Lost Pueblo (1992) (9 page)

"What's the matter, Phil? You look strange. Your eyes! You're staring at me. It's the second time. I can't complain of lack of attention right now."

"Better late than never."

"Come here, Mr. Archaeologist. I won't hurt you," said Janey, beckoning.

"You want me? Over there?"

"Ah--huh!"

"You're taking a chance. I've become a--a bad man," he returned, doggedly, as if he needed to convince himself.

"Since when? Since that episode at the cave? Well, if you repeat that your end will be near... I asked you whom these horses belonged to?"

"They're mine."

"Yours!--What are they doing here--saddled? Surely we don't need this outfit to hunt horned toads."

"Janey, that about the toads--was a lie," he returned, haltingly. "It was a trick to get you away from the post."

"A trick? How thrilling! Well, now you've so basely deceived me and got me here--what are you going to do with me?"

"I've--kidnaped--you," he declared, huskily.

Janey laughed merrily. "Oh, I remember. You were to amuse me. Fine, Phil! I suppose you planned a little ride and picnic for me. But my dear man, I can't ride in this skirt."

"You can't walk, so you'll have to ride," he returned.

"Have to! Say, Phil, this is getting to be more than a joke. I can stand a lot of fun. But horseback in this knee-high skirt? Nothing doing!"

"It's not a joke, Janey. I'm in deadly earnest. You're going with me willingly--or otherwise."

"Indeed! Isn't that sweet of you? Lovely little all-day party, eh?"

"We will not return tonight."

"Mr. Randolph!" she exclaimed, coldly. That was the crucial moment for Philip Randolph. His face paled.

"Are you drunk or mad?" she added, icily.

"Both! Drunk with your beauty--mad for love of you," he replied, hoarsely.

"It would seem so," said Janey. She turned her back upon him and started to walk away. Then he seized her by the shoulders, whirled her round and forced her back to the shade.

"If you run it'll only be the worse for you," he warned, releasing her.

"You beast!" cried Janey, wheeling. "Let me go."

Randolph confronted her, and when she tried to get by he put his hands on her shoulders and gave her a good hard shove. Janey staggered backward. The sand was soft and deep. She lost her balance and suddenly fell on the slope, thus losing coat and sombrero. This was most undignified. Yet Janey wanted to laugh. She sat there, blazing up at him, in a gathering might of wrath.

"Beast or anything you like," said Randolph, darkly. "But you go with me, if I have to throw you on that horse."

"Father will beat you for this."

"No doubt. But it will be too late."

"And the cowboys will do worse."

"Yes. But I shall have queered you with them."

Janey got to her feet and stepped close to Randolph. There was now a dangerous gleam in his eye--a wild dark light. He had gotten by the most difficult part for him--the announcement of his intention. Janey saw that he did not expect any serious trouble with her. How she would fool him!

"Don't you dare lay a hand on me again," she said, passionately.

"I hope it won't be necessary. But you get on this horse."

"No!"

"I tell you--"

Janey rushed to pass him, yet was not quick enough. He caught her arm. As he swung her around she gave him a terrific slap on the side of the face. Randolph dropped her arm. His hand went to his cheek which was as red as fire. It seemed realization was upon him, augmenting shame and fury. Janey realized that but for her blow he might have betrayed himself and given up this outrageous affair.

"You--you struck me," he said, hoarsely, and suddenly snatched out and caught her left arm.

"Sure I did, Mr. Hoodlum," rejoined Janey. "And I'll do it again. Did you think you'd get away with this so easy? There!" And she struck him quick and hard, this time with a tight little fist.

"Wildcat!" shouted Randolph, roused to battle, and then he closed with her. Janey was strong, lithe, supple as a panther, and she fought him fiercely. It was no longer pretense. The rough contact of his hands and her own violent action brought her blood up, gushing and hot. He was endeavoring to subdue her and she was struggling to get away. At the same time she beat and tore at him with all her might. She scratched his face. She got both hands in his hair and pulled. Naturally the fight could not last long, for he was overpowering her. When he got his left arm under her right and around her waist to grasp her left he had her nearly helpless. Then he put his other arm under her knees and lifted her.

His hair stood up like the mane of a lion; his face was bloody from the scratches; his eyes gleamed with fire.

"My God!" he panted. "Who'd have--thought it in you."

"Let me down!" cried Janey, straining and writhing.

"Will you get--on that horse?"

"No--you wild-west boob!"

"Boob?--Ha! Ha! You've hit it," he replied, wildly. "Very well--my Eastern princess--take this from the Western boob." He bent his head and kissed her quickly then again, crushing his hot lips on hers.

"I'll--kill--you!" gasped Janey, when she could speak.

"Kill and be damned. I wish you would," he returned, passionately. Then he surrendered to the contact and possession of her. Clasping her tight he rained kisses on her lips and neck. Janey felt the wet blood from his scratched face on her cheek. Her muscles grew rigid. She was like bent steel about to spring. Suddenly she sank limp. His passion had overcome her where his strength had failed. But Janey did not lose her wits. It was as if she knew she had to keep playing her part. Yet her collapse and the shaking of her relaxed body had nothing to do with reasoning. He had surprised her into the primitiveness of a savage. The change in her reaction struck him, and he released her.

Janey slipped down, as it chanced, to her knees. The thing could not have happened better.

"I--I--understand now," gasped Janey. "You mean--to--"

"My God!" cried Randolph, staggering back, in horror.

"Phillip," went on Janey, piteously. "I--I'm not the girl I--I've made you believe. This is as much--my fault--as yours. But have mercy. Don't be a brute."

"Shut up!" shouted Randolph, his face changing to a dusky red.

He backed against a stone and sat down, to cover his face with his hands, deeply and terribly shaken.

Janey sank back herself, to rest a moment, and to straighten her disheveled apparel. Her rage had died a sudden death. She was still conscious of disturbing unfamiliar sensations, which, however, were gradually subsiding. Much had happened that had not been down on the program. She realized that Randolph had not intended even the least insult, let alone the assault on her. And certainly in her plan Janey had not dreamed of making him think she believed him capable of more. Even at that troubled moment Janey realized that more could come of this incident than had been expected. Both of them were trifling with deep and unknown instincts. They might pass from jest to earnest. But Randolph had not the slightest inkling of Janey's duplicity.

"You've blood on your face," said Randolph, suddenly.

"Yes, it's yours. If I had my way I'd have your blood on my hands," returned Janey, murderously.

"Wipe it off," he ordered, getting up. Janey produced a wisp of a handkerchief. "Where is it?" she asked.

"On your cheek--the left one. Here, let me rub it off. That inch-square rag is no good." He had a silk scarf, which he used to remove the blood from her cheek. He applied considerable force, and his action was that of a man trying to remove a stain of guilt.

"You scratched me like--like a wildcat," he said, harshly.

"Did you expect me to purr?" she returned, with sarcasm. Then she rose to her feet. "You tore my sleeve half off. I hope you happen to have a needle and thread."

Ignoring her facetiousness he picked up her coat and sombrero, and handed them to her.

"Get on that horse," he ordered.

Chapter
5

Without comment and as one subdued Janey went up to the horse and mounted. Her skirt slipped halfway above her knees. She stood in the stirrups and pulled it down, but at best it was so short that it exposed several inches of bare skin above her stockings.

"Is this supposed to be a movie or a leg show?" she asked, bitingly.

"I can't help it if you've no decent clothes," he replied.

"Why didn't you suggest I wear my riding clothes?"

"I didn't think of that. But you'd have suspected something."

"Me? No. I'm much too stupid. If I had been capable of thinking I'd have known you were a villain... To force a girl to ride a horse with her dress--this way!"

"I don't care how you look," he flashed, hotly, stung at her retort. "At that you don't look much worse than usual."

He picked up Janey's coat, which she had dropped, and hung it on the pommel, and draped it over her knees.

"That'll keep you from sunburn, at least."

"You're very thoughtful and kind, Mr. Randolph," said Janey, sweetly. "And may I inquire our destination?"

"Start up the wash," he rejoined, gruffly. "You take the lead."

"Want to watch me, eh? You think I might run off? I note you've given me a plug of a horse that probably never ran in its life."

"You might do anything, Miss Endicott," he said.

"What wonderful trust you have in me!" exclaimed Janey.

Whereupon she rode on up the deepening gully. Randolph followed her, leading the pack horse.

So the great adventure was actually on! Janey could not have believed it but for the bruises she had sustained in the fight with Randolph, and her torn blouse, and this ridiculous skirt that had begun to have resemblance to a ballet dancer's.

After she had taken stock of her physical state she delved a bit into the mental. She found she was still trembling ever so slightly. Her heart beat high. And her mind was racing. She was stirred by bitterness toward her father, and resentment toward this man who had been led to believe she was no good and needed this kind of a lesson. They thought they had her number, mused Janey, defiantly. Pretty but vain! Intelligent, yet too languorous to think or work! Adorable, though probably immoral! Modern, still there were hopes!

An alarming thought struck her which she had experienced vaguely before. It was barely possible that these accusations were justified. Janey swore, and refused to listen to such a treacherous voice.

Something more pleasant to dwell upon was a genuine pity for Randolph. He had been a perfectly straightforward, fine and promising young man until he met her father. He was now in line to become a first-rate villain. No doubt when Janey finally divorced him there would be no hope whatever. She decided, in order to make it impossible that he ever could recover, she would delay the divorce proceeding for a time--and meanwhile be very sweet and sorrowful and might-have-been-loving to him, so that he would be abjectly crushed.

Her meditations on this phase of the experience were decidedly pleasant. And it was most agreeable to be on horseback again. She had been rather unjust to the horse, for he was turning out to be docile, easy-gaited and willing. He had struck into a trail which wound up the gorge.

The walls were perceptibly higher and changing their character somewhat. The sand slopes were disappearing. Presently this wash turned at right angles and opened into a canyon. It was deep, yellow-walled, and rugged, and through the center of it meandered a thin stream of water. Janey believed this creek was the Sagi, which she had crossed a number of times above. But she had not seen this canyon. The very sight of it was exciting and disturbing. There was sure to be quicksand. Janey hoped she would have some narrow escapes, so that she would find out what Randolph was made of. If no risks came along naturally she would make some.

The sand in the creek bed, however, was disappointingly solid. In the next hour Janey crossed this water a dozen or more times, without a mishap. Her horse was a much better judge of places than she. Meanwhile the canyon grew wider and deeper.

It also grew hot. Janey began to feel the burn of the sun. And as the movement of the horse often jolted her coat from its protective service her knees began to get red. This was a novelty, and she was divided between concern and a satisfaction that she could presently show Randolph more objective proofs of his cruelty.

Unobtrusively, at moments when the trail made a short turn, she saw Randolph in the rear. He did not look in the least like a bold bad man. He drooped. Apparently he did not see her, let alone watch closely against any attempt she might make to escape. Perhaps he was disgusted now and hoped she would run off. This was embarrassing. Janey did not want to escape. She was getting a tremendous kick out of being kidnaped. But she would not let him know that. She considered the advisability of attempting to get away. It did not strike her favorably. If Randolph did not or would not catch her, there would be something of a different predicament. She would be lost, unless she could go back as they had come.