come to her little window any time after dark to talk and plan with her.
No chance presented itself. Joan wore the dress she had made, to the
evident pleasure of Bate Wood and Pearce. They had conceived as strong
an interest in her fortunes as she had in Kells's. Wood nodded his
approval and Pearce said she was a lady once more. Strange it was to
Joan that this villain Pearce, whom she could not have dared trust, grew
open in his insinuating hints of Kells's blackguardism. Strange because
Pearce was absolutely sincere!
When Jim Cleve did see Joan in her dress the first time he appeared so
glad and relieved and grateful that she feared he might betray himself,
so she got out of his sight.
Not long after that Kells called her from her room. He wore his somber
and thoughtful cast of countenance. Red Pearce and Jesse Smith were
standing at attention. Cleve was sitting on the threshold of the door
and Wood leaned against the wall.
“Is there anything in the pack of stuff I bought you that you could use
for a veil?” asked Kells of Joan.
“Yes,” she replied.
“Get it,” he ordered. “And your hat, too.”
Joan went to her room and returned with the designated articles, the hat
being that which she had worn when she left Hoadley.
“That'll do. Put it on--over your face--and let's see how you look.”
Joan complied with this request, all the time wondering what Kells
meant.
“I want it to disguise you, but not to hide your youth--your good
looks,” he said, and he arranged it differently about her face.
“There!... You'd sure make any man curious to see you now.... Put on the
hat.”
Joan did so. Then Kells appeared to become more forcible.
“You're to go down into the town. Walk slow as far as the Last Nugget.
Cross the road and come back. Look at every man you meet or see standing
by. Don't be in the least frightened. Pearce and Smith will be right
behind you. They'd get to you before anything could happen.... Do you
understand?”
“Yes,” replied Joan.
Red Pearce stirred uneasily. “Jack, I'm thinkin' some rough talk'll come
her way,” he said, darkly.
“Will you shut up!” replied Kells in quick passion. He resented some
implication. “I've thought of that. She won't hear what's said to
her.... Here,” and he turned again to Joan, “take some cotton--or
anything--and stuff up your ears. Make a good job of it.”
Joan went back to her room and, looking about for something with which
to execute Kells's last order, she stripped some soft, woolly bits from
a fleece-lined piece of cloth. With these she essayed to deaden her
hearing. Then she returned. Kells spoke to her, but, though she seemed
dully to hear his voice, she could not distinguish what he said. She
shook her head. With that Kells waved her out upon her strange errand.
Joan brushed against Cleve as she crossed the threshold. What would he
think of this? She would not see his face. When she reached the first
tents she could not resist the desire to look back. Pearce was within
twenty yards of her and Smith about the same distance farther back. Joan
was more curious than anything else. She divined that Kells wanted her
to attract attention, but for what reason she was at a loss to say. It
was significant that he did not intend to let her suffer any indignity
while fulfilling this mysterious mission.
Not until Joan got well down the road toward the Last Nugget did any one
pay any attention to her. A Mexican jabbered at her, showing his white
teeth, flashing his sloe-black eyes. Young miners eyed her curiously,
and some of them spoke. She met all kinds of men along the plank walk,
most of whom passed by, apparently unobserving. She obeyed Kells to the
letter. But for some reason she was unable to explain, when she got to
the row of saloons, where lounging, evil-eyed rowdies accosted her, she
found she had to disobey him, at least in one particular. She walked
faster. Still that did not make her task much easier. It began to be an
ordeal. The farther she got the bolder men grew. Could it have been that
Kells wanted this sort of thing to happen to her? Joan had no idea what
these men meant, but she believed that was because for the time being
she was deaf. Assuredly their looks were not a compliment to any girl.
Joan wanted to hurry now, and she had to force herself to walk at a
reasonable gait. One persistent fellow walked beside her for several
steps. Joan was not fool enough not to realize now that these wayfarers
wanted to make her acquaintance. And she decided she would have
something to say to Kells when she got back.
Below the Last Nugget she crossed the road and started upon the return
trip. In front of this gambling-hell there were scattered groups of men,
standing, and going in. A tall man in black detached himself and started
out, as if to intercept her. He wore a long black coat, a black bow tie,
and a black sombrero. He had little, hard, piercing eyes, as black as
his dress. He wore gloves and looked immaculate, compared with the
other men. He, too, spoke to Joan, turned to walk with her. She looked
straight ahead now, frightened, and she wanted to run. He kept beside
her, apparently talking. Joan heard only the low sound of his voice.
Then he took her arm, gently, but with familiarity. Joan broke from him
and quickened her pace.
“Say, there! Leave thet girl alone!”
This must have been yelled, for Joan certainly heard it. She recognized
Red Pearce's voice. And she wheeled to look. Pearce had overhauled the
gambler, and already men were approaching. Involuntarily Joan halted.
What would happen? The gambler spoke to Pearce, made what appeared
deprecating gestures, as if to explain. But Pearce looked angry.
“I'll tell her daddy!” he shouted.
Joan waited for no more. She almost ran. There would surely be a fight.
Could that have been Kells's intention? Whatever it was, she had been
subjected to a mortifying and embarrassing affront. She was angry, and
she thought it might be just as well to pretend to be furious. Kells
must not use her for his nefarious schemes. She hurried on, and, to her
surprise, when she got within sight of the cabin both Pearce and Smith
had almost caught up with her. Jim Cleve sat where she had last seen
him. Also Kells was outside. The way he strode to and fro showed Joan
his anxiety. There was more to this incident than she could fathom.
She took the padding from her ears, to her intense relief, and, soon
reaching the cabin, she tore off the veil and confronted Kells.
“Wasn't that a--a fine thing for you to do?” she demanded, furiously.
And with the outburst she felt her face blazing. “If I'd any idea what
you meant--you couldn't--have driven me!... I trusted you. And you sent
me down there on some--shameful errand of yours. You're no gentleman!”
Joan realized that her speech, especially the latter part, was absurd.
But it had a remarkable effect upon Kells. His face actually turned red.
He stammered something and halted, seemingly at a loss for words. How
singularly the slightest hint of any act or word of hers that approached
a possible respect or tolerance worked upon this bandit! He started
toward Joan appealingly, but she passed him in contempt and went to
her room. She heard him cursing Pearce in a rage, evidently blaming his
lieutenant for whatever had angered her.
“But you wanted her insulted!” protested Pearce, hotly.
“You mullet-head!” roared Kells. “I wanted some man--any man--to get
just near enough to her so I could swear she'd been insulted. You let
her go through that camp to meet real insult!... Why--! Pearce, I've a
mind to shoot you!”
“Shoot!” retorted Pearce. “I obeyed orders as I saw them.... An' I want
to say right here thet when it comes to anythin' concernin' this girl
you're plumb off your nut. That's what. An' you can like it or lump it!
I said before you'd split over this girl. An' I say it now!”
Through the door Joan had a glimpse of Cleve stepping between the angry
men. This seemed unnecessary, however, for Pearce's stinging assertion
had brought Kells to himself. There were a few more words, too low for
Joan's ears, and then, accompanied by Smith, the three started off,
evidently for the camp. Joan left her room and watched them from the
cabin door. Bate Wood sat outside smoking.
“I'm declarin' my hand,” he said to Joan, feelingly. “I'd never hev
stood for thet scurvy trick. Now, miss, this's the toughest camp I ever
seen. I mean tough as to wimmen! For it ain't begun to fan guns an'
steal gold yet.”
“Why did Kells want me insulted?” asked Joan.
“Wal, he's got to hev a reason for raisin' an orful fuss,” replied Wood.
“Fuss?”
“Shore,” replied Wood, dryly.
“What for?”
“Jest so he can walk out on the stage,” rejoined Wood, evasively.
“It's mighty strange,” said Joan.
“I reckon all about Mr. Kells is some strange these days. Red Pearce had
it correct. Kells is a-goin' to split on you!”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Wal, he'll go one way an' the gang another.”
“Why?” asked Joan, earnestly.
“Miss, there's some lot of reasons,” said Wood, deliberately. “Fust, he
did for Halloway an' Bailey, not because they wanted to treat you as he
meant to, but just because he wanted to be alone. We're all wise thet
you shot him--an' thet you wasn't his wife. An' since then we've seen
him gradually lose his nerve. He organized his Legion an' makes his plan
to run this Alder Creek red. He still hangs on to you. He'd kill any
man thet batted an eye at you.... An' through all this, because he's
not Jack Kells of old, he's lost his pull with the gang. Sooner or later
he'll split.”
“Have I any real friends among you?” asked Joan.
“Wal, I reckon.”
“Are you my friend, Bate Wood?” she went on in sweet wistfulness.
The grizzled old bandit removed his pipe and looked at her with a glint
in his bloodshot eyes,
“I shore am. I'll sneak you off now if you'll go. I'll stick a knife in
Kells if you say so.”
“Oh, no, I'm afraid to run off--and you needn't harm Kells. After all,
he's good to me.”
“Good to you!... When he keeps you captive like an Indian would? When
he's given me orders to watch you--keep you locked up?”
Wood's snort of disgust and wrath was thoroughly genuine. Still Joan
knew that she dared not trust him, any more than Pearce or the others.
Their raw emotions would undergo a change if Kells's possession of her
were transferred to them. It occurred to Joan, however, that she might
use Wood's friendliness to some advantage.
“So I'm to be locked up?” she asked.
“You're supposed to be.”
“Without any one to talk to?”
“Wal, you'll hev me, when you want. I reckon thet ain't much to look
forward to. But I can tell you a heap of stories. An' when Kells ain't
around, if you're careful not to get me ketched, you can do as you
want.”
“Thank you, Bate. I'm going to like you,” replied Joan, sincerely, and
then she went back to her room. There was sewing to do, and while she
worked she thought, so that the hours sped. When the light got so poor
that she could sew no longer she put the work aside and stood at her
little window, watching the sunset. From the front of the cabin came the
sound of subdued voices. Probably Kells and his men had returned, and
she was sure of this when she heard the ring of Bate Wood's ax.
All at once an object darker than the stones arrested Joan's gaze. There
was a man sitting on the far side of the little ravine. Instantly she
recognized Jim Cleve. He was looking at the little window--at her. Joan
believed he was there for just that purpose. Making sure that no one
else was near to see, she put out her hand and waved it. Jim gave a
guarded perceptible sign that he had observed her action, and almost
directly got up and left. Joan needed no more than that to tell her how
Jim's idea of communicating with her corresponded with her own. That
night she would talk with him and she was thrilled through. The secrecy,
the peril, somehow lent this prospect a sweetness, a zest, a delicious
fear. Indeed, she was not only responding to love, but to daring, to
defiance, to a wilder nameless element born of her environment and the
needs of the hour.
Presently, Bate Wood called her in to supper. Pearce, Smith, and Cleve
were finding seats at the table, but Kells looked rather sick. Joan
observed him then more closely. His face was pale and damp, strangely
shaded as if there were something dark under the pale skin. Joan had
never seen him appear like this, and she shrank as from another and
forbidding side of the man. Pearce and Smith acted naturally, ate with
relish, and talked about the gold-diggings. Cleve, however, was not
as usual; and Joan could not quite make out what constituted the
dissimilarity. She hurried through her own supper and back to her room.
Already it was dark outside. Joan lay down to listen and wait. It seemed
long, but probably was not long before she heard the men go outside, and
the low thump of their footsteps as they went away. Then came the rattle
and bang of Bate Wood's attack on the pans and pots. Bate liked to cook,
but he hated to clean up afterward. By and by he settled down outside
for his evening smoke and there was absolute quiet. Then Joan rose to
stand at the window. She could see the dark mass of rock overhanging the
cabin, the bluff beyond, and the stars. For the rest all was gloom.
She did not have to wait long. A soft step, almost indistinguishable,
made her pulse beat quicker. She put her face out of the window, and on
the instant a dark form seemed to loom up to meet her out of the shadow.
She could not recognize that shape, yet she knew it belonged to Cleve.
“Joan,” he whispered.
“Jim,” she replied, just as low and gladly.
He moved closer, so that the hand she had gropingly put out touched him,
then seemed naturally to slip along his shoulder, round his neck. And
his face grew clearer in the shadow. His lips met hers, and Joan closed
her eyes to that kiss. What hope, what strength for him and for her now
in that meeting of lips!
“Oh, Jim! I'm so glad--to have you near--to touch you,” she whispered.
“Do you love me still?” he whispered back, tensely.
“Still? More--more!”
“Say it, then.”
“Jim, I love you!”
And their lips met again and clung, and it was he who drew back first.
“Dearest, why didn't you let me make a break to get away with
you--before we came to this camp?”
“Oh, Jim, I told you. I was afraid. We'd have been caught. And Gulden--”
“We'll never have half the chance here. Kells means to keep you closely
guarded. I heard the order. He's different now. He's grown crafty and
hard. And the miners of this Alder Creek! Why, I'm more afraid to trust
them than men like Wood or Pearce. They've gone clean crazy. Gold-mad!
If you shouted for your life they wouldn't hear you. And if you could
make them hear they wouldn't believe. This camp has sprung up in a
night. It's not like any place I ever heard of. It's not human. It's so
strange--so--Oh, I don't know what to say. I think I mean that men in a
great gold strike become like coyotes at a carcass. You've seen that. No
relation at all!”
“I'm frightened, too, Jim. I wish I'd had the courage to run when we
were back in Cabin Gulch, But don't ever give up, not for a second! We
can get away. We must plan and wait. Find out where we are--how far from
Hoadley--what we must expect--whether it's safe to approach any one in
this camp.”
“Safe! I guess not, after to-day,” he whispered, grimly.
“Why? What's happened?” she asked quickly.
“Joan, have you guessed yet why Kells sent you down into camp alone?”
“No.”
“Listen.... I went with Kells and Smith and Pearce. They hurried
straight to the Last Nugget. There was a crowd of men in front of the
place. Pearce walked straight up to one--a gambler by his clothes.
And he said in a loud voice. 'Here's the man!'... The gambler looked
startled, turned pale, and went for his gun. But Kells shot him!... He
fell dead, without a word. There was a big shout, then silence. Kells
stood there with his smoking gun. I never saw the man so cool--so
masterful. Then he addressed the crowd: 'This gambler insulted my
daughter! My men here saw him. My name's Blight. I came here to buy up
gold claims. And I want to say this: Your Alder Creek has got the gold.
But it needs some of your best citizens to run it right, so a girl can
be safe on the street.'”
“Joan, I tell you it was a magnificent bluff,” went on Jim, excitedly.
“And it worked. Kells walked away amid cheers. He meant to give an
impression of character and importance. He succeeded. So far as I could
tell, there wasn't a man present who did not show admiration for him. I
saw that dead gambler kicked.”
“Jim!” breathed Joan. “He killed him--just for that?”
“Just for that--the bloody devil!”
“But still--what for? Oh, it was cold-blooded murder.”
“No, an even break. Kells made the gambler go for his gun. I'll have to
say that for Kells.”
“It doesn't change the thing. I'd forgotten what a monster he is.”
“Joan, his motive is plain. This new gold-camp has not reached the
blood-spilling stage yet. It hadn't, I should say. The news of this
killing will fly. It'll focus minds on this claim-buyer, Blight. His
deed rings true--like that of an honest man with a daughter to protect.
He'll win sympathy. Then he talks as if he were prosperous. Soon
he'll be represented in this changing, growing population as a man of
importance. He'll play the card for all he's worth. Meanwhile, secretly
he'll begin to rob the miners. It'll be hard to suspect him. His plot is
just like the man--great!”
“Jim, oughtn't we tell?” whispered Joan, trembling.
“I've thought of that. Somehow I seem to feel guilty. But whom on
earth could we tell? We wouldn't dare speak here.... Remember--you're a
prisoner. I'm supposed to be a bandit--one of the Border Legion. How to
get away from here and save our lives--that's what tortures me.”
“Something tells me we'll escape, if only we can plan the right way.
Jim, I'll have to be penned here, with nothing to do but wait. You must
come every night!... Won't you?”
For an answer he kissed her again.
“Jim, what'll you do meanwhile?” she asked, anxiously.
“I'm going to work a claim. Dig for gold. I told Kells so to-day, and he
was delighted. He said he was afraid his men wouldn't like the working
part of his plan. It's hard to dig gold. Easy to steal it. But I'll dig
a hole as big as a hill!... Wouldn't it be funny if I struck it rich?”
“Jim, you're getting the fever.”
“Joan, if I did happen to run into a gold-pocket--there're lots of them
found--would--you--marry me?”
The tenderness, the timidity, and the yearning in Cleve's voice told
Joan as never before how he had hoped and feared and despaired. She
patted his cheek with her hand, and in the darkness, with her heart
swelling to make up for what she had done to him, she felt a boldness
and a recklessness, sweet, tumultuous, irresistible.
“Jim, I'll marry you--whether you strike gold or not,” she whispered.
And there was another blind, sweet moment. Then Cleve tore himself away,
and Joan leaned at the window, watching the shadow, with tears in her
eyes and an ache in her breast.
From that day Joan lived a life of seclusion in the small room. Kells
wanted it so, and Joan thought best for the time being not to take
advantage of Bate Wood's duplicity. Her meals were brought to her by
Wood, who was supposed to unlock and lock her door. But Wood never
turned the key in that padlock.
Prisoner though Joan was, the days and nights sped swiftly.
Kells was always up till late in the night and slept half of the next
morning. It was his wont to see Joan every day about noon. He had a care
for his appearance. When he came in he was dark, forbidding, weary, and
cold. Manifestly he came to her to get rid of the imponderable burden
of the present. He left it behind him. He never spoke a word of Alder
Creek, of gold, of the Border Legion. Always he began by inquiring for
her welfare, by asking what he could do for her, what he could bring
her. Joan had an abhorrence of Keils in his absence that she never felt
when he was with her; and the reason must have been that she thought of
him, remembered him as the bandit, and saw him as another and growing
character. Always mindful of her influence, she was as companionable,
as sympathetic, as cheerful, and sweet as it was possible for her to be.
Slowly he would warm and change under her charm, and the grim gloom, the
dark strain, would pass from him. When that left he was indeed another
person. Frankly he told Joan that the glimpse of real love she had
simulated back there in Cabin Gulch was seldom out of his mind. No woman
had ever kissed him like she had. That kiss had transfigured him. It
haunted him. If he could not win kisses like that from Joan's lips, of
her own free will, then he wanted none. No other woman's lips would ever
touch his. And he begged Joan in the terrible earnestness of a stern and
hungering outcast for her love. And Joan could only sadly shake her head
and tell him she was sorry for him, that the more she really believed
he loved her the surer she was that he would give her up. Then always
he passionately refused. He must have her to keep, to look at as his
treasure, to dream over, and hope against hope that she would love him
some day. Women sometimes learned to love their captors, he said; and if
she only learned, then he would take her away to Australia, to distant
lands. But most of all he begged her to show him again what it meant to
be loved by a good woman. And Joan, who knew that her power now lay in
her unattainableness, feigned a wavering reluctance, when in truth any
surrender was impossible. He left her with a spirit that her presence
gave him, in a kind of trance, radiant, yet with mocking smile, as if he
foresaw the overthrow of his soul through her, and in the light of that
his waning power over his Legion was as nothing.
In the afternoon he went down into camp to strengthen the associations
he had made, to buy claims, and to gamble. Upon his return Joan, peeping
through a crack between the boards, could always tell whether he had
been gambling, whether he had won or lost.
Most of the evenings he remained in his cabin, which after dark became
a place of mysterious and stealthy action. The members of his Legion
visited him, sometimes alone, never more than two together. Joan could
hear them slipping in at the hidden aperture in the back of the cabin;
she could hear the low voices, but seldom what was said; she could hear
these night prowlers as they departed. Afterward Kells would have the
lights lit, and then Joan could see into the cabin. Was that dark,
haggard man Kells? She saw him take little buckskin sacks full of
gold-dust and hide them under the floor. Then he would pace the room
in his old familiar manner, like a caged tiger. Later his mood usually
changed with the advent of Wood and Pearce and Smith and Cleve, who took
turns at guard and going down into camp. Then Kells would join them in
a friendly game for small stakes. Gambler though he was, he refused to
allow any game there that might lead to heavy wagering. From the talk
sometimes Joan learned that he played for exceedingly large stakes with
gamblers and prosperous miners, usually with the same result--a loss.
Sometimes he won, however, and then he would crow over Pearce and Smith,
and delight in telling them how cunningly he had played.
Jim Cleve had his bed up under the bulge of bluff, in a sheltered nook.
Kells had appeared to like this idea, for some reason relative to his
scout system, which he did not explain. And Cleve was happy about it
because this arrangement left him absolutely free to have his nightly
rendezvous with Joan at her window, sometime between dark and midnight.
Her bed was right under the window: if awake she could rest on her knees
and look out; and if she was asleep he could thrust a slender stick
between the boards to awaken her. But the fact was that Joan lived for
these stolen meetings, and unless he could not come until very late she
waited wide-eyed and listening for him. Then, besides, as long as Kells
was stirring in the cabin she spent her time spying upon him.
Jim Cleve had gone to an unfrequented part of the gulch, for no
particular reason, and here he had located his claim. The very first
day he struck gold. And Kells, more for advertisement than for any
other motive, had his men stake out a number of claims near Cleve's, and
bought them. Then they had a little field of their own. All found the
rich pay-dirt, but it was Cleve to whom the goddess of fortune turned
her bright face. As he had been lucky at cards, so he was lucky at
digging. His claim paid big returns. Kells spread the news, and that
part of the gulch saw a rush of miners.