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"I cannot be forced." The preacher still maintained some dignity, but he had grown pale. "I can force you. Get ready now!... Joan, come here!" Kells spoke sternly, yet something of the old, self-mocking spirit was in his tone. His intelligence was deriding the flesh and blood of him, the beast, the fool. It spoke that he would have his way and that the choice was fatal for him.
Then this giant, who had never shown an emotion, suddenly, terribly blazed. "One more bet a cut of the cards my whole stake of gold!" he boomed. The bandits took a stride forward as one man, then stood breathless. "One bet!" echoed Kells, aghast. "Against what?" Joan sank against the wall, a piercing torture in her breast. She clutched the logs to keep from falling.
Kells looked on with a sardonic grin, but he had grown pale. And upon the face of Cleve shone an immeasurable scorn. "Not his wife!" exclaimed Cleve, softly. His tone was unendurable to Joan. She began to shrink. A flame curled within her. How he must hate any creature of her sex! "And you appeal to me!" he went on. Suddenly a weariness came over him. The complexity of women was beyond him.
The instant Jim Cleve had stalked into the light she had been seized by a spasm of trembling. "Kells, I don't care two straws one way or another," replied Cleve. The bandit appeared nonplussed. "You don't care whether you join my Legion or whether you don't?" "Not a damn," was the indifferent answer. "Then do me a favor," went on Kells. "Join to please me. We'll be good friends.
His huge, hairy hand tapped the nugget. Then Kells caught the implication. "What does it say to you?" he queried, coolly, and he eyed Gulden and then the grim men behind him. "Somebody in the gang is crooked. Somebody's giving you the double-cross. We've known that for long. Jim Cleve goes out to kill Creede. He comes in with Creede's gold-belt and a lie!... We think Cleve is the crooked one."
"Gulden, suppose we waive the question till we're on the grounds?" he suggested. "Waive nothing. It's one or the other with me," declared Gulden. "Do you want to be leader of this Border Legion?" went on Kells, deliberately. "No." "Then what do you want?" Gulden appeared at a loss for an instant reply. "I want plenty to do," he replied, presently. "I want to be in on everything.
"Kells I'll die before I leave that girl in your clutches," flashed Roberts. "An' I ain't a-goin' to stand here an' argue with you. Let her come or " "You don't strike me as a fool," interrupted Kells. His voice was suave, smooth, persuasive, cool. What strength what certainty appeared behind it! "It's not my habit to argue with fools. Take the chance I offer you. Hit the trail.
But he knew what that shot would do!" "Never! He never thought of that," declared Joan, earnestly. "I felt him tremble. I had a glimpse of his face.... Oh!... First in his mind was his downfall, and, second, the treachery of Frenchy. I think that shot showed Kells as utterly desperate, but weak. He couldn't have helped it if that had been the last bullet in his gun."
And just at that moment Kells knocked on the door and called, "Joan, are you dressed?" "Yes," she replied. But the word seemed involuntary. Then Kells came in. It was an instinctive and frantic impulse that made Joan snatch up a blanket and half envelop herself in it. She stood with scarlet face and dilating eyes, trembling in every limb.
That curious gaze, however, next discovered the dead man on the floor. Then to the curiosity and anxiety upon the preacher's face was added horror. "A minister of God is needed here, but not in the capacity you name," he said. "I'll perform no marriage ceremony in the presence of murder." "Mr. Preacher, you'll marry me quick or you'll go along with him," replied Kells, deliberately.
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