackguard’s trail is blazed – the trap is sprung and you cannot escape!”

Rutley’s eyes snapped fire. He saw that a policy of sneering and bullying persuasion to aid him would fail ignominiously. He must use force. His aspect became black and threatening.

“Damn you!” he hissed. “See here, moments are precious. The game too desperate. Beware! You must find a place of concealment for me. The loft has storerooms. Come, and in the darkness of tonight you must aid me to clear from the premises.”

“Never!” she resolutely exclaimed, her eyes ablaze with indignation.

“Soft! Not so loud, my fair partner,” Rutley cautioned. “You led me into this scrape. You must help me out of it.”

“Let me pass!” And she motioned for him to stand aside.

He did not move.

“Do you deny me?” she said, sternly.

“Not so fast, my dear. I intend to keep you near me, as a hostage for my escape. No harm shall befall you if you are tractable,” he went on. “And I again warn you that you must speak guardedly and softly or I shall be compelled to gag you and bind you and carry you to a place of concealment. Oh, I’ll see to it that you shall not have the satisfaction of betraying my hiding place.”

“Incarnate monster; dare you imprison me?”

“Only for a few hours, until the dead of night blackens all objects alike – then I shall go forth, leaving a note to announce your hiding place. Do you prefer to be hidden in a trunk, or shall it be among the old rummage in the loft?” Though his manner of address was faultlessly polite, his face was as colorless and impassive as marble, and his voice low, calculating and cold.

Virginia paled as she took in the meaning of this purpose, and her voice quivered with a note of fear, as drawing her slender form erect in semblance of defiance she said: “Would you strike down a defenseless girl?”

“I am troubled with no qualms of conscience when dealing with an enemy, be that enemy man, woman or a scorpion. Come! We have wasted too much time already.”

He stepped lightly toward her.

Virginia anticipated his move and placed the table between them. Many small articles incident to a lady’s toilet were on the table. Rutley perceived that should the table be upset in a scuffle, he could not hope for time to gather up and rearrange the toilet articles, and then the spilt powders and perfumes on the carpet would surely indicate a struggle having occurred in the room.

Virginia was also alert to the importance of the table in the situation. Her fine instinct of the purport of his thoughts quickened her measure of defense. She grasped the edge of the table with both her hands. Rutley saw her purpose, drew back and side-stepped. Virginia also side-stepped, but kept close to the table and directly opposite him. She realized that the danger of her position was very great.

In the cabin she had been armed and prepared for an extreme emergency. Now she was without defensive weapons of any kind save her native wit, her courage and the table to which she clung.

Never taking his eyes from her, Rutley stood for a moment, indecisive and silent. Yet his mind was working furiously.

“A woman stands in my way,” he inaudibly muttered with clinched teeth. “Time is pressing. I will force her into submission!”

The intense strain on his nerves drew a cold dew of perspiration that glistened on his brow. Slowly he drew the revolver from his pocket. Slowly he raised it and pointed it at her, then hissed, as he glared at her: “Remove your hands from the table and assist me to escape.”

Virginia again drew herself erect, her eyes sparkling with defiance and her face aglow with courage.

“I know my death would only add one more crime to your record,” she said, with a faint quiver in her soft voice, and after a slight pause, she went on more steadily: “But you dare not shoot and your threats are vain.”

As he gazed on her slight form drawn erect; those pure, brave, steadfast, blue eyes; those features, delicate and tense with a sense of the danger of her position, she affected him strongly; thrilled him with an admiration which, with all his virile power and hardened senses, he could not mask. “You are daring a desperate man,” he resumed. “One who means to halt at no crime to secure his flight to liberty.”

The softened expression of his features, softened in spite of himself, led Virginia to think that his words were not meant to be taken too seriously, and so hope and fear alternated with amazing swiftness on her expressive face, which at last settled into a look of credulity and prompted her to hazard a smile at his threat.

“Beware!” he hissed, struggling to appear fierce. “Do not mistake me!”

“Oh, no; I do not mistake you,” she replied, again smiling faintly, “for I know you are too much of a man to redden your hands with the life of a puny, defenseless girl.”

The artless play of her features to entice him from his desperate purpose was exquisite, and not without temporary success.

“Her witchery is unnerving me,” he silently muttered, as he felt his will-power was dominant no longer.

As their eyes remained fastened on each other he felt an awe seize him, and he for the moment forgot his design. He drew back and said, almost submissively: “God, you are brave, and beautiful as brave. I can’t harm you.” And he slowly lowered the revolver.

Even then a sudden recovery from his weakness developed a new plan of attack. Virginia’s unerring instinct, however, warned her to mistrust his flattering declaration. “It’s a subterfuge,” she thought, “cunningly devised to draw me away from the table.” She remained silent, but more watchful, if possible, than before.

On abandoning a bullying policy, Rutley had moved step by step toward the table opposite to Virginia, and finally placed his left hand on it. His assumed admiration was well sustained and his changed line of persuasion, though its sincerity she doubted, promised in the end success.

“The wrongs I have done,” he continued, “had better not have been done, I acknowledge, but they are mended. Worse might have been. Our meeting in this room was accidental. My presence in this house is known only to you. Will you aid me to escape?”

“Aid you to escape!” she repeated, in tones that had lost their agitation, and which now seemed natural and only to carry a note of indignation. “You, the man who nearly wrecked my brother’s home, betrayed his trust and would have robbed him of his life. You, the man who kidnapped his child, caused his wife to lose her reason, and whose death may yet add murder to your other crimes – dare ask me to help you escape?”

“Yes,” he slowly replied. And feeling that his hand rested firmly on the table, he began cautiously to lean forward, meanwhile saying in a soft, insinuating voice: “I dare ask you to help me escape, for I mistake if in a nature where such courage and gentleness exist there beats a heart irresponsive to the cry of distress.

“I am down, and standing on the threshold of a long term of imprisonment. Again I appeal to you and offer this weapon as a pledge of good faith,” and he laid the revolver on the table.

The tension on Virginia’s nerves relaxed, her voice became steadier, calmer and more natural. “Why did you vilify the character of Constance, a frail, innocent woman, whose piety and goodness made her incapable of doing you harm by thought, word or deed?”

“Revenge on Thorpe,” he replied, “for closing my office.”

As the words slowly issued from between his lips, his weight on the table increased – he felt his control of it was now sure.

Virginia’s eyes searched him thoroughly, and aside from the fact that flattery was distasteful to her, his cold, calculating, unemotional eyes glittering with a sinister purpose, startled her and confirmed her impression of his insincerity.

To maintain a safe distance, but still clinging to the table, she instinctively drew backward, suspicious of some sudden movement, but she made no effort to secure the revolver. Rutley noticed the change and coolly pressed forward.

Virginia drew further backward. She saw through his artifice and once more began to fear him. The strain on her nerves was becoming severe and her countenance warmed with contending emotions. He had pleaded for aid to escape and expressed himself as sorry for his misdeeds. Yet she believed his protestations were not sincere.

Nevertheless, considering how much she was in his power, the great scandal his testimony in court would create, the complete undoing of all his wicked schemes, and the possibility of him leading a better life, was fast weighing in his favor, besides only brute revenge would be gratified by his long imprisonment, and his punishment, therefore, only an empty satisfaction.

Rutley read her thoughts and a cunning smile played about his mouth. He never really intended to trust his liberty in her keeping, and since she was the only person with actual knowledge of his whereabouts, he did not propose to jeopardize his chance of escape by allowing her freedom. For his own safety, he was bound to conceal her as well as himself, at least until darkness set in. His humble appeal was but a ruse to gain her sympathy, and his simulated penitence for his wickedness was an artifice, but it succeeded in touching the tender cords of the girl’s heart.

Her vigilance abated. Her hand slipped from the table. She straightened up and cast her eyes to the floor, as one often does when mentally absorbed in weighing the potency of some great question. The moment he had maneuvered for, and waited for, and watched for, had arrived.

The spring of a cat upon an unsuspecting mouse could not have been swifter, more sudden or unerring. The cloven hoof was revealed. Before she had time to even guess at his purpose, his hand was upon her mouth, while his other arm was thrown around her form, binding her arms to her sides. He forced her into a wicker chair that stood conveniently near and held her down sideways with the aid of his knee.

This method permitted him to withdraw his arm from around her form and to snatch a doily from the table which he quickly wadded and forced into her mouth, gagging her effectively. Then his eyes swept the room for something that would serve as a cord to bind her.

On the floor, distant a couple of yards, lay the shawl that Virginia had let fall from her nerveless arm when Rutley entered the room. He wriggled the chair toward it, and by extending his foot drew the shawl to his grasp.

It was a summer shawl, of generous proportions. The fabric was silk-wool mixture, of fine network weave, and consequently light and strong. Twisting it into a rope he bound her arms and limbs, meantime saying in a low, guarded voice, and with the utmost sauvity and coolness:

“I’ll not be ruder or rougher than is necessary, my beauty. There! Now you are secure. I could even kiss those red, ripe cherry lips without fear of protest, but I’ll not contaminate them by contact with those of a blackguard. No, no! Don’t thank me for that, honey dear, for I’m content to witness your mute appreciation of my motive.”

After he had bound her, he drew back a pace or two and critically surveyed his work.

“You must pardon me, dear heart, for deeming it prudent to make that gag a little more secure,” and taking a handkerchief from his pocket he bound it over her mouth, knotting the ends at the back of her head. “Rest assured, brave little girl,” he resumed, in that same low, hissing voice, “I’m not a sneak thief, a burglar or a rake, though I do aspire to membership in that proud and great American order ‘The Honorable Grafter’.”

Having completed gagging her, he stood off a pace and chuckled. “There, I think that will do!”

In the silence that followed Rutley was startled to hear a low, cautious voice on the lawn below say: “He is either in the house or up there in the timber.”

“They’ve tracked me here,” Rutley viciously hissed, his manner changed to intense alertness. He grasped the revolver and went on, “While I have been dallying with you, precious time was lost, damn you! I’ll see that you don’t stand between me and liberty again!”

Virginia was again terrified and helpless at a moment when aid of the most determined and daring character was within call.

Then a second voice said: “The officers do be kapin’ a lookout down be the river, and if he’s in the water, sure they’ll nab him. D’yees think he’d likely be up on the hill top in the brush?”

“I cannot say,” replied the first voice, “but it looks to me as though he could not have crossed that open space unseen.”

Both of the men had spoken in low and serious tones and were recognized by the intent listeners in the room above as Sam and Smith.

They were evidently baffled and in a quandary as to the direction Rutley had taken after escape from the officer, and approached the house to warn the servants of Rutley’s escape.

“Maybees,” resumed Smith in the same low, cautious voice, “he whint up the hill be way ave the ravine, over beyant there.”

Sam made no reply. He had caught sight of the profile of Virginia’s face. Her eyes, terrified and tensely drawn, were askance and looking in his direction. The handkerchief over her mouth he first mistook as an evidence of physical suffering. He stepped back a pace, thinking to obtain a better view. He was disappointed.

What he had seen was a reflection of her face in the “dresser mirror,” that by some strange chance had been adjusted at an angle which deflected objects downward.

He had aimlessly halted at a point directly in line of the reflection cast by the mirror over the casement, and upon looking up saw through the screened window the reflection.

Those terrified eyes he had seen, suddenly set him in a ferment. “Probably – by God!” he muttered under his breath.

“Phwat be yees lookin’ at? Sure, I can say nothin’,” exclaimed Smith.

“I’ll just step in the house and ’phone for a sheriff’s posse to search the timber, and prevent his escape from the hill. You wait near-by for me.”

Sam had spoken loud as a ruse to deceive Rutley, for he felt morally certain that the cause of that frightened look in Virginia’s eyes was the presence of the man he was after.

“Sure, I will that, and kape me eyes on the ravine, too.”

As Sam started for the front door, Smith stalked about, with a stick in his hand, warily glancing from side to side and ready to fight on the instant.

Rutley prepared for a struggle, for he believed that Sam would ramble through the house. “Virginia must be concealed, but where?” He could not carry her to the attic, for Sam might meet him with her in his arms. “Ah, the closet!”

Thrusting the revolver in his pocket, he swiftly opened the door. Then he placed a chair within for her comfort, and without further hesitation gathered her in his arms and carried her to the closet. After seating her on the chair, and while drawing some of Mrs. Harris’ skirts about her, he said to her in a low voice: “After I dispose of that meddlesome fool, I’ll carry you to the loft and doubtless we’ll find room in one of the large trunks stored there to conceal you; and I warn you, on peril of your life, to sit still!”

He then cautiously closed the door.

His next step was to remove the revolver from his pocket and carefully examine it. “It’s a desperate bluff, but I’ll try it.”

There were two doors to the room other than the door of the closet; one opened into the hall, the other into a large bathroom and through to the bedroom beyond. He took the keys from his pocket and unlocked both doors, which he had fastened on meeting Virginia, and then placed the large cane arm chair, which he piled with cushions, to the right side of the table and a few feet from the hall door.

His movements were swift, silent and deliberate. Down behind the back of the chair he crouched and watched both doors with tigerish steadiness. He had barely taken his position when footsteps were heard in the hall. They passed the door, then returned, halted, and the next instant low taps sounded on the door.

Simultaneously the closet door back of Rutley cautiously opened and Virginia stepped forth gagless and free. She had been more frightened than hurt or helpless, and had not discovered it until imprisoned in the closet. Left to herself, she immediately struggled to free her limbs from bondage. One foot was unexpectedly loosed and then the other. Her hands quickly followed, and the twisted shawl fell to the floor.

Rutley had depended partly on her fear of him to remain passive, for the shawl was not long enough to permit her limbs being bound together and securely tied with a knot. Having freed her hands, it was the work of a moment to remove the gag from her mouth.

She stood motionless and silent save for the palpitation of her heart, which seemed thunderous in its beat. Rutley had not heard her, his attention being wholly absorbed by the sounds in the hall, and being back of him, she had time to quiet her agitation and analyze the situation.

Again low raps sounded on the door.

“What shall I do?” she inaudibly muttered, “for to aid me Sam will walk in to his death. Oh, heaven inspire me!”

As the hall door slowly opened, she tried in her agony to shriek a warning, but not a sound escaped her lips. Terror and apprehension had for the moment bereft her of voice.

Suddenly, like a divine flash, she remembered Jack Shore’s blanket device in the cabin at Ross Island. She turned half around, silently stooped and picked up the shawl from the closet floor. She was very nervous and her agitation caused a trifling delay, which to her appeared hours, in untwisting the wrap and spreading it out, suspended on her two hands before her.

Sam cautiously appeared around the door. He was keenly alert, for he fully expected an encounter with Rutley, being quite satisfied that no other person would dare to gag Virginia, but when in that swift glance he saw her only in the room, and she with the gag removed and fingering a shawl, his surprise was so great that he forgot his caution. He pushed the door open wider and entered the room. His lips parted to speak.

That instant Rutley said sharply, “Hands up!”

Sam’s hands went up, and he looked into the muzzle of a revolver, pointed at him from behind the chair.

Rutley stood up. At almost the same moment Virginia swiftly approached from behind and threw the net over his head, and shrieked, “Help! Help!”

In the furiousness of his rage to throw off the shawl, Rutley’s hands became entangled in the net, and he shouted, “Oh, hell!”

Sam sprang upon him and wrenched the revolver from his hand. Then, as he leaped back a couple of paces, said to Rutley: “Hands up! It’s my turn now, old chappie!”

Rutley paid no heed to the command and at last cleared from the net with a snarl.

“He, he, he – a devil is toothless when hell is without fire!” Then with a fiendish leer, drew the knife from his breast pocket. “Damn you!” said he, crouching for a spring on Sam, “you’ve crossed my path once too often!”

Swiftly Sam looked at the revolver and exclaimed with deep chagrin, “Empty!” He, however, gripped it by the muzzle and prepared for the encounter.

The men slowly circled each other for an opening. Suddenly they clinched, and in the struggle Sam was fortunate to seize Rutley’s knife hand.

It was then that Virginia again proved her great courage and resourcefulness. Watching her chance, she hooked her left forearm under Rutley’s chin about his throat, and simultaneously pressing her little right clenched fist against the small of his back, pulled his head backward, and screamed, “Help! Help!” [The act is a form of garrotte used in asylums and when resolutely applied quickly reduces the most powerful and refractory subject to submission.]

The suddenness of the attack and from such an unexpected quarter, accompanied by the choking pressure on his throat, caused Rutley to loosen his grip on the knife, which fell to the floor, and he exclaimed with a gurgling sound, “Oh, God!”

Sam instantly locked his arms around his body.

Rutley was powerless. His arms were firmly bound to his sides in a grip of iron. Meantime Smith stalked back and forth looking for trouble. He had arrived in front of the main entrance when the cry of “Help, help!” broke upon the still air. It proceeded from the second story of the house, and he at once recognized it as the voice of Virginia.

“By hivvins, the girl do be in throuble!” he muttered anxiously. “Ave it do be the blackguard we be lookin’ for – sure!” And without further hesitation, Smith rushed up the steps and into the house.

Again the cry of “Help!” rang out.

“I’ll help ye, darlint, be me soul, I will that. Hould him for wan minnit, and I’ll attind to him. Oh, the skulkin’ blackguard! ’E do be a bad divil, so ’e do. Just lave him to me, darlint; lave him to me, and I’ll settle his nerves wid this bit of fir.”