“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 173 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. “Damned 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 ungodly 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, gosh! She’s shot her man in Benton. Gosh!” His voice 174 trailed off. “Ain’t she purty, though! She’s dressed in britches.”