Then, with a strange cry, Tharon Last swung sidewise from her saddle, for all the world as if she were breaking under the strain, leaned far over El Rey’s shoulder, and the next moment there came a shot, snapping in the stillness.
With an oath and a lurch Courtrey flung backward, tossed up his right arm, and fired with his left. His ball went high in the air, wild. The blood from that tossed right hand spurted over Wylackie Bob beside him, the gun it had held went hurtling away along the earth. 208
There was a movement, a surge, the flash of guns and one of the settlers tumbled from his saddle, poor Thomas of the doubting heart. Courtrey’s men flashed together as one, thundered backward to the wide doorstep, pressed together, waited. The voice of Kenset rang like a clarion.
“Stop!” he cried, “don’t shoot!”
And he swung off his horse to leap for that gun.
But another was before him.
With a scream of anguish that rang heaven-high, Ellen shot forward and snatched it from the spot where it had fallen.
Tall, white as a ghost in the rose-pink light that was tinged with purple, she stood, swaying on her feet, and faced them.
And she put the gun to her temple!
“I ain’t got nothin’ t’ live for,” she said clearly and pitifully, “but Courtrey’s life is worth what I got to me. If you don’t clear out I’ll pull th’ trigger.”