Part 24 (1/2)

Likewise straightening I mentally repeated the e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n, for now I knew her as well as he. Yes, by the muttered babble others in our party knew her. It was My Lady--formerly My Lady--clad in embroidered short Spanish jacket, tightish velvet pantaloons, booted to the knees, pulled down upon her yellow hair a black soft hat, and hanging from the just-revealed belt around her slender waist, a revolver trifle.

She paused, small and alone, viewing us, her eyes very blue, her face very white.

”Is Mr. Jenks there?” she hailed clearly.

”d.a.m.n' if I ain't,” he mumbled. He glowered at me. ”Yes, ma'am, right hyar. You want to speak with me?”

”By gosh, it's Montoyo's woman, ain't it?” were the comments.

”I do, sir.”

”You can come on closer then, ma'am,” he growled. ”There ain't no secrets between us.”

Come on she did, with only an instant's hesitation and a little compression of the lips. She swept our group fearlessly--her gaze crossed mine, but she betrayed no sign.

”I wish to engage pa.s.sage to Salt Lake.”

”With this hyar train?” gasped Jenks.

”Yes. You are bound for Salt Lake, aren't you?”

”For your health, ma'am?” he stammered.

She faintly smiled, but her eyes were steady and wide.

”For my health. I'd like to throw in with your outfit. I will cook, keep camp, and pay you well besides.”

”We haven't no place for a woman, ma'am. You'd best take the stage.”

”No. There'll be no stage out till morning. I want to make arrangements at once--with you. There are other women in this train.” She flashed a glance around. ”And I can take care of myself.”

”If you aim to go to Salt Lake your main holt is Benton and the stage. The stage makes through in four days and we'll use thirty,” somebody counseled.

”An' this bull train ain't no place for yore kind, anyhow,” grumbled another. ”We've quit roarin'--we've cut loose from that h.e.l.l-hole yonder.”

”So have I.” But she did not turn on him. ”I'm never going back. I--I can't, now; not even for the stage. Will you permit me to travel with you, sir?”

”No, ma'am, I won't,” rasped Mr. Jenks. ”I can't do it. It's not in my line, ma'am.”

”I'll be no trouble. You have only Mr. Beeson. I don't ask to ride. I'll walk. I merely ask protection.”

”So do we,” somebody sn.i.g.g.e.red; and I hated him, for I saw her sway upon her feet as if the words had been a blow.

”No, ma'am, I'm full up. I wouldn't take on even a yaller dog, 'specially a she one,” Jenks announced. ”What your game is now I can't tell, and I don't propose to be eddicated to it. But you can't travel along with me, and that's straight talk. If you can put anything over on these other fellers, try your luck.”

”Oh!” she cried, wincing. Her hands clenched nervously, a red spot dyed either cheek as she appealed to us all. ”Gentlemen! Won't one of you help me? What are you afraid of? I can pay my way--I ask no favors--I swear to you that I'll give no trouble. I only wish protection across.”

”Where's Pedro? Where's Montoyo?”

She turned quickly, facing the jeer; her two eyes blazed, the red spots deepened angrily.

”He? That snake? I shot him.”