They sat about the table and listened to Doctor Morgan's remarks and the reading of the important doc.u.ment.

"I have," Doctor Morgan began, "a letter from Mr. Noland written the day before his death, in which he tells me that he has made a will of which I am to be made the sole executor. In that letter he enclosed another sealed one on which he had written instructions that it was not to be opened till after his death. I opened the latter this morning, and in it he states frankly that he has decided to voluntarily leave his slowly dissolving body, and spare further pain to those he loves. Perhaps--perhaps I could have helped him, if I'd known. I can't tell," the old doctor said brokenly. "He asked me to do something for him that I guess I ought to have done, but I thought he was all right as he was, and I wouldn't do it.

However, he asked me as his executor to see to it that every provision of this will, which I have never seen, be carried out to the letter. Hansen, here, is one of the witnesses he tells me, and Hornby is the other. It is unnecessary for me to say that I shall have to carry out these instructions as I have been commanded to do."

Turning to John, he added:

"I hope, Hunter, that there's nothing in this that will work any inconvenience to you, and I hardly think it will."

John Hunter sat through the opening of the envelope and the rapid survey which Doctor Morgan gave its contents before he began to read, stirred by varying emotions. Suspicion crawled through his brain, leaving her slimy trail; why had there been need of secrecy? Why had all these people been told, and he, John Hunter alone, left out? Nathan Hornby and Luther Hansen witnesses! But most of all, as was to be expected, his suspicions were directed toward Elizabeth. She had known--she probably knew from the beginning. She was in the conspiracy. Of the fact of a conspiracy John Hunter felt certain when Doctor Morgan cleared his throat and began to read:

Hunter's Farm, Colebyville, Kansas, August 22, 18--

Know all men by these presents that I, Hugh Noland, being of sound mind and memory, not acting under duress, menace, fraud, or undue influence of any person whatsoever, do make, publish, and declare this my last will and testament.

First, I order and direct that all my just debts be paid by my executor, hereinafter named.

Second, I expressly provide, order, and direct that all my estate, consisting of one half of the lands and chattels of the firm of "Hunter and Noland" shall be settled by my executor, hereinafter named, without the intervention of the courts, and given, whole and entire, to Elizabeth Hunter, and to her heirs and a.s.signs forever, and that the division be a legal division, so arranged that all deeds to the land and all rights to the personal property shall be legally hers.

This I do as an inadequate return for all she has done and tried to do for me.

Lastly, I hereby nominate and appoint George W. Morgan, M. D., sole executor of this my last will and testament, to serve without bonds or the intervention of any court.

In testimony whereof I hereunto set my hand and seal, and publish and declare this my last will and testament, on this twenty-second day of August, in the year of our Lord 18----

Signed, Hugh Noland.

Witnesses: Luther Hansen, Nathan Hornby.

There was a pause. Surprise held every person present, for the witnesses had seen only their signatures up to now, not the will, and Doctor Morgan was no less astonished than the rest. At last he reached his hand across the table to Elizabeth saying:

"It's an instrument that I shall get some pleasure at least from administering, Mrs. Hunter. You deserve it. I'm glad it goes to you. It's like the boy! G.o.d rest his weary soul, and forgive his impatience to be off! we'll miss him," he added brokenly.

Elizabeth sat with her hands clasped on the table in front of her, neither hearing nor seeing more. She was unaware that she was the object of everybody's attention and that all eyes were turned on her. The merely material items contained in that instrument were of little moment to her just then; to every one else, except perhaps Luther, they were all that there was of importance. Sadie Hansen looked at her young neighbour, overcome by the fact that she was to have several thousand dollars all her own; Luther's gray eyes dwelt upon her affectionately, glad that this last evidence of Hugh Noland's sacrifice was hers; Doctor Morgan thought of the power it would give her to control the financial side of her life, and John Hunter was glad that at least the money was to remain in the business, and ready to forget the supposed plot.

Elizabeth was aroused by Doctor Morgan placing a sealed envelope in her hand and saying:

"This seems to be for you, Mrs. Hunter. It was in this big envelope with the will, and I didn't see it till just now."

The girl was so surprised that she turned the envelope over two or three times and read her name carefully to realize that the letter was for her, and from Hugh's own hand. When at last it was clear to her, her face flushed with confusion, and the first tears which had dimmed her eyes since the hour of his death came to her relief. But the tears did not fall. Realizing that the eyes of all present were upon her, she controlled herself, and rising said:

"Excuse me one moment, till I have read it," and pa.s.sed into her own bedroom, where, with the sense of his presence, she clasped it to her tenderly an instant, and still standing, broke the seal.

It was simple, sincere, and so formal that all the world might have read it, and yet, it said all that she would have wanted him to say.

My Dear Elizabeth [it began]: When this reaches your hand, my heart will have ceased to trouble either of us. I will have fought my little fight; I will have kept the faith--which I started out too late to keep. The little I leave you will be small recompense for all I have cost you, but it is all I have, and will, I hope, help toward emanc.i.p.ating you from care. My one earnest bit of advice to you is, _keep it free from debts_.

I wish I might have spared you these last few days and their various burdens, but I am sure they will be less heavy than if I chose to wait.

Hugh.

Elizabeth Hunter returned to the table with the open letter, which she handed to Doctor Morgan saying:

"Read it aloud, Doctor," and stood behind her chair with her head bowed while it was being done.

When it was finished, she looked about her, measuring the different members of the group, wondering if it said the things to them which it cried aloud to her. The survey was satisfactory, till she suddenly realized that John was not there.

"Where's John," she asked.

"Gone out to see Nate Hornby--he's brought the baby," Luther answered.

Doctor Morgan started for home, taking the will with him to have it legally probated, and Elizabeth took Jack from his father's arms, and went back to put away her letter, forgetting that John had not heard it read.

Nathan came to spend the rest of the day. He knew from personal experience the cheerlessness of the house which has but lately harboured the dead.

CHAPTER XXIV

FACING CONSEQUENCES

The next Sunday John was thrown in upon Elizabeth for entertainment. He had been a little more tender with her since the funeral, reflecting that women were easily upset by death and that this death had been particularly tragic in its sadness and disturbing features. He missed Hugh, and an intangible something about the will made him uncomfortable; but they would be rich in time and he could simply oversee the business, and life would be more satisfactory. If he thought of Luther and Nathan as witnesses, the thought was made partially acceptable since they could see that Hugh had placed the property in his, John Hunter's, hands. When the uncomfortable things wormed their way forward and would be considered, he tried to reason them out. Some features of it could be accounted for; for instance, he, John Hunter, had probably not been consulted by Hugh for legal reasons, since the money was to come to them. Hugh must have considered that. But Elizabeth had known! He had forgotten that. Right there John went into a brown study. Had she known before Hugh's death? It was queer, but she never mentioned Hugh these days, nor the will, nor--no, she did not speak of the letter, much less offer to show it to him. Still, the money was theirs. That was the solid rock under John Hunter's feet.

Whatever else happened, the money was theirs. Now he could open out and farm on a scale befitting a man of his parts. They would make something yet. This farming venture had not turned out so badly after all.

A slight rain was falling, the first in two months, two of the most important months in the year; but it was only a drizzle and not enough to benefit the corn, which--even the last planting--was ruined. The heat and drought had forced a premature ripening, and the stubby ears, fully formed, were empty of developing grains, except near the b.u.t.ts. It was discouraging to lose the corn, and John, to take the place of the shortened crop, had had a field plowed and sewed to millet. A promise of rain meant a probable crop of that subst.i.tute for the heavier grain, but it must be rain, not a mere shower. Disappointed at the stingy display of water, John wandered about the house, disturbed by Jack's noise, and irritably uncomfortable.

"Come on in and sit down," he urged when he saw that Elizabeth intended to help Hepsie with the dishes.

"All right. Let the work go, Hepsie, and I'll do it later," Elizabeth said quietly. She dreaded an hour with John when he was in that mood, but there seemed to be no help for it.

The two women cleared the dinner table and righted the dining room before they stopped, then Elizabeth closed the kitchen door and left the dishwashing till she could get away from the conference requested. Hepsie had hurried to get started early for her home and Elizabeth had entered into her plans and offered a.s.sistance.

"Why don't you let Hepsie finish them alone?" John said petulantly.

Elizabeth made no reply, but took Jack on her lap and rocked him to keep herself occupied. There was less opportunity for disagreement if the child were still while his father talked.

"If this rain'd only get busy we'd have a crop of millet yet," John began.

"Corn's going to be mighty high and scarce this fall."

Elizabeth did not reply; something in the air warned her to let John do the talking. She had ceased to enter into conversation with him unless something vital made it necessary to speak. The vital thing was not long in forthcoming. The whimsical weather made him depressed and kept his mind on the gloomy crop outlook.

"Confound this beastly drizzle! If it'd only get down to business and rain we'd pull out yet. There'll be corn to buy for the cattle and the very devil to pay everywhere. I've got to lengthen out the sheds over those feeders--it hurried the cattle to get around them last winter--and here's all these extra expenses lately. There's no way out of it--we've got to put a mortgage on that west eighty. I'll take up the horse note in that case, and Johnson's offering that quarter section so cheap that I think I'll just make the loan big enough to cover the first payment and take it in. We'll never get it as cheap again."

Elizabeth's eyes were wide open now, but she considered a moment before she began to speak.

"We can't do that," she said slowly at last. "We're out of debt, except your personal note for the five hundred and the one for the team. It won't do to mortgage again."

"But we'll have to mortgage, with the crop short, and all those cattle!"

he exclaimed.