I
come of a good family in Brownsville. I never knew Bland was an
outlaw till long after he married me. We were separated at
times, and I imagined he was away on business. But the truth
came out. Bland shot my own cousin, who told me. My family cast
me off, and I had to flee with Bland. I was only eighteen then.
I’ve lived here since. I never see a decent woman or man. I
never hear anything about my old home or folks or friends. I’m
buried here–buried alive with a lot of thieves and murderers.
Can you blame me for being glad to see a young fellow–a
gentleman–like the boys I used to go with? I tell you it makes
me feel full–I want to cry. I’m sick for somebody to talk to.
I have no children, thank God! If I had I’d not stay here. I’m
sick of this hole. I’m lonely–“
There appeared to be no doubt about the truth of all this.
Genuine emotion checked, then halted the hurried speech. She
broke down and cried. It seemed strange to Duane that an
outlaw’s wife–and a woman who fitted her consort and the wild
nature of their surroundings–should have weakness enough to
weep. Duane believed and pitied her.
“I’m sorry for you,” he said.
“Don’t be SORRY for me,” she said. “That only makes me see
the–the difference between you and me. And don’t pay any
attention to what these outlaws say about me. They’re ignorant.
They couldn’t understand me. You’ll hear that Bland killed men
who ran after me. But that’s a lie. Bland, like all the other
outlaws along this river, is always looking for somebody to
kill. He SWEARS not, but I don’t believe him. He explains that
gunplay gravitates to men who are the real thing–that it is
provoked by the four-flushes, the bad men. I don’t know. All I
know is that somebody is being killed every other day. He hated
Spence before Spence ever saw me.”
“Would Bland object if I called on you occasionally?” inquired
Duane.
“No, he wouldn’t. He likes me to have friends. Ask him yourself
when he comes back. The trouble has been that two or three of
his men fell in love with me, and when half drunk got to
fighting.
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