"No!" ordered his father, positively, and with dark face flaming.
"Guy an' Jacobs are dead. We cain't help them now."
"But, dad--" pleaded Jean. He had been wrought to a pitch by Esther's blaze of passion, by the agony in the face of the other woman.
"I tell y'u no!" thundered Gaston Isbel, flinging his arms wide.
"I WILL GO!" cried Esther, her voice ringing.
"You won't go alone!" instantly answered the wife of Jacobs, repeating unconsciously the words her husband had spoken.
"You stay right heah," shouted Gaston Isbel, hoarsely.
"I'm goin'," replied Esther. "You've no hold over me. My husband is dead. No one can stop me. I'm goin' out there to drive those hogs away an' bury him."
"Esther, for Heaven's sake, listen," replied Isbel. "If y'u show yourself outside, Jorth an' his gang will kin y'u."
"They may be mean, but no white men could be so low as that."
Then they pleaded with her to give up her purpose. But in vain!
She pushed them back and ran out through the kitchen with Jacobs's wife following her. Jean turned to the window in time to see both women run out into the lane. Jean looked fearfully, and listened for shots. But only a loud, "Haw! Haw!" came from the watchers outside. That coarse laugh relieved the tension in Jean's breast.
Possibly the Jorths were not as black as his father painted them.
The two women entered an open shed and came forth with a shovel and spade.
"Shore they've got to hurry," burst out Gaston Isbel.
Shifting his gaze, Jean understood the import of his father's speech.
The leader of the hogs had no doubt scented the bodies. Suddenly he espied them and broke into a trot.
"Run, Esther, run!" yelled Jean, with all his might.
That urged the women to flight. Jean began to shoot. The hog reached the body of Guy. Jean's shots did not reach nor frighten the beast.
All the hogs now had caught a scent and went ambling toward their leader. Esther and her companion passed swiftly out of sight behind a corral. Loud and piercingly, with some awful note, rang out their screams. The hogs appeared frightened. The leader lifted his long snout, looked, and turned away. The others had halted. Then they, too, wheeled and ran off.
All was silent then in the cabin and also outside wherever the Jorth faction lay concealed. All eyes manifestly were fixed upon the brave wives. They spaded up the sod and dug a grave for Guy Isbel. For a shroud Esther wrapped him in her shawl. Then they buried him. Next they hurried to the side of Jacobs, who lay some yards away. They dug a grave for him. Mrs. Jacobs took off her outer skirt to wrap round him. Then the two women labored hard to lift him and lower him.
Jacobs was a heavy man. When he had been covered his widow knelt beside his grave. Esther went back to the other. But she remained standing and did not look as if she prayed. Her aspect was tragic--that of a woman who had lost father, mother, sisters, brother, and now her husband, in this bloody Arizona land.
The deed and the demeanor of these wives of the murdered men surely must have shamed Jorth and his followers. They did not fire a shot during the ordeal nor give any sign of their presence.
Inside the cabin all were silent, too. Jean's eyes blurred so that he continually had to wipe them. Old Isbel made no effort to hide his tears. Blaisdell nodded his shaggy head and swallowed hard. The women sat staring into space. The children, in round-eyed dismay, gazed from one to the other of their elders.
"Wal, they're comin' back," declared Isbel, in immense relief.
"An' so help me--Jorth let them bury their daid!"
The fact seemed to have been monstrously strange to Gaston Isbel.
When the women entered the old man said, brokenly: "I'm shore glad.
. . . An' I reckon I was wrong to oppose you . . . an' wrong to say what I did aboot Jorth."
No one had any chance to reply to Isbel, for the Jorth gang, as if to make up for lost time and surcharged feelings of shame, renewed the attack with such a persistent and furious volleying that the defenders did not risk a return shot. They all had to lie flat next to the lowest log in order to keep from being hit. Bullets rained in through the window. And all the clay between the logs low down was shot away. This fusillade lasted for more than an hour, then gradually the fire diminished on one side and then on the other until it became desultory and finally ceased.
"Ahuh! Shore they've shot their bolt," declared Gaston Isbel.
"Wal, I doon't know aboot that," returned Blaisdell, "but they've shot a hell of a lot of shells."
"Listen," suddenly called Jean. "Somebody's yellin'."
"Hey, Isbel!" came in loud, hoarse voice. "Let your women fight for you."
Gaston Isbel sat up with a start and his face turned livid. Jean needed no more to prove that the derisive voice from outside had belonged to Jorth. The old rancher lunged up to his full height and with reckless disregard of life he rushed to the window.
"Jorth," he roared, "I dare you to meet me--man to man!"
This elicited no answer. Jean dragged his father away from the window.
After that a waiting silence ensued, gradually less fraught with suspense. Blaisdell started conversation by saying he believed the fight was over for that particular time. No one disputed him.
Evidently Gaston Isbel was loath to believe it. Jean, however, watching at the back of the kitchen, eventually discovered that the Jorth gang had lifted the siege. Jean saw them congregate at the edge of the brush, somewhat lower down than they had been the day before.
A team of mules, drawing a wagon, appeared on the road, and turned toward the slope. Saddled horses were led down out of the junipers.
Jean saw bodies, evidently of dead men, lifted into the wagon, to be hauled away toward the village. Seven mounted men, leading four riderless horses, rode out into the valley and followed the wagon.
"Dad, they've gone," declared Jean. "We had the best of this fight.
. . . If only Guy an' Jacobs had listened!"
