“Let me looser I'm going in there, I tell you!” replied Bland, hoarsely.
“I want to make a little love to her. Ha! ha! It'll be fun to have the laugh on her new lover.”
“I'm not saying what I'll do to her AFTERWARD!” His voice grew hoarser with passion. “Let me go now!”
“No! no! I won't let you go. You'll choke the--the truth out of her--you'll kill her.”
“Yes. I lied. Jen lied. But she lied to save me. You needn't--murder her--for that.”
Bland cursed horribly. Then followed a wrestling sound of bodies in violent straining contact--the scrape of feet--the jangle of spurs--a crash of sliding table or chair, and then the cry of a woman in pain.
Duane stepped into the open door, inside the room. Kate Bland lay half across a table where she had been flung, and she was trying to get to her feet. Bland's back was turned. He had opened the door into Jennie's room and had one foot across the threshold. Duane caught the girl's low, shuddering cry. Then he called out loud and clear.
With cat-like swiftness Bland wheeled, then froze on the threshold. His sight, quick as his action, caught Duane's menacing unmistakable position.
Bland's big frame filled the door. He was in a bad place to reach for his gun. But he would not have time for a step. Duane read in his eyes the desperate calculation of chances. For a fleeting instant Bland shifted his glance to his wife. Then his whole body seemed to vibrate with the swing of his arm.
Duane shot him. He fell forward, his gun exploding as it hit into the floor, and dropped loose from stretching fingers. Duane stood over him, stooped to turn him on his back. Bland looked up with clouded gaze, then gasped his last.
“Duane, you've killed him!” cried Kate Bland, huskily. “I knew you'd have to!”
She staggered against the wall, her eyes dilating, her strong hands clenching, her face slowly whitening. She appeared shocked, half stunned, but showed no grief.
She came out with uneven steps, seeing only him, and she stumbled over Bland's body. Duane caught her arm, swung her behind him. He feared the woman when she realized how she had been duped. His action was protective, and his movement toward the door equally as significant.
It was no time for talk. Duane edged on, keeping Jennie behind him. At that moment there was a pounding of iron-shod hoofs out in the lane. Kate Bland bounded to the door. When she turned back her amazement was changing to realization.