"Kells, I"m much obliged," replied Cleve, with a semblance of earnestness. "I"m no good or I wouldn"t be out here... But I can"t stand for these--these deals with girls."
"You"ll change," rejoined Kells, bitterly. "Wait till you live a few lonely years out here! You don"t understand the border. You"re young.
I"ve seen the gold-fields of California and Nevada. Men go crazy with the gold fever. It"s gold that makes men wild. If you don"t get killed you"ll change. If you live you"ll see life on this border. War debases the moral force of a man, but nothing like what you"ll experience here the next few years. Men with their wives and daughters are pouring into this range. They"re all over. They"re finding gold. They"ve tasted blood. Wait till the great gold strike comes! Then you"ll see men and women go back ten thousand years... And then what"ll one girl more or less matter?"
"Well, you see, Kells, I was loved so devotedly by one and made such a hero of--that I just can"t bear to see any girl mistreated."
He almost drawled the words, and he was suave and cool, and his face was inscrutable, but a bitterness in his tone gave the lie to all he said and looked.
Pearce caught the broader inference and laughed as if at a great joke.
Kells shook his head doubtfully, as if Cleve"s transparent speech only added to the complexity. And Cleve turned away, as if in an instant he had forgotten his comrades.
Afterward, in the silence and darkness of night, Joan Randle lay upon her bed sleepless, haunted by Jim"s white face, amazed at the magnificent madness of him, thrilled to her soul by the meaning of his attack on Gulden, and tortured by a love that had grown immeasurably full of the strength of these hours of suspense and the pa.s.sion of this wild border.
Even in her dreams Joan seemed to be bending all her will toward that inevitable and fateful moment when she must stand before Jim Cleve. It had to be. Therefore she would absolutely compel herself to meet it, regardless of the tumult that must rise within her. When all had been said, her experience so far among the bandits, in spite of the shocks and suspense that had made her a different girl, had been infinitely more fortunate than might have been expected. She prayed for this luck to continue and forced herself into a belief that it would.
That night she had slept in Dandy Dale"s clothes, except for the boots; and sometimes while turning in restless slumber she had been awakened by rolling on the heavy gun, which she had not removed from the belt. And at such moments, she had to ponder in the darkness, to realize that she, Joan Randle, lay a captive in a bandit"s camp, dressed in a dead bandit"s garb, and packing his gun--even while she slept. It was such an improbable, impossible thing. Yet the cold feel of the polished gun sent a thrill of certainty through her.
In the morning she at least did not have to suffer the shame of getting into Dandy Dale"s clothes, for she was already in them. She found a grain of comfort even in that. When she had put on the mask and sombrero she studied the effect in her little mirror. And she again decided that no one, not even Jim Cleve, could recognize her in that disguise.
Likewise she gathered courage from the fact that even her best girl friend would have found her figure unfamiliar and striking where once it had been merely tall and slender and strong, ordinarily dressed. Then how would Jim Cleve ever recognize her? She remembered her voice that had been called a contralto, low and deep; and how she used to sing the simple songs she knew. She could not disguise that voice. But she need not let Jim hear it. Then there was a return of the idea that he would instinctively recognize her--that no disguise could be proof to a lover who had ruined himself for her. Suddenly she realized how futile all her worry and shame. Sooner or later she must reveal her ident.i.ty to Jim Cleve. Out of all this complexity of emotion Joan divined that what she yearned most for was to spare Cleve the shame consequent upon recognition of her and then the agony he must suffer at a false conception of her presence there. It was a weakness in her. When death menaced her lover and the most inconceivably horrible situation yawned for her, still she could only think of her pa.s.sionate yearning to have him know, all in a flash, that she loved him, that she had followed him in remorse, that she was true to him and would die before being anything else.
And when she left her cabin she was in a mood to force an issue.
Kells was sitting at the table and being served by Bate Wood.
"h.e.l.lo, Dandy!" he greeted her, in surprise and pleasure. "This"s early for you."
Joan returned his greeting and said that she could not sleep all the time.
"You"re coming round. I"ll bet you hold up a stage before a month is out."
"Hold up a stage?" echoed Joan.
"Sure. It"ll be great fun," replied Kells, with a laugh. "Here--sit down and eat with me.... Bate, come along lively with breakfast.... It"s fine to see you there. That mask changes you, though. No one can see how pretty you are.... Joan, your admirer, Gulden, has been incapacitated for the present."
Then in evident satisfaction Kells repeated the story that Joan had heard Red Pearce tell the night before; and in the telling Kells enlarged somewhat upon Jim Cleve.
"I"ve taken a liking to Cleve," said Kells. "He"s a strange youngster.
But he"s more man than boy. I think he"s broken-hearted over some rotten girl who"s been faithless or something. Most women are no good, Joan. A while ago I"d have said ALL women were that, but since I"ve known you I think--I know different. Still, one girl out of a million doesn"t change a world."
"What will this J--jim C--cleve do--when he sees--me?" asked Joan, and she choked over the name.
"Don"t eat so fast, girl," said Kells. "You"re only seventeen years old and you"ve plenty of time.... Well, I"ve thought some about Cleve.
He"s not crazy like Gulden, but he"s just as dangerous. He"s dangerous because he doesn"t know what he"s doing--has absolutely no fear of death--and then he"s swift with a gun. That"s a bad combination. Cleve will kill a man presently. He"s shot three already, and in Gulden"s case he meant to kill. If once he kills a man--that"ll make him a gun-fighter. I"ve worried a little about his seeing you. But I can manage him, I guess. He can"t be scared or driven. But he may be led.
I"ve had Red Pearce tell him you are my wife. I hope he believes it, for none of the other fellows believe it. Anyway, you"ll meet this Cleve soon, maybe to-day, and I want you to be friendly. If I can steady him--stop his drinking--he"ll be the best man for me on this border."
"I"m to help persuade him to join your band?" asked Joan, and she could not yet control her voice.
"Is that so black a thing?" queried Kells, evidently nettled, and he glared at her.
"I--I don"t know," faltered Joan. "Is this--this boy a criminal yet?"
"No. He"s only a fine, decent young chap gone wild--gone bad for some girl. I told you that. You don"t seem to grasp the point. If I can control him he"ll be of value to me--he"ll be a bold and clever and dangerous man--he"ll last out here. If I can"t win him, why, he won"t last a week longer. He"ll be shot or knifed in a brawl. Without my control Cleve"ll go straight to the h.e.l.l he"s headed for."
Joan pushed back her plate and, looking up, steadily eyed the bandit.
"Kells, I"d rather he ended his--his career quick--and went to--to--than live to be a bandit and murderer at your command."
Kells laughed mockingly, yet the savage action with which he threw his cup against the wall attested to the fact that Joan had strange power to hurt him.
"That"s your sympathy, because I told you some girl drove him out here,"
said the bandit. "He"s done for. You"ll know that the moment you see him. I really think he or any man out here would be the better for my interest. Now, I want to know if you"ll stand by me--put in a word to help influence this wild boy."
"I"ll--I"ll have to see him first," replied Joan.
"Well, you take it sort of hard," growled Kells. Then presently he brightened. "I seem always to forget that you"re only a kid. Listen! Now you do as you like. But I want to warn you that you"ve got to get back the same kind of nerve"--here he lowered his voice and glanced at Bate Wood--"that you showed when you shot me. You"re going to see some sights.... A great gold strike! Men grown gold-mad! Woman of no more account than a puff of cottonseed!... Hunger, toil, pain, disease, starvation, robbery, blood, murder, hanging, death--all nothing, nothing! There will be only gold. Sleepless nights--days of h.e.l.l--rush and rush--all strangers with greedy eyes! The things that made life will be forgotten and life itself will be cheap. There will be only that yellow stuff--gold--over which men go mad and women sell their souls!"
After breakfast Kells had Joan"s horse brought out of the corral and saddled.
"You must ride some every day. You must keep in condition," he said.
"Pretty soon we may have a chase, and I don"t want it to tear you to pieces."
"Where shall I ride?" asked Joan.
"Anywhere you like up and down the gulch."
"Are you going to have me watched?"
"Not if you say you won"t run off."
"You trust me?"
"Yes."
"All right. I promise. And if I change my mind I"ll tell you."
"Lord! don"t do it, Joan. I--I--Well, you"ve come to mean a good deal to me. I don"t know what I"d do if I lost you." As she mounted the horse Kells added, "Don"t stand any raw talk from any of the gang."
Joan rode away, pondering in mind the strange fact that though she hated this bandit, yet she had softened toward him. His eyes lit when he saw her; his voice mellowed; his manner changed. He had meant to tell her again that he loved her, yet he controlled it. Was he ashamed? Had he seen into the depths of himself and despised what he had imagined love?
There were antagonistic forces at war within him.
It was early morning and a rosy light tinged the fresh green. She let the eager horse break into a canter and then a gallop; and she rode up the gulch till the trail started into rough ground. Then turning, she went back, down under the pines and by the cabins, to where the gulch narrowed its outlet into the wide valley. Here she met several dusty hors.e.m.e.n driving a pack-train. One, a jovial ruffian, threw up his hands in mock surrender.
"Hands up, pards!" he exclaimed. "Reckon we"ve run agin" Dandy Dale come to life."
His companions made haste to comply and then the three regarded her with bold and roguish eyes. Joan had run square into them round a corner of slope and, as there was no room to pa.s.s, she had halted.
"Sh.o.r.e it"s the Dandy Dale we heerd of," vouchsafed another.
"Thet"s Dandy"s outfit with a girl inside," added the third.