CHAPTER XLII
A WALK IN THE PARK
June was the first to speak. "So you're here. You didn't get away."
"I'm here," Houck growled. "No chance for a getaway. I ran out the backdoor of the bank an' ducked into the hotel. This was the first door Icome to, an' I headed in."
She was not afraid of him. The power he had once held over her was goneforever. The girl had found resources within herself that refused himdominance. He was what he always had been, but she had changed. Hervision was clearer. A game and resourceful bully he might be, but sheknew one quiet youth of a far finer courage.
"They're lookin' for you along the river," she said.
The muscles of his jaw hardened. "They'd better hope they don't find me,some of 'em," he bragged.
"So had you," she said significantly.
He took her meaning instantly. The temper of Bear Cat was on edge for alynching. "Did they die, either o' those fellows I shot?" the banditdemanded.
"Not yet."
"Fools, the pair of 'em. If that bank teller hadn't grabbed for his gunwe'd 'a' got away with it fine."
She looked at him with disgust, not untouched with self-scorn because shehad ever let him become an overpowering influence in her life. He couldno more help boasting than he could breathing.
"As it is, you've reached the end of your rope," the girl said steadily.
"Don't you think I'm at the end of a rope. I'm a long ways from there."
"And the men with you are gone."
"How gone? Did they get 'em?"
"Neither of them ever moved out of his tracks."
"When I heard the shootin' I figured it would be thataway," Houck saidcallously.
She could see in him no evidence whatever of regret or remorse for whathe had done. This raid, she guessed, was of his planning. He had broughtthe others into it, and they had paid the penalty of their folly. Theresponsibility for their deaths lay at his door. He was not apparentlygiving a thought to that.
"You can't stay here," she told him coldly. "You'll have to go."
"Go where? Can you get me a horse?"
"I won't," June answered.
"I got to have a horse, girl," he wheedled. "Can't travel without one."
"I don't care how far you travel or what becomes of you. I want you outof here. That's all."
"You wouldn't want me shootin' up some o' yore friends, would you? Well,then. If they find me here there'll be some funerals in Bear Cat. You canbet heavy on that."
She spoke more confidently than she felt. "They can take care ofthemselves. I won't have you here. I'll not protect you."
The outlaw's eyes narrowed to slits. "Throw me down, would you? Tell 'emI'm here, mebbe?" His face was a menace, his voice a snarl.
June looked at him steadily, unafraid. "You needn't try to bully me. It'snot worth wasting your time."
To look at her was to know the truth of what she said, but he could nothelp trying to dominate the girl, both because it was his nature andbecause he needed so badly her help.
"Sho! You're not so goshalmighty. You're jes' June Tolliver. I'm the sameJake Houck you once promised to marry. Don't forget that, girl. I tookyou from that white-livered fellow you married--"
"Who saved you from the Utes when nobody else would lift a finger foryou. That comes well from you of all men," she flung out.
"That ain't the point. What I'm sayin' is that I'll not stand for youthrowin' me down."
"What can you do?" She stood before him in her stockings, the heavy blackhair waving down to her hips, a slim girl whose wiry strength he couldcrush with one hand.
Her question stopped him. What could he do if she wanted to give him up?If he made a move toward her she would scream, and that would bring hisenemies upon him. He could shoot her afterward, but that would do nogood. His account was heavy enough as it stood without piling upsurplusage.
"You aimin' for to sell me out?" he asked hoarsely.
"No. I won't be responsible for your death." June might have addedanother reason, a more potent one. She knew Jake Houck, what a game anddesperate villain he was. They could not capture him alive. It was notlikely he could be killed without one or two men at least being shot byhim. Driven into a corner, he would fight like a wild wolf.
"Tha's the way to talk, June. Help me outa this hole. You can if you're amind to. Have they got patrols out everywhere?"
"Only on the river side of the town. They think you escaped that way."
"Well, if you'll get me a horse--"
"I'll not do it." She reflected a moment, thinking out the situation. "Ifyou can reach the foothills you'll have a chance."
He grinned, wolfishly. "I'll reach 'em. You can gamble on that, if I haveto drop a coupla guys like I did this mornin'."
That was just the trouble. If any one interfered with him, or evenrecognized him, he would shoot instantly. He would be a deadly menaceuntil he was out of Bear Cat.
"I'll go with you," June said impulsively.
"Go with me?" he repeated.
"Across the park. If they see me with you, nobody'll pay any attention toyou. Pull your hat down over your eyes."
He did as she told him.
"Better leave your guns here. If anyone sees them--"
"Nothin' doing. My guns go right with me. What are you trying to pulloff?" He shot a lowering, suspicious look at her.
"Keep them under your coat, then. We don't want folks looking at us toocuriously. We'll stroll along as if we were interested in our talk. Whenwe meet any one, if we do, you can look down at me. That'll hide yourface."
"You going with me clear to the edge of town?"
"No. Just across the square, where it's light an' there are liable to bepeople. You'll have to look out for yourself after that. It's not morethan two hundred yards to the sagebrush."
"I'm ready whenever you are," he said.
June put on her shoes and did up her hair.
She made him wait there while she scouted to make sure nobody was in thecorridor outside the room.
They passed out of the back door of the hotel.
Chung met them. He grunted "Glood-eveling" with a grin at June, but hedid not glance twice at her companion.
The two passed across a vacant lot and into the park. They saw one or twopeople--a woman with a basket of eggs, a barefoot boy returning home fromafter-supper play. June carried the burden of the talk because she wasquicker-witted than Houck. Its purpose was to deceive anybody who mighthappen to be looking at them.
It chanced that some one _was_ looking at them. He was a young man whohad been lying on the grass stargazing. They passed close to him and herecognized June by her walk. That was not what brought him to his feet amoment later with a gasp of amazement. He had recognized her companion,too, or he thought he had. It was not credible, of course. He must bemistaken. And yet--if that was not Jake Houck's straddling slouch hiseyes were playing tricks. The fellow limped, too, just a trifle, as hehad heard the Brown's Park man did from the effects of his wounds in theUte campaign.
But how could Houck be with June, strolling across the park in intimatetalk with her, leaning toward her in that confidential, lover-likeattitude--Jake Houck, who had robbed the bank a few hours earlier and wasbeing hunted up and down the river by armed posses ready to shoot himlike a wolf? June was a good hater. She had no use whatever for thisfellow. Why, then, would she be with him, laughing lightly and talkingwith animation?
Bob followed them, as noiselessly as possible. And momentarily theconviction grew in him that this was Houck. It was puzzling, but he couldnot escape the conclusion. There was a trick in the fellow's stride, apeculiarity of the swinging shoulders that made for identification of theman.
If he could have heard the talk between them, Bob would have betterunderstood the situation.
Ever since that memorable evening when Bear Cat had driven him away indisgrace, Houck had let loose the worse impulses of his nature. He hadgone bad, to use the phrase of the West. Something in
him had snappedthat hitherto had made him value the opinions of men. In the old days hehad been a rustler and worse, but no crime had ever been proved againsthim. He could hold his head up, and he did. But the shock to his prideand self-esteem that night had produced in him a species ofdisintegration. He had drunk heavily and almost constantly. It had beenduring the sour temper following such a bout that he had quarreled withand shot the Ute. From that hour his declension had been swift. How farhe had gone was shown by the way he had taken Dillon's great service tohim. The thing rankled in his mind, filled him with surging rage wheneverhe thought of it. He hated the young fellow more than ever.
But as he walked with June, slender, light-swinging, warm with young,sensuous life, the sultry passion of the man mounted to his brain andoverpowered caution. His vanity whispered to him. No woman saved a manfrom death unless she loved him. She might give other reasons, but thatone only counted. It was easy for him to persuade himself that she alwayshad been fond of him at heart. There had been moments when the quality ofher opposition to him had taken on the color of adventure.
"I'll leave you at the corner," she said. "Go back of that house andthrough the barbed-wire fence. You'll be in the sage then."
"Come with me to the fence," he whispered. "I got something to tellyou."
She looked at him, sharply, coldly. "You've got nothing to tell me that Iwant to hear. I'm not doing this for you, but to save the lives of myfriends. Understand that."
They were for the moment in the shadow of a great cottonwood. Houckstopped, devouring her with his hungry eyes. Bad as the man was, he hadthe human craving of his sex. The slim grace of her, the fundamentalcourage, the lift of the oval chin, touched a chord that went vibratingthrough him. He snatched her to him, crushing his kisses upon thedisturbing mouth, upon the color spots that warmed her cheeks.
She was too smothered to cry out at first. Later, she repressed theimpulse. With all her strength she fought to push him from her.
A step sounded, a cry, the sound of a smashing blow going home. Houckstaggered back. He reached for a revolver.
June heard herself scream. A shot rang out. The man who had rescued hercrumpled up and went down. In that horrified moment she knew he was BobDillon.