by Unknown
"Your eyes are pools of splendor. That's right. Make them flash fire. I love to see such spirit, since it offers a more enticing pleasure in breaking," he told her, with an admiration half ironic but wholly genuine. "Pools of splendor, my beauty! Therefore I salute them."
At the touch of his lips upon her eyelids a shiver ran through her, but still she made no movement, was cold to him as marble. "You coward!" she said softly, with an infinite contempt.
"Your lips," he continued to catalogue, "are ripe as fresh flesh of Southern fruit. No cupid ever possessed so adorable a mouth. A worshiper of Eros I, as now I prove."
This time it was the mouth he kissed, the while her unconquered spirit looked out of the brave eyes, and fain would have murdered him. In turn he kissed her cold cheeks, the tip of one of her little ears, the small, clenched fist with which she longed to strike him.
"Are you quite through?"
"For the present, and now, having put the seal of my ownership on her more obvious charms, I'll take my bride home."
"I would die first."
"Nay, you'll die later, Madam Bannister, but not for many years, I hope," he told her, with a theatrical bow.
"Do you think me so weak a thing as your words imply?"
"Rather so strong that the glory of overcoming y'u fills me with joy. Believe me, madam, though your master I am not less your slave," he mocked.
"You are neither my master nor my slave, but a thing I detest," she said, in a low voice that carried extraordinary intensity.
"And obey," he added, suavely. "Come, madam, to horse, for our honeymoon."
"I tell you I shall not go."
"Then, in faith, we'll re-enact a modern edition of 'The Taming of the Shrew.' Y'u'll find me, sweet, as apt at the part as old Petruchio." He paced complacently up the room and back, and quoted glibly:
"And thus I'll curb her mad and headstrong humor. He that knows better how to tame a shrew, Now let him, speak; 'tis charity to show."
"Would you take me against my will?"
"Y'u have said it. What's your will to me? What I want I take. And I sure want my beautiful shrew." His half-shuttered eyes gloated on her as he rattled off a couple more lines from the play he had mentioned.
"Kate, like the hazel-twig, Is straight and slender, and as brown in hue As hazel-nuts, and sweeter than the kernels."
She let a swift glance travel anxiously to the door. "You are in a very poetical mood to-day."
"As befits a bridegroom, my own." He stepped lightly to the window and tapped twice on the pane. "A signal to bring the horses round. If y'u have any preparations to make, any trousseau to prepare, y'u better set that girl of yours to work."
"I have no preparations to make."
"Coming to me simply as y'u are? Good! We'll lead the simple life."
Nora, as it chanced, knocked and entered at his moment. The sight of her vivid good looks truck him for the first time. At sight of him she stopped, gazing with parted lips, a double row of pearls shining through.
He turned swiftly to the mistress. "Y'u ought not to be alone there among so many men. It wouldn't be proper. We'll take the girl along with us."
"Where?" Nora's parted lips emitted.
"To Arden, my dear." He interrupted himself to look at his watch. "I wonder why that fellow doesn't come with the horses. They should pass this window.
Bannister, standing jauntily with his feet astride as he looked out of the window, heard someone enter the room. "Did y'u bring round the horses?" he snapped, without looking round.
"NO, WE ALLOWED THEY WOULDN'T BE NEEDED."
At sound of the slow drawl the outlaw wheeled like a flash, his hand traveling to the hilt of the revolver that hung on his hip. But he was too late. Already two revolvers covered him, and he knew that both his cousin and McWilliams were dead shots. He flashed one venomous look at the mistress of the ranch.
"Y'u fooled me again. That lamp business was a signal, and I was too thick-haided to see it. My compliments to y'u, Miss Messiter."
"Y'u are under arrest," announced his cousin.
"Y'u don't say." His voice was full of sarcastic admiration. "And you done it with your little gun! My, what a wonder y'u are!"
"Take your hand from the butt of that gun. Y'u better relieve him of it, Mac. He's got such a restless disposition he might commit suicide by reaching for it."
"What do y'u think you're going to do with me now y'u have got me, Cousin Ned?"
"We're going to turn y'u over to the United States Government."
"Guess again. I have a thing, or two to say to that."
"You're going to Gimlet Butte with us, alive or dead."
The outlaw intentionally misunderstood. "If I've got to take y'u, then we'll say y'u go dead rather than alive."
"He was going to take Nora and me with him," Helen explained to her friends.
Instantly the man swung round on her. "But now I've changed my mind, ma'am. I'm going to take my cousin with me instead of y'u ladies."
Helen caught his meaning first, and flashed it whitely to her lover. It dawned on him more slowly.
"I see y'u remember, Miss Messiter," he continued, with a cruel, silken laugh. "He gave me his parole to go with me whenever I said the word. I'm saying it now." He sat down astride a chair, put his chin on the back cross-bar, and grinned malevolently from one to another.
"What's come over this happy family? It don't look so joyous all of a sudden. Y'u don't need to worry, ma'am, I'll send him back to y'u all right--alive or dead. With his shield or on it, y'u know. Ha! ha!"
"You will not go with him?" It was wrung from Helen as a low cry, and struck her lover's heart.
"I must," he answered. "I gave him my word, y'u remember."
"But why keep it? You know what he is, how absolutely devoid of honor."
"That is not quite the question, is it?" he smiled.
"Would he keep his word to you?"
"Not if a lie would do as well. But that isn't the point, either."
"It's quixotic--foolish--worse than that--ridiculous," she implored.
"Perhaps, but the fact remains that I am pledged."
"'I could not love thee, dear, so much Loved I not honor more,'"
murmured the villain in the chair, apparently to the ceiling. "Dear Ned, he always was the soul of honor. I'll have those lines carved on his tombstone."
"You see! He is already bragging that he means to kill you," said the girl.
"I shall go armed," the sheepman answered.
"Yes, but he will take you into the mountain fastnesses, where the men that serve him will do his bidding. What is one man among so many?"
"Two men, ma'am," corrected the foreman.
"What's that?" The outlaw broke off the snatch of opera he was singing to slew his head round at McWilliams.
"I said two. Any objections, seh?"
"Yes. That wasn't in the contract."
"We're giving y'u surplusage, that's all. Y'u wanted one of us, and y'u get two. We don't charge anything for the extra weight," grinned Mac.
"Oh, Mac, will you go with him?" cried Helen, with shining eyes.
"Those are my present intentions, Miss Helen," laughed her foreman.
Whereat Nora emerged from the background and flung herself on him. "Y'u can't go, Jim! I won't have you go!" she cried.
The young man blushed a beautiful pink, and accepted gladly this overt evidence of a reconciliation. "It's all right, honey. Don't y'u think two big, grown-up men are good to handle that scalawag? Sho! Don't y'u worry."
"Miss Nora can come, too, if she likes," suggested he of the Shoshones. "Looks like we would have quite a party. Won't y'u join us, too, Miss Messiter, according to the original plan?" he said, extending an ironical invitation.
"I think we had better cut it down to me alone. We'll not burden your hospitality, sir," said the sheepman.
"No, sir, I'm in on this. Whyfor can't I go?" demanded Jim.
Bannister, the outlaw, eyed him u
npleasantly. "Y'u certainly can so far as I am concerned. I owe y'u one, too, Mr. McWilliams. Only if y'u come of your own free will, as y'u are surely welcome to do, don't holler if y'u're not so welcome to leave whenever y'u take a notion."
"I'll try and look out for that. It's settled, then, that we ride together. When do y'u want to start?"
"We can't go any sooner than right now. I hate to take these young men from y'u, lady. but, as I said, I'll send them back in good shape. Adios, senorita. Don't forget to whom y'u belong." He swaggered to the door and turned, leaning against the jamb with one hand again it. "I expect y'u can say those lovey-dov good-byes without my help. I'm going into the yard. If y'u want to y'u can plug me in the back through the window," he suggested, with a sneer.
"As y'u would us under similar circumstances," retorted his cousin.
"Be with y'u in five minutes," said the foreman.
"Don't hurry. It's a long good-bye y'u're saying," returned his enemy placidly.
Nora and the young man who belonged to her followed him from the room, leaving Bannister and his hostess alone.
"Shall I ever see you again?" Helen murmured.
"I think so," the sheepman answered. "The truth is that this opportunity falls pat. Jim and have been wanting to meet those men who are under my cousin's influence and have a talk with them. There is no question but that the gang is disintegrating, and I believe that if we offer to mediate between its members and the Government something might be done to stop the outrages that have been terrorizing this country. My cousin can't be reached, but I believe the rest of them, or, at least a part, can be induced either to surrender or to flee the country. Anyhow, we want to try it."
"But the danger?" she breathed.
"Is less than y'u think. Their leader has not anywhere nearly the absolute power he had a few months ago. They would hardly dare do violence to a peace envoy."
"Your cousin would. I don't believe he has any scruples."
"We shall keep an eye on him. Both of us will not sleep at the same time. Y'u may depend on me to bring your foreman safely back to y'u," he smiled.
"Oh, my foreman!"
"And your foreman's friend," he added. "I have the best of reasons for wanting to return alive. I think y'u know them. They have to do with y'u, Miss Helen."
It had come at last, but, womanlike, she evaded the issue her heart had sought. "Yes, I know. You think it would not be fair to throw away your life in this foolish manner after I have saved it for you--how many times was it you said?" The blue eyes lifted with deceptive frankness to the gray ones.
"No, that isn't my reason. I have a better one than that. I love y'u, girl, more than anything in this world."
"And so you try to prove it to me by running into a trap set for you to take your life. That's a selfish kind of love, isn't it? Or it would be if I loved you."
"Do y'u love me, Helen?"
"Why should I tell you, since you don't love me enough to give up this quixotic madness?"
"Don't y'u see, dear, I can't give it up?"
"I see you won't. You care more for your pride than for me."
"No, it isn't that. I've got to go. It isn't that I want to leave y'u, God knows. But I've given my word, and I must keep it. Do y'u want me to be a quitter, and y'u so game yourself? Do y'u want it to go all over this cattle country that I gave my word and took it back because I lost my nerve?"
"The boy that takes a dare isn't a hero, is he! There's a higher courage that refuses to be drawn into such foolishness, that doesn't give way to the jeers of the empty headed."
"I don't think that is a parallel case. I'm sorry, we can't see this alike, but I've got to go ahead the way that seems to me right."
"You're going to leave me, then, to go with that man?"
"Yes, if that's the way y'u have to put it." He looked at her sorrowfully, and added gently: "I thought you would see it. I thought sure you would."
But she could not bear that he should leave her so, and she cried out after him. "Oh, I see it. I know you must go; but I can't bear it." Her head buried itself in his coat. "It isn't right--it isn't a--a square deal that you should go away now, the very minute you belong to me."
A happy smile shone in his eyes. "I belong to you, do I? That's good hearing, girl o' mine." His arm went round her and he stroked the black head softly. "I'll not be gone long, dear. Don't y'u worry about me. I'll be back with y'u soon; just as soon as I have finished this piece of work I have to do."
"But if you should get--if anything should happen to you?"
"Nothing is going to happen to me. There is a special providence looks after lovers, y'u know."
"Be careful, Ned, of yourself. For my sake, dear."
"I'll dry my socks every time I get my feet wet for fear of taking cold," he laughed.
"But you will, won't you?"
"I'll be very careful, Helen," he promised more gravely.
Even then she could hardly let him go, clinging to him with a reluctance to separate that was a new experience to her independent, vigorous youth. In the end he unloosened her arm, kissed her once, and hurried out of the room. In the hallway he met McWilliams, also hurryin out from a tearful farewell on the part of Nora.
Bannister, the outlaw, already mounted, was waiting for them. "Y'u did get through at last, he drawled insolently. "Well, if y'u'll kindly give orders to your seven-foot dwarf to point the Winchester another way I'll collect my men an we'll be moving."
For, though the outlaw had left his men in command of the ranch when he went into the house, he found the situation reversed on his return. With the arrival of reinforcements, in the persons of McWilliams and his friend, it had been the turn of the raiders to turn over their weapons.
"All right, Denver," nodded the foreman.
The outlaw chief whistled for his men, and with their guests they rode into the silent, desert night.
CHAPTER 22
. EXIT THE "KING"
They bedded that night under the great vault-roof where twinkle a million stars.
There were three of the outlaw's men with him, and both Mcwilliams and his friend noticed that they slept a little apart from their chief. There were other indications among the rustlers of a camp divided against itself. Bannister's orders to them he contrived to make an insult, and their obedience was as surly as possible compatible with safety. For all of the men knew that he would not hesitate to shoot them down in one of his violent rages should they anger him sufficiently.
Throughout the night there was no time that at least two men were not awake in the camp. The foreman and the sheepman took turns keeping vigil; and on the other side of the fire sat one of the rustlers in silent watchfulness. To the man opposite him each of the sentinels were outposts of the enemy, but they fraternized after the manner of army sentries, exchanging tobacco and occasional casual conversation.
The foreman took the first turn, and opposite him sat a one-eyed old scoundrel who had rustle calves from big outfits ever since Wyoming was a territory and long before. Chalkeye Dave, he was called, and sometimes merely Chalkeye. What his real name was no man knew. Nor was his past a subject for conversation in his presence. It was known that he had been in the Nevada penitentiary, and that he had killed a man in Arizona, but these details of an active life were rarely resurrected. For Chalkeye was deadly on the shoot, and was ready for it at the drop of the hat, though he had his good points too. One of these was a remarkable fondness for another member of the party, a mere lad, called by his companions Hughie. Generally surly and morose, to such a degree that even his chief was careful to humor him as a rule, when with Hughie all the softer elements of his character came to the surface. In his rough way he was ever humorous and genial.
Jim McWilliams found him neither, however. He declined to engage in conversation, accepted a proffer of tobacco with a silent, hostile grunt and relapsed into a long silence that lasted till his shift was ended.
"Hate to have y'u leave, old man. Y'u're so darned
good company I'll ce'tainly pine for you," the foreman suggested, with sarcasm, when the old man rolled up in his blankets preparatory to falling asleep immediately.