The service proceeded. The responses of the man came clearly and triumphantly, those of the girl low but distinctly. It was the custom of the justice to join the hands of the parties he was marrying; but when he moved to do so this girl put both of hers quickly behind her. It was his custom also to kiss the bride after pronouncing them man and wife; but he omitted this, too, on the present occasion. Nor did the groom kiss her.
The voice of the justice died away. They stood before him man and wife. The witnesses craned forward to see the outlaw embrace his bride. Instead, he reached into his pocket and handed Latimer a bill. The denomination of it was one hundred dollars, but the justice did not discover that until later.
“I reckon that squares us,” the bad man said unsentimentally. “Now, all of you back to bed.”
MacQueen and his bride passed out into the night. The girls noticed that she did not take his arm; that she even drew back, as if to avoid touching him as they crossed the threshold. 318
Not until they reached the gate of her father’s house did MacQueen speak.
“I’m not all coyote, girl. I’ll give you the three days I promised you. After that you’ll join me wherever I say.”
“Yes,” she answered without spirit.
“You’ll stand pat to our agreement. When they try to talk you out of it you won’t give in?”
“No.”
She was deadly weary, could scarce hold up her head.