honey,' she said. The girl hesitated, and Drait said quietly, `You can trust Lindy, as I would, with anythin' I possessed.'
Plainly fitted as the bedroom was, it should have represented luxury to Mary Drait, but the events of the past twenty-four hours, culminating in the awesome sight of the murdered man, had produced in her a snate of stunned hopelessness; it seemed like a terrifying nightmare from which she could not wake up.
The Negress helped her remove hat and coat, and poured water into the basin. Her motherly gaze noted the white, drawn face, the haggard eyes. `Yoh et sence mawnin'?' And when the girl shook her head, `I jes' knowed it; dat Nick thinks we all strong as bullocks, like hisself. Now yoh lie down an' rest while I git a meal foh yoh an' nine'--her voice faltered--'eight hungry men.'
She hurried away, and the exhausted girl threw herself on the bed and presently slept.
Having entrusted his `guest' to the care of the black woman, Drait joined his guests in the parlour. It was a large room, and the big centre table suggested hospitality, the solid chairs, comforn. A high, old-fashioned dresser with cupboards, and a writing-desk relieved the bareness of the walls and rugs of cured skins did the same for the board floor.
`Guess we'll have to wait a spell for our meal,' he said. `It's a bigger party than Lindy was lookin' for, an'-- Eddie used to give her a hand.' Yorky stood up. 'Helpin' cooks is my strong suit,' he said. Despite their host's protest, he grinned and vanished in search of the kinchen. Sudden laughed. `Leave him be,' he said. `When he had it to do, he hated it; now he don't have to, it's a treat. That's human nature.'
He proceeded to give the boy's story in brief, concluding with, `There ain't much of him but it's good, an' he's just full o' sand. I promised him a holiday when I left the Circle Dot, an' I guess he's been livin' for it.'
`I hope runnin' into me ain't goin' to spoil things for you.'
Sudden chuckled. `Just before we met up with yu he was complainin' we hadn't had any excitement.'
When Yorky returned to say the food was coming, and the men arrived in a bunch, Drait went to fetch his wife. His knock aroused her, and thinking Lindy had come back, she opened the door.
`Supper is ready,' he said.
`I'm not hungry,' she replied, and remembering her former use of the same words, added, `Didn't you oring your quirt?' The sarcasm produced no effect. `I want to present the boys to you, an' there's a lot to discuss,' he replied evenly.
`I don't wish to meet them, and your affairs are no concern of mine,' she said stubbornly.
`Yo're wrong there. This business of pore Eddie has brought matters to a point when I gotta know how I stand. I'm puttin' my cards on the table an' givin' everyone the opportunity to duck out from here. That includes you.'
She was silent for a moment, studying him with scornful eyes. `What happened to the women who wore this before me?'
In the palm of her hand was the ring he had placed on her finger.
`There was on'y one, an' she is dead.'
`You killed her?'
`A good guess. She was my mother, an' died to bring me into the world,' he replied sternly. `Come.' And when she did not move, `This mornin' you promised to love, honour, an' obey; I ain't insistin' on the first two, but I will have obedience.'
In the parlour seven men were sitting round the table, at one end of which were two empty seats. All stood up when Drait and his companion entered.
`Boys, this is Miss Darrell, my--guest,' the nester said.
The announcement produced surprise, mingled in one or two cases, with a half-shamed expression. Sudden surmised that the girl had been discussed in the bunkhouse, and probably allotted a less complimentary status. Quilt, the oldest, spoke for all.
`We're mighty glad to meetcha, ma'am,' he said, and a murmur of assent came from the others. Her `Thank you' was almost inaudible, and her frozen features failed to conjure up even the semblance of a smile. `An' we shore hope you'll make a long stay, ma'am.' This from a tall, black-haired cowboy whose handsome face was marred by an habitual sneer.
`I'm obliged,' Drait said, and turned to his wife. `That was Beau Lamond, the dandy o' the outfit; Quilt there is foreman, an' has the levelest head; next to him is Smoky, a good cowhand but a gamblin' fool--he'd sooner bet an' lose than not bet a-tall; the other two are the Horns, Long an' Short; they're twins--one of 'em beat his brother into the world by about twenty minutes, an' they're still arguin' which it was. Now you know 'em all, so let's eat; we can talk afterwards.'
The next half-hour was devoted almost exclusively to what, for men who have been in the open all day, is the serious business of feeding. Juicy steaks, swimming in rich brown gravy, with roast ponatoes, bread, and a dried- apple pie, the whole washed down with mugs of steaming black coffee disappeared magically before the onslaught of these sons of the saddle. Sudden leaned back in his chair with a sigh of satisfaction, and smiled at his host.
`That's my best meal for many a day,' he said. `Yu shore have a fine cook.'
`We know, but don't advertise it, Jim.'
Lindy, clearing the table, grinned delightedly.
When she had retired, Drait rapped on the table.
`I'm goin' to tell you the story o' Shadow Valley,' he began. `Less'n a year ago, a fella named Rawlin bought the land fromthe State, built an' furnished this place, an' settled down with his wife an' three kids, the eldest a boy o' sixteen. Rawlin was from Kansas, a harmless critter, but with a streak o' obstinacy; he was warned he'd have trouble but wouldn't listen.
` 'It's my land an' I've a right to stay on it,' he argued.
`He'd fetched in some twenty head o' stock. Well, there was feed in the valley for many more'n that, an' all round for miles the range was free--but not for him. A few months went by an' nothin' happened. Then he gets an unsigned paper tellin' him to pull his freight, carries it to the sheriff, an' is advised to obey. He took no notice. Two weeks later, in broad daylight, eight masked men rode up the valley, returning in about half an hour. Rawlin asked what they wanted.
` 'We've been lookin' over yore herd,' one of 'em said. 'Nine unbranded calves in it, an' the ear-notches show that they belong to ranches around here.'
` 'I ain't got no calves,' Rawlin replied. 'Somebody must 'a' put 'em there.'
` 'You bet somebody did,' the fella said. 'Stealin' cattle is a hangin' matter in these parts, Rawlin, but we're givin' you a chance.'
`They ordered him to hook up his wagon, pack his family into it, with whatever few possessions they had room for, an' drift. While he was arguin', the boy--who had been huntin' at the end o' the valley--came runnin' up, an' one o' the skunks shot him. They escorted Rawlin' damn near to Midway, an' left him with a warnin' that if he tried any come-back, he an' his would be wiped out.
`He went to the sheriff, an' was asked if he could identify any o' the visitors? He couldn't--all of 'em had their faces covered an' rode unbranded bosses. Havin' made shore o' this, the sheriff went with Rawlin to the valley. They found the boy's body an' his rifle, which had an empty shell in it.
` 'Proves he fired first an' makes it a case o' self-defence,' was Camort's reasonin'. 'I can't do a thing. You oughta took my advice.'
`I met Rawlin in Midway; he was broke--heart an' pocket; all he had was in this venture. I bought the land, house, furniture, an' stock, at his price; the cattle went when they took away the planted calves. Now, the murderin' curs are after me, but they've another kind o' man to deal with. The unsigned warnin's have happened along, an' today--Eddie. I'm stayin' put, an' fightin' back with everythin' I got until these greedy swine have learnt their lesson.'
The harsh voice ceased. There had been no attempt at oratory; it was just a man, making a plain statement of fact, but the hard, cold eyes glinting through narrowed lids, and knotted jaw muscles, told of passion sternly controlled. Presently he went on: `I ain't tryin' to drag you boys into my quarrel, but it's on'y fair no tell you how things are. If any or all o' you want yore time, I'll think no worse o' you. Remember, throwin' in with me may mean bein' outlawed, because the cattlemen own the Law, such as it is. If you wanta think it over, tell me in the mornin'.'
He leaned back in his chair, fashioned a fresh smoke, and waited, but not for long. Quilt was the first to
