The Fighting Shepherdess - Page 167/231

Something in his tone struck terror to her heart.

"But you're going to tell me, Pete? You are! You are!" She crawled closer to the bunk, on her knees.

A passionate satisfaction glittered in his eyes.

"Yes! it's a plumb pity that you and him never happened to meet up."

There was cold cruelty in his tantalizing voice.

"You mean--you mean--" she stammered with colorless lips--"that--that you're only tormenting me again--you don't intend--"

"That depends." His pupils dilated, his white teeth gleamed.

"But you promised, Pete! Haven't you any honor--not a speck?"

"I git what I want any way I can git it. That's me--Mullendore."

"Tell me what you want! Is it money, Pete?"

"Money! Hell! What's money good for to me? Money's only to blow after you've got enough to eat. What do you spose I want? I want you!"

"What do you mean?"

"Just that." An oath came between his clenched teeth. "I'm stuck on you! I want you so I hate you, if you can understand that--and always have. I'd like to take you off like a dog packs a bone away for himself. I've dealt you and your sheep all the misery I could, because every step you took up was just so far from me. What I've done," savagely, "is nothin' to what I'll do when I git out of this, if you don't say yes."

Kate's face, that had gone scarlet, was a grayish white as she got up slowly from her knees.

Her breathing was labored as she demanded: "You--mean--that--you'll--not--tell me anything more unless I do what you ask?"

"You got it right."

Kate's nerves and self-control gave way as a taut string snaps. In the center of a black disc she saw only the mocking eyes and evil face of Mullendore.

"I'm going to kill you, Pete! I'm--going--to choke you--to death! You--shan't torment me--any more!"

Her strong hands were close to his throat while he shrank from the white fury in her face. Suddenly her arms dropped to her sides. Such a feeling of physical repulsion swept over her that she could not touch him even in her rage.

"Lost your nerve?" he mocked. "Old Pete wins again, eh, Kate?"

She did not answer but stepped out on the wagon tongue that the cool rain might patter in her face. Her knees were shaking beneath her and she felt nauseated--sick with a feeling of absolute defeat.