CHAPTER XLI
IN A LADY'S CHAMBER
The drama of the hold-up and of the retribution that had fallen upon thebandits had moved as swiftly as though it had been rehearsed. There hadbeen no wasted words, no delay in the action. But in life the curtaindoes not always drop at the right moment. There was anticlimax in BearCat after the guns had ceased to boom. In the reaction after the strainthe tongues of men and women were loosened. Relief expressed itself inchatter. Everybody had some contributing incident to tell.
Into the clatter Dud Hollister's voice cut sharply. "Some one get DocTuckerman, quick."
He was bending over the wounded man on the platform, trying to stop theflow of blood from a little hole in the side.
Mollie stepped toward him. "Carry Art into the hotel. I'll have a bedready for him time you get there. Anybody else hurt?"
"Some one said Ferril was shot."
"No. He's all right. There he is over there by the wagons. See? Lookin'after the gold in the sack."
Blister came to the door of the bank in time to hear Mollie's question."McCray's been s-shot--here in the bank."
"Bring him in too," ordered Mollie.
The wounded men were given first aid and carried into the hotel. Theretheir wounds were dressed by the doctor.
In the corridor outside Bob and his partner met June coming out of one ofthe rooms where the invalids had been taken. She was carrying a towel andsome bandages.
"Got to get a move on me," Dud said. "I got in after the fireworks wereover. Want to join Blister's posse now. You comin', Bob?"
"Not now," Dillon answered.
He was white to the lips. There was a fear in his mind that he might begoing to disgrace himself by getting sick. The nausea had not attackedhim until the shooting was over. He was much annoyed at himself, but thepicture of the lusty outlaws lying in the dust with the life stricken outof them had been too much.
"All right. I'll be hustlin' along," Dud said, and went.
Bob leaned against the wall.
June looked at him with wise, understanding mother-eyes. "It was kindaawful, wasn't it? Gave me a turn when I saw them lying there. Must havebeen worse for you. Did you--hit ..?"
"No." He was humiliated at the confession. "I didn't fire a shot.Couldn't, somehow. Everybody was blazin' away at 'em. That's the kind ofnerve I've got," he told her bitterly.
In her eyes the starlight flashed. "An' that's the kind I love. Oh, Bob,I wouldn't want to think you'd killed either of those poor men, an' oneof them just a boy."
"Some one had to do it."
"Yes, but not you. And they didn't have to brag afterward about it, didthey? That's horrible. Everybody going around telling how they shot them.As if it was something to be proud of. I'm so glad you're not in it. Letthe others have the glory if they want it."
He tried to be honest about it. "That's all very well, but they were abad lot. They didn't hesitate to kill. The town had to defend itself. No,it was just that I'm such a--baby."
"You're not!" she protested indignantly. "I won't have you say it,either."
His hungry eyes could not leave her, so slim and ardent, all fire andflame. The sweetness of her energy, the grace of the delicate liftedthroat curve, the warmth and color of life in her, expressed a spiritgenerous and fine. His heart sang within him. Out of a world of women shewas the one he wanted, the lance-straight mate his soul leaped out tomeet.
"There's no one like you in the world, June," he cried. "Nobody in allthe world."
She flashed at him eyes of alarm. A faint pink, such as flushes the seaat dawn, waved into her cheeks and throat.
"I've got to go," she said hurriedly. "Mollie'll be expectin' me."
She was off, light-footed as Daphne, the rhythm of morning in her step.
All day she carried with her the treasure of his words and the look thathad gone with them. Did he think it? Did he really and truly believe it?Her exaltation stayed with her while she waited on table, while shenursed the wounded men, while she helped Chung wash the dishes. It wentsinging with her into her little bedroom when she retired for the night.
June sat down before the small glass and looked at the image she sawthere. What was it he liked about her? She studied the black crisp hair,the dark eager eyes with the dusky shadows under them in the slighthollows beneath, the glow of red that stained the cheeks below thepigment of the complexion. She tried looking at the reflection fromdifferent angles to get various effects. It was impossible for her not toknow that she was good to look at, but she had very little vanity aboutit. None the less it pleased her because it pleased others.
She let down her long thick hair and combed it. The tresses still had theold tendency of her childhood to snarl unless she took good care of them.From being on her feet all day the shoes she was wearing wereuncomfortable. She slipped them off and returned to the brushing of thehair.
While craning her neck for a side view June saw in the glass that whichdrained the blood from her heart. Under the bed the fingers of a handprojected into view. It was like her that in spite of the shock sheneither screamed nor ran to the door and cried for help. She went onlooking at her counterfeit in the glass, thoughts racing furiously. Thehand belonged to a man. She could see that now plainly, could even makeout a section of the gauntlet on his wrist. Who was he? What was he doinghere in her room?
She turned in the chair, deliberately, steadying her voice.
"Better come out from there. I see you," she said quietly.
From under the bed Jake Houck crawled.