CHAPTER XXI
GOLD SEEKERS
Puzzled, but watchful and alert, De Launay saw her retreating, sensing the terrible change that had come over her.
“Yes, I am Louisiana,” he said. “What is the matter?”
In answer she laughed, while one hand went to the breast of her shirtwaist and the other reached behind her, groping for something as she paced backward. Like a cameo in chalk her features were set and the writhing flames in her hair called up an image of Medusa. There was no change in expression, but through her parted lips broke a low laugh, terrible in its utter lack of feeling.
“And I have for my husband—Louisiana! Quelle farce!”
The hand at her breast was withdrawn and in it fluttered the yellow paper that Wilding had brought from Maryville to Wallace’s ranch. She flung it toward him, and as he stooped to pick it up, her groping hand fell on the pistol resting on the upturned log at the side of the bunk. She drew it around in front of her, dropped the holster at her side and snapped the safety down. Her thumb 272 rested on the hammer and she stood still, tensely waiting.
De Launay read the notice of reward swiftly and looked up. His face was stern, but otherwise expressionless.
“Well?” he demanded, his eyes barely resting on the pistol before they swept to meet her own blazing gaze. There was no depth to her eyes now. Instead they seemed to be fire surrounded by black rims.