Part 24 (1/2)

In the pause that followed James' expression underwent a subtle change. It was not that there was any definite movement of a single muscle. His smile remained, but, somehow, through it peeped a hard look which had not been there before.

”So you want--the kids,” he said at last, and a curious metallic quality was in his voice. ”Say,” he added thoughtfully, ”you women are queer ones.”

”Maybe we are,” retorted Jessie. She tried to laugh as she spoke, but it was a dismal failure. Then she hurried on. ”Yes,” she cried a little shrilly, ”it was part of our bargain, and--so far you have not carried it out.”

”Bargain?” The man's brows went up.

”Yes, bargain.”

”I don't remember a--bargain.” James' eyes had in them an ominous glitter.

”Then you've got a bad memory.”

”I sure haven't, Jess. I sure haven't that. I generally remember good.

And what I remember now is that I promised you those kids if you needed them. I swore that you should have 'em. But I made no bargain.

Guess women don't see things dead right. This is the first time you've spoken to me of this, and you say I haven't fulfilled my bargain. When I refuse to give you them kiddies, it's time to take that tone. You want them kids. Well--go on.”

The change in her lover's manner warned Jessie that danger lay ahead.

In the brief time she had spent under his roof she had already learned that, as yet, she had only seen the gentlest side of the man, and that the other side was always perilously near the surface.

In the beginning this had been rather a delight to her to think that she, of all people, was privileged to bask in the sunny side of a man who habitually displayed the storm clouds of his fiercer side to the world in general. But since that time a change, which she neither knew nor understood, had come over her, and, instead of rejoicing that he possessed that harsher nature, she rather feared it, feared that it might be turned upon her.

It was this change that had helped to bring her woman's cunning into play. It was this change which had brought her her haunting visions of the old life. It was this change which had prompted her that she must keep her lover at arm's length--as yet. It was this change, had she paused to a.n.a.lyze it, which might have told her of the hideous mistake she had made. That the pa.s.sion which she had believed to be an absorbing love for the man was merely a pa.s.sion, a base human pa.s.sion, inspired in a weak, discontented woman. But as yet she understood nothing of this. The glamour of the man's personality still had power to sway her, and she acknowledged it in her next words.

”Don't be angry, Jim dear,” she said, with a smile of seductive sweetness which had immediate effect upon the man. ”You don't understand us women. We're sure unreasonable where our love is concerned.”

Then a flush spread itself slowly over her handsome face, and pa.s.sion lit her eyes.

”But I must have my children,” she broke out suddenly. ”One of them, anyhow--little Vada. You--you can't understand all it means to be away from them. They are mine. They are part of me. I--I feel I could kill anyone who keeps them from me. You promised, Jim, you sure did. Get her for me. My little girl--my little Vada.”

The man had risen from his chair and moved to the window. He sat on the rough sill facing her. His eyes were hot with pa.s.sion, too, but it was pa.s.sion of a very different sort.

”And if I do?” he questioned subtly.

”If you do?” Jessie's eyes widened with a world of cunning simplicity.

”Yes, if I do?” The man's face was nearer.

”You'll have fulfilled your promise.”

Jessie had turned again to the window, and her eyes were cold.

The man's brows drew together sharply, and his dark eyes watched the perfect outline of her oval cheek. Then he drew a sharp breath, and biting words leapt to his lips. But he held them back with a sudden grip that was perilously near breaking. Jessie's power was still enormous with him. But this very power was maddening to a man of his nature, and the two must not come into too frequent conflict.

He suddenly laughed, and the woman turned in alarm at the note that sounded in it.

”Yes,” he said tensely. ”I'll fulfill my promise. It'll amuse me, sure, getting back at that Sufferin' Creek lay-out. I owe them something for keepin' back the gold-stages. You shall have Vada, sure.”

He broke off for an instant and drew nearer. He leant forward, and one arm reached out to encircle her waist. But with an almost imperceptible movement the woman stood beyond his reach.

”And--and after?” he questioned, his arm still outstretched to embrace her.