Desert Dust Part 37

"Yes, yes," they said, soothing gruffly. "Sh.o.r.e he did; sh.o.r.e you didn't.

It's all right. Come along, come along."

Then----

"Pick him up. He's bad hurt, himself. See that blood? No, 'tain't his arm, is it? He's bleedin' internal. Whar's the hole? Wait! He's busted something."

They would have carried me.

"No," I cried, while their bearded faces swam. "He said "Nuf'--he shot me afterward. Not bad, is it? I can walk."

"Not bad. Creased you in the arm, if that's all. What you spittin' blood for?"

As they hustled me onward I wiped my swollen lips; the back of my hand seemed to be covered with thin blood.

"Where he struck me, once," I wheezed.

"Yes, mebbe so. But come along, come along. We'll tend to you."

The world had grown curiously darkened, so that we moved as through an obscuring veil; and I dumbly wondered whether this was night (had it been morning or evening when I started for the pond?) or whether I was dying myself. I peered and again made out the sober, stern faces hedging me, but they gave me no answer to my mutely anxious query. Across a great distance we stumbled by the wagons (the same wagons of a time agone), and halted at a fire.

"Set down. Fetch a blanket, somebody. Whar's the water? Set down till we look you over."

I let them sit me down.

"Wash your mouth out."

That was done, pinkish; and a second time, clearer.

"You're all right." Jenks apparently was ministering to me. "Swaller this."

The odor of whiskey fumed into my nostrils. I obediently swallowed, and gasped and choked. Jenks wiped my face with a sopping cloth. Hands were rummaging at my left arm; a bandage being wound about.

"Nothin' much," was the report. "Creased him, is all. Lucky he dodged. It was comin' straight for his heart."

"He's all right," Jenks again a.s.serted.

Under the bidding of the liquor the faintness from the exertion and reaction was leaving me. The slight hemorrhage from the strain to my weak lungs had ceased. I would live, I would live. But he--Daniel?

"Did I kill him?" I besought. "Not that! I didn't aim--I don't know how I shot--but I had to. Didn't I?"

"You did. He'll not bother you ag'in. She's yourn."

That hurt.

"But it wasn't about her, it wasn't over Mrs. Montoyo. He bullied me--dared me. We were man to man, boys. He made me fight him."

"Yes, sh.o.r.e," they agreed--and they were not believing. They still linked me with a woman, whereas she had figured only as a transient occasion.

Then she herself, My Lady, appeared, running in breathless and appealing.

"Is Mr. Beeson hurt? Badly? Where is he? Let me help."

She knelt beside me, her hand grasped mine, she gazed wide-eyed and imploring.

"No, he's all right, ma'am."

"I'm all right, I a.s.sure you," I mumbled thickly, and helpless as a babe to the clinging of her cold fingers.

"How's the other man?" they abruptly asked.

"I don't know. He was carried away. But I think he's dead. I hope so--oh, I hope so. The coward, the beast!"

"There, there," they quieted. "That's all over with. What he got is his own business now. He hankered for it and was bound to have it. You'd best stay right hyar a spell. It's the place for you at present."

They grouped apart, on the edge of the flickering fire circle. The dusk had heightened apace (for nightfall this really was), the glow and flicker barely touched their blackly outlined forms, the murmur of their voices sounded ominous. In the circle we two sat, her hand upon mine, thrilling me comfortably yet abashing me. She surveyed me unwinkingly and grave--a triumph shining from her eyes albeit there were seamy shadows etched into her white face. It was as though she were welcoming me through the outposts of h.e.l.l.

"You killed him. I knew you would--I knew you'd have to."

"I knew it, too," I miserably faltered. "But I didn't want to--I shot without thinking. I might have waited."

"Waited! How could you wait? 'Twas either you or he."

"Then I wish it had been I," I attempted.

"What nonsense," she flashed. "We all know you did your best to avoid it.

But tell me: Do you think I dragged you into it? Do you hate me for it?"

"No. It happened when you were there. That's all. I'm sorry; only sorry.

What's to be done next?"

"That will be decided, of course," she said. "You will be protected, if necessary. You acted in self-defense. They all will swear to that and back you up."

"But you?" I asked, arousing from this unmanly despair which played me for a weakling. "You must be protected also. You can't go to that other camp, can you?"

She laughed and withdrew her hand; laughed hardly, even scornfully.

"I? Above all things, don't concern yourself about me, please. I shall take care of myself. He is out of the way. You have freed me of that much, Mr. Beeson, whether intentionally or not. And you shall be free, yourself, to act as your friends advise. You must leave me out of your plans altogether. Yes, I know; you killed him. Why not? But he wasn't a man; he was a wild animal. And you'll find there are matters more serious than killing even a man, in this country."

"You! You!" I insisted. "You shall be looked out for. We are partners in this. He used your name; he made that an excuse. We shall have to make some new arrangements for you--put you on the stage as soon as we can. And meanwhile----"

"There is no partnership, and I shall require no looking after, sir," she interrupted. "If you are sorry that you killed him, I am not; but you are entirely free."

The group at the edge of the fire circle dissolved. Jenks came and seated himself upon his hams, beside us.

"Wall, how you feelin' now?" he questioned of me.

"I'm myself again," said I.