The Border Legion by Zane Grey
20
Cleve steadied Joan in her saddle, and stood a moment beside her,holding her hands. The darkness seemed clearing before her eyes and thesick pain within her seemed numbing out.
"Brace up! Hang--to your saddle!" Jim was saying, earnestly. "Any momentsome of the other bandits might come.... You lead the way. I'll followand drive the pack-horse."
"But, Jim, I'll never be able to find the back-trail," said Joan.
"I think you will. You'll remember every yard of the trail on which youwere brought in here. You won't realize that till you see."
Joan started and did not look back. Cabin Gulch was like a place ina dream. It was a relief when she rode out into the broad valley. Thegrazing horses lifted their heads to whistle. Joan saw the clumps ofbushes and the flowers, the waving grass, but never as she had seen thembefore. How strange that she knew exactly which way to turn, to head, tocross! She trotted her horse so fast that Jim called to say he couldnot drive a pack-animal and keep to her gait. Every rod of the traillessened a burden. Behind was something hideous and incomprehensible andterrible; before beckoned something beginning to seem bright. And itwas not the ruddy, calm sunset, flooding the hills with color. Thatsomething called from beyond the hills.
She led straight to a camp-site she remembered long before she came toit; and the charred logs of the fire, the rocks, the tree under whichshe had lain--all brought back the emotions she had felt there. She grewafraid of the twilight, and when night settled down there were phantomsstalking in the shadows. When Cleve, in his hurried camp duties, wentout of her sight, she wanted to cry out to him, but had not the voice;and when he was close still she trembled and was cold. He wrappedblankets round her and held her in his arms, yet the numb chill and thedark clamp of mind remained with her. Long she lay awake. The stars werepitiless. When she shut her eyes the blackness seemed unendurable. Sheslept, to wake out of nightmare, and she dared sleep no more. At lastthe day came.
For Joan that faint trail seemed a broad road, blazoned through the wildcanons and up the rocky fastness and through the thick brakes. She ledon and on and up and down, never at fault, with familiar landmarks nearand far. Cleve hung close to her, and now his call to her or to thepack-horse took on a keener note. Every rough and wild mile behind themmeant so much. They did not halt at the noon hour. They did not haltat the next camp-site, still more darkly memorable to Joan. And sunsetfound them miles farther on, down on the divide, at the head of LostCanon.
Here Joan ate and drank, and slept the deep sleep of exhaustion. Sunrisefound them moving, and through the winding, wild canon they made fasttravel. Both time and miles passed swiftly. At noon they reached thelittle open cabin, and they dismounted for a rest and a drink at thespring. Joan did not speak a word here. That she could look into thecabin where she had almost killed a bandit, and then, through silent,lonely weeks, had nursed him back to life, was a proof that the longride and distance were helping her, sloughing away the dark deadlock tohope and brightness. They left the place exactly as they had foundit, except that Cleve plucked the card from the bark of thebalsam-tree--Gulden's ace--of--hearts target with its bullet--holes.
Then they rode on, out of that canon, over the rocky ridge, down intoanother canon, on and on, past an old camp-site, along a babbling brookfor miles, and so at last out into the foot--hills.
Toward noon of the next day, when approaching a clump of low trees in aflat valley, Joan pointed ahead.
"Jim--it was in there--where Roberts and I camped--and--"
"You ride around. I'll catch up with you," replied Cleve.
She made a wide detour, to come back again to her own trail, sodifferent here. Presently Cleve joined her. His face was pale andsweaty, and he looked sick. They rode on silently, and that night theycamped without water on her own trail, made months before. The singletracks were there, sharp and clear in the earth, as if imprinted but aday.
Next morning Joan found that as the wild border lay behind her so didthe dark and hateful shadow of gloom. Only the pain remained, and it hadsoftened. She could think now.
Jim Cleve cheered up. Perhaps it was her brightening to which heresponded. They began to talk and speech liberated feeling. Miles ofthat back-trail they rode side by side, holding hands, driving thepack-horse ahead, and beginning to talk of old associations. Again itwas sunset when they rode down the hill toward the little village ofHoadley. Joan's heart was full, but Jim was gay.
"Won't I have it on your old fellows!" he teased. But he was grim, too.
"Jim! You--won't tell--just yet!" she faltered.
"I'll introduce you as my wife! They'll all think we eloped."
"No. They'll say I ran after you!... Please, Jim! Keep it secret alittle. It'll be hard for me. Aunt Jane will never understand."
"Well, I'll keep it secret till you want to tell--for two things," hesaid.
"What?"
"Meet me to--night, under the spruces where we had that quarrel. Meetjust like we did then, but differently. Will you?"
"I'll be--so glad."
"And put on your mask now!... You know, Joan, sooner or later your storywill be on everybody's tongue. You'll be Dandy Dale as long as youlive near this border. Wear the mask, just for fun. Imagine your AuntJane--and everybody!"
"Jim! I'd forgotten how I look!" exclaimed Joan in dismay. "I didn'tbring your long coat. Oh, I can't face them in this suit!"
"You'll have to. Besides, you look great. It's going to tickle me--thesensation you make. Don't you see, they'll never recognize you till youtake the mask off.... Please, Joan."
She yielded, and donned the black mask, not without a twinge. And thusthey rode across the log bridge over the creek into the village. The fewmen and women they met stared in wonder, and, recognizing Cleve, theygrew excited. They followed, and others joined them.
"Joan, won't it be strange if Uncle Bill really is the Overland of AlderCreek? We've packed out every pound of Overland's gold. Oh! I hope--Ibelieve he's your uncle.... Wouldn't it be great, Joan?"
But Joan could not answer. The word gold was a stab. Besides, she sawAunt Jane and two neighbors standing before a log cabin, beginning toshow signs of interest in the approaching procession.
Joan fell back a little, trying to screen herself behind Jim. Then Jimhalted with a cheery salute.
"For the land's sake!" ejaculated a sweet-faced, gray-haired woman.
"If it isn't Jim Cleve!" cried another.
Jim jumped off and hugged the first speaker. She seemed overjoyed to seehim and then overcome. Her face began to work.
"Jim! We always hoped you'd--you'd fetch Joan back!"
"Sure!" shouted Jim, who had no heart now for even an instant'sdeception. "There she is!"
"Who?... What?"
Joan slipped out of her saddle and, tearing off the mask, she leapedforward with a little sob.
"Auntie! Auntie!... It's Joan--alive--well!... Oh, so glad to behome!... Don't look at my clothes--look at me!"
Aunt Jane evidently sustained a shock of recognition, joy, amaze,consternation, and shame, of which all were subservient to the joy.She cried over Joan and murmured over her. Then, suddenly alive to thecurious crowd, she put Joan from her.
"You--you wild thing! You desperado! I always told Bill you'd run wildsome day!... March in the house and get out of that indecent rig!"
That night under the spruces, with the starlight piercing the lacyshadows, Joan waited for Jim Cleve. It was one of the white, silent,mountain nights. The brook murmured over the stones and the wind rustledthe branches.
The wonder of Joan's home-coming was in learning that Uncle Bill Hoadleywas indeed Overland, the discoverer of Alder Creek. Years and years ofprofitless toil had at last been rewarded in this rich gold strike.
Joan hated to think of gold. She had wanted to leave the gold back inCabin Gulch, and she would have done so had Jim permitted it. And tothink that all that gold which was not Jim Cleve's belonged to heruncle! She could not believe it.
Fatal
Always limned in figures of fire against the black memory would bethe forms of those wild and violent bandits! Gulden, the monster, thegorilla, the cannibal! Horrible as was the memory of him, there wasno horror in thought of his terrible death. That seemed to be the onememory that did not hurt.
But Kells was indestructible--he lived in her mind. Safe out of theborder now and at home, she could look back clearly. Still all wasnot clear and never would be. She saw Kells the ruthless bandit, theorganizer, the planner, and the blood-spiller. He ought have no place ina good woman's memory. Yet he had. She never condoned one of his deedsor even his intentions. She knew her intelligence was not broad enoughto grasp the vastness of his guilt. She believed he must have been theworst and most terrible character on that wild border. That border haddeveloped him. It had produced the time and the place and the man. Andtherein lay the mystery. For over against this bandit's weakness andevil she could contrast strength and nobility. She alone had known thereal man in all the strange phases of his nature, and the darkness ofhis crime faded out of her mind. She suffered remorse--almost regret.Yet what could she have done? There had been no help for that impossiblesituation as, there was now no help for her in a right and just placingof Kells among men. He had stolen her--wantonly murdering for thesake of lonely, fruitless hours with her; he had loved her--and he hadchanged; he had gambled away her soul and life--a last and terribleproof of the evil power of gold; and in the end he had saved her--hehad gone from her white, radiant, cool, with strange, pale eyes andhis amiable, mocking smile, and all the ruthless force of his life hadexpended itself in one last magnificent stand. If only he had known herat the end--when she lifted his head! But no--there had been only thefading light--the strange, weird look of a retreating soul, alreadyalone forever.
A rustling of leaves, a step thrilled Joan out of her meditation.
Suddenly she was seized from behind, and Jim Cleve showed that thoughhe might be a joyous and grateful lover, he certainly would never bean actor. For if he desired to live over again that fatal meeting andquarrel which had sent them out to the border, he failed utterly in hispart. There was possession in the gentle grasp of his arms and bliss inthe trembling of his lips.
"Jim, you never did it that way!" laughed Joan. "If you had--do youthink I could ever have been furious?"
Jim in turn laughed happily. "Joan, that's exactly the way I stole uponyou and mauled you!".
"You think so! Well, I happen to remember. Now you sit here and makebelieve you are Joan. And let me be Jim Cleve!... I'll show you!"
Joan stole away in the darkness, and noiselessly as a shadow she stoleback--to enact that violent scene as it lived in her memory.
Jim was breathless, speechless, choked.
"That's how you treated me," she said.
"I--I don't believe I could have--been such a--a bear!" panted Jim.
"But you were. And consider--I've not half your strength."
"Then all I say is--you did right to drive me off.... Only you shouldnever have trailed me out to the border."
"Ah!... But, Jim, in my fury I discovered my love!"