Her little fist beat against his face and he captured it, but as he
looked at her something that had come into the girl's face moved his not
very accessible heart. The salt of the adventure was gone, his victory
worse than a barren one. For stark fear stared at him, naked and
unconcealed, and back of that he glimpsed a subtle something that he
dimly recognized for the outraged maidenly modesty he had so ruthlessly
trampled upon. His hands fell to his side reluctantly.
She stumbled back against the tree trunk, watching him with fascinated
eyes that searched him anxiously. They found their answer, and with a
long ragged breath the girl turned and burst into hysterical tears.
The man was amazed. A moment since the fury of a tigress had possessed
her. Now she was all weak womanish despair. She leaned against the
cottonwood and buried her face in her arm, the while uneven sobs shook
her slender body. He frowned resentfully at this change of front, and
because his calloused conscience was disturbed he began to justify
himself. Why didn't she play it out instead of coming the baby act on
him? She had undertaken to hold him up and he had made her pay forfeit.
He didn't see that she had any kick coming. If she was this kind of a
boarding-school kid she ought not to have monkeyed with the buzz-saw.
She was lucky he didn't take her to El Paso with him and have her
jailed.
“I reckon we'll listen to explanations now,” he said grimly after a
minute of silence interrupted only by her sobs.
The little fist that had struck at his face now bruised itself in
unconscious blows at the bark of the tree. He waited till the staccato
breaths had subsided, then took her by the shoulders and swung her
round.
“You have the floor, ma'am. What does this gun-play business mean?”
Through the tears her angry eyes flashed starlike.
“I sha'n't tell you,” she flamed. “You had no right to--How dared you
insult me as you have?”
“Did I insult you?” he asked, with suave gentleness. “Then if you feel
insulted I expect you lay claim to being a lady. But I reckon that don't
fit in with holding up strangers at the end of a gun. If I've insulted
you I'll ce'tainly apologize, but you'll have to show me I have. We're
in Texas, which is next door but one to Missouri, ma'am.”
“I don't want your apologies. I detest and hate you,” she cried,
“That's your privilege, ma'am, and it's mine to know whyfor I'm held
up with a gun when I'm traveling peaceably along the road,” he answered
evenly.
“I'll not tell you.”
He spoke softly as if to himself. “That's too bad. I kinder hate to take
her to jail, but I reckon I must.”
She shrank back, aghast and white.
“No, no! You don't understand. I didn't mean to--I only wanted--Why, I
meant to pay you for the team.”
“I'll understand when you tell me,” he said placidly.
“I've told you. I needed the team. I was going to let you have one of
our horses and seventy-five dollars. It's all I have with me.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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