CHAPTER VIII
What a contrast, Duane thought, the evening of that day presented to thestate of his soul!
The sunset lingered in golden glory over the distant Mexican mountains;twilight came slowly; a faint breeze blew from the river cool and sweet;the late cooing of a dove and the tinkle of a cowbell were the onlysounds; a serene and tranquil peace lay over the valley.
Inside Duane's body there was strife. This third facing of a desperateman had thrown him off his balance. It had not been fatal, but itthreatened so much. The better side of his nature seemed to urge himto die rather than to go on fighting or opposing ignorant, unfortunate,savage men. But the perversity of him was so great that it dwarfedreason, conscience. He could not resist it. He felt something dying inhim. He suffered. Hope seemed far away. Despair had seized upon him andwas driving him into a reckless mood when he thought of Jennie.
He had forgotten her. He had forgotten that he had promised to save her.He had forgotten that he meant to snuff out as many lives as might standbetween her and freedom. The very remembrance sheered off his morbidintrospection. She made a difference. How strange for him to realizethat! He felt grateful to her. He had been forced into outlawry; she hadbeen stolen from her people and carried into captivity. They had met inthe river fastness, he to instil hope into her despairing life, she tobe the means, perhaps, of keeping him from sinking to the level of hercaptors. He became conscious of a strong and beating desire to see her,talk with her.
These thoughts had run through his mind while on his way to Mrs. Bland'shouse. He had let Euchre go on ahead because he wanted more timeto compose himself. Darkness had about set in when he reached hisdestination. There was no light in the house. Mrs. Bland was waiting forhim on the porch.
She embraced him, and the sudden, violent, unfamiliar contact sent sucha shock through him that he all but forgot the deep game he was playing.She, however, in her agitation did not notice his shrinking. From herembrace and the tender, incoherent words that flowed with it he gatheredthat Euchre had acquainted her of his action with Black.
"He might have killed you," she whispered, more clearly; and if Duanehad ever heard love in a voice he heard it then. It softened him. Afterall, she was a woman, weak, fated through her nature, unfortunate inher experience of life, doomed to unhappiness and tragedy. He met heradvance so far that he returned the embrace and kissed her. Emotion suchas she showed would have made any woman sweet, and she had a certaincharm. It was easy, even pleasant, to kiss her; but Duane resolved that,whatever her abandonment might become, he would not go further than thelie she made him act.
"Buck, you love me?" she whispered.
"Yes--yes," he burst out, eager to get it over, and even as he spokehe caught the pale gleam of Jennie's face through the window. He felta shame he was glad she could not see. Did she remember that she hadpromised not to misunderstand any action of his? What did she think ofhim, seeing him out there in the dusk with this bold woman in hisarms? Somehow that dim sight of Jennie's pale face, the big dark eyes,thrilled him, inspired him to his hard task of the present.
"Listen, dear," he said to the woman, and he meant his words for thegirl. "I'm going to take you away from this outlaw den if I have to killBland, Alloway, Rugg--anybody who stands in my path. You were draggedhere. You are good--I know it. There's happiness for you somewhere--ahome among good people who will care for you. Just wait till--"
His voice trailed off and failed from excess of emotion. Kate Blandclosed her eyes and leaned her head on his breast. Duane felt her heartbeat against his, and conscience smote him a keen blow. If she lovedhim so much! But memory and understanding of her character hardened himagain, and he gave her such commiseration as was due her sex, and nomore.
"Boy, that's good of you," she whispered, "but it's too late. I'm donefor. I can't leave Bland. All I ask is that you love me a little andstop your gun-throwing."
The moon had risen over the eastern bulge of dark mountain, and now thevalley was flooded with mellow light, and shadows of cottonwoods waveredagainst the silver.
Suddenly the clip-clop, clip-clop of hoofs caused Duane to raise hishead and listen. Horses were coming down the road from the head ofthe valley. The hour was unusual for riders to come in. Presently thenarrow, moonlit lane was crossed at its far end by black moving objects.Two horses Duane discerned.
"It's Bland!" whispered the woman, grasping Duane with shaking hands."You must run! No, he'd see you. That 'd be worse. It's Bland! I knowhis horse's trot."
"But you said he wouldn't mind my calling here," protested Duane."Euchre's with me. It'll be all right."
"Maybe so," she replied, with visible effort at self-control. Manifestlyshe had a great fear of Bland. "If I could only think!"
Then she dragged Duane to the door, pushed him in.
"Euchre, come out with me! Duane, you stay with the girl! I'll tellBland you're in love with her. Jen, if you give us away I'll wring yourneck."
The swift action and fierce whisper told Duane that Mrs. Bland washerself again. Duane stepped close to Jennie, who stood near the window.Neither spoke, but her hands were outstretched to meet his own. Theywere small, trembling hands, cold as ice. He held them close, trying toconvey what he felt--that he would protect her. She leaned against him,and they looked out of the window. Duane felt calm and sure of himself.His most pronounced feeling besides that for the frightened girl was acuriosity as to how Mrs. Bland would rise to the occasion. He saw theriders dismount down the lane and wearily come forward. A boy led awaythe horses. Euchre, the old fox, was talking loud and with remarkableease, considering what he claimed was his natural cowardice.
"--that was way back in the sixties, about the time of the war," hewas saying. "Rustlin' cattle wasn't nuthin' then to what it is now. An'times is rougher these days. This gun-throwin' has come to be a disease.Men have an itch for the draw same as they used to have fer poker. Theonly real gambler outside of greasers we ever had here was Bill, an' Ipresume Bill is burnin' now."
The approaching outlaws, hearing voices, halted a rod or so from theporch. Then Mrs. Bland uttered an exclamation, ostensibly meant toexpress surprise, and hurried out to meet them. She greeted her husbandwarmly and gave welcome to the other man. Duane could not see wellenough in the shadow to recognize Bland's companion, but he believed itwas Alloway.
"Dog-tired we are and starved," said Bland, heavily. "Who's here withyou?"
"That's Euchre on the porch. Duane is inside at the window with Jen,"replied Mrs. Bland.
"Duane!" he exclaimed. Then he whispered low--something Duane could notcatch.
"Why, I asked him to come," said the chief's wife. She spoke easily andnaturally and made no change in tone. "Jen has been ailing. She getsthinner and whiter every day. Duane came here one day with Euchre, sawJen, and went loony over her pretty face, same as all you men. So I lethim come."
Bland cursed low and deep under his breath. The other man made a violentaction of some kind and apparently was quieted by a restraining hand.
"Kate, you let Duane make love to Jennie?" queried Bland, incredulously.
"Yes, I did," replied the wife, stubbornly. "Why not? Jen's in love withhim. If he takes her away and marries her she can be a decent woman."
Bland kept silent a moment, then his laugh pealed out loud and harsh.
"Chess, did you get that? Well, by God! what do you think of my wife?"
"She's lyin' or she's crazy," replied Alloway, and his voice carried anunpleasant ring.
Mrs. Bland promptly and indignantly told her husband's lieutenant tokeep his mouth shut.
"Ho, ho, ho!" rolled out Bland's laugh.
Then he led the way to the porch, his spurs clinking, the weapons he wascarrying rattling, and he flopped down on a bench.
"How are you, boss?" asked Euchre.
"Hello, old man. I'm well, but all in."
Alloway slowly walked on to the porch and leaned against the rail.He answered Euchre's greeting with a nod. Then he stood ther
e a dark,silent figure.
Mrs. Bland's full voice in eager questioning had a tendency to easethe situation. Bland replied briefly to her, reporting a remarkablysuccessful trip.
Duane thought it time to show himself. He had a feeling that Bland andAlloway would let him go for the moment. They were plainly non-plussed,and Alloway seemed sullen, brooding. "Jennie," whispered Duane, "thatwas clever of Mrs. Bland. We'll keep up the deception. Any day now beready!"
She pressed close to him, and a barely audible "Hurry!" came breathinginto his ear.
"Good night, Jennie," he said, aloud. "Hope you feel better to-morrow."
Then he stepped out into the moonlight and spoke. Bland returned thegreeting, and, though he was not amiable, he did not show resentment.
"Met Jasper as I rode in," said Bland, presently. "He told me you madeBill Black mad, and there's liable to be a fight. What did you go offthe handle about?"
Duane explained the incident. "I'm sorry I happened to be there," hewent on. "It wasn't my business."
"Scurvy trick that 'd been," muttered Bland. "You did right. All thesame, Duane, I want you to stop quarreling with my men. If you were oneof us--that'd be different. I can't keep my men from fighting. ButI'm not called on to let an outsider hang around my camp and plug myrustlers."
"I guess I'll have to be hitting the trail for somewhere," said Duane.
"Why not join my band? You've got a bad start already, Duane, and if Iknow this border you'll never be a respectable citizen again. You'rea born killer. I know every bad man on this frontier. More than one ofthem have told me that something exploded in their brain, and when sensecame back there lay another dead man. It's not so with me. I've done alittle shooting, too, but I never wanted to kill another man just torid myself of the last one. My dead men don't sit on my chest at night.That's the gun-fighter's trouble. He's crazy. He has to kill a newman--he's driven to it to forget the last one."
"But I'm no gun-fighter," protested Duane. "Circumstances made me--"
"No doubt," interrupted Bland, with a laugh. "Circumstances made me arustler. You don't know yourself. You're young; you've got a temper;your father was one of the most dangerous men Texas ever had. I don'tsee any other career for you. Instead of going it alone--a lone wolf,as the Texans say--why not make friends with other outlaws? You'll livelonger."
Euchre squirmed in his seat.
"Boss, I've been givin' the boy egzactly thet same line of talk. Thet'swhy I took him in to bunk with me. If he makes pards among us therewon't be any more trouble. An' he'd be a grand feller fer the gang. I'veseen Wild Bill Hickok throw a gun, an' Billy the Kid, an' Hardin, an'Chess here--all the fastest men on the border. An' with apologies topresent company, I'm here to say Duane has them all skinned. His draw isdifferent. You can't see how he does it."
Euchre's admiring praise served to create an effective little silence.Alloway shifted uneasily on his feet, his spurs jangling faintly, anddid not lift his head. Bland seemed thoughtful.
"That's about the only qualification I have to make me eligible for yourband," said Duane, easily.
"It's good enough," replied Bland, shortly. "Will you consider theidea?"
"I'll think it over. Good night."
He left the group, followed by Euchre. When they reached the end of thelane, and before they had exchanged a word, Bland called Euchre back.Duane proceeded slowly along the moonlit road to the cabin and sat downunder the cottonwoods to wait for Euchre. The night was intense andquiet, a low hum of insects giving the effect of a congestion of life.The beauty of the soaring moon, the ebony canons of shadow under themountain, the melancholy serenity of the perfect night, made Duaneshudder in the realization of how far aloof he now was from enjoyment ofthese things. Never again so long as he lived could he be natural. Hismind was clouded. His eye and ear henceforth must register impressionsof nature, but the joy of them had fled.
Still, as he sat there with a foreboding of more and darker work aheadof him there was yet a strange sweetness left to him, and it lay inthought of Jennie. The pressure of her cold little hands lingered inhis. He did not think of her as a woman, and he did not analyze hisfeelings. He just had vague, dreamy thoughts and imaginations that wereinterspersed in the constant and stern revolving of plans to save her.
A shuffling step roused him. Euchre's dark figure came crossing themoonlit grass under the cottonwoods. The moment the outlaw reachedhim Duane saw that he was laboring under great excitement. It scarcelyaffected Duane. He seemed to be acquiring patience, calmness, strength.
"Bland kept you pretty long," he said.
"Wait till I git my breath," replied Euchre. He sat silent a littlewhile, fanning himself with a sombrero, though the night was cool, andthen he went into the cabin to return presently with a lighted pipe.
"Fine night," he said; and his tone further acquainted Duane withEuchre's quaint humor. "Fine night for love-affairs, by gum!"
"I'd noticed that," rejoined Duane, dryly.
"Wal, I'm a son of a gun if I didn't stand an' watch Bland choke hiswife till her tongue stuck out an' she got black in the face."
"No!" ejaculated Duane.
"Hope to die if I didn't. Buck, listen to this here yarn. When I gotback to the porch I seen Bland was wakin' up. He'd been too fagged outto figger much. Alloway an' Kate had gone in the house, where they litup the lamps. I heard Kate's high voice, but Alloway never chirped. He'snot the talkin' kind, an' he's damn dangerous when he's thet way. Blandasked me some questions right from the shoulder. I was ready for them,an' I swore the moon was green cheese. He was satisfied. Bland alwaystrusted me, an' liked me, too, I reckon. I hated to lie black thetway. But he's a hard man with bad intentions toward Jennie, an' I'ddouble-cross him any day.
"Then we went into the house. Jennie had gone to her little room,an' Bland called her to come out. She said she was undressin'. An' heordered her to put her clothes back on. Then, Buck, his next move wassome surprisin'. He deliberately thronged a gun on Kate. Yes sir, hepointed his big blue Colt right at her, an' he says:
"'I've a mind to blow out your brains.'
"'Go ahead,' says Kate, cool as could be.
"'You lied to me,' he roars.
"Kate laughed in his face. Bland slammed the gun down an' made a grabfer her. She fought him, but wasn't a match fer him, an' he got her bythe throat. He choked her till I thought she was strangled. Alloway madehim stop. She flopped down on the bed an' gasped fer a while. When shecome to them hardshelled cusses went after her, trying to make her giveherself away. I think Bland was jealous. He suspected she'd got thickwith you an' was foolin' him. I reckon thet's a sore feelin' fer a manto have--to guess pretty nice, but not to BE sure. Bland gave it upafter a while. An' then he cussed an' raved at her. One sayin' of his isworth pinnin' in your sombrero: 'It ain't nuthin' to kill a man. I don'tneed much fer thet. But I want to KNOW, you hussy!'
"Then he went in an' dragged poor Jen out. She'd had time to dress. Hewas so mad he hurt her sore leg. You know Jen got thet injury fightin'off one of them devils in the dark. An' when I seen Bland twisther--hurt her--I had a queer hot feelin' deep down in me, an' fer theonly time in my life I wished I was a gun-fighter.
"Wal, Jen amazed me. She was whiter'n a sheet, an' her eyes were big andstary, but she had nerve. Fust time I ever seen her show any.
"'Jennie,' he said, 'my wife said Duane came here to see you. I believeshe's lyin'. I think she's been carryin' on with him, an' I want toKNOW. If she's been an' you tell me the truth I'll let you go. I'll sendyou out to Huntsville, where you can communicate with your friends. I'llgive you money.'
"Thet must hev been a hell of a minnit fer Kate Bland. If evet I seendeath in a man's eye I seen it in Bland's. He loves her. Thet's thestrange part of it.
"'Has Duane been comin' here to see my wife?' Bland asked, fierce-like.
"'No,' said Jennie.
"'He's been after you?'
"'Yes.'
"'He has fallen in love with you? Kate said thet.'
/>
"'I--I'm not--I don't know--he hasn't told me.'
"'But you're in love with him?'
"'Yes,' she said; an', Buck, if you only could have seen her! Shethronged up her head, an' her eyes were full of fire. Bland seemed dazedat sight of her. An' Alloway, why, thet little skunk of an outlaw criedright out. He was hit plumb center. He's in love with Jen. An' the lookof her then was enough to make any feller quit. He jest slunk out of theroom. I told you, mebbe, thet he'd been tryin' to git Bland to marry Jento him. So even a tough like Alloway can love a woman!
"Bland stamped up an' down the room. He sure was dyin' hard.
"'Jennie,' he said, once more turnin' to her. 'You swear in fear of yourlife thet you're tellin' truth. Kate's not in love with Duane? She's lethim come to see you? There's been nuthin' between them?'
"'No. I swear,' answered Jennie; an' Bland sat down like a man licked.
"'Go to bed, you white-faced--' Bland choked on some word or other--abad one, I reckon--an' he positively shook in his chair.
"Jennie went then, an' Kate began to have hysterics. An' your UncleEuchre ducked his nut out of the door an' come home."
Duane did not have a word to say at the end of Euchre's long harangue.He experienced relief. As a matter of fact, he had expected a good dealworse. He thrilled at the thought of Jennie perjuring herself to savethat abandoned woman. What mysteries these feminine creatures were!
"Wal, there's where our little deal stands now," resumed Euchre,meditatively. "You know, Buck, as well as me thet if you'd been somefeller who hadn't shown he was a wonder with a gun you'd now be full oflead. If you'd happen to kill Bland an' Alloway, I reckon you'd be assafe on this here border as you would in Santone. Such is gun fame inthis land of the draw."