The Death Shot: A Story Retold

“Simply, that in this whole matter from first to last, I’ve een making mistakes. So many, it’s just possible my courage may be called in question; or; if not that, my ability. Now, do you understand me?”

“Darned ef I do.”

“Well; a man must do something to prove himself worthy of the name; at least one deed during his lifetime. There’s one I’ve got to do – must do it, before I can think of anything else.”

“That is?”

“Kill Richard Darke, As you know, I’ve sworn it, and nothing shall come between me and my oath. No, Sime, not even she who stands yonder; though I can’t tell how it pains me to separate from her, now.”

“Good Lord! that will be a painful partin’! Poor gurl! I reckin her heart’s been nigh broke arready. She hasn’t the peach colour she used to hev. It’s clean faded out o’ her cheeks, an’ what your goin’ to do now aint the way to bring it back agin.”

“I cannot help it, Sime. I hear my mother calling me. Go, now! I wish it; I insist upon it!”

Saying this, he turns towards Helen Armstrong to speak a word, which he knows will be sad as was ever breathed into the ear of woman.

Chapter Sixty Four.

A wild farewell

On Clancy and the hunter becoming engaged in their serious deliberation, the sisters also exchange thoughts that are troubled. The first bright flash of joy at their release from captivity, with Helen’s added gratification, is once more clouded over, as they think of what may have befallen their father. Now, knowing who the miscreants are, their hearts are heavy with apprehension. Jessie may, perhaps, feel it the more, having most cause – for her dread is of a double nature. There is her affianced, as well as her father!

But for Helen there is also another agony in store, soon to be suffered. Little thinks she, as Clancy coming up takes her hand, that the light of gladness, which so suddenly shone into her heart, is to be with like suddenness extinguished; and that he who gave is about to take it away. Gently leading her apart, and leaving Jessie to be comforted by Sime, he says —

“Dearest! we’ve arranged everything for your being taken back to the Mission. The brave backwoodsmen, Woodley and Heywood, will be your escort. Under their protection you’ll have nothing to fear. Either would lay down his life for you or your sister. Nor need you be uneasy about your father. From what this fellow, Bosley, says, the ruffians only meant robbery, and if they have not been resisted it will end in that only. Have courage, and be cheered; you’ll find your father as you left him.”

“And you?” she asks in surprise. “Do you not go with us?”

He hesitates to make answer, fearing the effect. But it must be made; and he at length rejoins, appealingly:

“Helen! I hope you won’t be aggrieved, or blame me for hat I am going to do.”

“What?”

“Leave you.”

“Leave me!” she exclaims, her eyes interrogating his in wild bewilderment.

“Only for a time, love; a very short while.”

“But why any time? Charles; you are surely jesting with me?”

“No, indeed. I am in earnest. Never more in my life, and never more wishing I were not. Alas! it is inevitable!”

“Inevitable! I do not understand. What do you mean?”

With her eyes fixed oh his, in earnest gaze, she anxiously awaits his answer.

“Helen Armstrong!” he says, speaking in a tone of solemnity that sounds strange, almost harsh despite its gentleness; “you are to me the dearest thing on earth. I need not tell you that, for surely you know it. Without you I should not value life, nor care to live one hour longer. To say I love you, with all my heart and soul, were but to repeat the assurance I’ve already given you. Ah! now more than ever, if that were possible; now that I know how true you’ve been, and what you’ve suffered for my sake. But there’s another – one far away from here, who claims a share of my affections – ”

She makes a movement interrupting him, her eyes kindling up with an indescribable light, her bosom rising and falling as though stirred by some terrible emotion.

Perceiving her agitation, though without suspecting its cause, he continues:

“If this night more than ever I love you, this night greater than ever is my affection for her. The sight of that man, with the thought I’ve again permitted him to escape, is fresh cause of reproach – a new cry from the ground, commanding me to avenge my murdered mother.”

Helen Armstrong, relieved, again breathes freely. Strange, but natural; in consonance with human passions. For it was jealousy that for the moment held sway in her thoughts. Ashamed of the suspicion, now known to be unworthy, she makes an effort to conceal it, saying in calm tone —

“We have heard of your mother’s death.”

“Of her murder,” says Clancy, sternly, and through set teeth. “Yes; my poor mother was murdered by the man who has just gone off. He won’t go far, before I overtake him. I’ve sworn over her grave, she shall be avenged; his blood will atone for her’s. I’ve tracked him here, shall track him on; never stop, till I stand over him, as he once stood over me, thinking – . But I won’t tell you more. Enough, for you to know why I’m now leaving you. I must – I must!”

Half distracted, she rejoins: —

“You love your mother’s memory more than you love me!”

Without thought the reproach escapes – wrung from her in her agony. Soon as made, she regrets, and would recall it. For she sees the painful effect it has produced.

He anticipates her, saying: —

“You wrong me, Helen, in word, as in thought. Such could not be. The two are different. You should know that. As I tell you, I’ve sworn to avenge my mother’s death – sworn it over her grave. Is that not an oath to be kept? I ask – I appeal to you!”

Her hand, that has still been keeping hold of his, closes upon it with firmer grasp, while her eyes become fixed upon him in look more relying than ever.

The selfishness of her own passion shrinks before the sacredness of that inspiring him, and quick passes away. With her love is now mingled admiration. Yielding to it, she exclaims:

“Go – go! Get the retribution you seek. Perhaps ’tis right. God shielding you, you’ll succeed, and come back to me, true as you’ve been to your mother. If not, I shall soon be dead.”

“If not, you may know I am. Only death can hinder my return. And now, for a while, farewell!”

Farewell! And so soon. Oh! it is afflicting! So far she has borne herself with the firmness derived from a strong, self-sustaining nature. But hearing this word – wildest of all – she can hold out no longer. Her strength gives way, and flinging herself on his breast, she pours forth a torrent of tears.

“Come, Helen!” he says, kissing them from her cheeks, “be brave, and don’t fear for me. I know my man, and the work cut out for me. By sheer carelessness I’ve twice let him have his triumph over me. But he won’t the third time. When we next meet ’twill be the last hour of his life. Something whispers this – perhaps the spirit of my mother? Keep up your courage, sweet! Go back with Sime, who’ll see you safe into your father’s arms. When there, you can offer up a prayer for my safety, and if you like, one for the salvation of Dick Darke’s soul. For sure as I stand here, ere another sun has set it will go to its God.”

With these solemn words the scene ends, only one other exchanged between them – the wild “Farewell!”

This in haste, for at the moment Woodley comes forward, exclaiming: —

“Be quick, Charley! We must git away from hyar instanter. A minuit more in this gleed, an’ some o’ us may niver leave it alive.”

Jupiter and Harkness have brought up the horses, and are holding them in readiness. Soon they are mounted, Heywood taking Jessie on his croup, Helen having a horse to herself – that late belonging to Bosley – while the latter is compelled to share the saddle with Harkness.

Heywood leads off; the suspected men ordered to keep close after; while Woodley reserves the rear-guard to himself and his rifle. Before parting, he spurs alongside Clancy, and holds out his hand, saying: —

“Gi’e me a squeeze o’ yur claws, Charley. May the Almighty stan’ your frien’ and keep you out o’ Ole Nick’s clutches. Don’t hev’ any dubiousness ’bout us. Tho’ we shed kum across Satan hisself wi’ all his hellniferous host, Sime Woodley ’ll take care o’ them sweet gurls, or go to grass trying.” With this characteristic wind-up, he puts the spur to his horse, and closes upon the rest already parted from the spot.

Alone remain under the live-oak, Clancy and the mulatto, with horse, hound, and mule.

Varied the emotions in Clancy’s mind, as he stands looking after; but all dark as clouds coursing across a winter’s sky. For they are all doubts and fears; that most felt finding expression in the desponding soliloquy.