For a moment I hesitated. How could I go down and face that stricken old creature to whom life had just given this final turn of its relentless screw? Then, very slowly, I descended the ladder, my back to the room, afraid to move my eyes for fear of the scene they might rest upon. It was not until I stood on the cabin floor that I dared to look around me.
The living-room was swept and in perfect order. The last reflection of the setting sun lay in a brilliant line across its immaculate floor. The door was open, affording a view of the long trail, along which the horsemen could be seen, riding slowly in single file. The kettle hung on the crane, the table was set for supper, and in the center of this peaceful scene my hostess sat alone, knitting a blue yarn sock.
Slowly she looked up at me. "Ef yo' slep' well," she said, quietly, "mou't be yer ready t' eat?"
She rose, laid down the blue sock, and began to move about the room. Speechless, I stared at her. I had thought the night before that, coming from her, no evidence of self-control could surprise me. But this uncanny poise filled me with a sort of awe. I dared not even ask a question. She had erected between us the barrier of her primitive dignity, her terrible courage. I could no more pass it than I could have broken through the thick walls of her cabin.
She placed the chair at the table, and in silence I sat down. She poured tea for me, and cut a wedge of corn bread, but I could not eat. After a few moments I gave up the effort, rose, and took my hat from the nail on which it hung. She watched me as I drew on my gloves. The action seemed to recall something to her.
"Shep," she said, casually, "he had t' borry yo' critter. Ye'll git it back soon's he kin send it."
"Oh!" I exclaimed, startled. "But--but was he able to ride--with his wound?"
She looked at me, her eyes showing the scorn of the primitive woman for such softness. "Lordy! Hawseback's same's a cradle to Shep," she muttered.
"They rode very slowly," I said. "I hope it won't hurt him. Good-by," and I held out my hand. "I'll walk to Clapham's. I know the way."
She put her hand in mine. In her eyes danced a sudden light, half mocking, half ecstatic. "Shep, he got off 'bout sun-up," she drawled. "Fo'ty mile along he wuz 'fo' ever sheriff come a-nigh this place!"