by Grey, Zane
She swung her leather quirt and struck him across the mouth. The blood spurted. The leap of Jim's fury was as swift. He half intercepted a second blow, which stung his neck, and snatching the quirt from her hand he flung it away. Then his iron clutch fastened in her blouse. One lunge dropped her out of the saddle.
He wrapped his other arm around her and bent her back so quickly that when she began a furious struggle it was too late.
His mouth hard pressed on hers stilled any but smothered cries.
There was a moment's fierce wrestling. She was no weakling, but she was in the arms of a maddened giant. Repeatedly he kissed her lips, long, hard, passionate kisses. Suddenly she collapsed heavily in his arms. The shock of that--its meaning--pierced Wall with something infinitely more imperious and staggering than bitter wrath. He let go of her. Reeling away from him to collide with the pine tree, she sank against it, slid to her knees, and thrust out with repelling gesture of hands spread toward him.
"There--my English lady--maybe that will convince you!" he panted, hoarsely. His chin quivered and there was terrific commotion in his breast. "If you weren't a--pink-and-white-faced--washed-out-- ninny of an aristocrat . . . if you had any--blood in you--I'd PROVE--by God!--what men are in Utah! . . . But I wouldn't lay-- another hand on you--to save my life. . . . Now get up."
She obeyed him, slowly, with one hand clutching nervelessly at the bark of the pine, the other at her breast. There was blood on her lips and cheeks; otherwise her face was like alabaster.
"I think I must have been in love with you--and wanted to protect you--from men worse than myself," he went on, huskily. "I hope to God this will be a lesson to you. . . . Keep your beautiful face and body from sight of Hank Hays--or any of these robbers. Their thirst for gold is nothing compared to that for a woman. They are starved. They would almost eat you alive. It's criminal carelessness for you to go about as you do brazenly, as if it were your due to let the sun shine on your head for men to see. Your brother was crazy to come to Utah--crazier to let you come. Go home! Go before it's too late. Make him go. He will be ruined shortly."
She wiped the blood from her cheeks, and then, shudderingly, from her lips.
"You--outraged me that way--to frighten me?" she presently whispered, in horror, yet as if fascinated by something looming.
"Get on your horse and ride ahead of me," he ordered, curtly.
"Now, Miss Helen Herrick, one last word. Don't tell your brother what I did to you till after I'm gone. . . . If you do. I'll kill him!"
She left a glove lying on the ground. Jim made no effort to recover it. His horse had grazed a few paces away, and when he had reached him and mounted, Miss Herrick was in her saddle. Jim let her get a few rods in advance before he followed.
The excess of his emotion wore off, leaving him composed, and sternly glad the issue had developed as it had. The situation had become intolerable for him. It mocked him that he had actually desired to appear well in the eyes of this girl. How ridiculous that one of a robber gang should be vain! But he was not conscious that being a thief made any difference in a man's feeling about women. He knew that he could not command respect or love; but that in no wise inhibited his own feelings. Strange to realize, he had indeed fallen in love with Helen Herrick.
She rode on slowly down the ridge without looking to right or left.
Her gaze appeared to be lowered. The droop of her head and of her shoulders indicated shame and dejection. Outraged by a few kisses taken by force! She would remember them--the brutal kisses of a hard man. Jim would remember forever that first kiss, surprised on sweet, full lips.
The ranch-house came in sight, not far down now, standing out yellow against the green and gray. Miss Herrick saw it and halted a moment as if that had been the last thing in her mind. It recalled perhaps that she must face her brother presently. Jim had nearly caught up with her when she rode on again, bracing in her saddle. The next time he looked she had recovered the old poise and grace.
When they got down to the level bench at a point where the road curved up from below, Miss Herrick waited for Jim to come up abreast of her.
She gazed straight ahead, her face coldly pure against the green.
"Can you be gentleman enough to tell me the truth?" she asked.
"I have not lied to you," replied Jim, in weary amaze.
Who could make anything of a woman?
"That--that first time you kissed me--was it honestly unpremeditated?"
"Miss Herrick, I don't know what to swear by--having no God or honor or anything. But, yes, I have. My mother! I swear by memory of her that I never dreamed of insulting you. . . . I looked up. There your face was close. Your lips red! And I kissed them."
They went on for perhaps ten paces, as far as the road, before she spoke again. "I believe you," she said, without a tremor of the rich, low voice, though it was evident her emotion was deeply stirred. "Your action was inexcusable, unforgivable. But I should not have struck you with the whip. . . . That, and your passion to frighten me, perhaps justified your brutality. . . . I shall not tell. . . . Don't leave Star Ranch."
For an instant Jim felt as if he were upon the verge of a precipice. That was the crowning shock of this unnatural experience. What she meant no wit of Jim's could fathom; he could only take her literally. But her change from revulsion to inscrutable generosity called to all that was good within him.
"Miss Herrick, I'm sorry, but I must leave," he replied, sadly.
"I'm only a wandering rider--a gun-slinger and--a member of a gang of robbers. And I was mad enough to fall in love with you. . . .
Forget it. . . . Go home to England. But if you won't do that-- never ride out alone again."
He spurred his horse and galloped down the road, by the barns and across the court, into the lane that led along the brook. Suddenly he espied a compact group of mounted riders coming down the road beyond Hays' cabin. They bestrode bays and blacks, and there was that about them which drew Jim sharply up with a fiery thrill.
Smoky's outfit!
Chapter 8
Hays stood out in front of the cabin, bareheaded, his legs spread apart as if to anchor himself solidly, his hands at his hips, his sandy hair standing up ruffled like a mane.
"Huh! The boss isn't mad. Oh no!" soliloquized Jim. "Not at all!
I'll bet his teeth are grinding thunder. . . . Small wonder.
Smoky's outfit has busted loose or is going to. . . . Well, now, I've a hunch there's luck in this for me."
Jim turned off into the corral, and took his time unsaddling. He did not wish to appear in a hurry to know what was up. He fed Bay grain and did not turn him into the pasture. Moreover, he left his rifle in its saddle-sheath. If he did not miss his calculation he would be riding away from Star Ranch that night, a thought that afforded relief even while it stabbed.
Above the babble of the brook he heard the angry voice of the robber leader. Jim made for the bridge then, and crossing, looked up to see the horses of Smoky's outfit standing, bridles down, and the riders up on the porch. Jim mounted the steps.
Hank Hays sat upon the bench, his shaggy head against the wall, his pale eyes blazing hell at the row of men leaning on the porch rail.
Hays' long legs stuck out, with his spurs digging into the porch.
He looked an infuriated, beaten man, and his twitching lips attested to impotent speech.
Smoky was lighting a cigarette, not in the least perturbed, but his eyes had a hard, steely gleam. Brad Lincoln sat back on the rail, eying the chief with a sardonic grin. Mac appeared more than usually ghoulish; Bridges and Sparrowhawk Latimer betrayed extreme nervousness.
"Howdy, Jim!" spoke up Smoky.
"Hello, men! What's the mix? Am I in or out?" returned Jim, sharply.
"I reckon you're in," replied Slocum. "Hank is the only one thet's out. . . . Hyar, Jim, ketch this." He drew a dark-green bundle from a bulging pocket and tossed it to Jim, so quickly that it struck Jim in the chest. But he caught it on th
e rebound--a large heavy roll of greenbacks tied with a buckskin thong.
"Yours on the divvy, Jim," went on Smoky. "Don't count it now.
There's a heap of small bills inside, an' if you untie them hyar there'll be a mess. But it's a square divvy to the last dollar."
The denomination of the bill on the outside was one hundred. The roll would not go inside his vest or hip pocket, and it took force to put it in his side pocket.
"That's a hefty roll, Smoky, for a man to get for nothing," observed Jim, dubiously. "But the boss doesn't look particularly happy about it."
Jim then noticed that a roll of bills, identical with the one he had just received, lay on the floor.
"---- ---- ---- ----! You double-crossed me!" burst out Hays, at length.
"Wal, thet's accordin' to how you look at it," retorted Slocum.
"You wasn't with us when you ought to 'ave been. We couldn't ride forty miles every day to talk with you. Things came up at Grand Junction. We seen some of Heeseman's outfit. Shore as hell they're onto us, or will be pronto. So we jest took a vote, an' every damn one of us stood for one big drive instead of small drives. An' we made it. We was ten days drivin' thet bunch of stock, in the saddle night an' day, half starved to death. Your buyers swore they was short of money an' would pay twelve dollars a head. Talk about robbers! Wal, I took thet an' said I liked it. . . . Now, boss, there're the cards face down, an' you can like them or lump them."
"I'm lumpin' them, Smoky Slocum. . . . An' I've shot a man for less!"
"Shore. But I can't see you shootin' me. I wasn't to blame, I tell you. We took a vote."
"Hell! You disobeyed orders."
"Put it up to Jim, hyar. He's most a stranger to us an' he won't play no pards. . . . What do you say, Jim?"
Thus appealed to, Jim made a serious matter of it and addressed Hays point-blank.
"Smoky's right. If you meant to clean out Herrick, that was the way to do it."
"Aw--shore, you'd side with them."
"I wouldn't do anything of the kind, if I thought they were wrong," retorted Jim, angrily. Here was a chance to inflame Hays that he jumped at. If the robber could be drawn into a fight, when his own men were against him, the situation for the Herricks could be made easier for the present.
"I make my own deals," snapped the robber.
"Yes, and this one here at Star Ranch is a damn poor one, whatever it is."
"Wal, thet's none of your bizness, Jim Wall," declared Hays, more sharply.
"But it is. What do you think I am? A sucker? If I'm in this outfit, anything you plan and all you plan is my business, same as it's Smoky's and the rest of the outfit."
"You'd better shet up."
"I won't shut up, Hays. Some one has to have the guts to tell you.
And I'm that fellow. There's no hand-out against you in this outfit. I never saw an outfit as loyal to a man as this one is to you. Never heard of a bunch of riders who'd work like dogs while the boss was twiddling his thumbs and talking mysterious."
Hays glared like a mad bull. He dragged his feet up under him and guardedly rose.
"Take care, boss," spoke up Smoky. "Who's runnin' this outfit?" he hissed. "Nobody jest now. I tried to talk sense to you. An' Jim shore IS talkin' sense. Thet guy can talk, Hank. An' you gotta get it in your thick head thet he's talkin' for all of us."
"Who's thet thick skulled? But I'm sorer'n hell. I ain't ready to leave Star Ranch, an' now, by Gawd! I'll have to!"
"Why ain't you ready?" queried Smoky, curiously. "Our work's all done. We've cleaned out the ranch, except for a few thousand head.
We've got the long green. You ought to be tickled to death."
"I'm not through here," replied the robber, righting himself.
"Wal, you ought to be. Thet Heeseman outfit will be after us.
What's the sense of fightin' fer nothin'? This rancher, Herrick, likely has some cash around the house. He pays cash. But, hell;
Hank, you can't rob the man of his spare change. We've done awful good an' we're heeled as never before."
Hays appeared gradually to relax under the cool persuasive arguments of his lieutenant. Jim saw his coveted chance glimmering.
"Smoky, why don't you ask Hays what this mysterious deal is?" queried Jim, sarcastically.
From a cornered lion Hays degenerated into a cornered rat. Jim sank a little in his boots while his upper muscles corded.
"Hank, what'n hell's got into you?" queried Smoky, high-voiced.
"Glarin' at Jim like a trapped coyote. An' me too!"
"Smokey, the boss is up a tree," said Jim, caustically. "He means to rob Herrick, all right. But that's only a blind. It's the girl!"
"Thet gold-headed gurl we seen you drivin' hyar?"
"Yes. Herrick's sister."
"Wal, for Gawd's sake! Haw! Haw! Haw! So thet's what's eatin' you, Hank?"
Hays had reached his limit and probably, but for Smoky's mirth, would have started hostilities. He hesitated, but there was a deadly flare in the eyes he had fixed on Wall.
Smoky got between them. "See hyar, Hank. So thet's the deal? An' you'd do fer pore Jim hyar jest because he's onto you? . . . Wal, if you're so damn keen as thet to draw on somebody, why, make it me. I started this. I dragged Jim into it. An' I'll be ---- if you're goin' to take it out on him."
There was an instant when a touch to the flint would have precipitated fire. Then Hank came back to himself.
"I weaken. Jim's right. Smoky, you're right," he declared, hoarsely. "I'm bull-headed. . . . An' I lost my bull-head over Herrick's sister and the money I could make out of her."
"There. Spoke up like a man," declared Smoky, heartily relieved.
"Why didn't you come thet clean long ago? Neither Jim nor me nor any of us blame you fer admirin' thet gurl. She's a bloomin' rose, Hank. But, hell! air you gettin' dotty in your old age? An' if you'd gone crazy, like you did once, an' dragged her away into the brakes with us, by Gawd! we'd quit you cold."
Hays bent to pick up the roll of bills, which he tossed up and caught as if it were a ball. To Jim Wall's penetrating eye the chief had capitulated for the moment, but he was far from vanquished.
"Happy, how about grub-time?" he called through the door.
"'Most ready, boss."
"Fall to, men. I've got to do some tall thinkin'," he said.
Before they were half finished with their supper Hays entered and sailed his sombrero into a corner. His face was a dark mask.
"We're shakin' the dust of Star Ranch tonight," he said, deliberately. "Pack up an' leave at once. I'll come later. If I don't meet you at Smoky's camp at sunup, I'll meet you shore at midday in thet cedar grove above the head of Red Canyon."
"Good!" ejaculated Smoky.
"Wal, it was about time," added Brad Lincoln. "You'll aim to roost up somewheres till this blows over?"
"Thet's the idee. Smoky, did you remember to pack out them extra supplies I told you to?"
"Yep. We could hole up six months an' not get scurvy."
No one asked any more questions or made any more comments.
Whatever they thought about Hays' peculiar way of leading his band they kept to themselves. Jim Wall was not greatly relieved; still, he concluded that Hays must abandon any plot he might have concocted toward Herrick's sister. To be sure, he would take the bull by the horns this last night, and attempt to rob Herrick. But that latter possibility did not worry Jim particularly. The young woman had just had a valuable lesson. She would not be easy to surprise or take advantage of. At any rate, whatever was in Hays' mind, Jim could not further risk alienating him or his men. Jim would have to ride out with them. If he stayed behind to spy upon Hays or frustrate any attempt he might make to call upon the Herricks, he would have to kill Hays. He did not mind that in the least, but he did not care to go riding it alone in this unknown country, with Smoky and the others hunting for him.
"Pack up fer me, somebody," said Hays. "I'll keep watch outside.
We shore don't
want to be surprised by Heeseman the last minit."
Dusk was mantling the valley when Jim went out. Under the bench the shadows were dark. From the shelter of the pines he looked for Hays, expecting to find him standing guard. But the robber was not on the porch. He was stalking to and fro along the brook, and he was no more watching for Heeseman than was Jim. His bent form, his stride, his turning at the end of his beat, his hands folded behind his back--all attested to the mood of a gloomy, abstracted, passion- driven man.
Jim cursed under his breath. Here was a situation where, if he gave way to suspicions that might be overdrawn, prompted by his own jealousy rather than facts, he would certainly outlaw himself from Hays' band. Almost he yielded to them. Almost he distrusted his own fears. But he was in love with Miss Herrick and that had biased him. Hank Hays was blackguard enough to do anything to make money out of a woman, but he would scarcely betray his faithful followers. Hays was as loyal to them as they were to him. Honor among robbers! Still, in the case of a magnificent creature like Helen Herrick--
Jim wrenched himself out of sight of the stalking robber. He was not superhuman. He had to make a choice, and he made it, on the assumption that his fears for Helen, surrounded by servants and with her brother, were actually far-fetched, if not ridiculous.
Whereupon Jim repaired to his covert, rolled his bed and made a pack of his other belongings. What to do with the two packages of bills, this last of which was large and clumsy for his pockets, was a puzzle. By dividing the two into four packets he solved it.
Then he carried his effects down to the cabin. All was cheery bustle there. The men were glad to get away from Star Ranch. They talked of the robbers' roost Hays had always promised them, of idle days of eat and drink and gamble, of the long months in hiding.
"Wal, you all ready?" queried Hays, appearing in the doorway.
"Yep, an' bustin' to go."
"On second thought I'd like one of you to stay with me. How about you, Latimer?"
"All right," declared Sparrowhawk.
"This is all right with you, Smoky?"
"Suits us fine. If you ask me, I'd say you'd better keep Jim an' me, too, with you."
