The Border Legion Read online

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  "It ain't you--KELLS?"

  Roberts's query was a confirmation of his own recognition. And theother's laugh was an answer, if one were needed.

  The three horsemen crossed the wash and again halted, leisurely, as iftime was no object. They were all young, under thirty. The two who hadnot spoken were rough-garbed, coarse-featured, and resembled in generala dozen men Joan saw every day. Kells was of a different stamp. Until helooked at her he reminded her of someone she had known back in Missouri;after he looked at her she was aware, in a curious, sickening way, thatno such person as he had ever before seen her. He was pale, gray-eyed,intelligent, amiable. He appeared to be a man who had been a gentleman.But there was something strange, intangible, immense about him. Was thatthe effect of his presence or of his name? Kells! It was only a word toJoan. But it carried a nameless and terrible suggestion. During thelast year many dark tales had gone from camp to camp in Idaho--some toostrange, too horrible for credence--and with every rumor the fame ofKells had grown, and also a fearful certainty of the rapid growth of alegion of evil men out on the border. But no one in the village or fromany of the camps ever admitted having seen this Kells. Had fear keptthem silent? Joan was amazed that Roberts evidently knew this man.

  Kells dismounted and offered his hand. Roberts took it and shook itconstrainedly.

  "Where did we meet last?" asked Kells.

  "Reckon it was out of Fresno," replied Roberts, and it was evident thathe tried to hide the effect of a memory.

  Then Kells touched his hat to Joan, giving her the fleetest kind of aglance. "Rather off the track aren't you?" he asked Roberts.

  "Reckon we are," replied Roberts, and he began to lose some of hisrestraint. His voice sounded clearer and did not halt. "Been trailin'Miss Randle's favorite hoss. He's lost. An' we got farther 'n we had anyidee. Then my hoss went lame. 'Fraid we can't start home to-night."

  "Where are you from?"

  "Hoadley. Bill Hoadley's town, back thirty miles or so."

  "Well, Roberts, if you've no objection we'll camp here with you,"continued Kells. "We've got some fresh meat."

  With that he addressed a word to his comrades, and they repaired to acedar-tree near-by, where they began to unsaddle and unpack.

  Then Roberts, bending nearer Joan, as if intent on his own pack, beganto whisper, hoarsely: "That's Jack Kells, the California road-agent.He's a gun fighter--a hell-bent rattlesnake. When I saw him last hehad a rope round his neck an' was bein' led away to be hanged. I heerdafterward he was rescued by pals. Joan, if the idee comes into hishead he'll kill me. I don't know what to do. For God's sake think ofsomethin'!... Use your woman's wits!... We couldn't be in a wuss fix!"

  Joan felt rather unsteady on her feet, so that it was a relief to sitdown. She was cold and sick inwardly, almost stunned. Some great perilmenaced her. Men like Roberts did not talk that way without cause. Shewas brave; she was not unused to danger. But this must be a differentkind, compared with which all she had experienced was but insignificant.She could not grasp Roberts's intimation. Why should he be killed? Theyhad no gold, no valuables. Even their horses were nothing to inspirerobbery. It must be that there was peril to Roberts and to her becauseshe was a girl, caught out in the wilds, easy prey for beasts of evilmen. She had heard of such things happening. Still, she could notbelieve it possible for her. Roberts could protect her. Then thisamiable, well-spoken Kells, he was no Western rough--he spoke like aneducated man; surely he would not harm her. So her mind revolved roundfears, conjectures, possibilities; she could not find her wits. Shecould not think how to meet the situation, even had she divined what thesituation was to be.

  While she sat there in the shade of a cedar the men busied themselveswith camp duties. None of them appeared to pay any attention to Joan.They talked while they worked, as any other group of campers might havetalked, and jested and laughed. Kells made a fire, and carried water,then broke cedar boughs for later camp-fire use; one of the strangerswhom they called Bill hobbled the horses; the other unrolled the pack,spread a tarpaulin, and emptied the greasy sacks; Roberts made biscuitdough for the oven.

  The sun sank red and a ruddy twilight fell. It soon passed. Darkness hadabout set in when Roberts came over to Joan, carrying bread, coffee, andvenison.

  "Here's your supper, Joan," he called, quite loud and cheerily, and thenhe whispered: "Mebbe it ain't so bad. They-all seem friendly. But I'mscared, Joan. If you jest wasn't so dam' handsome, or if only he hadn'tseen you!"

  "Can't we slip off in the dark?" she whispered in return.

  "We might try. But it'd be no use if they mean bad. I can't make up mymind yet what's comin' off. It's all right for you to pretend you'rebashful. But don't lose your nerve."

  Then he returned to the camp-fire. Joan was hungry. She ate and drankwhat had been given her, and that helped her to realize reality. Andalthough dread abided with her, she grew curious. Almost she imaginedshe was fascinated by her predicament. She had always been an emotionalgirl of strong will and self-restraint. She had always longed for sheknew not what--perhaps freedom. Certain places had haunted her. She hadfelt that something should have happened to her there. Yet nothing everhad happened. Certain books had obsessed her, even when a child, andoften to her mother's dismay; for these books had been of wild placesand life on the sea, adventure, and bloodshed. It had always been saidof her that she should have been a boy.

  Night settled down black. A pale, narrow cloud, marked by a train ofstars, extended across the dense blue sky. The wind moaned in the cedarsand roared in the replenished camp-fire. Sparks flew away into theshadows. And on the puffs of smoke that blew toward her came the sweet,pungent odor of burning cedar. Coyotes barked off under the brush, andfrom away on the ridge drifted the dismal defiance of a wolf.

  Camp-life was no new thing to Joan. She had crossed the plains ina wagon-train, that more than once had known the long-drawn yell ofhostile Indians. She had prospected and hunted in the mountains with heruncle, weeks at a time. But never before this night had the wildness,the loneliness, been so vivid to her.

  Roberts was on his knees, scouring his oven with wet sand. His big,shaggy head nodded in the firelight. He seemed pondering and thick andslow. There was a burden upon him. The man Bill and his companion layback against stones and conversed low. Kells stood up in the light ofthe blaze. He had a pipe at which he took long pulls and then sent upclouds of smoke. There was nothing imposing in his build or striking inhis face, at that distance; but it took no second look to see here wasa man remarkably out of the ordinary. Some kind of power and intensityemanated from him. From time to time he appeared to glance in Joan'sdirection; still, she could not be sure, for his eyes were but shadows.He had cast aside his coat. He wore a vest open all the way, and achecked soft shirt, with a black tie hanging untidily. A broad beltswung below his hip and in the holster was a heavy gun. That was astrange place to carry a gun, Joan thought. It looked awkward to her.When he walked it might swing round and bump against his leg. And hecertainly would have to put it some other place when he rode.

  "Say, have you got a blanket for that girl?" asked Kells, removing hispipe from his lips to address Roberts.

  "I got saddle-blankets," responded Roberts. "You see, we didn't expectto be caught out."

  "I'll let you have one," said Kells, walking away from the fire. "Itwill be cold." He returned with a blanket, which he threw to Roberts.

  "Much obliged," muttered Roberts.

  "I'll bunk by the fire," went on the other, and with that he sat downand appeared to become absorbed in thought.

  Roberts brought the borrowed blanket and several saddle-blankets over towhere Joan was, and laying them down he began to kick and scrape stonesand brush aside.

  "Pretty rocky place, this here is," he said. "Reckon you'll sleep some,though."

  Then he began arranging the blankets into a bed. Presently Joan felt atug at her riding-skirt. She looked down.

  "I'll be right by you," he whispered, with his
big hand to his mouth,"an' I ain't a-goin' to sleep none."

  Whereupon he returned to the camp-fire. Presently Joan, not because shewas tired or sleepy, but because she wanted to act naturally, lay downon the bed and pulled a blanket up over her. There was no more talkingamong the men. Once she heard the jingle of spurs and the rustle ofcedar brush. By and by Roberts came back to her, dragging his saddle,and lay down near her. Joan raised up a little to see Kells motionlessand absorbed by the fire. He had a strained and tense position. She sankback softly and looked up at the cold bright stars. What was going tohappen to her? Something terrible! The very night shadows, the silence,the presence of strange men, all told her. And a shudder that was athrill ran over and over her.

  She would lie awake. It would be impossible to sleep. And suddenly intoher full mind flashed an idea to slip away in the darkness, find herhorse, and so escape from any possible menace. This plan occupied herthoughts for a long while. If she had not been used to Western ways shewould have tried just that thing. But she rejected it. She was notsure that she could slip away, or find her horse, or elude pursuit,and certainly not sure of her way home. It would be best to stay withRoberts.

  When that was settled her mind ceased to race. She grew languid andsleepy. The warmth of the blankets stole over her. She had no idea ofsleeping, yet she found sleep more and more difficult to resist.Time that must have been hours passed. The fire died down and thenbrightened; the shadows darkened and then lightened. Someone now andthen got up to throw on wood. The thump of hobbled hoofs sounded out inthe darkness. The wind was still and the coyotes were gone. She couldno longer open her eyes. They seemed glued shut. And then gradually allsense of the night and the wild, of the drowsy warmth, faded.

  When she awoke the air was nipping cold. Her eyes snapped open clear andbright. The tips of the cedars were ruddy in the sunrise. A camp-firecrackled. Blue smoke curled upward. Joan sat up with a rush of memory.Roberts and Kells were bustling round the fire. The man Bill wascarrying water. The other fellow had brought in the horses and wastaking off the hobbles. No one, apparently, paid any attention to Joan.She got up and smoothed out her tangled hair, which she always wore ina braid down her back when she rode. She had slept, then, and in herboots! That was the first time she had ever done that. When she wentdown to the brook to bathe her face and wash her hands, the men still,apparently, took no notice of her. She began to hope that Roberts hadexaggerated their danger. Her horse was rather skittish and did not carefor strange hands. He broke away from the bunch. Joan went after him,even lost sight of camp. Presently, after she caught him, she led himback to camp and tied him up. And then she was so far emboldened as toapproach the fire and to greet the men.

  "Good morning," she said, brightly.

  Kells had his back turned at the moment. He did not move or speak orgive any sign he had heard. The man Bill stared boldly at her, butwithout a word. Roberts returned her greeting, and as she glancedquickly at him, drawn by his voice, he turned away. But she had seenthat his face was dark, haggard, worn.

  Joan's cheer and hope sustained a sudden and violent check. There wassomething wrong in this group, and she could not guess what it was. Sheseemed to have a queer, dragging weight at her limbs. She was gladto move over to a stone and sink down upon it. Roberts brought herbreakfast, but he did not speak or look at her. His hands shook. Andthis frightened Joan. What was going to happen? Roberts went back tothe camp-fire. Joan had to force herself to eat. There was one thing ofwhich she was sure--that she would need all the strength and fortitudeshe could summon.

  Joan became aware, presently, that Kells was conversing with Roberts,but too low for her to hear what was said. She saw Roberts make agesture of fierce protest. About the other man there was an air cool,persuading, dominant. He ceased speaking, as if the incident wereclosed. Roberts hurried and blundered through his task with his pack andwent for his horse. The animal limped slightly, but evidently was not inbad shape. Roberts saddled him, tied on the pack. Then he saddled Joan'shorse. That done, he squared around with the front of a man who had toface something he dreaded.

  "Come on, Joan. We're ready," he called. His voice was loud, but notnatural.

  Joan started to cross to him when Kells strode between them. She mightnot have been there, for all the sign this ominous man gave of herpresence. He confronted Roberts in the middle of the camp-circle, andhalted, perhaps a rod distant.

  "Roberts, get on your horse and clear out," he said.

  Roberts dropped his halter and straightened up. It was a bolder actionthan any he had heretofore given. Perhaps the mask was off now; he waswholly sure of what he had only feared; subterfuge and blindness werein vain; and now he could be a man. Some change worked in his face--ablanching, a setting.

  "No, I won't go without the girl," he said.

  "But you can't take her!"

  Joan vibrated to a sudden start. So this was what was going to happen.Her heart almost stood still. Breathless and quivering, she watchedthese two men, about whom now all was strangely magnified.

  "Reckon I'll go along with you, then," replied Roberts.

  "Your company's not wanted."

  "Wal, I'll go anyway."

  This was only play at words, Joan thought. She divined in Roberts acold and grim acceptance of something he had expected. And the voiceof Kells--what did that convey? Still the man seemed slow, easy, kind,amiable.

  "Haven't you got any sense, Roberts?" he asked.

  Roberts made no reply to that.

  "Go on home. Say nothing or anything--whatever you like," continuedKells. "You did me a favor once over in California. I like to rememberfavors. Use your head now. Hit the trail."

  "Not without her. I'll fight first," declared Roberts, and his handsbegan to twitch and jerk.

  Joan did not miss the wonderful intentness of the pale-gray eyes thatwatched Roberts--his face, his glance, his hands.

  "What good will it do to fight?" asked Kells. He laughed coolly. "Thatwon't help her... You ought to know what you'll get."

  "Kells--I'll die before I leave that girl in your clutches," flashedRoberts. "An' I ain't a-goin' to stand here an' argue with you. Let hercome--or--"

  "You don't strike me as a fool," interrupted Kells. His voice was suave,smooth, persuasive, cool. What strength--what certainty appeared behindit! "It's not my habit to argue with fools. Take the chance I offeryou. Hit the trail. Life is precious, man!... You've no chance here. Andwhat's one girl more or less to you?"

  "Kells, I may be a fool, but I'm a man," passionately rejoined Roberts."Why, you're somethin' inhuman! I knew that out in the gold-fields. Butto think you can stand there--an' talk sweet an' pleasant--with no ideeof manhood!... Let her come now--or--or I'm a-goin' for my gun!"

  "Roberts, haven't you a wife--children?"

  "Yes, I have," shouted Roberts, huskily. "An' that wife would disown meif I left Joan Randle to you. An' I've got a grown girl. Mebbe some dayshe might need a man to stand between her an' such as you, Jack Kells!"

  All Roberts' pathos and passion had no effect, unless to bring out bycontrast the singular and ruthless nature of Jack Kells.

  "Will you hit the trail?"

  "No!" thundered Roberts.

  Until then Joan Randle had been fascinated, held by the swiftinterchange between her friend and enemy. But now she had a convulsionof fear. She had seen men fight, but never to the death. Robertscrouched like a wolf at bay. There was a madness upon him. He shook likea rippling leaf. Suddenly his shoulder lurched--his arm swung.

  Joan wheeled away in horror, shutting her eyes, covering her ears,running blindly. Then upon her muffled hearing burst the boom of a gun.