第21章 CHAPTER VI(4)
"Magnificent chap, Bland said. Bigger than any man in the valley. Just a great blue-eyed sunburned boy!""Humph!" exclaimed Duane. "I'm sorry he led you to expect somebody worth seeing.""But I'm not disappointed," she returned, archly. "Duane, are you going to stay long here in camp?""Yes, till I run out of money and have to move. Why?"Mrs. Bland's face underwent one of the singular changes. The smiles and flushes and glances, all that had been coquettish about her, had lent her a certain attractiveness, almost beauty and youth. But with some powerful emotion she changed and instantly became a woman of discontent, Duane imagined, of deep, violent nature.
"I'll tell you, Duane," she said, earnestly, "I'm sure glad if you mean to bide here awhile. I'm a miserable woman, Duane. I'm an outlaw's wife, and I hate him and the life I have to lead. Icome of a good family in Brownsville. I never knew Bland was an outlaw till long after he married me. We were separated at times, and I imagined he was away on business. But the truth came out. Bland shot my own cousin, who told me. My family cast me off, and I had to flee with Bland. I was only eighteen then.
I've lived here since. I never see a decent woman or man. Inever hear anything about my old home or folks or friends. I'm buried here--buried alive with a lot of thieves and murderers.
Can you blame me for being glad to see a young fellow--a gentleman--like the boys I used to go with? I tell you it makes me feel full--I want to cry. I'm sick for somebody to talk to.
I have no children, thank God! If I had I'd not stay here. I'm sick of this hole. I'm lonely--"There appeared to be no doubt about the truth of all this.
Genuine emotion checked, then halted the hurried speech. She broke down and cried. It seemed strange to Duane that an outlaw's wife--and a woman who fitted her consort and the wild nature of their surroundings--should have weakness enough to weep. Duane believed and pitied her.
"I'm sorry for you," he said.
"Don't be SORRY for me," she said. "That only makes me see the--the difference between you and me. And don't pay any attention to what these outlaws say about me. They're ignorant.
They couldn't understand me. You'll hear that Bland killed men who ran after me. But that's a lie. Bland, like all the other outlaws along this river, is always looking for somebody to kill. He SWEARS not, but I don't believe him. He explains that gunplay gravitates to men who are the real thing--that it is provoked by the four-flushes, the bad men. I don't know. All Iknow is that somebody is being killed every other day. He hated Spence before Spence ever saw me.""Would Bland object if I called on you occasionally?" inquired Duane.
"No, he wouldn't. He likes me to have friends. Ask him yourself when he comes back. The trouble has been that two or three of his men fell in love with me, and when half drunk got to fighting. You're not going to do that.""I'm not going to get half drunk, that's certain," replied Duane.
He was surprised to see her eyes dilate, then glow with fire.
Before she could reply Euchre returned to the porch, and that put an end to the conversation.
Duane was content to let the matter rest there, and had little more to say. Euchre and Mrs. Bland talked and joked, while Duane listened. He tried to form some estimate of her character. Manifestly she had suffered a wrong, if not worse, at Bland's hands. She was bitter, morbid, overemotional. If she was a liar, which seemed likely enough, she was a frank one, and believed herself. She had no cunning. The thing which struck Duane so forcibly was that she thirsted for respect. In that, better than in her weakness of vanity, he thought he had discovered a trait through which he could manage her.
Once, while he was revolving these thoughts, he happened to glance into the house, and deep in the shadow of a corner he caught a pale gleam of Jennie's face with great, staring eyes on him. She had been watching him, listening to what he said.
He saw from her expression that she had realized what had been so hard for her to believe. Watching his chance, he flashed a look at her; and then it seemed to him the change in her face was wonderful.
Later, after he had left Mrs. Bland with a meaning "Adios--manana," and was walking along beside the old outlaw, he found himself thinking of the girl instead of the woman, and of how he had seen her face blaze with hope and gratitude.