Desert Dust (Illustrated Edition) (Dodo Press) by Edwin L. Sabin

Author:Edwin L. Sabin [Sabin, Edwin L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General, Fiction
Publisher: Dodo Press
Published: 2009-02-28T00:00:00+00:00

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CHAPTER XII

DANIEL TAKES POSSESSION

I was more than ever convinced of her wisdom in choice of garb when in early morning I glimpsed her with the two other women at the Adams fire; for, bright-haired and small, she had been sorrily dulled by the plain ill-fitting waist and long shapeless skirt in one garment, as adopted by the feminine contingent of the train. In her particular case these were worse fitting and longer than common—an artifice that certainly snuffed a portion of her charms for Gentile and Mormon eyes alike.

What further disposition of her was to be made we might not yet know. We all kept to our own tasks and our own fires, with the exception that Daniel gawked and strutted in the manner of a silly gander, and made frequent errands to his father’s household.

It was after the red sun-up and the initial signaling by dust cloud to dust cloud announcing the commencement of another day’s desert traffic, and in response to the orders “Ketch up!” we were putting animals to wagons (My Lady still in evidence forward), when a horseman bored in at a gallop, over the road from the east.

“Montoyo, by Gawd!” Jenks pronounced, in a grumble of disgust rather than with any note of alarm. “Look alive.” And—“He don’t hang up my pelt; no, nor yourn if I can help it.”

I saw him give a twitch to his holster and slightly loosen the Colt’s. But I was unburthened by guilt in past events, and I conceived no reason for fearing the future—other than that now I was likely to lose her. Heaven pity her! Probably she would have to go, even if she managed later to kill him. The delay in our start had been unfortunate.

It was dollars to doughnuts that every man in the company had had his eye out for Montoyo, since daylight; and the odds were that every man had sighted him as quickly as we. Notwithstanding, save by an occasional quick glance none appeared to pay attention to his rapid approach. We ourselves went right along hooking up, like the others.

As chanced, our outfit was the first upon his way in. I heard him rein sharply beside us and his horse fidget, panting. Not until he spoke did we lift eyes.

“Howdy, gentlemen?”

“Howdy yourself, sir,” answered Mr. Jenks, straightening up and meeting his gaze. I paused, to gaze also. Montoyo was pale as death, his lips hard set, his peculiar gray eyes and his black moustache the only vivifying features in his coldly menacing countenance.

He was in white linen shirt, his left arm slung; fine riding boots encasing his legs above the knees and Spanish spurs at their heels—his horse’s flanks reddened by their jabs. The pearl butt of a six-shooter jutted from his belt holster. He sat jaunty, excepting for his lips and eyes.

He looked upon me, with a trace of recognition less to be seen than felt. His glance leaped to the wagon—traveled swiftly and surely and returned to Mr.

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