The Border Legion Read online

  9

  Joan turned away from the door in a cold clamp of relief. The shadowof death hovered over these men. She must fortify herself to liveunder that shadow, to be prepared for any sudden violence, to stand asuccession of shocks that inevitably would come. She listened. The menwere talking and laughing now; there came a click of chips, the spat ofa thrown card, the thump of a little sack of gold. Ahead of her lay thelong hours of night in which these men would hold revel. Only a faintray of light penetrated her cabin, but it was sufficient for herto distinguish objects. She set about putting the poles in place tobarricade the opening. When she had finished she knew she was safe atleast from intrusion. Who had constructed that rude door and for whatpurpose? Then she yielded to the temptation to peep once more under theedge of the curtain.

  The room was cloudy and blue with smoke. She saw Jim Cleve at a tablegambling with several ruffians. His back was turned, yet Joan felt thecontrast of his attitude toward the game, compared with that of theothers. They were tense, fierce, and intent upon every throw of acard. Cleve's very poise of head and movement of arm betrayed hisindifference. One of the gamblers howled his disgust, slammed down hiscards, and got up.

  "He's cleaned out," said one, in devilish glee.

  "Naw, he ain't," voiced another. "He's got two fruit-cans full of dust.I saw 'em.... He's just lay down--like a poisoned coyote."

  "Shore I'm glad Cleve's got the luck, fer mebbe he'll give my goldback," spoke up another gamester, with a laugh.

  "Wal, he certainlee is the chilvalus card sharp," rejoined the lastplayer. "Jim, was you allus as lucky in love as in cards?"

  "Lucky in love?... Sure!" answered Jim Cleve, with a mocking, recklessring in his voice.

  "Funny, ain't thet, boys? Now there's the boss. Kells can sure win thegurls, but he's a pore gambler." Kells heard this speech, and he laughedwith the others. "Hey, you greaser, you never won any of my money," hesaid.

  "Come an' set in, boss. Come an' see your gold fade away. You can'tstop this Jim Cleve. Luck--bull luck straddles his neck. He'll win yourgold--your hosses an' saddles an' spurs an' guns--an' your shirt, ifyou've nerve enough to bet it."

  The speaker slapped his cards upon the table while he gazed at Cleve ingrieved admiration. Kells walked over to the group and he put his handon Cleve's shoulder.

  "Say youngster," he said, genially, "you said you were just as lucky inlove.... Now I had a hunch some BAD luck with a girl drove you out hereto the border."

  Kells spoke jestingly, in a way that could give no offense, even to thewildest of boys, yet there was curiosity, keenness, penetration, in hisspeech. It had not the slightest effect upon Jim Cleve.

  "Bad luck and a girl?... To hell with both!" he said.

  "Shore you're talkin' religion. Thet's where both luck an' gurls comefrom," replied the unlucky gamester. "Will one of you hawgs pass thewhiskey?"

  The increased interest with which Kells looked down upon Jim Cleve wasnot lost upon Joan. But she had seen enough, and, turning away, shestumbled to the bed and lay there with an ache in her heart.

  "Oh," she whispered to herself, "he is ruined--ruined--ruined!... Godforgive me!" She saw bright, cold stars shining between the logs. Thenight wind swept in cold and pure, with the dew of the mountain in it.She heard the mourn of wolves, the hoot of an owl, the distant cry ofa panther, weird and wild. Yet outside there was a thick and lonelysilence. In that other cabin, from which she was mercifully shut out,there were different sounds, hideous by contrast. By and by she coveredher ears, and at length, weary from thought and sorrow, she drifted intoslumber.

  Next morning, long after she had awakened, the cabin remained quiet,with no one stirring. Morning had half gone before Wood knocked andgave her a bucket of water, a basin and towels. Later he came with herbreakfast. After that she had nothing to do but pace the floor of hertwo rooms. One appeared to be only an empty shed, long in disuse. Herview from both rooms was restricted to the green slope of the gulch upto yellow crags and the sky. But she would rather have had this to watchthan an outlook upon the cabins and the doings of these bandits.

  About noon she heard the voice of Kells in low and earnest conversationwith someone; she could not, however, understand what was said. Thatceased, and then she heard Kells moving around. There came a clatterof hoofs as a horse galloped away from the cabin, after which a knocksounded on the wall.

  "Joan," called Kells. Then the curtain was swept aside and Kells,appearing pale and troubled, stepped into her room.

  "What's the matter?" asked Joan, hurriedly.

  "Gulden shot two men this morning. One's dead. The other's in bad shape,so Red tells me. I haven't seen him."

  "Who--who are they?" faltered Joan. She could not think of any manexcept Jim Cleve.

  "Dan Small's the one's dead. The other they call Dick. Never heard hislast name."

  "Was it a fight?"

  "Of course. And Gulden picked it. He's a quarrelsome man. Nobody cango against him. He's all the time like some men when they're drunk. I'msorry I didn't bore him last night. I would have done it if it hadn'tbeen for Red Pearce."

  Kells seemed gloomy and concentrated on his situation and he talkednaturally to Joan, as if she were one to sympathize. A bandit, then, inthe details of his life, the schemes, troubles, friendships, relations,was no different from any other kind of a man. He was human, and thingsthat might constitute black evil for observers were dear to him, a partof him. Joan feigned the sympathy she could not feel.

  "I thought Gulden was your enemy."

  Kells sat down on one of the box seats, and his heavy gun-sheath restedupon the floor. He looked at Joan now, forgetting she was a woman andhis prisoner.

  "I never thought of that till now," he said. "We always got alongbecause I understood him. I managed him. The man hasn't changed in theleast. He's always what he is. But there's a difference. I noticed thatfirst over in Lost Canon. And Joan, I believe it's because Gulden sawyou."

  "Oh, no!" cried Joan, trembling.

  "Maybe I'm wrong. Anyway something's wrong. Gulden never had a friend ora partner. I don't misunderstand his position regarding Bailey. What didhe care for that soak? Gulden's cross-grained. He opposes anything oranybody. He's got a twist in his mind that makes him dangerous.... Iwanted to get rid of him. I decided to--after last night. But now itseems that's no easy job."

  "Why?" asked Joan, curiously.

  "Pearce and Wood and Beard, all men I rely on, said it won't do. Theyhint Gulden is strong with my gang here, and all through the border.I was wild. I don't believe it. But as I'm not sure--what can I do?...They're all afraid of Gulden. That's it.... And I believe I am, too."

  "You!" exclaimed Joan.

  Kells actually looked ashamed. "I believe I am, Joan," he replied. "ThatGulden is not a man. I never was afraid of a real man. He's--he's ananimal."

  "He made me think of a gorrilla," said Joan.

  "There's only one man I know who's not afraid of Gulden. He's anew-comer here on the border. Jim Cleve he calls himself. A youngster Ican't figure! But he'd slap the devil himself in the face. Cleve won'tlast long out here. Yet you can never tell. Men like him, who laugh atdeath, sometimes avert it for long. I was that way once.... Cleve heardme talking to Pearce about Gulden. And he said, 'Kells, I'll pick afight with this Gulden and drive him out of the camp or kill him.'"

  "What did you say?" queried Joan, trying to steady her voice as sheaverted her eyes.

  "I said 'Jim, that wins me. But I don't want you killed.'... Itcertainly was nervy of the youngster. Said it just the same as--as he'doffer to cinch my saddle. Gulden can whip a roomful of men. He's doneit. And as for a killer--I've heard of no man with his record."

  "And that's why you fear him?"

  "It's not," replied Kells, passionately, as if his manhood had beenaffronted. "It's because he's Gulden. There's something uncanny abouthim.... Gulden's a cannibal!"

  Joan looked as if she had not heard aright.

  "It's a cold fact. Known all over
the border. Gulden's no braggart.But he's been known to talk. He was a sailor--a pirate. Once he wasshipwrecked. Starvation forced him to be a cannibal. He told this inCalifornia, and in Nevada camps. But no one believed him. A few yearsago he got snowed-up in the mountains back of Lewiston. He had twocompanions with him. They all began to starve. It was absolutelynecessary to try to get out. They started out in the snow. Travelwas desperately hard. Gulden told that his companions dropped. But hemurdered them--and again saved his life by being a cannibal. After thisbecame known his sailor yarns were no longer doubted.... There's anotherstory about him. Once he got hold of a girl and took her into themountains. After a winter he returned alone. He told that he'd kept hertied in a cave, without any clothes, and she froze to death."

  "Oh, horrible!" moaned Joan.

  "I don't know how true it is. But I believe it. Gulden is not a man. Theworst of us have a conscience. We can tell right from wrong. But Guldencan't. He's beneath morals. He has no conception of manhood, such asI've seen in the lowest of outcasts. That cave story with the girl--thatbetrays him. He belongs back in the Stone Age. He's a thing.... And hereon the border, if he wants, he can have all the more power because ofwhat he is."

  "Kells, don't let him see me!" entreated Joan.

  The bandit appeared not to catch the fear in Joan's tone and look. Shehad been only a listener. Presently with preoccupied and gloomy mien, heleft her alone.

  Joan did not see him again, except for glimpses under the curtain, forthree days. She kept the door barred and saw no one except Bate Wood,who brought her meals. She paced her cabin like a caged creature. Duringthis period few men visited Kells's cabin, and these few did not remainlong. Joan was aware that Kells was not always at home. Evidently hewas able to go out. Upon the fourth day he called to her and knocked foradmittance. Joan let him in, and saw that he was now almost well again,once more cool, easy, cheerful, with his strange, forceful air.

  "Good day, Joan. You don't seem to be pining for your--negligenthusband."

  He laughed as if he mocked himself, but there was gladness in the verysight of her, and some indefinable tone in his voice that suggestedrespect.

  "I didn't miss you," replied Joan. Yet it was a relief to see him.

  "No, I imagine not," he said, dryly. "Well, I've been busy withmen--with plans. Things are working out to my satisfaction. Red Pearcegot around Gulden. There's been no split. Besides, Gulden rode off.Someone said he went after a little girl named Brander. I hope he getsshot.... Joan, we'll be leaving Cabin Gulch soon. I'm expecting newsthat'll change things. I won't leave you here. You'll have to ride theroughest trails. And your clothes are in tatters now. You've got to havesomething to wear."

  "I should think so," replied Joan, fingering the thin, worn, raggedhabit that had gone to pieces. "The first brush I ride through will tearthis off."

  "That's annoying," said Kells, with exasperation at himself. "Where onearth can I get you a dress? We're two hundred miles from everywhere.The wildest kind of country.... Say, did you ever wear a man's outfit?"

  "Ye-es, when I went prospecting and hunting with my uncle," she replied,reluctantly.

  Suddenly he had a daring and brilliant smile that changed his facecompletely. He rubbed his palms together. He laughed as if at a hugejoke. He cast a measuring glance up and down her slender form.

  "Just wait till I come back," he said.

  He left her and she heard him rummaging around in the pile of trappingsshe had noted in a corner of the other cabin. Presently he returnedcarrying a bundle. This he unrolled on the bed and spread out thearticles.

  "Dandy Dale's outfit," he said, with animation. "Dandy was a would-beknight of the road. He dressed the part. But he tried to hold up a stageover here and an unappreciative passenger shot him. He wasn't killedoutright. He crawled away and died. Some of my men found him and theyfetched his clothes. That outfit cost a fortune. But not a man among uscould get into it."

  There was a black sombrero with heavy silver band; a dark-blue blouseand an embroidered buckskin vest; a belt full of cartridges and apearl-handled gun; trousers of corduroy; high-top leather boots and goldmounted spurs, all of the finest material and workmanship.

  "Joan, I'll make you a black mask out of the rim of a felt hat, and thenyou'll be grand." He spoke with the impulse and enthusiasm of a boy.

  "Kells, you don't mean me to wear these?" asked Joan, incredulously.

  "Certainly. Why not? Just the thing. A little fancy, but then you're agirl. We can't hide that. I don't want to hide it."

  "I won't wear them," declared Joan.

  "Excuse me--but you will," he replied, coolly and pleasantly.

  "I won't!" cried Joan. She could not keep cool.

  "Joan, you've got to take long rides with me. At night sometimes. Wildrides to elude pursuers sometimes. You'll go into camps with me. You'llhave to wear strong, easy, free clothes. You'll have to be masked. Herethe outfit is--as if made for you. Why, you're dead lucky. For thisstuff is good and strong. It'll stand the wear, yet it's fit for agirl.... You put the outfit on, right now."

  "I said I wouldn't!" Joan snapped.

  "But what do you care if it belonged to a fellow who's dead?... There!See that hole in the shirt. That's a bullet-hole. Don't be squeamish.It'll only make your part harder."

  "Mr. Kells, you seem to have forgotten entirely that I'm a--a girl."

  He looked blank astonishment. "Maybe I have.... I'll remember. But yousaid you'd worn a man's things."

  "I wore my brother's coat and overalls, and was lost in them," repliedJoan.

  His face began to work. Then he laughed uproariously. "I--under--stand.This'll fit--you--like a glove.... Fine! I'm dying to see you."

  "You never will."

  At that he grew sober and his eyes glinted. "You can't take a littlefun. I'll leave you now for a while. When I come back you'll have thatsuit on!"

  There was that in his voice then which she had heard when he orderedmen.

  Joan looked her defiance.

  "If you don't have it on when I come I'll--I'll tear your rags off!... Ican do that. You're a strong little devil, and maybe I'm not well enoughyet to put this outfit on you. But I can get help.... If you anger me Imight wait for--Gulden!"

  Joan's legs grew weak under her, so that she had to sink on thebed. Kells would do absolutely and literally what he threatened. Sheunderstood now the changing secret in his eyes. One moment he was acertain kind of a man and the very next he was incalculably different.She instinctively recognized this latter personality as her enemy. Shemust use all the strength and wit and cunning and charm to keep hisother personality in the ascendancy, else all was futile.

  "Since you force me so--then I must," she said.

  Kells left her without another word.

  Joan removed her stained and torn dress and her worn-out boots; thenhurriedly, for fear Kells might return, she put on the dead boy-bandit'soutfit. Dandy Dale assuredly must have been her counterpart, for histhings fitted her perfectly. Joan felt so strange that she scarcely hadcourage enough to look into the mirror. When she did look she gave astart that was of both amaze and shame. But for her face she never couldhave recognized herself. What had become of her height, her slenderness?She looked like an audacious girl in a dashing boy masquerade. Hershame was singular, inasmuch as it consisted of a burning hatefulconsciousness that she had not been able to repress a thrill of delightat her appearance, and that this costume strangely magnified every curveand swell of her body, betraying her feminity as nothing had ever done.

  And just at that moment Kells knocked on the door and called, "Joan, areyou dressed?"

  "Yes," she replied. But the word seemed involuntary.

  Then Kells came in.

  It was an instinctive and frantic impulse that made Joan snatch up ablanket and half envelop herself in it. She stood with scarlet faceand dilating eyes, trembling in every limb. Kells had entered withan expectant smile and that mocking light in his gaze. Both faded. Hestared at the blank
et--then at her face. Then he seemed to comprehendthis ordeal. And he looked sorry for her.

  "Why you--you little--fool!" he exclaimed, with emotion. And thatemotion seemed to exasperate him. Turning away from her, he gazed outbetween the logs. Again, as so many times before, he appeared to beremembering something that was hard to recall, and vague.

  Joan, agitated as she was, could not help but see the effect of herunexpected and unconscious girlishness. She comprehended that with themind of the woman which had matured in her. Like Kells, she too, haddifferent personalities.

  "I'm trying to be decent to you," went on Kells, without turning. "Iwant to give you a chance to make the best of a bad situation. Butyou're a kid--a girl!... And I'm a bandit. A man lost to all good, whomeans to have you!"

  "But you're NOT lost to all good," replied Joan, earnestly. "I can'tunderstand what I do feel. But I know--if it had been Gulden instead ofyou--that I wouldn't have tried to hide my--myself behind this blanket.I'm no longer--AFRAID of you. That's why I acted--so--just like a girlcaught.... Oh! can't you see!"

  "No, I can't see," he replied. "I wish I hadn't fetched you here. I wishthe thing hadn't happened. Now it's too late."

  "It's never too late.... You--you haven't harmed me yet."

  "But I love you," he burst out. "Not like I have. Oh! I see this--thatI never really loved any woman before. Something's gripped me. It feelslike that rope at my throat--when they were going to hang me."

  Then Joan trembled in the realization that a tremendous passion hadseized upon this strange, strong man. In the face of it she did not knowhow to answer him. Yet somehow she gathered courage in the knowledge.

  Kells stood silent a long moment, looking out at the green slope. Andthen, as if speaking to himself, he said: "I stacked the deck and dealtmyself a hand--a losing hand--and now I've got to play it!"

  With that he turned to Joan. It was the piercing gaze he bent upon herthat hastened her decision to resume the part she had to play. And shedropped the blanket. Kells's gloom and that iron hardness vanished.He smiled as she had never seen him smile. In that and his speechlessdelight she read his estimate of her appearance; and, notwithstandingthe unwomanliness of her costume, and the fact of his notoriouscharacter, she knew she had never received so great a compliment.Finally he found his voice.

  "Joan, if you're not the prettiest thing I ever saw in my life!"

  "I can't get used to this outfit," said Joan. "I can't--I won't go awayfrom this room in it."

  "Sure you will. See here, this'll make a difference, maybe. You're soshy."

  He held out a wide piece of black felt that evidently he had cut from asombrero. This he measured over her forehead and eyes, and then takinghis knife he cut it to a desired shape. Next he cut eyeholes in it andfastened to it a loop made of a short strip of buckskin.

  "Try that.... Pull it down--even with your eyes. There!--take a look atyourself."

  Joan faced the mirror and saw merely a masked stranger. She was nolonger Joan Randle. Her identity had been absolutely lost.

  "No one--who ever knew me--could recognize me now," she murmured, andthe relieving thought centered round Jim Cleve.

  "I hadn't figured on that," replied Kells. "But you're right.... Joan,if I don't miss my guess, it won't be long till you'll be the talk ofmining-towns and camp-fires."

  This remark of Kells's brought to Joan proof of his singular pride inthe name he bore, and proof of many strange stories about bandits andwild women of the border. She had never believed any of these stories.They had seemed merely a part of the life of this unsettled wildcountry. A prospector would spend a night at a camp-fire and tell aweird story and pass on, never to be seen there again. Could there havebeen a stranger story than her life seemed destined to be? Her mindwhirled with vague, circling thought--Kells and his gang, the wildtrails, the camps, and towns, gold and stage-coaches, robbery, fights,murder, mad rides in the dark, and back to Jim Cleve and his ruin.

  Suddenly Kells stepped to her from behind and put his arms around her.Joan grew stiff. She had been taken off her guard. She was in his armsand could not face him.

  "Joan, kiss me," he whispered, with a softness, a richer, deeper note inhis voice.

  "No!" cried Joan, violently.

  There was a moment of silence in which she felt his grasp slowlytighten--the heave of his breast.

  "Then I'll make you," he said. So different was the voice now thatanother man might have spoken. Then he bent her backward, and, freeingone hand, brought it under her chin and tried to lift her face.

  But Joan broke into fierce, violent resistance. She believed she wasdoomed, but that only made her the fiercer, the stronger. And with herhead down, her arms straining, her body hard and rigidly unyieldingshe fought him all over the room, knocking over the table and seats,wrestling from wall to wall, till at last they fell across the bed andshe broke his hold. Then she sprang up, panting, disheveled, and backedaway from him. It had been a sharp, desperate struggle on her part andshe was stronger than he. He was not a well man. He raised himself andput one hand to his breast. His face was haggard, wet, working withpassion, gray with pain. In the struggle she had hurt him, perhapsreopened his wound.

  "Did you--knife me--that it hurts so?" he panted, raising a hand thatshook.

  "I had--nothing.... I just--fought," cried Joan, breathlessly.

  "You hurt me--again--damn you! I'm never free--from pain. But this'sworse.... And I'm a coward.... And I'm a dog, too! Not half a man!--Youslip of a girl--and I couldn't--hold you!"

  His pain and shame were dreadful for Joan to see, because she felt sorryfor him, and divined that behind them would rise the darker, grimmerforce of the man. And she was right, for suddenly he changed. Thatwhich had seemed almost to make him abject gave way to a pale and bitterdignity. He took up Dandy Dale's belt, which Joan had left on the bed,and, drawing the gun from its sheath, he opened the cylinder to see ifit was loaded, and then threw the gun at Joan's feet.

  "There! Take it--and make a better job this time," he said.

  The power in his voice seemed to force Joan to pick up the gun.

  "What do--you mean?" she queried, haltingly.

  "Shoot me again! Put me out of my pain--my misery.... I'm sick of itall. I'd be glad to have you kill me!"

  "Kells!" exclaimed Joan, weakly.

  "Take your chance--now--when I've no strength--to force you.... Throwthe gun on me.... Kill me!"

  He spoke with a terrible impelling earnestness, and the strength of hiswill almost hypnotized Joan into execution of his demand.

  "You are mad," she said. "I don't want to kill you. I couldn't.... Ijust want you to--to be--decent to me."

  "I have been--for me. I was only in fun this time--when I grabbed you.But the FEEL of you!... I can't be decent any more. I see things clearnow.... Joan Randle, it's my life or your soul!"

  He rose now, dark, shaken, stripped of all save the truth.

  Joan dropped the gun from nerveless grasp.

  "Is that your choice?" he asked hoarsely.

  "I can't murder you!"

  "Are you afraid of the other men--of Gulden? Is that why you can't killme? You're afraid to be left--to try to get away?"

  "I never thought of them."

  "Then--my life or your soul!"

  He stalked toward her, loomed over her, so that she put out tremblinghands. After the struggle a reaction was coming to her. She wasweakening. She had forgotten her plan.

  "If you're merciless--then it must be--my soul," she whispered. "For ICAN'T murder you.... Could you take that gun now--and press it here--andmurder ME?"

  "No. For I love you."

  "You don't love me. It's a blacker crime to murder the soul than thebody."

  Something in his strange eyes inspired Joan with a flashing, revivingdivination. Back upon her flooded all that tide of woman's subtleincalculable power to allure, to charge, to hold. Swiftly she wentclose to Kells. She stretched out her hands. One was bleeding from roughcontract with the log w
all during the struggle. Her wrists were red,swollen, bruised from his fierce grasp.

  "Look! See what you've done. You were a beast. You made me fight like abeast. My hands were claws--my whole body one hard knot of muscle. Youcouldn't hold me--you couldn't kiss me.... Suppose you ARE able to holdme--later. I'll only be the husk of a woman. I'll just be a cold shell,doubled-up, unrelaxed, a callous thing never to yield.... All that'sME, the girl, the woman you say you love--will be inside, shrinking,loathing, hating, sickened to death. You will only kiss--embrace--athing you've degraded. The warmth, the sweetness, the quiver, thethrill, the response, the life--all that is the soul of a woman andmakes her lovable will be murdered."

  Then she drew still closer to Kells, and with all the wondrous subtletyof a woman in a supreme moment where a life and a soul hang in thebalance, she made of herself an absolute contrast to the fierce, wild,unyielding creature who had fought him off.

  "Let me show--you the difference," she whispered, leaning to him,glowing, soft, eager, terrible, with her woman's charm. "Something tellsme--gives me strength.... What MIGHT be!... Only barely possible--ifin my awful plight--you turned out to be a man, good instead of bad!...And--if it were possible--see the differences--in the woman.... I showyou--to save my soul!"

  She gave the fascinated Kells her hands, slipped into his arms, topress against his breast, and leaned against him an instant, all onequivering, surrendered body; and then lifting a white face, true inits radiance to her honest and supreme purpose to give him one fleetingglimpse of the beauty and tenderness and soul of love, she put warm andtremulous lips to his.

  Then she fell away from him, shrinking and terrified. But he stood thereas if something beyond belief had happened to him, and the evil of hisface, the hard lines, the brute softened and vanished in a light oftransformation.

  "My God!" he breathed softly. Then he awakened as if from a trance,and, leaping down the steps, he violently swept aside the curtain anddisappeared.

  Joan threw herself upon the bed and spent the last of her strength inthe relief of blinding tears. She had won. She believed she need neverfear Kells again. In that one moment of abandon she had exalted him. Butat what cost!