Desert Dust Part 41

The scouts on either flanks had galloped outward and onward, in swift circle, peering at our defenses. Lying low they scoured at full speed; with mutual whoop they crisscrossed beyond and turned back for the main body halted two hundred yards out upon the flat plain.

There was a consultation; on a sudden a great chorus of exultant cries rang, the force scattered, shaking fists and weapons, preparing for a tentative charge; and ere I could stop her My Lady had sprung upright, to mount upon a rock and all in view to hold open hand above her head. The sunshine glinted upon her hair; a fugitive little breeze bound her shabby gown closer about her slim figure.

They had seen her instantly. Another chorus burst, this time in astonishment; a dozen guns were leveled, covering her and our nest while every visage stared. But no shot belched; thank G.o.d, no shot, with me powerless to prevent, just as I was powerless to intercept her. The chief rode forward, at a walk, his hand likewise lifted.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Scouts Galloped Onward]

"Keep down! Keep down, please," she directed to me, while she stood motionless. "Let me try."

The chief neared until we might see his every lineament--every item of his trappings, even to the black-tipped eagle feather erect at the part in his braids. And he rode carelessly, fearlessly, to halt within easy speaking distance; sat a moment, rifle across his leggined thighs and the folds of his scarlet blanket--a splendid man, naked from the waist up, his coppery chest pigment-daubed, his slender arms braceleted with metal, his eyes devouring her so covetously that I felt the gloating thoughts behind them.

He called inquiringly: a greeting and a demand in one, it sounded. She replied. And what they two said, in word and sign, I could not know, but all the time I held my revolver upon him, until to my relief he abruptly wheeled his horse and cantered back to his men, leaving me with wrist aching and heart pounding madly.

She stepped lightly down; answered my querying look.

"It's all right. I'm going, and so are you," she said, with a faint smile, oddly subtle--a tremulous smile in a white face.

About her there was a mystery which alarmed me; made me sit up, chilled, to eye her and accuse.

"Where? We are free, you mean? What's the bargain?"

"I go to them. You go where you choose--to the stage road, of course. I have his promise."

This brought me to my feet, rigid; more than scandalized, for no word can express the shock.

"You go to them? And then where?"

She answered calmly, flushing a little, smiling a little, her eyes sincere.

"It's the best way and the only way. We shall neither of us be harmed, now. The chief will provide for me and you yourself are free. No, no," she said, checking my first indignant cry. "Really I don't mind. The Indians are about the only persons left to me. I'll be safe with them." She laughed rather sadly, but brightened. "I don't know but that I prefer them to the whites. I told you I had no place. And this saves you also, you see. I got you into it--I've felt that you blamed me, almost hated me.

Things have been breaking badly for me ever since we met again in Benton.

So it's up to me to make good. You can go home, and I shall not be unhappy, I think. Please believe that. The wife of a great chief is quite a personage--he won't inquire into my past. But if we try to stay here you will certainly be killed, and I shall suffer, and we shall gain nothing.

You must take my money. Please do. Then good-bye. I told him I would come out, under his promise."

She and the rocks reeled together. That was my eyes, giddy with a rush of blood, surging and hot.

"Never, never, never!" I was shouting, ignoring her hand. How she had misjudged me! What a shame she had put upon me! I could not credit. "You shall not--I tell you, you sha'n't. I won't have it--it's monstrous, preposterous. You sha'n't go, I sha'n't go. But wherever we go we'll go together. We'll stand them off. Then if they can take us, let 'em. You make a coward of me--a dastard. You've no right to. I'd rather die."

"Listen," she chided, her hand grasping my sleeve. "They would take me anyway--don't you see? After they had killed you. It would be the worse for both of us. What can you do, with one arm, and a revolver, and an unlucky woman? No, Mr. Beeson (she was firm and strangely formal); the cards are faced up. I have closed a good bargain for both of us. When you are out, you need say nothing. Perhaps some day I may be ransomed, should I wish to be. But we can talk no further now. He is impatient. The money--you will need the money, and I shall not. Please turn your back and I'll get at my belt. Why," she laughed, "how well everything is coming.

You are disposed of, I am disposed of----"

"Money!" I roared. "G.o.d in Heaven! You disposed of? I disposed of? And my honor, madam! What of that?"

"And what of mine, Mr. Beeson?" She stamped her foot, coloring. "Will you turn your back, or----? Oh, we've talked too long. But the belt you shall have. Here----" She fumbled within her gown. "And now, adios and good luck. You shall not despise me."

The chief was advancing accompanied by a warrior. Behind him his men waited expectant, gathered as an ugly blotch upon the dun desert. Her honor? The word had double meaning. Should she sacrifice the one honor in this crude essay to maintain the other which she had not lost, to my now opened eyes? I could not deliver her tender body over to that painted swaggerer--any more than I could have delivered it over to Daniel himself.

At last I knew, I knew. History had written me a fool, and a cad, but it should not write me a dastard. We were together, and together we should always be, come weal or woe, life or death.

The money belt had been dropped at my feet. She had turned--I leaped before her, thrust her to rear, answered the hail of the pausing chief.

"No!" I squalled. And I added for emphasis: "You go to h.e.l.l."

He understood. The phrase might have been familiar English to him. I saw him stiffen in his saddle; he called loudly, and raised his rifle, threatening; with a gasp--a choked "Good-bye"--she darted by me, running on for the open and for him. She and he filled all my landscape. In a stark blinding rage of fear, chagrin, rancorous jealousy, I leveled revolver and pulled trigger, but not at her, though even that was not beyond me in the crisis.

The bullet thwacked smartly; the chief uttered a terrible cry, his rifle was tossed high, he bowed, swayed downward, his comrade grabbed him, and they were racing back closely side by side and she was running back to me and the warriors were shrieking and brandishing their weapons and bullets spatted the rocks--all this while yet my hand shook to the recoil of the revolver and the smoke was still wafting from the poised muzzle.

What had I done? But done it was.

CHAPTER XX

THE QUEEN WINS

She arrived breathless, distraught, instantly to drag me down beside her, from where I stood stupidly defiant.

"Keep out of sight," she panted. And--"Oh, why did you do it? Why did you?

I think you killed him--they'll never forgive. They'll call it treachery.

You're lost, lost."

"But he sha'n't have you," I gabbled. "Let them kill me if they can. Till then you're mine. Mine! Don't you understand? I want you."

"I don't understand," she faltered. She turned frightened face upon me.

"You should have let me go. Nothing can save you now; not even I. You've ruined the one chance you had. I wonder why. It was my own choice--you had no hand in it, and it was my own chance, too." Her voice broke, her eyes welled piteously. "But you fired on him."

"That was the only answer left me," I entreated. "You misjudged me, you shamed me. I tell you----"

Her lips slightly curled.

"Misjudged you? Shamed you? Was that all? You've misjudged and shamed me for so long----" A burst of savage hoots renewed interrupted. "They're coming!" She knelt up, to peer; I peered. The Indians had deployed, leaving the chief lying upon the ground, their fierce countenances glaring at our asylum. How clear their figures were, in the sunshine, limned against the lazy yellowish sand, under the peaceful blue! "They'll surround us. I might parley for myself, but I can do nothing for you."

"Parley, then," I bade. "Save yourself, any way you can."

She drew in, whitening as if I had struck her.

"And you accuse me of having misjudged you! I save myself--merely myself?

What do you intend to do? Fight?"

"As long as you are with me; and after. They'll never take me alive; and take you they shall not if I can prevent it. d.a.m.n them, if they get you I mean to make them pay for you. You're all I have."

"You'd rather I'd stay? You need me? Could I help?"

"Need you!" I groaned. "I'm just finding out, too late."

"And help? How? Quick! Could I?"