belief that soon he would make a rich gold-strike. What a roar and a
stampede he would raise at her loss! The village camp might be
divided on that score, she thought, because the few young women in
that little settlement hated her, and the young men would have more
peace without her. Suddenly her thought shifted to Jim Cleve, the
cause of her present misfortune. She had forgotten Jim. In the
interval somehow he had grown. Sweet to remember how he had fought
for her and kept it secret! After all, she had misjudged him. She
had hated him because she liked him. Maybe she did more! That gave
her a shock. She recalled his kisses and then flamed all over. If
she did not hate him she ought to. He had been so useless; he ran
after her so; he was the laughing-stock of the village; his actions
made her other admirers and friends believe she cared for him, was
playing fast-and-loose with him. Still, there was a difference now.
He had terribly transgressed. He had frightened her with threats of
dire ruin to himself. And because of that she had trailed him, to
fall herself upon a hazardous experience. Where was Jim Cleve now?
Like a flash then occurred to her the singular possibility. Jim had
ridden for the border with the avowed and desperate intention of
finding Kells and Gulden and the bad men of that trackless region.
He would do what he had sworn he would. And here she was, the cause
of it all, a captive of this notorious Kells! She was being led into
that wild border country. Somewhere out there Kells and Jim Cleve
would meet. Jim would find her in Kells's hands. Then there would be
hell, Joan thought. The possibility, the certainty, seemed to strike
deep into her, reviving that dread and terror. Yet she thrilled
again; a ripple that was not all cold coursed through her. Something
had a birth in her then, and the part of it she understood was that
she welcomed the adventure with a throbbing heart, yet looked with
awe and shame and distrust at this new, strange side of her nature.