“God’s grace and a woman’s mercy.  Bah!  Damn you, Lawler; I’ll make you squirm!”

CHAPTER XXXVII

THE TRAP

For more than a month—­or from a few days following the night on which she had seen her father talking with Dave Singleton—­Ruth Hamlin had been aware that her parent was acting strangely.  There had been an interval—­directly after that night when he had told her about his talk with Lawler, when Lawler had offered to help him to regain his place among men—­that Hamlin had seemed to “go straight,” as he had promised.  During that interval he had taken her into his confidence many times, to discuss with her the new prospects that the future seemed to offer, and to renew his assurances to her.  It had seemed, then, that there was hope for him.

Of late, though, a change had come over him.  He no longer confided in her; his eyes were beginning to take on again the expression of guilt she had seen in them in the old days; his glances at her were no longer direct, but furtive, as though he feared she might learn something of his actions should she meet his gaze.

In the old days Ruth had passively endured the shame that Hamlin’s crimes had brought upon her.  They had been so unexpected that they had stunned her—­they had been so miserably mean that she had not dared to take anyone into her confidence.

However, the days of passive endurance were over.  Lawler knew, and Lawler had helped her father.  And now, she was certain, her father had again fallen.

She steeled herself against pity for him, determined that she would not stand idly by and watch him betray Lawler.  She did not know what she intended to do, or what she could do, to prevent the stealing of the Circle L cattle; but she determined to watch her father, hopeful that she might devise some way to prevent the thefts.

She had passed many sleepless nights, having become aware that her father was habitually absenting himself after nightfall, but she had never been able to catch him in the act of leaving the cabin at those times, though many nights she had purposely stayed awake.

Tonight she had gone to her room, to lie awake on the bed, fully dressed.  She had left the oil-lamp burning, for Hamlin had been sitting at a table reading.  She heard him get up after a while; saw the light flicker and go out; heard her father cross the floor and go to his room.

There was a fire in the kitchen stove, for the weather during the day had been cold, and she could hear the embers crackling for more than an hour after her father went to his room.  After that there followed a brief time when she heard nothing.

She drew a blanket over her, and its welcome warmth brought on a drowsiness to which she almost yielded.  She was sure, however, that she would not go to sleep, and she lay there, comfortably for, it seemed merely a few minutes.  And then a sound assailed her ears and she started up, realizing that she had been asleep.  For a chill had come into the air of the cabin, and she knew the fire had gone out.