The "Wild West" Collection. William MacLeod Raine
them, so that there was no danger of being observed. The outlaw got out his field glasses and watched the men intently.
Melissy could not contain the question that trembled on her lips: "Do you know them?"
"I reckon not."
"Perhaps----"
"Well!"
"May I look--please?"
He handed her the glasses. She had to wait for the riders to reappear, but when they did she gave a little cry.
"It's Mr. Bellamy!"
"Oh, is it?"
He looked at her steadily, ready to crush in her throat any call she might utter for help. But he soon saw that she had no intention of making her presence known. Her eyes were glued to the glasses. As long as the men were in sight she focused her gaze on them ravenously. At last a bend in the dry river bed hid them from view. She lowered the binoculars with a sigh.
"Lucky they didn't see us," he said, with his easy, sinister laugh. "Lucky for them."
She noticed for the first time that he had uncased his rifle and was holding it across the saddle-tree.
Night slipped silently down from the hills--the soft, cool, velvet night of the Arizona uplands. The girl drooped in the saddle from sheer exhaustion. The past few days had been hard ones, and last night she had lost most of her sleep. She had ridden far on rough trails, had been subjected to a stress of emotion to which her placid maiden life had been unused. But she made no complaint. It was part of the creed she had unconsciously learned from her father to game out whatever had to be endured.
The outlaw, though he saw her fatigue, would not heed it. She had chosen to set herself apart from him. Let her ask him to stop and rest, if she wanted to. It would do her pride good to be humbled. Yet in his heart he admired her the more, because she asked no favors of him and forbore the womanish appeal of tears.
His watch showed eleven o'clock by the moon when the lights of Mesa glimmered in the valley below.
"We'll be in now in half an hour," he said.
She had no comment to make, and silence fell between them again until they reached the outskirts of the town.
"We'll get off here and walk in," he ordered; and, after she had dismounted, he picketed the horses close to the road. "You can send for yours in the mornin'. Mine will be in the livery barn by that time."
The streets were practically deserted in the residential part of the town. Only one man they saw, and at his approach MacQueen drew Melissy behind a large lilac bush.
As the man drew near the outlaw's hand tightened on the shoulder of the girl. For the man was her father--dusty, hollow-eyed, and haggard. The two crouching behind the lilacs knew that this iron man was broken by his fears for his only child, the girl who was the apple of his eye.
Not until he was out of hearing did Melissy open her lips to the stifled cry she had suppressed. Her arms went out to him, and the tears rolled down her cheeks. For herself she had not let herself break down, but for her father's grief her heart was like water.
"All right. Don't break down now. You'll be with him inside of half an hour," the outlaw told her gruffly.
They stopped at a house not much farther down the street, and he rang the bell. It took a second ring to bring a head out of the open window upstairs.
"Well?" a sleepy voice demanded.
"Is this Squire Latimer?"
"Yes."
"Come down. We want to get married."
"Then why can't you come at a reasonable hour?--consarn it!"
"Never mind that. There's a good fee in it. Hurry up!"
Presently the door opened. "Come in. You can wait in the hall till I get a light."
"No--I don't want a light. We'll step into this room, and be married at once," MacQueen told him crisply.
"I don't know about that. I'm not marrying folks that can't be looked at."
"You'll marry us, and at once. I'm Black MacQueen!"
It was ludicrous to see how the justice of the peace fell back in terror before the redoubtable bad man of the hills.
"Well, I don't know as a light is a legal necessity; but we got to have witnesses."
"Have you any in the house?"
"My daughter and a girl friend of hers are sleeping upstairs. I'll call them, Mr. Black--er--I mean Mr. MacQueen."
The outlaw went with the squire to the foot of the stairs, whence Latimer wakened the girls and told them to dress at once, as quickly as possible. A few minutes later they came down--towsled, eyes heavy with sleep, giggling at each other in girlish fashion. But when they knew whose marriage they were witnessing, giggles and sleep fled together.
They were due for another surprise later. MacQueen and his bride were standing in the heavy shadows, so that both bulked vaguely in mere outline. Hitherto, Melissy had not spoken a word. The time came when it was necessary for the justice to know the name of the girl whom he was marrying. Her answer came at once, in a low, scarcely audible voice:
"Melissy Lee."
An electric shock could scarce have startled them more. Of all the girls in Mesa none was so proud as Melissy Lee, none had been so far above criticism, such a queen in the frontier town. She had spent a year in school at Denver; she had always been a social leader. While she had always been friendly to the other girls, they had looked upon her with a touch of awe. She had all the things they craved, from beauty to money. And now she was marrying at midnight, in the dark, the most notorious bad man of Arizona!
Here was a wonder of wonders to tell the other girls to-morrow. The only pity was that they could not see her face--and his. They had heard that he was handsome. No doubt that accounted for it. And what could be more romantic than a love match with such a fascinating villain? Probably he had stormed her heart irresistibly.
The service proceeded. The responses of the man came clearly and triumphantly, those of the girl low but distinctly. It was the custom of the justice to join the hands of the parties he was marrying; but when he moved to do so this girl put both of hers quickly behind her. It was his custom also to kiss the bride after pronouncing them man and wife; but he omitted this, too, on the present occasion. Nor did the groom kiss her.
The voice of the justice died away. They stood before him man and wife. The witnesses craned forward to see the outlaw embrace his bride. Instead, he reached into his pocket and handed Latimer a bill. The denomination of it was one hundred dollars, but the justice did not discover that until later.
"I reckon that squares us," the bad man said unsentimentally. "Now, all of you back to bed."
MacQueen and his bride passed out into the night. The girls noticed that she did not take his arm; that she even drew back, as if to avoid touching him as they crossed the threshold.
Not until they reached the gate of her father's house did MacQueen speak.
"I'm not all coyote, girl. I'll give you the three days I promised you. After that you'll join me wherever I say."
"Yes," she answered without spirit.
"You'll stand pat to our agreement. When they try to talk you out of it you won't give in?"
"No."
She was deadly weary, could scarce hold up her head.
"If you lie to me I'll take it out on your folks. Don't forget that Jack Flatray will have to pay if you double-cross me."
"No."
"He'll have to pay in full."
"You mean you'll capture him again."
"I mean we won't have to do that. We haven't turned him loose yet."
"Then you lied to me?"