Melissy nodded. "I'll tell him how it is, Mr. West. I know it will be all
right. By Thursday afternoon we shall have you with us to dinner again.
Trust us."
"I do." He lowered his voice and glanced at MacQueen, who had been called
aside to speak to one of his men. "And I'm glad you're going away from
here. This is no place for you."
"It isn't quite the place for you, either," she answered, with a faint,
joyless smile.
They started an hour before midday. Rosario had packed a lunch for both of
them in MacQueen's saddlebags, for it was the intention of the latter to
avoid ranches and traveled trails on the way down. He believed that the
girl would go through with what she had pledged herself to do, but he did
not mean to take chances of a rescue.
In the middle of the afternoon they stopped for lunch at Round-up
Spring--a water hole which had not dried up in a dozen years. It was a
somber meal. Melissy's spirits had been sinking lower and lower with every
mile that brought her nearer the destiny into which this man was forcing
her. Food choked her, and she ate but little. Occasionally, with staring
eyes, she would fall into a reverie, from which his least word would
startle her to a shiver of apprehension. This she always controlled after
the first instinctive shudder.
"What's the matter with you, girl? I'm not going to hurt you any. I never
hit a woman in my life," the man said once roughly.
"Perhaps you may, after you're married. It's usually one's wife one beats.
Don't be discouraged. You'll have the experience yet," she retorted, but
without much spirit.
"To hear you tell it, I'm a devil through and through! It's that kind of
talk that drives a man to drink," he flung out angrily.
"And to wife beating. Of course, I'm not your chattel yet, because the
ceremony hasn't been read; but if you would like to anticipate a few hours
and beat me, I don't suppose there is any reason you shouldn't."
"Gad! How you hate me!"
Her inveteracy discouraged him. His good looks, his debonair manner, the
magnetic charm he knew how to exert--these, which had availed him with
other women, did not seem to reach her at all. She really gave him no
chance to prove himself. He was ready to be grave or gay--to be a
light-hearted boy or a blasé man of the world--to adopt any rôle that
would suit her. But how could one play up effectively to a chill silence
which took no note of him, to a depression of the soul which would not
let itself be lifted? He felt that she was living up to the barest letter
of the law in fulfilling their contract, and because of it he steeled
himself against her sufferings.