“Yes—yes,” he burst out, eager to get it over, and even as he spoke he caught the pale gleam of Jennie's face through the window. He felt a shame he was glad she could not see. Did she remember that she had promised not to misunderstand any action of his? What did she think of him, seeing him out there in the dusk with this bold woman in his arms? Somehow that dim sight of Jennie's pale face, the big dark eyes, thrilled him, inspired him to his hard task of the present.
“Listen, dear,” he said to the woman, and he meant his words for the girl. “I'm going to take you away from this outlaw den if I have to kill Bland, Alloway, Rugg—anybody who stands in my path. You were dragged here. You are good—I know it. There's happiness for you somewhere—a home among good people who will care for you. Just wait till—”
His voice trailed off and failed from excess of emotion. Kate Bland closed her eyes and leaned her head on his breast. Duane felt her heart beat against his, and conscience smote him a keen blow. If she loved him so much! But memory and understanding of her character hardened him again, and he gave her such commiseration as was due her sex, and no more.
“Boy, that's good of you,” she whispered, “but it's too late. I'm done for. I can't leave Bland. All I ask is that you love me a little and stop your gun-throwing.”
The moon had risen over the eastern bulge of dark mountain, and now the valley was flooded with mellow light, and shadows of cottonwoods wavered against the silver.
Suddenly the clip-clop, clip-clop of hoofs caused Duane to raise his head and listen. Horses were coming down the road from the head of the valley. The hour was unusual for riders to come in. Presently the narrow, moonlit lane was crossed at its far end by black moving objects. Two horses Duane discerned.
“It's Bland!” whispered the woman, grasping Duane with shaking hands. “You must run! No, he'd see you. That 'd be worse. It's Bland! I know his horse's trot.”
“But you said he wouldn't mind my calling here,” protested Duane. “Euchre's with me. It'll be all right.”
“Maybe so,” she replied, with visible effort at self-control. Manifestly she had a great fear of Bland. “If I could only think!”
Then she dragged Duane to the door, pushed him in.