10
Next day, when Kells called Joan out into the other cabin, she verifiedher hope and belief, not so much in the almost indefinable aging andsadness of the man, as in the strong intuitive sense that her attractionhad magnified for him and had uplifted him.
"You mustn't stay shut up in there any longer," he said. "You've lostweight and you're pale. Go out in the air and sun. You might as well getused to the gang. Bate Wood came to me this morning and said he thoughtyou were the ghost of Dandy Dale. That name will stick to you. I don'tcare how you treat my men. But if you're friendly you'll fare better.Don't go far from the cabin. And if any man says or does a thing youdon't like--flash your gun. Don't yell for me. You can bluff this gangto a standstill."
That was a trial for Joan, when she walked out into the light in DandyDale's clothes. She did not step very straight, and she could feel thecold prick of her face under the mask. It was not shame, but fear thatgripped her. She would rather die than have Jim Cleve recognize herin that bold disguise. A line of dusty saddled horses stood heads andbridles down before the cabin, and a number of lounging men ceasedtalking when she appeared. It was a crowd that smelled of dust andhorses and leather and whisky and tobacco. Joan did not recognize anyone there, which fact aided her in a quick recovery of her composure.Then she found amusement in the absolute sensation she made upon theseloungers. They stared, open-mouthed and motionless. One old fellowdropped his pipe from bearded lips and did not seem to note the loss. Adark young man, dissipated and wild-looking, with years of lawlessnessstamped upon his face, was the first to move; and he, with awkwardgallantry, but with amiable disposition. Joan wanted to run, yet sheforced herself to stand there, apparently unconcerned before thisbattery of bold and curious eyes. That, once done, made the resteasier. She was grateful for the mask. And with her first low, almostincoherent, words in reply Joan entered upon the second phase of herexperience with these bandits. Naturalness did not come soon, but it didcome, and with it her wit and courage.
Used as she had become to the villainous countenances of the borderruffians, she yet upon closer study discovered wilder and more abandonedones. Yet despite that, and a brazen, unconcealed admiration, therewas not lacking kindliness and sympathy and good nature. Presently Joansauntered away, and she went among the tired, shaggy horses and madefriends with them. An occasional rider swung up the trail to dismountbefore Kells's cabin, and once two riders rode in, both staring--alleyes--at her. The meaning of her intent alertness dawned upon her then.Always, whatever she was doing or thinking or saying, behind it all hidthe driving watchfulness for Jim Cleve. And the consciousness of thisfixed her mind upon him. Where was he? What was he doing? Was he drunkor gambling or fighting or sleeping? Was he still honest? When she didmeet him what would happen? How could she make herself and circumstancesknown to him before he killed somebody? A new fear had birth andgrew--Cleve would recognize her in that disguise, mask and all.
She walked up and down for a while, absorbed with this new idea. Thenan unusual commotion among the loungers drew her attention to a group ofmen on foot surrounding and evidently escorting several horsemen. Joanrecognized Red Pearce and Frenchy, and then, with a start, Jim Cleve.They were riding up the trail. Joan's heart began to pound. She couldnot meet Jim; she dared not trust this disguise; all her plans were asif they had never been. She forgot Kells. She even forgot her fear ofwhat Cleve might do. The meeting--the inevitable recognition--the painJim Cleve must suffer when the fact and apparent significance of herpresence there burst upon him, these drove all else from Joan's mind.Mask or no mask, she could not face his piercing eyes, and like a littlecoward she turned to enter the cabin.
Before she got in, however, it was forced upon her that somethingunusual had roused the loungers. They had arisen and were interested inthe approaching group. Loud talk dinned in Joan's ears. Then she wentin the door as Kells stalked by, eyes agleam, without even noticing her.Once inside her cabin, with the curtain drawn, Joan's fear gave place toanxiety and curiosity.
There was no one in the large cabin. Through the outer door she caughtsight of a part of the crowd, close together, heads up, all noisy. Thenshe heard Kells's authoritative voice, but she could understand nothing.The babel of hoarse voices grew louder. Kells appeared, entering thedoor with Pearce. Jim Cleve came next, and, once the three were inside,the crowd spilled itself after them like angry bees. Kells was talking,Pearce was talking, but their voices were lost. Suddenly Kells ventedhis temper.
"Shut up--the lot of you!" he yelled, and his power and position mighthave been measured by the menace he showed.
The gang became suddenly quiet.
"Now--what's up?" demanded Kells.
"Keep your shirt on, boss," replied Pearce, with good humor. "Thereain't much wrong.... Cleve, here, throwed a gun on Gulden, that's all."
Kells gave a slight start, barely perceptible, but the intensity of it,and a fleeting tigerish gleam across his face, impressed Joan with theidea that he felt a fiendish joy. Her own heart clamped in a cold amaze.
"Gulden!" Kells's exclamation was likewise a passionate query.
"No, he ain't cashed," replied Pearce. "You can't kill that bull soeasy. But he's shot up some. He's layin' over at Beard's. Reckon you'dbetter go over an' dress them shots."
"He can rot before I doctor him," replied Kells. "Where's Bate Wood?...Bate, you can take my kit and go fix Gulden up. And now, Red, what wasall the roar about?"
"Reckon that was Gulden's particular pards tryin' to mix it with Clevean' Cleve tryin' to mix it with them--an' ME in between!... I'm here tosay, boss, that I had a time stavin' off a scrap."
During this rapid exchange between Kells and his lieutenant, Jim Clevesat on the edge of the table, one dusty boot swinging so that his spurjangled, a wisp of a cigarette in his lips. His face was white exceptwhere there seemed to be bruises under his eyes. Joan had never seen himlook like this. She guessed that he had been drunk--perhaps was stilldrunk. That utterly abandoned face Joan was so keen to read made herbite her tongue to keep from crying out. Yes, Jim was lost.
"What'd they fight about?" queried Kells.
"Ask Cleve," replied Pearce. "Reckon I'd just as lief not talk any moreabout him."
Then Kells turned to Cleve and stepped before him. Somehow these two menface to face thrilled Joan to her depths. They presented such contrasts.Kells was keen, imperious, vital, strong, and complex, with anunmistakable friendly regard for this young outcast. Cleve seemed aloof,detached, indifferent to everything, with a white, weary, recklessscorn. Both men were far above the gaping ruffians around them.
"Cleve, why'd you draw on Gulden?" asked Kells, sharply.
"That's my business," replied Cleve, slowly, and with his piercing eyeson Kells he blew a long, thin, blue stream of smoke upward.
"Sure.... But I remember what you asked me the other day--about Gulden.Was that why?"
"Nope," replied Cleve. "This was my affair."
"All right. But I'd like to know. Pearce says you're in bad withGulden's friends. If I can't make peace between you I'll have to takesides."
"Kells, I don't need any one on my side," said Cleve, and he flung thecigarette away.
"Yes, you do," replied Kells, persuasively. "Every man on this borderneeds that. And he's lucky when he gets it."
"Well, I don't ask for it; I don't want it."
"That's your own business, too. I'm not insisting or advising."
Kells's force and ability to control men manifested itself in hisspeech and attitude. Nothing could have been easier than to rouse theantagonism of Jim Cleve, abnormally responding as he was to the wildconditions of this border environment.
"Then you're not calling my hand?" queried Cleve, with his dark,piercing glance on Kells.
"I pass, Jim," replied the bandit, easily.
Cleve began to roll another cigarette. Joan saw his strong, brown handstremble, and she realized that this came from his nervous condition, notfrom agitation. Her heart ached for him. What a
white, somber face, soterribly expressive of the overthrow of his soul! He had fled to theborder in reckless fury at her--at himself. There in its wildness hehad, perhaps, lost thought of himself and memory of her. He had plungedinto the unrestrained border life. Its changing, raw, and fatefulexcitement might have made him forget, but behind all was the terribleseeking to destroy and be destroyed. Joan shuddered when she rememberedhow she had mocked this boy's wounded vanity--how scathingly she hadsaid he did not possess manhood and nerve enough even to be bad.
"See here, Red," said Kells to Pearce, "tell me what happened--what yousaw. Jim can't object to that."
"Sure," replied Pearce, thus admonished. "We was all over at Beard'san' several games was on. Gulden rode into camp last night. He's alwayssore, but last night it seemed more'n usual. But he didn't say much an'nothin' happened. We all reckoned his trip fell through. Today he wasrestless. He walked an' walked just like a cougar in a pen. You know howGulden has to be on the move. Well, we let him alone, you can bet. Butsuddenlike he comes up to our table--me an' Cleve an' Beard an' Texaswas playin' cards--an' he nearly kicks the table over. I grabbed thegold an' Cleve he saved the whisky. We'd been drinkin' an' Cleve most ofall. Beard was white at the gills with rage an' Texas was soffocatin'.But we all was afraid of Gulden, except Cleve, as it turned out. But hedidn't move or look mean. An' Gulden pounded on the table an' addressedhimself to Cleve.
"'I've a job you'll like. Come on.'
"'Job? Say, man, you couldn't have a job I'd like,' replied Cleve, slowan' cool.
"You know how Gulden gets when them spells come over him. It's justplain cussedness. I've seen gunfighters lookin' for trouble--for someoneto kill. But Gulden was worse than that. You all take my hunch--he's gota screw loose in his nut.
"'Cleve,' he said, 'I located the Brander gold-diggin's--an' the girlwas there.'
"Some kind of a white flash went over Cleve. An' we all, rememberin'Luce, began to bend low, ready to duck. Gulden didn't look no differentfrom usual. You can't see any change in him. But I for one felt all hellburnin' in him.
"'Oho! You have,' said Cleve, quick, like he was pleased. 'An' did youget her?'
"'Not yet. Just looked over the ground. I'm pickin' you to go with me.We'll split on the gold, an' I'll take the girl.'
"Cleve swung the whisky-bottle an' it smashed on Gulden's mug, knockin'him flat. Cleve was up, like a cat, gun burnin' red. The other fellerswere dodgin' low. An' as I ducked I seen Gulden, flat on his back,draggin' at his gun. He stopped short an' his hand flopped. The side ofhis face went all bloody. I made sure he'd cashed, so I leaped up an'grabbed Cleve.
"It'd been all right if Gulden had only cashed. But he hadn't. He cameto an' bellered fer his gun an' fer his pards. Why, you could have heardhim for a mile.... Then, as I told you, I had trouble in holdin' back ageneral mix-up. An' while he was hollerin' about it I led them all overto you. Gulden is layin' back there with his ear shot off. An' that'sall."
Kells, with thoughtful mien, turned from Pearce to the group ofdark-faced men. "This fight settles one thing," he said to them. "We'vegot to have organization. If you're not all a lot of fools you'll seethat. You need a head. Most of you swear by me, but some of you are forGulden. Just because he's a bloody devil. These times are the wildestthe West ever knew, and they're growing wilder. Gulden is a greatmachine for execution. He has no sense of fear. He's a giant. He lovesto fight--to kill. But Gulden's all but crazy. This last deal provesthat. I leave it to your common sense. He rides around hunting for somelone camp to rob. Or some girl to make off with. He does not plan withme or the men whose judgment I have confidence in. He's always withoutgold. And so are most of his followers. I don't know who they are. AndI don't care. But here we split--unless they and Gulden take advice andorders from me. I'm not so much siding with Cleve. Any of you ought toadmit that Gulden's kind of work will disorganize a gang. He's been withus for long. And he approaches Cleve with a job. Cleve is a stranger.He may belong here, but he's not yet one of us. Gulden oughtn't haveapproached him. It was no straight deal. We can't figure what Guldenmeant exactly, but it isn't likely he wanted Cleve to go. It was abluff. He got called.... You men think this over--whether you'll stickto Gulden or to me. Clear out now."
His strong, direct talk evidently impressed them, and in silence theycrowded out of the cabin, leaving Pearce and Cleve behind.
"Jim, are you just hell-bent on fighting or do you mean to make yourselfthe champion of every poor girl in these wilds?"
Cleve puffed a cloud of smoke that enveloped his head "I don't pickquarrels," he replied.
"Then you get red-headed at the very mention of a girl."
A savage gesture of Cleve's suggested that Kells was right.
"Here, don't get red-headed at me," called Kells, with piercingsharpness. "I'll be your friend if you let me.... But declare yourselflike a man--if you want me for a friend!"
"Kells, I'm much obliged," replied Cleve, with a semblance ofearnestness. "I'm no good or I wouldn't be out here... But I can't standfor these--these deals with girls."
"You'll change," rejoined Kells, bitterly. "Wait till you live a fewlonely years out here! You don't understand the border. You're young.I've seen the gold-fields of California and Nevada. Men go crazy withthe gold fever. It's gold that makes men wild. If you don't get killedyou'll change. If you live you'll see life on this border. War debasesthe moral force of a man, but nothing like what you'll experience herethe next few years. Men with their wives and daughters are pouringinto this range. They're all over. They're finding gold. They've tastedblood. Wait till the great gold strike comes! Then you'll see men andwomen go back ten thousand years... And then what'll one girl more orless matter?"
"Well, you see, Kells, I was loved so devotedly by one and made such ahero of--that I just can't bear to see any girl mistreated."
He almost drawled the words, and he was suave and cool, and his face wasinscrutable, but a bitterness in his tone gave the lie to all he saidand looked.
Pearce caught the broader inference and laughed as if at a great joke.Kells shook his head doubtfully, as if Cleve's transparent speech onlyadded to the complexity. And Cleve turned away, as if in an instant hehad forgotten his comrades.
Afterward, in the silence and darkness of night, Joan Randle layupon her bed sleepless, haunted by Jim's white face, amazed at themagnificent madness of him, thrilled to her soul by the meaning of hisattack on Gulden, and tortured by a love that had grown immeasurablyfull of the strength of these hours of suspense and the passion of thiswild border.
Even in her dreams Joan seemed to be bending all her will toward thatinevitable and fateful moment when she must stand before Jim Cleve. Ithad to be. Therefore she would absolutely compel herself to meet it,regardless of the tumult that must rise within her. When all had beensaid, her experience so far among the bandits, in spite of the shocksand suspense that had made her a different girl, had been infinitelymore fortunate than might have been expected. She prayed for this luckto continue and forced herself into a belief that it would.
That night she had slept in Dandy Dale's clothes, except for the boots;and sometimes while turning in restless slumber she had been awakened byrolling on the heavy gun, which she had not removed from the belt. Andat such moments, she had to ponder in the darkness, to realize thatshe, Joan Randle, lay a captive in a bandit's camp, dressed in a deadbandit's garb, and packing his gun--even while she slept. It was such animprobable, impossible thing. Yet the cold feel of the polished gun senta thrill of certainty through her.
In the morning she at least did not have to suffer the shame of gettinginto Dandy Dale's clothes, for she was already in them. She found agrain of comfort even in that. When she had put on the mask and sombreroshe studied the effect in her little mirror. And she again decidedthat no one, not even Jim Cleve, could recognize her in that disguise.Likewise she gathered courage from the fact that even her best girlfriend would have found her figure unfamiliar and striking where onceit had been merely tall
and slender and strong, ordinarily dressed. Thenhow would Jim Cleve ever recognize her? She remembered her voice thathad been called a contralto, low and deep; and how she used to sing thesimple songs she knew. She could not disguise that voice. But she neednot let Jim hear it. Then there was a return of the idea that he wouldinstinctively recognize her--that no disguise could be proof to a loverwho had ruined himself for her. Suddenly she realized how futile allher worry and shame. Sooner or later she must reveal her identity to JimCleve. Out of all this complexity of emotion Joan divined that whatshe yearned most for was to spare Cleve the shame consequent uponrecognition of her and then the agony he must suffer at a falseconception of her presence there. It was a weakness in her. When deathmenaced her lover and the most inconceivably horrible situation yawnedfor her, still she could only think of her passionate yearning to havehim know, all in a flash, that she loved him, that she had followed himin remorse, that she was true to him and would die before being anythingelse.
And when she left her cabin she was in a mood to force an issue.
Kells was sitting at the table and being served by Bate Wood.
"Hello, Dandy!" he greeted her, in surprise and pleasure. "This's earlyfor you."
Joan returned his greeting and said that she could not sleep all thetime.
"You're coming round. I'll bet you hold up a stage before a month isout."
"Hold up a stage?" echoed Joan.
"Sure. It'll be great fun," replied Kells, with a laugh. "Here--sit downand eat with me.... Bate, come along lively with breakfast.... It'sfine to see you there. That mask changes you, though. No one can see howpretty you are.... Joan, your admirer, Gulden, has been incapacitatedfor the present."
Then in evident satisfaction Kells repeated the story that Joan hadheard Red Pearce tell the night before; and in the telling Kellsenlarged somewhat upon Jim Cleve.
"I've taken a liking to Cleve," said Kells. "He's a strange youngster.But he's more man than boy. I think he's broken-hearted over some rottengirl who's been faithless or something. Most women are no good, Joan. Awhile ago I'd have said ALL women were that, but since I've known you Ithink--I know different. Still, one girl out of a million doesn't changea world."
"What will this J--jim C--cleve do--when he sees--me?" asked Joan, andshe choked over the name.
"Don't eat so fast, girl," said Kells. "You're only seventeen years oldand you've plenty of time.... Well, I've thought some about Cleve.He's not crazy like Gulden, but he's just as dangerous. He's dangerousbecause he doesn't know what he's doing--has absolutely no fear ofdeath--and then he's swift with a gun. That's a bad combination. Clevewill kill a man presently. He's shot three already, and in Gulden'scase he meant to kill. If once he kills a man--that'll make him agun-fighter. I've worried a little about his seeing you. But I canmanage him, I guess. He can't be scared or driven. But he may be led.I've had Red Pearce tell him you are my wife. I hope he believes it,for none of the other fellows believe it. Anyway, you'll meet thisCleve soon, maybe to-day, and I want you to be friendly. If I can steadyhim--stop his drinking--he'll be the best man for me on this border."
"I'm to help persuade him to join your band?" asked Joan, and she couldnot yet control her voice.
"Is that so black a thing?" queried Kells, evidently nettled, and heglared at her.
"I--I don't know," faltered Joan. "Is this--this boy a criminal yet?"
"No. He's only a fine, decent young chap gone wild--gone bad for somegirl. I told you that. You don't seem to grasp the point. If I cancontrol him he'll be of value to me--he'll be a bold and clever anddangerous man--he'll last out here. If I can't win him, why, he won'tlast a week longer. He'll be shot or knifed in a brawl. Without mycontrol Cleve'll go straight to the hell he's headed for."
Joan pushed back her plate and, looking up, steadily eyed the bandit.
"Kells, I'd rather he ended his--his career quick--and went to--to--thanlive to be a bandit and murderer at your command."
Kells laughed mockingly, yet the savage action with which he threw hiscup against the wall attested to the fact that Joan had strange power tohurt him.
"That's your sympathy, because I told you some girl drove him out here,"said the bandit. "He's done for. You'll know that the moment you seehim. I really think he or any man out here would be the better for myinterest. Now, I want to know if you'll stand by me--put in a word tohelp influence this wild boy."
"I'll--I'll have to see him first," replied Joan.
"Well, you take it sort of hard," growled Kells. Then presently hebrightened. "I seem always to forget that you're only a kid. Listen! Nowyou do as you like. But I want to warn you that you've got to get backthe same kind of nerve"--here he lowered his voice and glanced atBate Wood--"that you showed when you shot me. You're going to see somesights.... A great gold strike! Men grown gold-mad! Woman of no moreaccount than a puff of cottonseed!... Hunger, toil, pain, disease,starvation, robbery, blood, murder, hanging, death--all nothing,nothing! There will be only gold. Sleepless nights--days of hell--rushand rush--all strangers with greedy eyes! The things that made lifewill be forgotten and life itself will be cheap. There will be only thatyellow stuff--gold--over which men go mad and women sell their souls!"
After breakfast Kells had Joan's horse brought out of the corral andsaddled.
"You must ride some every day. You must keep in condition," he said."Pretty soon we may have a chase, and I don't want it to tear you topieces."
"Where shall I ride?" asked Joan.
"Anywhere you like up and down the gulch."
"Are you going to have me watched?"
"Not if you say you won't run off."
"You trust me?"
"Yes."
"All right. I promise. And if I change my mind I'll tell you."
"Lord! don't do it, Joan. I--I--Well, you've come to mean a good dealto me. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you." As she mounted the horseKells added, "Don't stand any raw talk from any of the gang."
Joan rode away, pondering in mind the strange fact that though she hatedthis bandit, yet she had softened toward him. His eyes lit when he sawher; his voice mellowed; his manner changed. He had meant to tell heragain that he loved her, yet he controlled it. Was he ashamed? Had heseen into the depths of himself and despised what he had imagined love?There were antagonistic forces at war within him.
It was early morning and a rosy light tinged the fresh green. She letthe eager horse break into a canter and then a gallop; and she rode upthe gulch till the trail started into rough ground. Then turning, shewent back, down under the pines and by the cabins, to where the gulchnarrowed its outlet into the wide valley. Here she met several dustyhorsemen driving a pack-train. One, a jovial ruffian, threw up his handsin mock surrender.
"Hands up, pards!" he exclaimed. "Reckon we've run agin' Dandy Dale cometo life."
His companions made haste to comply and then the three regarded her withbold and roguish eyes. Joan had run square into them round a corner ofslope and, as there was no room to pass, she had halted.
"Shore it's the Dandy Dale we heerd of," vouchsafed another.
"Thet's Dandy's outfit with a girl inside," added the third.
Joan wheeled her horse and rode back up the trail. The glances of theseruffians seemed to scorch her with the reality of her appearance. Shewore a disguise, but her womanhood was more manifest in it than in herfeminine garb. It attracted the bold glances of these men. If there wereany possible decency among them, this outrageous bandit costume renderedit null. How could she ever continue to wear it? Would not somethinggood and sacred within her be sullied by a constant exposure to theeffect she had upon these vile border men? She did not think it couldwhile she loved Jim Cleve; and with thought of him came a mighty throbof her heart to assure her that nothing mattered if only she could savehim.
Upon the return trip up the gulch Joan found men in sight leadinghorses, chopping wood, stretching arms in cabin doors. Joan avoidedriding near them, yet even at a distance she was aware of t
heir gaze.One rowdy, half hidden by a window, curved hands round his mouth andcalled, softly, "Hullo, sweetheart!"
Joan was ashamed that she could feel insulted. She was amazed at thetemper which seemed roused in her. This border had caused her feelingsshe had never dreamed possible to her. Avoiding the trail, she headedfor the other side of the gulch. There were clumps of willows alongthe brook through which she threaded a way, looking for a good place tocross. The horse snorted for water. Apparently she was not going to findany better crossing, so she turned the horse into a narrow lane throughthe willows and, dismounting on a mossy bank, she slipped the bridle sothe horse could drink.
Suddenly she became aware that she was not alone. But she saw no onein front of her or on the other side of her horse. Then she turned. JimCleve was in the act of rising from his knees. He had a towel in hishand. His face was wet. He stood no more than ten steps from her.
Joan could not have repressed a little cry to save her life. Thesurprise was tremendous. She could not move a finger. She expected tohear him call her name.
Cleve stared at her. His face, in the morning light, was as drawn andwhite as that of a corpse. Only his eyes seemed alive and they wereflames. A lightning flash of scorn leaped to them. He only recognizedin her a woman, and his scorn was for the creature that bandit garbproclaimed her to be. A sad and bitter smile crossed his face; and thenit was followed by an expression that was a lash upon Joan's bleedingspirit. He looked at her shapely person with something of the brazenand evil glance that had been so revolting to her in the eyes of thoseruffians. That was the unexpected--the impossible--in connection withJim Cleve. How could she stand there under it--and live?
She jerked at the bridle, and, wading blindly across the brook, shemounted somehow, and rode with blurred sight back to the cabin. Kellsappeared busy with men outside and did not accost her. She fled to hercabin and barricaded the door.
Then she hid her face on her bed, covered herself to shut out the light,and lay there, broken-hearted. What had been that other thing she hadimagined was shame--that shrinking and burning she had suffered throughKells and his men? What was that compared to this awful thing? A brandof red-hot pitch, blacker and bitterer than death, had been struckbrutally across her soul. By the man she loved--whom she would have diedto save! Jim Cleve had seen in her only an abandoned creature of thecamps. His sad and bitter smile had been for the thought that he couldhave loved anything of her sex. His scorn had been for the betrayedyouth and womanhood suggested by her appearance. And then the thingthat struck into Joan's heart was the fact that her grace and charmof person, revealed by this costume forced upon her, had aroused JimCleve's first response to the evil surrounding him, the first call tothat baseness he must be assimilating from these border ruffians. Thathe could look at her so! The girl he had loved! Joan's agony lay notin the circumstance of his being as mistaken in her character as he hadbeen in her identity, but that she, of all women, had to be the one whomade him answer, like Kells and Gulden and all those ruffians, to theinstincts of a beast.
"Oh, he'd been drunk--he was drunk!" whispered Joan. "He isn't to beblamed. He's not my old Jim. He's suffering--he's changed--he doesn'tcare. What could I expect--standing there like a hussy before him--inthis--this indecent rig?... I must see him. I must tell him. If herecognized me now--and I had no chance to tell him why I'm here--why Ilook like this--that I love him--am still good--and true to him--if Icouldn't tell him I'd--I'd shoot myself!"
Joan sobbed out the final words and then broke down. And when the spellhad exercised its sway, leaving her limp and shaken and weak, she wasthe better for it. Slowly calmness returned so that she could look ather wild and furious rush from the spot where she had faced Jim Cleve,at the storm of shame ending in her collapse. She realized that if shehad met Jim Cleve here in the dress in which she had left home therewould have been the same shock of surprise and fear and love. She owedpart of that breakdown to the suspense she had been under and then thesuddenness of the meeting. Looking back at her agitation, she felt thatit had been natural--that if she could only tell the truth to Jim Clevethe situation was not impossible. But the meeting, and all following it,bore tremendous revelation of how through all this wild experience shehad learned to love Jim Cleve. But for his reckless flight and her blindpursuit, and then the anxiety, fear, pain, toil, and despair, she wouldnever have known her woman's heart and its capacity for love.