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Updated: June 18, 2025
The moment Jim Cleve's name and his ruin burst upon her ears, in the gossip of these bandits, she had become another girl a girl wholly become a woman, and one with a driving passion to save if it cost her life. She lost her fear of Kells, of the others, of all except Gulden. He was not human, and instinctively she knew she could do nothing with him.
And that instant when she was locked in Cleve's arms, when the silence was so beautiful and full, she heard the heavy pound of a gun-butt upon the table in Kells's room. "Where is Cleve?" That was the voice of Kells, stern, demanding. Joan felt a start, a tremor run over Jim. Then he stiffened. "I can't locate him," replied Red Pearce. "It was the same last night an' the one before.
An' I'll eat out of Cleve's hand." Joan could bear to hear no more. She staggered to her bed and fell there, all cramped as if in a cold vise. However Jim might meet the situation planned for murdering Creede, she knew he would not shirk facing Gulden with deadly intent. He hated Gulden because she had a horror of him. Would these hours of suspense never end?
Nobody and nothing!" said Cunningham, addressing the remark to the crossbeam above his head. "What's that?" asked Cleve. "I was thinking out loud. Get back to the chart house. Old Newton may play us some trick if he isn't watched. And don't bother to search for Flint. I know where he is." Something in Cunningham's tone coldly touched Cleve's spine.
And then the thing that struck into Joan's heart was the fact that her grace and charm of person, revealed by this costume forced upon her, had aroused Jim Cleve's first response to the evil surrounding him, the first call to that baseness he must be assimilating from these border ruffians. That he could look at her so! The girl he had loved!
"Oh! yes, it's not as if you really cared for me; you wouldn't talk to me of money if you did. But I suppose you've known so many. . . . Val warned me long ago that you had not a good name with women." "Val said that? Val!" "And now you're angry with Val; I repeat what I oughtn't to repeat, and make mischief. Lawrence, this isn't Val's doing; it isn't even Mrs. Cleve's: it's my own cowardice.
Didn't shoot to kill jest winged 'em. But say, he's the quickest and smoothest hand to throw a gun thet ever hit this border. Don't overlook thet.... Kells, this Jim Cleve's a great youngster goin' bad quick. An' I'm here to add that he'll take some company along." "Bate, you forgot to tell how he handled Luce," said Red Pearee. "You was there. I wasn't. Tell Kells that." "Luce. I know the man.
"Do you know a miner named Creede?" asked Kells, rapidly. "A husky chap, short, broad, something like Gulden for shape, only not so big fellow with a fierce red beard?" asked Cleve. "I never saw him," replied Kells. "But Pearce has. How does Cleve's description fit Creede?" "He's got his man spotted," answered Pearce. "All right, that's settled," went on Kells, warming to his subject.
Kells shook his head doubtfully, as if Cleve's transparent speech only added to the complexity. And Cleve turned away, as if in an instant he had forgotten his comrades.
The picturesque old house on the north side of the street is called Anne of Cleve's House, but this title appears to be contradicted by the date 1599 on the front of the building; there is a possibility that this date was added when certain alterations took place; it is certain, however, that when Thomas Cromwell's time was past the property was made over to the King, of whom a very startling legend is told locally to the effect that he murdered one of his wives on a stairway in the Priory!
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