Desert Dust Part 24

Likewise straightening I mentally repeated the e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n, for now I knew her as well as he. Yes, by the muttered babble others in our party knew her. It was My Lady--formerly My Lady--clad in embroidered short Spanish jacket, tightish velvet pantaloons, booted to the knees, pulled down upon her yellow hair a black soft hat, and hanging from the just-revealed belt around her slender waist, a revolver trifle.

She paused, small and alone, viewing us, her eyes very blue, her face very white.

"Is Mr. Jenks there?" she hailed clearly.

"d.a.m.n' if I ain't," he mumbled. He glowered at me. "Yes, ma'am, right hyar. You want to speak with me?"

"By gosh, it's Montoyo's woman, ain't it?" were the comments.

"I do, sir."

"You can come on closer then, ma'am," he growled. "There ain't no secrets between us."

Come on she did, with only an instant's hesitation and a little compression of the lips. She swept our group fearlessly--her gaze crossed mine, but she betrayed no sign.

"I wish to engage pa.s.sage to Salt Lake."

"With this hyar train?" gasped Jenks.

"Yes. You are bound for Salt Lake, aren't you?"

"For your health, ma'am?" he stammered.

She faintly smiled, but her eyes were steady and wide.

"For my health. I'd like to throw in with your outfit. I will cook, keep camp, and pay you well besides."

"We haven't no place for a woman, ma'am. You'd best take the stage."

"No. There'll be no stage out till morning. I want to make arrangements at once--with you. There are other women in this train." She flashed a glance around. "And I can take care of myself."

"If you aim to go to Salt Lake your main holt is Benton and the stage. The stage makes through in four days and we'll use thirty," somebody counseled.

"An' this bull train ain't no place for yore kind, anyhow," grumbled another. "We've quit roarin'--we've cut loose from that h.e.l.l-hole yonder."

"So have I." But she did not turn on him. "I'm never going back. I--I can't, now; not even for the stage. Will you permit me to travel with you, sir?"

"No, ma'am, I won't," rasped Mr. Jenks. "I can't do it. It's not in my line, ma'am."

"I'll be no trouble. You have only Mr. Beeson. I don't ask to ride. I'll walk. I merely ask protection."

"So do we," somebody sn.i.g.g.e.red; and I hated him, for I saw her sway upon her feet as if the words had been a blow.

"No, ma'am, I'm full up. I wouldn't take on even a yaller dog, 'specially a she one," Jenks announced. "What your game is now I can't tell, and I don't propose to be eddicated to it. But you can't travel along with me, and that's straight talk. If you can put anything over on these other fellers, try your luck."

"Oh!" she cried, wincing. Her hands clenched nervously, a red spot dyed either cheek as she appealed to us all. "Gentlemen! Won't one of you help me? What are you afraid of? I can pay my way--I ask no favors--I swear to you that I'll give no trouble. I only wish protection across."

"Where's Pedro? Where's Montoyo?"

She turned quickly, facing the jeer; her two eyes blazed, the red spots deepened angrily.

"He? That snake? I shot him."

"What! You? Killed him?" Exclamations broke from all quarters.

She stamped her foot.

"No. I didn't have to. But when he tried to abuse me I defended myself.

Wasn't that right, gentlemen?"

"Right or wrong, he'll be after you, won't he?"

The question held a note of alarm. Her lip curled.

"You needn't fear. I'll meet him, myself."

"By gosh, I don't mix up in no quarrel 'twixt a man and his woman."

And--"'Tain't our affair. When he comes he'll come a-poppin'." Such were the hasty comments. I felt a peculiar heat, a revulsion of shame and indignation, which made the present seem much more important than the past. And there was the recollection of her, crying, and still the accents of her last appeals in the early morning.

"I thought that I might find men among you," she disdainfully said--a break in her voice. "So I came. But you're afraid of _him_--of that breed, that vest-pocket killer. And you're afraid of me, a woman whose cards are all on the table. There isn't a one of you--even you, Mr. Beeson, sir, whom I tried to befriend although you may not know it." And she turned upon me. "You have not a word to say. I am never going back, I tell you all. You won't take me, any of you? Very well." She smiled wanly. "I'll drift along, gentlemen. I'll play the lone hand. Montoyo shall never seize me. I'd rather trust to the wolves and the Indians. There'll be another wagon train."

"I am only an employee, madam," I faltered. "If I had an outfit of my own I certainly would help you."

She flushed painfully; she did not glance at me direct again, but her unspoken thanks enfolded me.

"Here's the wagon boss," Jenks grunted, and spat. "Mebbe you can throw in with him. When it comes to supers, that's his say-so. I've all I can tend to, myself, and I don't look for trouble. I've got no love for Montoyo, neither," he added. "d.a.m.ned if I ain't glad you give him a dose."

Murmurs of approval echoed him, as if the tide were turning a little. All this time--not long, however--Daniel had been sitting his mule, transfixed and gaping, his oddly wry eyes upon her. Now the large form of Captain Adams came striding in contentious, through the gathering dusk.

"What's this?" he demanded harshly. "An unG.o.dly woman? I'll have no trafficking in my train. Get you gone, Delilah. Would you pursue us even here?"

"I am going, sir," she replied. "I ask nothing from you or these--gentlemen."

"Them's the two she's after, paw: Jenks an' that greenie," Daniel bawled.

"They know her. She's follered 'em. She aims to travel with 'em. Oh, gos.h.!.+

She's shot her man in Benton. Gos.h.!.+" His voice trailed off. "Ain't she purty, though! She's dressed in britches."

"Get you gone," Captain Adams thundered. "And these your paramours with you. For thus saith the Lord: There shall be no l.u.s.ting of adultery among his chosen. And thus say I, that no brazen hussy in men's garments shall travel with this train to Zion--no, not a mile of the way."

Jenks stiffened, bristling.

"Mind your words, Adams. I'm under no Mormon thumb, and I'll thank you not to connect me and this--lady in ary such fas.h.i.+on. As for your brat on horseback, he'd better hold his yawp. She came of her own hook, and d.a.m.ned if I ain't beginnin' to think----"

I sprang forward. Defend her I must. She should not stand there, slight, lovely, brave but drooping, aflame with the helplessness of a woman alone and insulted.

"Wait!" I implored. "Give her a chance. You haven't heard her story. All she wants is protection on the road. Yes, I know her, and I know the cur she's getting away from. I saw him strike her; so did Mr. Jenks. What were you intending to do? Turn her out into the night? Shame on you, sir. She says she can't go back to Benton, and if you'll be humane enough to understand why, you'll at least let her stay in your camp till morning.

You've got women there who'll care for her, I hope."