“What’s the matter with you, girl? I’m not going to hurt you any. I never hit a woman in my life,” the man said once roughly.
“Perhaps you may, after you’re married. It’s usually one’s wife one beats. Don’t be discouraged. You’ll have the experience yet,” she retorted, but without much spirit.
“To hear you tell it, I’m a devil through and through! It’s that kind of talk that drives a man to drink,” he flung out angrily.
“And to wife beating. Of course, I’m not your chattel yet, because the ceremony hasn’t been read; but if you would like to anticipate a few hours and beat me, I don’t suppose there is any reason you shouldn’t.”
“Gad! How you hate me!”
Her inveteracy discouraged him. His good looks, his debonair manner, the magnetic charm he knew how to exert—these, which had availed him with other women, did not seem to reach her at all. She really gave him no chance to prove himself. He was ready to be grave or gay—to be a light-hearted boy or a blasé man of the world—to adopt any rôle that would suit her. But how could one play up effectively to a chill silence which took no note of 312 him, to a depression of the soul which would not let itself be lifted? He felt that she was living up to the barest letter of the law in fulfilling their contract, and because of it he steeled himself against her sufferings.
There was one moment of their ride when she stood on the tiptoe of expectation and showed again the sparkle of eager life. MacQueen had resaddled after their luncheon, and they were climbing a long sidehill that looked over a dry valley. With a gesture, the outlaw checked her horse.
“Look!”
Some quarter of a mile from them two men were riding up a wash that ran through the valley. The mesquite and the cactus were thick, and it was for only an occasional moment that they could be seen. Black and the girl were screened from view by a live oak in front of them, so that there was no danger of being observed. The outlaw got out his field glasses and watched the men intently.
Melissy could not contain the question that trembled on her lips: “Do you know them?”