She stared at him with wide open eyes of horror.
"I had to keep him to make sure of you."
Her groan touched his vanity, or was it perhaps his pity?
"I'm not going to hurt him--if you play fair. I tell you I'm no cur. Help me, girl, and I'll quit this hell raising and live decent."
She laughed without joy, bitterly.
"Oh, I know what you think," he continued. "I can't blame you. But what do you know about my life? What do you know about what I've had to fight against? All my life there has been some devil in me, strangling all the good. There has been nobody to give me a helping hand--none to hold me back. I was a dog with a bad name--good enough for hanging, and nothing else."
He was holding the gate, and perforce she had to hear him out.
"What do I care about that?" she cried, in a fierce gust of passion. "I see you are cur and coward! You lied to me. You didn't keep faith and free Jack Flatray. That is enough."
She was the one person in the world who had power to wound him. Nor did it hurt the less that it was the truth. He drew back as if the lash of a whip had swept across his face.
"No man alive can say that to me and live!" he told her. "Cur I may be; but you're my wife, 'Lissie MacQueen. Don't forget that."
"Go! Go!" she choked. "I hope to God I'll never see your face again!"
She flew along the grass-bordered walk, whipped open the front door, and disappeared within. She turned the key in the lock, and stood trembling in the darkness. She half expected him to follow, to attempt to regain possession of her.
But the creak of his quick step on the porch did not come. Only her hammering heart stirred in the black silence. She drew a long breath of relief, and sank down on the stairs. It was over at last, the horrible nightmare through which she had been living.
Gradually she fought down her fears and took hold of herself. She must find her father and relieve his anxiety. Quietly she opened the door of the hall into the living room.
A man sat at the table, with his back to her, in an attitude of utter dejection. He was leaning forward, with his head buried in his arms. It was her father. She stepped forward, and put her hands on his bowed shoulders.
"Daddy," she said softly.
At her touch the haggard, hopeless, unshaven face was lifted toward her. For a moment Lee looked at her as if she had been a wraith. Then, with a hoarse cry, he arose and caught her in his arms.
Neither of them could speak for emotion. He tried it twice before he could get out:
"Baby! Honey!"
He choked back the sobs in his throat. "Where did you come from? I thought sure MacQueen had you."
"He had. He took me to Dead Man's Cache with him."
"And you escaped. Praise the Lord, honey!"
"No--he brought me back."
"MacQueen did! Goddlemighty--he knows what's best for him!"
"He brought me back to--to----" She broke down, and buried her head in his shoulder.
Long, dry sobs racked her. The father divined with alarm that he did not know the worst.
"Tell me--tell me, 'Lissie! Brought you back to do what, honey?" He held her back from him, his hands on her shoulders.
"To marry me."
"What!"
"To marry me. And he did--fifteen minutes ago, I am Black MacQueen's wife."
"Black MacQueen's wife! My God, girl!" Big Beauchamp Lee stared at her in a horror of incredulity.
She told him the whole story, from beginning to end.
CHAPTER XII
THE TAKING OF THE CACHE
It was understood that in the absence of the sheriff Richard Bellamy should have charge of the posse, and after the disappearance of Flatray he took command.
With the passing years Bellamy had become a larger figure in the community. The Monte Cristo mine had made him independently wealthy, even though he had deeded one-third of it to Melissy Lee. Arizona had forgiven him his experiment at importing sheep and he was being spoken of as a territorial delegate to Congress, a place the mine owner by no means wanted. For his interests were now bound up in the Southwest. His home was there. Already a little toddler's soft fat fist was clinging to the skirt of Ferne.
At first Bellamy, as well as Farnum, McKinstra, young Yarnell and the rest of the posse looked expectantly for the return of the sheriff. It was hard to believe that one so virile, so competent, so much a dominant factor of every situation he confronted, could have fallen a victim to the men he hunted. But as the days passed with no news of him the conviction grew that he had been waylaid and shot. The hunt went on, but the rule now was that no move should be made singly. Not even for an hour did the couples separate.
One evening a woman drifted into camp just as they were getting ready to roll into their blankets. McKinstra was on sentry duty, but she got by him unobserved and startled Farnum into drawing his gun.
Yet all she said was: "_Buenos tardes, seor_."
The woman was a wrinkled Mexican with a close-shut, bitter mouth and bright, snappy eyes.
Farnum stared at her in surprise. "Who in Arizona are you?"
It was decidedly disturbing to think what might have happened if MacQueen's outfit had dropped in on them, instead of one lone old woman.
"Rosario Chaves."
"Glad to meet you, ma'am. Won't you sit down?"
The others had by this time gathered around.
Rosario spoke in Spanish, and Bob Farnum answered in the same language. "You want to find the way into Dead Man's Cache, seor?"
"Do we? I reckon yes!"
"Let me be your guide."
"You know the way in?"
"I live there."
"Connected with MacQueen's outfit, maybe?"
"I cook for him. My son was one of his men."
"Was?"
"Yes. He was killed--shot by Lieutenant O'Connor, the same man who was a prisoner at the Cache until yesterday morning."
"Killed lately, ma'am?"
"Two years ago. We swore revenge. MacQueen did not keep his oath, the oath we all swore together."
Bellamy began to understand the situation. She wanted to get back at MacQueen, unless she were trying to lead them into a trap.
"Let's get this straight. MacQueen turned O'Connor loose, did he?" Bellamy questioned.
"No. He escaped. This man--what you call him?--the sheriff, helped him and Seor West to break away."
The mine owner's eye met Farnum's. They were being told much news.
"So they all escaped, did they?"
"_Si, seor_, but MacQueen took West and the sheriff next morning. They could not find their way out of the valley."
"But O'Connor escaped. Is that it?"
Her eyes flashed hatred. "He escaped because the sheriff helped him. His life was forfeit to me. So then was the sheriff's. MacQueen he admit it. But when the girl promise to marry him he speak different."
"What girl?"
"_Seorita_ Lee."
"Not Melissy Lee."
"_Si, seor_."
"My God! Melissy Lee a prisoner of that infernal villain. How did she come there?"
The Mexican woman was surprised at the sudden change that had come over the