"But, Joel, I can't marry you--even if I am to blame for your ruin," said Lucy, simply.
"Why?"
"Because I don't love you."
"I reckon thet won't make any difference, if you don't love some one else."Lucy gazed blankly at him.He began to shake, and his eyes grew wild.She rose from the log.
"Do you love anybody else?" he asked, passionately.
"None of your business!" retorted Lucy.Then, at a strange darkening of his face, an aspect unfamiliar to her, she grew suddenly frightened.
"It's Van!" he said, thickly.
"Joel, you're a fool!"
That only infuriated him.
"So they all say.An' they got my old man believin' it, too.Mebbe I am....
But I'm a-goin' to kill Van!"
"No! No! Joel, what are you saying? I don't love Van.I don't care any more for him than for any other rider--or--or you.""Thet's a lie, Lucy Bostil!"
"How dare you say I lie?" demanded Lucy."I've a mind to turn my back on you.
I'm trying to make up for my blunder and you--you insult me!""You talk sweet...but talk isn't enough.You made me no-good....Will you marry me?""I will not!" And Lucy, with her blood up, could not keep contempt out of voice and look, and she did not care.That was the first time she had ever shown anything, approaching ridicule for Joel.The effect was remarkable.Like a lash upon a raw wound it made him writhe; but more significant to Lucy was the sudden convulsive working of his features and the wildness of his eyes.
Then she turned her back, not from contempt, but to hurry away from him.
He leaped after her and grasped her with rude hands.
"Let me go!" cried Lucy, standing perfectly motionless.The hard clutch of his fingers roused a fierce, hot anger.
Joel did not heed her command.He was forcing her back.He talked incoherently.One glimpse of his face added terror to Lucy's fury.
"Joel, you're out of your head!" she cried, and she began to wrench and writhe out of his grasp.Then ensued a short, sharp struggle.Joel could not hold Lucy, but he tore her blouse into shreds.It seemed to Lucy that he did that savagely.She broke free from him, and he lunged at her again.With all her strength she lashed his face with the heavy leather quirt.That staggered him.
He almost fell.
Lucy bounded to Sarchedon.In a rush she was up in the saddle.Joel was running toward her.Blood on his face! Blood on his hands! He was not the Joel Creech she knew.
"Stop!" cried Lucy, fiercely."I'll run you down!"The big black plunged at a touch of spur and came down quivering, ready to bolt.
Creech swerved to one side.His face was lividly white except where the bloody welts crossed it.His jaw seemed to hang loosely, making speech difficult.
"Jest fer--thet--" he panted, hoarsely, "I'll lay fer you--an' I'll strip you---an' I'll tie you on a hoss--an' I'll drive you naked through Bostil's Ford!"Lucy saw the utter futility of all her good intentions.Something had snapped in Joel Creech's mind.And in hers kindness had given precedence to a fury she did not know was in her.For the second time she touched a spur to Sarchedon.
He leaped out, flashed past Creech, and thundered up the road.It was all Lucy could do to break his gait at the first steep rise.
