The Heart of the Desert Part 42

"Don't trouble to discuss the matter," said Rhoda coolly. "I am coming with you. Katherine probably sent some clothing for me, didn't she?"

"Why, yes!" exclaimed Jack. "That was one of the first things she thought of. She sent her own riding things for you. She spoke of the little silk dress you had on and said you hadn't anything appropriate in your trunks for the rough trip you might have to take after we found you."

Jack was talking rapidly, as if to relieve the tension of the situation. He undid a pack that he had kept tied to his saddle during all the long weeks of pursuit.

"We can rig up a dressing-room of blankets in no time," he went on, putting a bundle into Rhoda's hands.

Rhoda stood holding the bundle in silence while all hands set to rigging up her dressing-room. She felt suddenly cool-headed and resourceful. Her mind was forced away from her own sorrow to the solution of another heavy problem. In the little blanket tent she unrolled the bundle and smiled tenderly at the evidence of Katherine's thoughtfulness. There were underwear, handkerchiefs, toilet articles and Katherine's own pretty corduroy divided skirt and Norfolk jacket with a little blouse and Ascot scarf.

Rhoda took off her buckskins and tattered blue shirt slowly, with lips that would quiver. This was the last, the very last of Kut-le! She dressed herself in Katherine's clothes, then folded up the buckskins and shirt. She would keep them, always! When she came out from the tent she stepped awkwardly, for the skirts bothered her, and Jack, waiting nearby, smiled at her. At another time Rhoda would have joined in his amus.e.m.e.nt, but now she asked soberly:

"Which horse is for me?"

"Rhoda!" cried DeWitt, "I really wouldn't know you! I thought I never could want you anything but ethereal, but--Jack! Isn't she wonderful!"

Jack grinned. Rhoda, tanned and oval-cheeked, and straight of back and shoulder, was not to be compared with the invalid Rhoda.

"Gee!" he said. "Wait till Katherine sees her!"

Rhoda shrugged her shoulders.

"My pleasure in all that is swallowed up by this savage obsession of yours."

John DeWitt led out Rhoda's pony.

"You don't understand, dear," he said. "You can't doubt my heavenly joy at having you safe. But the outrage of it all-- That Apache devil!"

"I do understand, John," answered Rhoda wearily. "Don't try to explain again. I know just how you all feel. Only, I will not have Kut-le killed."

"Rhoda," said DeWitt hoa.r.s.ely, "I shall kill him as I would a yellow dog!"

Rhoda turned away. The line of march was quickly formed. Porter led.

Carlos closed the rear. DeWitt and Newman rode on either side of Rhoda. They were not long in reaching the trail down the canon wall.

Here they paused, for the rough ascent was impossible for the horses.

The men looked questioningly at Rhoda but she volunteered no information. She believed that Kut-le had left the camp at the top long since. If for any reason he had delayed his going, she knew that he had watched every movement in the white camp and could protect himself easily.

"We can leave Carlos with the horses," said Porter, "while we climb up and see where the trail leads."

Rhoda dismounted, still silent, and followed Porter and DeWitt up the trail. Jack following her. The trail had been difficult to descend and was very hard to ascend. There was a dumb purposefulness about the men's movements that sickened Rhoda. She had seen too much of men in this mood of late and she feared them, She knew that all the amenities of civilization had been stripped from them and that she was only pitting her feeble strength against a world-old instinct.

Her heart was beating heavily as they neared the top, but not from the hard climb. She was inured to difficult trails. There was a sheer pull, shoulder high, at the top. The four accomplished it in one breathless group, then stood as if paralyzed.

Sunlight flickered through the pines. Molly and Cesca prepared the trail packs. And Kut-le sat beside the spring, eying his visitors grimly. He looked very cool and well groomed in comparison with his trail-worn adversaries.

DeWitt pulled out his Colt.

"I think I have you, this time," he said.

"Yes?" asked Kut-le, without stirring. "And what are you going to do with me?"

"I'm going to take about a minute to tell you what I think of you, and give you another minute in which to offer up some sort of an Indian prayer. Then I'm going to shoot you!"

Kut-le glanced from DeWitt to Rhoda, thence to Porter and Newman.

Porter's under lip protruded. Jack looked sick. Both the men had their hands on their guns. Rhoda moistened her lips to speak, but Kut-le was before her.

"Are you a good shot, DeWitt?" he asked. "Because I know that Jack and Porter are sure in their aim."

"You'll never know whether I am or not," replied DeWitt. "You'd better be thankful that we are shooting you instead of hanging you, as you deserve, you cur! You'd better be glad you're dying! You haven't a white friend left in the country! All your ambition and hard work have come to this because you couldn't change your Indian hide, after all!

Now then, say your prayers! Rhoda, cover up your eyes!"

Kut-le rose slowly. The whites noticed with a little pang of shame that he made no attempt to touch his gun which lay on the ground beside him.

"You'd better let Jack and Billy shoot with you," he said quietly.

"You won't like to think about the shot that killed me, afterward. It isn't nice, I've heard, the memory of killing a man!"

"I'm shooting an Indian, not a man!" said DeWitt. "Say your prayers!"

The spell of fear that had paralyzed Rhoda snapped. Before Jack or Billy could detain her she ran to DeWitt's side and grasped his arm.

"John! John! Listen to me, one moment! Look at me! In spite of all, look, see what he's made of me, for you to reap the harvest! Look at me! I beg of you, do not shoot him! Let him go! Make him promise to leave the country. Make him promise anything! He keeps promises because he is an Indian! But if you have any love for me, if you care anything for my happiness, don't kill Kut-le! I tell you I will never marry you with his blood on your hands!"

A look curiously hard, curiously suspicious, came to DeWitt's eyes.

Without lowering his gun or looking at the girl, he answered:

"You plead too well, Rhoda! I want this Indian to pay for more torture of mine than you can dream of! Get back out of the way! Are you ready, Kut-le?"

Rhoda's slender body was rigid. She moved away from DeWitt until she could encompa.s.s the four men in her glance. With arms folded across her arching chest she spoke with a richness in her voice that none of her hearers ever could forget.

"Remember, friends, you have forced me to this! You had me safe, but you thought more of revenge than you did of my safety! John, if you kill Kut-le you will kill the man that I love with all the pa.s.sion of my soul!"

DeWitt gasped as if he had been struck. Newman and Porter stared dizzily. Only Kut-le stood composed. His eyes with the old look of tragic tenderness were fastened on the girl.

"Are you going to shoot him now, John?"

"Rhoda!" cried DeWitt fiercely. "Rhoda! Do you realize what you are saying?"

"Yes," said Rhoda steadily. "I realize that a force greater than race pride, greater than self love, greater than intelligence or fear, is gripping me! John, I love this man! He and I have lived through experiences together too great for words. He had me in the hollow of his hand but he sent me back to you, his enemy. You say that you love me. But you would not listen to my pleading, you would not grant me the only favor I ever asked you, the granting of which could not have harmed you."

Her listeners did not stir. Rhoda moistened her lips.

"Kut-le---- Think what he sacrificed for me. He gave up his dearest friendships. He gave up his honor and his country and risked his life, for me. And then when he thought the sacrifice would prove too great on my part, he gave me up! I ask you to give him his life, for me.

Because, John, and Billy Porter, and Jack, I tell you that I love him!"

"My G.o.d!" panted DeWitt. "Rhoda, don't! You don't know what you're saying! Rhoda!"

Rhoda looked off where the afternoon sun lay like the very glory of G.o.d upon the chaos of range and desert. Almost--almost the secret of life itself seemed to bare itself to the girl's wide eyes. The white men watched her aghast. There was a desperate, hunted look in DeWitt's tired face. Rhoda turned back.

"I know what I'm saying," she replied. "But I tell you that this thing is bigger than I am! I have fought it, defied it, ignored it. It only grows the stronger! I know that this comes to humans but rarely. Yet it has come to me! It is the greatest force in the world! It is what makes life persist! To most people it comes only in small degree and they call that love! To me, in this boundless country, it has come boundlessly. It is greater than what you know as love. It is greater than I am. I don't know what sorrow or what joy my decision may bring me but--John, I want you to let Kut-le live that I may marry him!"