The "Wild West" Collection. William MacLeod Raine

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СКАЧАТЬ above a prairie dog's hole slid into the mesquit. A swift watched them from the top of a smooth rock, motionless so long as they could see. She loved it all, this immense, deserted world of space filled with its multitudinous dwellers.

      They unsaddled at Dead Cow Creek, hobbled the ponies, and ate supper. Norris seemed in no hurry to resaddle. He lay stretched carelessly at full length, his eyes upon her with veiled admiration. She sat upright, her gaze on the sunset with its splashes of topaz and crimson and saffron, watching the tints soften and mellow as dusk fell. Every minute now brought its swift quota of changing beauty. A violet haze enveloped the purple mountains, and in the crotch of the hills swam a lake of indigo. The raw, untempered glare of the sun was giving place to a limitless pour of silvery moonlight.

      Her eyes were full of the soft loveliness of the hour when she turned them upon her companion. He answered promptly her unspoken question.

      "You bet it is! A night for the gods--or for lovers."

      He said it in a murmur, his eyes full on hers, and his look wrenched her from her mood. The mask of comradeship was gone. He looked at her hungrily, as might a lover to whom all spiritual heights were denied.

      Her sooty lashes fell before this sinister spirit she had evoked, but were raised instantly at the sound of him drawing his body toward her. Inevitably there was a good deal of the young animal in her superbly healthy body. She had been close to nature all day, the riotous passion of spring flowing free in her as in the warm earth herself. But the magic of the mystic hills had lifted her beyond the merely personal. Some sense of grossness in him for the first time seared across her brain. She started up, and her face told him she had taken alarm.

      "We must be going," she cried.

      He got to his feet. "No hurry, sweetheart."

      The look in his face startled her. It was new to her in her experience of men. Never before had she met elemental lust.

      "You're near enough," she cautioned sharply.

      He cursed softly his maladroitness.

      "I was nearer last night, honey," he reminded her.

      "Last night isn't to-night."

      He hesitated. Should he rush her defenses, bury her protests in kisses? Or should he talk her out of this harsh mood? Last night she had been his. There were moments during the day when she had responded to him as a musical instrument does to skilled fingers. But for the moment his power over her was gone. And he was impatient of delay.

      "What's the matter with you?" he asked roughly.

      "We'll start at once."

      "No."

      "Yes."

      Frightened though she was, her gaze held steadily to his. It was the same instinct in her that makes one look a dangerous wild beast straight in the eye.

      "What's got into you?" he demanded sullenly.

      "I'm going home."

      "After a while."

      "Now."

      "I reckon not just yet. It's my say-so."

      "Don't you dare stop me."

      The passion in him warred with prudence. He temporized. "Why, honey! I'm the man that loves you."

      She would not see his outstretched hands.

      "Then saddle my horse."

      "By God, no! You're going to listen to me."

      His anger ripped out unexpectedly, even to him. Whatever fear she felt, the girl crushed down. He must not know her heart was drowned in terror.

      "I'll listen after we've started."

      He cursed her fickleness. "What's ailin' you, girl? I ain't a man to be put off this way."

      "Don't forget you're in Arizona," she warned.

      He understood what she meant. In the ranch country no man could with impunity insult a woman.

      Standing defiantly before him, her pliant form very straight, the underlying blood beating softly under the golden brown of her cheeks, one of the thick braids of her heavy, blue-black hair falling across the breast that rose and fell a little fast, she was no less than a challenge of Nature to him. He looked into a mobile face as daring and as passionate as his own, warm with the life of innocent youth, and the dark blood mantled his face.

      "Saddle the horses," she commanded.

      "When I get good and ready."

      "Now."

      "No, ma'am. We're going to have a talk first."

      She walked across to the place where her pony grazed, slipped on the bridle, and brought the animal back to the saddle. Norris watched her fitting the blankets and tightening the cinch without a word, his face growing blacker every moment. Before she could start he strode forward and caught the rein.

      "I've got something to say to you," he told her rudely. "You're not going now. So that's all about it."

      Her lips tightened. "Let go of my horse."

      "We'll talk first."

      "Do you think you can force me to stay here?"

      "You're going to hear what I've got to say."

      "You bully!"

      "I'll tell what I know--Miss Hold-up."

      "Tell it!" she cried.

      He laughed harshly, his narrowed eyes watching her closely. "If you throw me down now, I'll ce'tainly tell it. Be reasonable, girl."

      "Let go my rein!"

      "I've had enough of this. Tumble off that horse, or I'll pull you off."

      Her dark eyes flashed scorn of him. "You coward! Do you think I'm afraid of you? Stand back!"

      The man looked long at her, his teeth set; then caught at her strong little wrist. With a quick wrench she freed it, her eyes glowing like live coals.

      "You dare!" she panted.

      Her quirt rose and fell, the lash burning his wrist like a band of fire. With a furious oath he dropped his hand from the rein. Like a flash she was off, had dug her heels home, and was galloping into the moonlight recklessly as fast as she could send forward her pony. Stark terror had her by the throat. The fear of him flooded her whole being. Not till the drumming hoofs had carried her far did other emotions move her.

      She was furious with him, and with herself for having been imposed upon by him. His beauty, his grace, his debonair manner--they were all hateful to her now. She had thought him a god among men, and he was of common clay. It was her vanity that was wounded, not her heart. She scourged herself because she had been so easily deceived, because she had let herself become a victim of his good looks and his impudence. For that she had let him kiss her--yes, and had returned his kiss--she СКАЧАТЬ