11
Following that meeting, with all its power to change and strengthenJoan, there were uneventful days in which she rode the gulch trailsand grew able to stand the jests and glances of the bandit's gang. Shethought she saw and heard everything, yet insulated her true self in acallous and unreceptive aloofness from all that affronted her.
The days were uneventful because, while always looking for Jim Cleve,she never once saw him. Several times she heard his name mentioned. Hewas here and there--at Beard's off in the mountains. But he did not cometo Kells's cabin, which fact, Joan gathered, had made Kells anxious. Hedid not want to lose Cleve. Joan peered from her covert in the evenings,and watched for Jim, and grew weary of the loud talk and laughter, thegambling and smoking and drinking. When there seemed no more chance ofCleve's coming, then Joan went to bed.
On these occasions Joan learned that Kells was passionately keen togamble, that he was a weak hand at cards, an honest gambler, and,strangely enough, a poor loser. Moreover, when he lost he drank heavily,and under the influence of drink he was dangerous. There were quarrelswhen curses rang throughout the cabin, when guns were drawn, butwhatever Kells's weaknesses might be, he was strong and implacable inthe governing of these men.
That night when Gulden strode into the cabin was certainly notuneventful for Joan. Sight of him sent a chill to her marrow while astrange thrill of fire inflamed her. Was that great hulk of a gorillaprowling about to meet Jim Cleve? Joan thought that it might be theworse for him if he were. Then she shuddered a little to think that shehad already been influenced by the wildness around her.
Gulden appeared well and strong, and but for the bandage on his headwould have been as she remembered him. He manifested interest in thegambling of the players by surly grunts. Presently he said something toKells.
"What?" queried the bandit, sharply, wheeling, the better to see Gulden.
The noise subsided. One gamester laughed knowingly.
"Lend me a sack of dust?" asked Gulden.
Kells's face showed amaze and then a sudden brightness.
"What! You want gold from me?"
"Yes. I'll pay it back."
"Gulden, I wasn't doubting that. But does your asking mean you've takenkindly to my proposition?"
"You can take it that way," growled Gulden. "I want gold." "I'm mightyglad, Gulden," replied Kells, and he looked as if he meant it. "I needyou. We ought to get along.... Here."
He handed a small buckskin sack to Gulden. Someone made room for himon the other side of the table, and the game was resumed. It wasinteresting to watch them gamble. Red Pearce had a scale at his end ofthe table, and he was always measuring and weighing out gold-dust. Thevalue of the gold appeared to be fifteen dollars to the ounce, but thereal value of money did not actuate the gamblers. They spilled the duston the table and ground as if it were as common as sand. Still there didnot seem to be any great quantity of gold in sight. Evidently these werenot profitable times for the bandits. More than once Joan heard themspeak of a gold strike as honest people spoke of good fortune. And theserobbers could only have meant that in case of a rich strike there wouldbe gold to steal. Gulden gambled as he did everything else. At firsthe won and then he lost, and then he borrowed more from Kells, towin again. He paid back as he had borrowed and lost and won--withoutfeeling. He had no excitement. Joan's intuition convinced her that ifGulden had any motive at all in gambling it was only an antagonism tomen of his breed. Gambling was a contest, a kind of fight.
Most of the men except Gulden drank heavily that night. There had beenfresh liquor come with the last pack-train. Many of them were drunk whenthe game broke up. Red Pearce and Wood remained behind with Kells afterthe others had gone, and Pearce was clever enough to cheat Kells beforehe left.
"Boss--thet there Red double--crossed you," said Bate Wood.
Kells had lost heavily, and he was under the influence of drink. Hedrove Wood out of the cabin, cursing him sullenly. Then he put in placethe several bars that served as a door of his cabin. After that hewalked unsteadily around, and all about his action and manner that wasnot aimless seemed to be dark and intermittent staring toward Joan'scabin. She felt sickened again with this new aspect of her situation,but she was not in the least afraid of Kells. She watched him till heapproached her door and then she drew back a little. He paused beforethe blanket as if he had been impelled to halt from fear. He seemed tobe groping in thought. Then he cautiously and gradually, by degrees,drew aside the blanket. He could not see Joan in the darkness, but shesaw him plainly. He fumbled at the poles, and, finding that he could notbudge them, he ceased trying. There was nothing forceful or strong abouthim, such as was manifest when he was sober. He stood there a moment,breathing heavily, in a kind of forlorn, undecided way, and then heturned back. Joan heard him snap the lanterns. The lights went out andall grew dark and silent.
Next morning at breakfast he was himself again, and if he had anyknowledge whatever of his actions while he was drunk, he effectuallyconcealed it from Joan.
Later, when Joan went outside to take her usual morning exercise, shewas interested to see a rider tearing up the slope on a foam-fleckedhorse. Men shouted at him from the cabins and then followed withouthats or coats. Bate Wood dropped Joan's saddle and called to Kells. Thebandit came hurriedly out.
"Blicky!" he exclaimed, and then he swore under his breath in elation.
"Shore is Blicky!" said Wood, and his unusually mild eyes snapped with aglint unpleasant for Joan to see.
The arrival of this Blicky appeared to be occasion for excitement andJoan recalled the name as belonging to one of Kells's trusted men. Heswung his leg and leaped from his saddle as the horse plunged to a halt.Blicky was a lean, bronzed young man, scarcely out of his teens, butthere were years of hard life in his face. He slapped the dust in littlepuffs from his gloves. At sight of Kells he threw the gloves aloft andtook no note of them when they fell. "STRIKE!" he called, piercingly.
"No!" ejaculated Kells, intensely.
Bate Wood let out a whoop which was answered by the men hurrying up theslope.
"Been on--for weeks!" panted Blicky. "It's big. Can't tell how big. Mean' Jesse Smith an' Handy Oliver hit a new road--over here fifty milesas a crow flies--a hundred by trail. We was plumb surprised. An' whenwe met pack-trains an' riders an' prairie-schooners an' a stage-coach weknew there was doin's over in the Bear Mountain range. When we cameto the edge of the diggin's an' seen a whalin' big camp--like abeehive--Jesse an' Handy went on to get the lay of the land an' Ihit the trail back to you. I've been a-comin' on an' off since beforesundown yesterday.... Jesse gave one look an' then hollered. He said,'Tell Jack it's big an' he wants to plan big. We'll be back there in aday or so with all details.'"
Joan watched Kells intently while he listened to this breathlessnarrative of a gold strike, and she was repelled by the singular flashof brightness--a radiance--that seemed to be in his eyes and on hisface. He did not say a word, but his men shouted hoarsely around Blicky.He walked a few paces to and fro with hands strongly clenched, his lipsslightly parted, showing teeth close-shut like those of a mastiff.He looked eager, passionate, cunning, hard as steel, and that strangebrightness of elation slowly shaded to a dark, brooding menace. Suddenlyhe wheeled to silence the noisy men.
"Where're Pearce and Gulden? Do they know?" he demanded.
"Reckon no one knows but who's right here," replied Blicky.
"Red an' Gul are sleepin' off last night's luck," said Bate Wood.
"Have any of you seen young Cleve?" Kells went on. His voice rang quickand sharp.
No one spoke, and presently Kells cracked his fist into his open hand.
"Come on. Get the gang together at Beard's.... Boys, the time we've beengambling on has come. Jesse Smith saw '49 and '51. He wouldn't send meword like this--unless there was hell to pay.... Come on!"
He strode off down the slope with the men close around him, and theymet other men on the way, all of whom crowded into the group, jostling,eager, gesticula
ting.
Joan was left alone. She felt considerably perturbed, especially atKells's sharp inquiry for Jim Cleve. Kells might persuade him to jointhat bandit legion. These men made Joan think of wolves, with Kells thekeen and savage leader. No one had given a thought to Blicky's horseand that neglect in border men was a sign of unusual preoccupation. Thehorse was in bad shape. Joan took off his saddle and bridle, and rubbedthe dust-caked lather from his flanks, and led him into the corral. Thenshe fetched a bucket of water and let him drink sparingly, a little at atime.
Joan did not take her ride that morning. Anxious and curious, she waitedfor the return of Kells. But he did not come. All afternoon Joan waitedand watched, and saw no sign of him or any of the other men. She knewKells was forging with red-hot iron and blood that organization whichshe undesignedly had given a name--the Border Legion. It would be aterrible legion, of that she was assured. Kells was the evil genius tocreate an unparalleled scheme of crime; this wild and remote border,with its inaccessible fastness for hiding-places, was the place;all that was wanting was the time, which evidently had arrived. Sheremembered how her uncle had always claimed that the Bear Mountain rangewould see a gold strike which would disrupt the whole West and amaze theworld. And Blicky had said a big strike had been on for weeks. Kells'sprophecy of the wild life Joan would see had not been without warrant.She had already seen enough to whiten her hair, she thought, yet shedivined her experience would shrink in comparison with what was to come.Always she lived in the future. She spent sleeping and waking hoursin dreams, thoughts, actions, broodings, over all of which hung anever-present shadow of suspense. When would she meet Jim Cleve again?When would he recognize her? What would he do? What could she do? WouldKells be a devil or a man at the end? Was there any justification of herhaunting fear of Gulden--of her suspicion that she alone was thecause of his attitude toward Kells--of her horror at the unshakablepresentiment and fancy that he was a gorilla and meant to make off withher? These, and a thousand other fears, some groundless, but many realand present, besieged Joan and left her little peace. What would happennext?
Toward sunset she grew tired of waiting, and hungry, besides, so shewent into the cabin and prepared her own meal. About dark Kells strodein, and it took but a glance for Joan to see that matters had not goneto his liking. The man seemed to be burning inwardly. Sight of Joanabsolutely surprised him. Evidently in the fever of this momentous hourhe had forgotten his prisoner. Then, whatever his obsession, he lookedlike a man whose eyes were gladdened at sight of her and who was sorryto behold her there. He apologized that her supper had not beenprovided for her and explained that he had forgotten. The men had beencrazy--hard to manage--the issue was not yet settled. He spoke gently.Suddenly he had that thoughtful mien which Joan had become used toassociating with weakness in him.
"I wish I hadn't dragged you here," he said, taking her hands. "It's toolate. I CAN'T lose you.... But the--OTHER WAY--isn't too late!"
"What way? What do you mean?" asked Joan.
"Girl, will you ride off with me to-night?" he whispered, hoarsely. "Iswear I'll marry you--and become an honest man. To-morrow will be toolate!... Will you?"
Joan shook her head. She was sorry for him. When he talked like this hewas not Kells, the bandit. She could not resist a strange agitationat the intensity of his emotion. One moment he had entered--a banditleader, planning blood, murder; the next, as his gaze found her, heseemed weakened, broken in the shaking grip of a hopeless love for her.
"Speak, Joan!" he said, with his hands tightening and his brow clouding.
"No, Kells," she replied.
"Why? Because I'm a red-handed bandit?"
"No. Because I--I don't love you."
"But wouldn't you rather be my wife--and have me honest--than becomea slave here, eventually abandoned to--to Gulden and his cave and hisrope?" Kells's voice rose as that other side of him gained dominance.
"Yes, I would.... But I KNOW you'll never harm me--or abandon me to--tothat Gulden."
"HOW do you know?" he cried, with the blood thick at his temples.
"Because you're no beast any more.... And you--you do love me."
Kells thrust her from him so fiercely that she nearly fell.
"I'll get over it.... Then--look out!" he said, with dark bitterness.
With that he waved her back, apparently ordering her to her cabin, andturned to the door, through which the deep voices of men sounded nearerand nearer.
Joan stumbled in the darkness up the rude steps to her room, and, softlyplacing the poles in readiness to close her door, she composed herselfto watch and wait. The keen edge of her nerves, almost amounting topain, told her that this night of such moment for Kells would be one ofsingular strain and significance for her. But why she could not fathom.She felt herself caught by the changing tide of events--a tide that mustsweep her on to flood. Kells had gone outside. The strong, deep voices'grew less distinct. Evidently the men were walking away. In her suspenseJoan was disappointed. Presently, however, they returned; they had beenwalking to and fro. After a few moments Kells entered alone. The cabinwas now so dark that Joan could barely distinguish the bandit. Then helighted the lanterns. He hung up several on the wall and placed two uponthe table. From somewhere among his effects he produced a small book anda pencil; these, with a heavy, gold-mounted gun, he laid on the tablebefore the seat he manifestly meant to occupy. That done, he began aslow pacing up and down the room, his hands behind his back, his headbent in deep and absorbing thought. What a dark, sinister, plottingfigure! Joan had seen many men in different attitudes of thought, buthere was a man whose mind seemed to give forth intangible yet terriblemanifestations of evil. The inside of that gloomy cabin took on anotheraspect; there was a meaning in the saddles and bridles and weapons onthe wall; that book and pencil and gun seemed to contain the dark deedsof wild men; and all about the bandit hovered a power sinister in itsmenace to the unknown and distant toilers for gold.
Kells lifted his head, as if listening, and then the whole manner of theman changed. The burden that weighed upon him was thrown aside. Like ageneral about to inspect a line of soldiers Kells faced the door, keen,stern, commanding. The heavy tread of booted men, the clink of spurs,the low, muffled sound of voices, warned Joan that the gang had arrived.Would Jim Cleve be among them?
Joan wanted a better position in which to watch and listen. She thoughta moment, and then carefully felt her way around to the other side ofthe steps, and here, sitting down with her feet hanging over the drop,she leaned against the wall and through a chink between the logs hada perfect view of the large cabin. The men were filing in silent andintense. Joan counted twenty-seven in all. They appeared to fall intotwo groups, and it was significant that the larger group lined up on theside nearest Kells, and the smaller back of Gulden. He had removed thebandage, and with a raw, red blotch where his right ear had been shotaway, he was hideous. There was some kind of power emanating from him,but it was not that which, was so keenly vital and impelling in Kells.It was brute ferocity, dominating by sheer physical force. In any butmuscular clash between Kells and Gulden the latter must lose. The menback of Gulden were a bearded, check-shirted, heavily armed group, theworst of that bad lot. All the younger, cleaner-cut men like Red Pearceand Frenchy and Beady Jones and Williams and the scout Blicky, wereon the other side. There were two factions here, yet scarcely anantagonism, except possibly in the case of Kells. Joan felt thatthe atmosphere was supercharged with suspense and fatality andpossibility--and anything might happen. To her great joy, Jim Cleve wasnot present.
"Where're Beard and Wood?" queried Kells.
"Workin' over Beard's sick hoss," replied Pearce. "They'll show up byan' by. Anythin' you say goes with them, you know."
"Did you find young Cleve?"
"No. He camps up in the timber somewheres. Reckon he'll be along, too."
Kells sat down at the head of the table, and, taking up the little book,he began to finger it while his pale eyes studied the men before him.
r /> "We shuffled the deck pretty well over at Beard's," he said. "Now forthe deal.... Who wants cards?... I've organized my Border Legion. I'llhave absolute control, whether there're ten men or a hundred. Now, whosenames go down in my book?"
Red Pearce stepped up and labored over the writing of his name. Blicky,Jones, Williams, and others followed suit. They did not speak, buteach shook hands with the leader. Evidently Kells exacted no oath, butaccepted each man's free action and his word of honor. There was thatabout the bandit which made such action as binding as ties of blood. Hedid not want men in his Legion who had not loyalty to him. He seemed thekind of leader to whom men would be true.
"Kells, say them conditions over again," requested one of the men, lesseager to hurry with the matter.
At this juncture Joan was at once thrilled and frightened to see JimCleve enter the cabin. He appeared whiter of face, almost ghastly, andhis piercing eyes swept the room, from Kells to Gulden, from men to men.Then he leaned against the wall, indistinct in the shadow. Kells gave nosign that he had noted the advent of Cleve.
"I'm the leader," replied Kells, deliberately. "I'll make the plans.I'll issue orders. No jobs without my knowledge. Equal shares ingold--man to man.... Your word to stand by me!"
A muttering of approval ran through the listening group.
"Reckon I'll join," said the man who had wished the conditions repeated.With that he advanced to the table and, apparently not being able towrite, he made his mark in the book. Kells wrote the name below.The other men of this contingent one by one complied with Kells'srequirements. This action left Gulden and his group to be dealt with.
"Gulden, are you still on the fence?" demanded Kells, coolly.
The giant strode stolidly forward to the table. As always before toJoan, he seemed to be a ponderous hulk, slow, heavy, plodding, with amind to match.
"Kells, if we can agree I'll join," he said in his sonorous voice.
"You can bet you won't join unless we do agree," snapped Kells."But--see here, Gulden. Let's be friendly. The border is big enough forboth of us. I want you. I need you. Still, if we can't agree, let's notsplit and be enemies. How about it?"
Another muttering among the men attested to the good sense and good willof Kells's suggestion.
"Tell me what you're going to do--how you'll operate," replied Gulden.
Keils had difficulty in restraining his impatience and annoyance.
"What's that to you or any of you?" he queried. "You all know I'm theman to think of things. That's been proved. First it takes brains. I'llfurnish them. Then it takes execution. You and Pearce and the gang willfurnish that. What more do you need to know?"
"How're you going to operate?" persisted Gulden.
Kells threw up both hands as if it was useless to argue or reason withthis desperado.
"All right, I'll tell you," he replied. "Listen.... I can't say whatdefinite plans I'll make till Jesse Smith reports, and then when I geton the diggings. But here's a working basis. Now don't miss a word ofthis, Gulden--nor any of you men. We'll pack our outfits down to thisgold strike. We'll build cabins on the outskirts of the town, and wewon't hang together. The gang will be spread out. Most of you must makea bluff at digging gold. Be like other miners. Get in with cliques andclans. Dig, drink, gamble like the rest of them. Beard will start agambling-place. Red Pearce will find some other kind of work. I'll buyup claims--employ miners to work them. I'll disguise myself and getin with the influential men and have a voice in matters. You'll all bescouts. You'll come to my cabin at night to report. We'll not tackleany little jobs. Miners going out with fifty or a hundred pounds ofgold--the wagons--the stage-coach--these we'll have timed to rights, andwhoever I detail on the job will hold them up. You must all keep sober,if that's possible. You must all absolutely trust to my judgment. Youmust all go masked while on a job. You must never speak a word thatmight direct suspicion to you. In this way we may work all summerwithout detection. The Border Legion will become mysterious and famous.It will appear to be a large number of men, operating all over. Themore secretive we are the more powerful the effect on the diggings. Ingold-camps, when there's a strike, all men are mad. They suspect eachother. They can't organize. We shall have them helpless.... And inshort, if it's as rich a strike as looks due here in these hills, beforewinter we can pack out all the gold our horses can carry."
Kells had begun under restraint, but the sound of his voice, theliberation of his great idea, roused him to a passion. The man radiatedwith passion. This, then, was his dream--the empire he aspired to.
He had a powerful effect upon his listeners, except Gulden; and it wasevident to Joan that the keen bandit was conscious of his influence.Gulden, however, showed nothing that he had not already showed. Hewas always a strange, dominating figure. He contested the relations ofthings. Kells watched him--the men watched him--and Jim Cleve's piercingeyes glittered in the shadow, fixed upon that massive face. ManifestlyGulden meant to speak, but in his slowness there was no laboring, nopause from emotion. He had an idea and it moved like he moved.
"DEAD MEN TELL NO TALES!" The words boomed deep from his cavernouschest, a mutter that was a rumble, with something almost solemn in itsnote and certainly menacing, breathing murder. As Kells had propoundedhis ideas, revealing his power to devise a remarkable scheme andhis passion for gold, so Gulden struck out with the driving inhumanblood-lust that must have been the twist, the knot, the clot in hisbrain. Kells craved notoriety and gold; Gulden craved to kill. In thesilence that followed his speech these wild border ruffians judged him,measured him, understood him, and though some of them grew fartheraloof from him, more of them sensed the safety that hid in his terribleimplication.
But Kells rose against him.
"Gulden, you mean when we steal gold--to leave only dead men behind?" hequeried, with a hiss in his voice.
The giant nodded grimly.
"But only fools kill--unless in self-defense," declared Kells,passionately.
"We'd last longer," replied Gulden, imperturbably.
"No--no. We'd never last so long. Killings rouse a mining-camp after awhile--gold fever or no. That means a vigilante band."
"We can belong to the vigilantes, just as well as to your Legion," saidGulden.
The effect of this was to make Gulden appear less of a fool thanKells supposed him. The ruffians nodded to one another. They stirredrestlessly. They were animated by a strange and provocative influence.Even Red Pearce and the others caught its subtlety. It was evilpredominating in evil hearts. Blood and death loomed like a shadow here.The keen Kells saw the change working toward a transformation and heseemed craftily fighting something within him that opposed this coldruthlessness of his men.
"Gulden, suppose I don't see it your way?" he asked.
"Then I won't join your Legion."
"What WILL you do?"
"I'll take the men who stand by me and go clean up that gold-camp."
From the fleeting expression on Kells's face Joan read that he knewGulden's project would defeat his own and render both enterprises fatal.
"Gulden, I don't want to lose you," he said.
"You won't lose me if you see this thing right," replied Gulden. "You'vegot the brains to direct us. But, Kells, you're losing your nerve....It's this girl you've got here!"
Gulden spoke without rancor or fear or feeling of any kind. He merelyspoke the truth. And it shook Kells with an almost ungovernable fury.
Joan saw the green glare of his eyes--his gray working face--the flutterof his hand. She had an almost superhuman insight into the workings ofhis mind. She knew that then--he was fighting whether or not to killGulden on the spot. And she recognized that this was the time when Kellsmust kill Gulden or from that moment see a gradual diminishing of hispower on the border. But Kells did not recognize that crucial height ofhis career. His struggle with his fury and hate showed that the thinguppermost in his mind was the need of conciliating Gulden and thusregaining a hold over the men.
"Gulden, sup
pose we waive the question till we're on the grounds?" hesuggested.
"Waive nothing. It's one or the other with me," declared Gulden.
"Do you want to be leader of this Border Legion?" went on Kells,deliberately.
"No."
"Then what do you want?"
Gulden appeared at a loss for an instant reply. "I want plenty to do,"he replied, presently. "I want to be in on everything. I want to be freeto kill a man when I like."
"When you like!" retorted Kells, and added a curse. Then as if by magichis dark face cleared and there was infinite depth and craftiness inhim. His opposition, and that hint of hate and loathing which detachedhim from Gulden, faded from his bearing. "Gulden, I'll split thedifference between us. I'll leave you free to do as you like. But allthe others--every man--must take orders from me."
Gulden reached out a huge hand. His instant acceptance evidently amazedKells and the others.
"LET HER RIP!" Gulden exclaimed. He shook Kells's hand and thenlaboriously wrote his name in the little book.
In that moment Gulden stood out alone in the midst of wild abandonedmen. What were Kells and this Legion to him? What was the stealing ofmore or less gold?
"Free to do as you like except fight my men," said Kells. "That'sunderstood."
"If they don't pick a fight with me," added the giant, and he grinned.
One by one his followers went through with the simple observances thatKells's personality made a serious and binding compact.
"Anybody else?" called Kells, glancing round. The somberness was leavinghis face.
"Here's Jim Cleve," said Pearce, pointing toward the wall.
"Hello, youngster! Come here. I'm wanting you bad," said Kells.
Cleve sauntered out of the shadow, and his glittering eyes were fixedon Gulden. There was an instant of waiting. Gulden looked at Cleve. ThenKells quickly strode between them.
"Say, I forgot you fellows had trouble," he said. He attended solelyto Gulden. "You can't renew your quarrel now. Gulden, we've all foughttogether more or less, and then been good friends. I want Cleve to joinus, but not against your ill will. How about it?"
"I've no ill will," replied the giant, and the strangeness of his remarklay in its evident truth. "But I won't stand to lose my other ear!"
Then the ruffians guffawed in hoarse mirth. Gulden, however, did notseem to see any humor in his remark. Kells laughed with the rest. EvenCleve's white face relaxed into a semblance of a smile.
"That's good. We're getting together," declared Kells. Then he facedCleve, all about him expressive of elation, of assurance, of power."Jim, will you draw cards in this deal?"
"What's the deal?" asked Cleve.
Then in swift, eloquent speech Kells launched the idea of his BorderLegion, its advantages to any loose-footed, young outcast, and he endedhis brief talk with much the same argument he had given Joan. Back therein her covert Joan listened and watched, mindful of the great need ofcontrolling her emotions. The instant Jim Cleve had stalked into thelight she had been seized by a spasm of trembling.
"Kells, I don't care two straws one way or another," replied Cleve.
The bandit appeared nonplussed. "You don't care whether you join myLegion or whether you don't?"
"Not a damn," was the indifferent answer.
"Then do me a favor," went on Kells. "Join to please me. We'll be goodfriends. You're in bad out here on the border. You might as well fall inwith us."
"I'd rather go alone."
"But you won't last."
"It's a lot I care."
The bandit studied the reckless, white face. "See here, Cleve--haven'tyou got the nerve to be bad--thoroughly bad?"
Cleve gave a start as if he had been stung. Joan shut her eyes to blotout what she saw in his face. Kells had used part of the very speechwith which she had driven Jim Cleve to his ruin. And those wordsgalvanized him. The fatality of all this! Joan hated herself. Thosevery words of hers would drive this maddened and heartbroken boy to joinKells's band. She knew what to expect from Jim even before she openedher eyes; yet when she did open them it was to see him transformed andblazing.
Then Kells either gave way to leaping passion or simulated it in theinterest of his cunning.
"Cleve, you're going down for a woman?" he queried, with that sharp,mocking ring in his voice.
"If you don't shut up you'll get there first," replied Cleve,menacingly.
"Bah!... Why do you want to throw a gun on me? I'm your friend: You'resick. You're like a poisoned pup. I say if you've got nerve you won'tquit. You'll take a run for your money. You'll see life. You'll fight.You'll win some gold. There are other women. Once I thought I would quitfor a woman. But I didn't. I never found the right one till I had goneto hell--out here on this border.... If you've got nerve, show me. Be aman instead of a crazy youngster. Spit out the poison.... Tell it beforeus all!... Some girl drove you to us?"
"Yes--a girl!" replied Cleve, hoarsely, as if goaded.
"It's too late to go back?"
"Too late!"
"There's nothing left but wild life that makes you forget?"
"Nothing.... Only I--can't forget!" he panted.
Cleve was in a torture of memory, of despair, of weakness. Joan saw howKells worked upon Jim's feelings. He was only a hopeless, passionateboy in the hands of a strong, implacable man. He would be like wax to asculptor's touch. Jim would bend to this bandit's will, and through hisvery tenacity of love and memory be driven farther on the road to drink,to gaming, and to crime.
Joan got to her feet, and with all her woman's soul uplifting andinflaming her she stood ready to meet the moment that portended.
Kells made a gesture of savage violence. "Show your nerve!... Joinwith me!... You'll make a name on this border that the West will neverforget!"
That last hint of desperate fame was the crafty bandit's best trump. Andit won. Cleve swept up a weak and nervous hand to brush the hair fromhis damp brow. The keenness, the fire, the aloofness had departed fromhim. He looked shaken as if by something that had been pointed out ashis own cowardice.
"Sure, Kells," he said, recklessly. "Let me in the game.... And--byGod--I'll play--the hand out!" He reached for the pencil and bent overthe book.
"Wait!... Oh, WAIT!" cried Joan. The passion of that moment, theconsciousness of its fateful portent and her situation, as desperateas Cleve's, gave her voice a singularly high and piercingly sweetintensity. She glided from behind the blanket--out of the shadow--intothe glare of the lanterns--to face Kells and Cleve.
Kells gave one astounded glance at her, and then, divining her purpose,he laughed thrillingly and mockingly, as if the sight of her was a spur,as if her courage was a thing to admire, to permit, and to regret.
"Cleve, my wife, Dandy Dale," he said, suave and cool. "Let her persuadeyou--one way or another!"
The presence of a woman, however disguised, following her singularappeal, transformed Cleve. He stiffened erect and the flush died out ofhis face, leaving it whiter than ever, and the eyes that had grown dullquickened and began to burn. Joan felt her cheeks blanch. She all butfainted under that gaze. But he did not recognize her, though he wasstrangely affected.
"Wait!" she cried again, and she held to that high voice, so differentfrom her natural tone. "I've been listening. I've heard all that's beensaid. Don't join this Border Legion.... You're young--and still, honest.For God's sake--don't go the way of these men! Kells will make you abandit.... Go home--boy--go home!"
"Who are you--to speak to me of honesty--of home?" Cleve demanded.
"I'm only a--a woman.... But I can feel how wrong you are.... Go backto that girl--who--who drove you to the border.... She must repent. Ina day you'll be too late.... Oh, boy, go home! Girls never know theirminds--their hearts. Maybe your girl--loved you!... Oh, maybe her heartis breaking now!"
A strong, muscular ripple went over Cleve, ending in a gesture of fierceprotest. Was it pain her words caused, or disgust that such as she daredmention the girl he had loved? Joa
n could not tell. She only knewthat Cleve was drawn by her presence, fascinated and repelled, subtlyresponding to the spirit of her, doubting what he heard and believingwith his eyes.
"You beg me not to become a bandit?" he asked, slowly, as if revolving astrange idea.
"Oh, I implore you!"
"Why?"
"I told you. Because you're still good at heart. You've only beenwild.... Because--"
"Are you the wife of Kells?" he flashed at her.
A reply seemed slowly wrenched from Joan's reluctant lips. "No!"
The denial left a silence behind it. The truth that all knew when spokenby her was a kind of shock. The ruffians gaped in breathless attention.Kells looked on with a sardonic grin, but he had grown pale. And uponthe face of Cleve shone an immeasurable scorn.
"Not his wife!" exclaimed Cleve, softly.
His tone was unendurable to Joan. She began to shrink. A flame curledwithin her. How he must hate any creature of her sex!
"And you appeal to me!" he went on. Suddenly a weariness came over him.The complexity of women was beyond him. Almost he turned his back uponher. "I reckon such as you can't keep me from Kells--or blood--or hell!"
"Then you're a narrow-souled weakling--born to crime!" she burst out inmagnificent wrath. "For however appearances are against me--I am a goodwoman!"
That stunned him, just as it drew Kells upright, white and watchful.Cleve seemed long in grasping its significance. His face was halfaverted. Then he turned slowly, all strung, and his hands clutchedquiveringly at the air. No man of coolness and judgment would haveaddressed him or moved a step in that strained moment. All expected somesuch action as had marked his encounter with Luce and Gulden.
Then Cleve's gaze in unmistakable meaning swept over Joan's person. Howcould her appearance and her appeal be reconciled? One was a lie! Andhis burning eyes robbed Joan of spirit.
"He forced me to--to wear these," she faltered. "I'm his prisoner. I'mhelpless."
With catlike agility Cleve leaped backward, so that he faced all themen, and when his hands swept to a level they held gleaming guns. Hisutter abandon of daring transfixed these bandits in surprise as much asfear. Kells appeared to take most to himself the menace.
"_I_ CRAWL!" he said, huskily. "She speaks the God's truth.... But youcan't help matters by killing me. Maybe she'd be worse off!"
He expected this wild boy to break loose, yet his wit directed him tospeak the one thing calculated to check Cleve.
"Oh, don't shoot!" moaned Joan.
"You go outside," ordered Cleve. "Get on a horse and lead another nearthe door.... Go! I'll take you away from this."
Both temptation and terror assailed Joan. Surely that venture would meanonly death to Jim and worse for her. She thrilled at the thought--at thepossibility of escape--at the strange front of this erstwhile nervelessboy. But she had not the courage for what seemed only desperate folly.
"I'll stay," she whispered. "You go!"
"Hurry, woman!"
"No! No!"
"Do you want to stay with this bandit?"
"Oh, I must!"
"Then you love him?"
All the fire of Joan's heart flared up to deny the insult and all herwoman's cunning fought to keep back words that inevitably must lead torevelation. She drooped, unable to hold up under her shame, yet strongto let him think vilely of her, for his sake. That way she had a barestchance.
"Get out of my sight!" he ejaculated, thickly. "I'd have fought foryou."
Again that white, weary scorn radiated from him. Joan bit her tongue tokeep from screaming. How could she live under this torment? It was she,Joan Randle, that had earned that scorn, whether he knew her or not. Sheshrank back, step by step, almost dazed, sick with a terrible inward,coldness, blinded by scalding tears. She found her door and stumbled in.
"Kells, I'm what you called me." She heard Cleve's voice, strangely faroff. "There's no excuse... unless I'm not just right in my head aboutwomen.... Overlook my break or don't--as you like. But if you want meI'm ready for your Border Legion!"