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Updated: June 26, 2025
Allie resolutely refused to tell him and once more entreated Neale to let well enough alone, to keep her hidden from the mob, and not to seek Durade. "He has a bad gang," she added. "They might kill you. And do you you think I'd ever be able to live longer without you?" Whereupon Neale forgot all about Durade and vengeance, and everything but the nearness and sweetness of this girl.
Tumble, blood-curdlin'! ... Neale held both Durade's hands an' wuz squeezin' thot knife-handle so the greaser couldn't let go. "Thin Neale drew out thot hand of Durade's the wan wot held the knife an' made Durade jab himself, low down! ... My Gawd! how thot jenteel Spaniard howled! I seen the blade go in an' come out red. Thin Slingerland tore thim apart, an' the greaser fell. He warn't killed.
Neale realized the moment had come. There had never been but the one kiss between them that of the meeting upon his return in September. "Allie, I love you!" He spoke thickly. "And I love you," she replied, with sweet courage. "This news you've told this man Durade," he went on, hoarsely, "I'm suddenly alive stinging wild! ... If I lost you!"
"Don't faint ... Hear me. You remember we were curious about a girl Durade had in his place. This is she Allie Lee. She is innocent. Durade held her for revenge. He had loved then hated her mother ... Hough won all Durade's gold and then the girl ... But we had to fight ... Stanton, this Allie Lee is Neale's sweetheart ... He believes her dead ... You hide her bring Neale to her."
"Durade, who's the girl?" asked a man. The gambler vouchsafed for reply only a mysterious smile. "Bet she's from California," said another. "They bloom like that out there." "Now, ain't she your daughter?" queried a third. But Durade chose to be mysterious. In that he left his guests license for covert glances without the certainty which would permit of brutal boldness.
Allie returned to her chair by the sideboard before she ventured to look up. Durade was playing cards with four men, three of whom were black-garbed, after the manner of professional gamblers. The other player wore gray, and a hat of unusual shape, with wide, loose, cloth band. He removed his hat as he caught Allie's glance, and she associated the act with the fact of her presence.
Always Neale had been haunted by this final scene of his evil life in the construction camps. A somber and spectral shape, intangible, gloomy-faced, often, attended him in the shadow. He justified his deed, for Durade would have killed Allison Lee. But that fact did not prevent the haunting shape, the stir in the dark air, the nameless step upon Neale's trail.
"If Durade and he ever meet!" she whispered. And in that portent she saw loom on the gambler's horizon another cloud. In his egotism and passion and despair he was risking more than he knew. He could not hope to keep her a prisoner for very long. Allie felt again the gathering surety of an approaching climax. "My danger is, he may harm me, use me for his gambling lure, or kill me," she murmured.
Some one in the canvas house was talking to Durade, who apparently must have been in Allie's room and at her window. "See hyar, Greaser, we ain't harborin' any of your outfit, an' we'll plug the fust gent we see," called a surly voice. Durade's staccato tones succeeded it. "Did you see them?" "We heerd them gettin' out the winder." Durade's voice rose high in Spanish curses.
With deliberate care and slowness, in strange contrast to his former motions, he took, one by one, three cards from the deck. Then he looked at them, and just as calmly dropped all his cards, face up, on the table, disclosing what he knew to be an unbeatable hand. Durade stared. A thick cry escaped him. Swiftly Hough rose. "Durade, I have won." Then he turned to his friends.
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