`I don't know,' she told him, adding softly, `I only want you to be careful.'
In the case of nine men out of ten, her apparent solicitude would have produced some sign, but the nester's face remained unchanged. Muttering something about chattering chumps, he went out. At the corral he met Yorky and gave him instructions, concluding with, `Don't show yoreself 'less you have to; guess there ain't any real risk, but till that far end is corked up ...'
Yorky nodded; he would have liked to ask a question, but had been well-schooled by Sudden, and knew when to keep his mouth shut. As Drait rode away, the boy's approving eyes followed him. Two of a kind--Jim an' him,' he informed the air. `Gosh! Glad I'm on their side.'
Nick found the rest of his outfit busy at the wall, which was now a formidable obstacle. Calling Quilt aside, he explained about Yorky, and added a word of praise. `We'll finish her today, an' she ain't no slouch of a job,' the foreman said. `If yo're needin' Jim....'
`Why should I be?'
`Headin' for town, ain't you?'
`Well?' Sharply.
The sheriff is shootin' off his mouth quite a bit. Shore, he's still crippled, but he has friends.'
Drait frowned. `Who's been yappin' around here?'
`I can tell you one who ain't an' that's the fella what knowed all about it--reckon he was raised among Injuns,' the little man grinned. Was you expectin' to keep it secret?'
`Beats hell how the news gets about in this country,' the nester grumbled.
`Little birds certainly ain't scarce,' Quilt agreed, and when the other was out of hearing, added, `Nick, if you wasn't more generous with yore dollars than yore words nobody'd work for you 'cept damn fools like me.' He pondered a moment. `An' I shore am one; if I hadn't mentioned Jim, mebbe you wouldn't 'a' gone alone; I oughta be booted.'
Mary, riding slowly along the valley, was thinking much the same thing. The rebuff she had received still brought the colour to her cheeks. She had learned from Lindy of the bearding of the sheriff. Brutal, unscrupulous the nester might be, but she had to admit that he had the quality most esteemed in the West--courage. Fight--that was Nature's universal law....
An amused voice broke in on her meditations. `You didn't oughta be all alone this bright mornin'.'
She turned to find Beau Lamond pacing just behind, hat in hand, a confident gleam in his dark eyes. She drew rein. `Did Mister Drait ask you to ride with me?' she enquired. `Why, no, must 'a' forgot,' he smiled.
`On the contrary, he offered me your company, but I told him I preferred my own.'
His conceit would not accept this. `Say, but that was real cute of you,' he complimented.
`Not at all, it was true,' she returned icily, and rode on.
He made no attempt to follow her, save with his furious gaze.
`So that's the way of it, huh?' he growled. `Well, it takes two to make a game, an' I can wait.'
Savagely he wrenched his horse about and spurred to the gate. Smoky read the flushed features aright.
`Sorta took the wrong turnin', Beau?' he queried.
`Mind yore own damn business,' the other snapped.
`Somebody just bin tellin' you that?'
Before the incipient quarrel developed, Quilt crushed it. `Better both try it,' he said sharply. 'Git busy.'
The girl did not look round. Her anger was not all caused by the cowboy's presumption, some of it being due to the unwelcome feeling that she was missing the big, taciturn man who had been her daily companion. Resentfully, she told herself that it was absurd, but nevernheless, the valley did not seem quite the same. She passed the pool, almost without a glance, dismounted and fired twelve shots at the tree, hitting it twice. This would please Nick, at which thought she straightway resolved not to tell him.
On reaching the end, she faced round and sat drinking in the scene. The green oval, with its mirror-like pool and frame of grey, toothed rock, seemed utterly peaceful. The bulge in the cliffs prevented her from seeing the ranch-house, or the entrance where the men would be working. The sun's rays, growing stronger, were licking the diamond drops from the grass. Mary breathed deeply.
`Brownie, it's--just--Eden,' she told her pony.
`Needs an Adam though,' chuckled a gruff voice.
She turned her head; a big man on a horse was just at her shoulder; it was Bardoe. Her cry of astonishment and attempt to back away brought suspicion. Grabbing her rein, he bent and peered closely; recognition dawned in his eyes.
`So it's you? Well by Gawd, that's luck I warn't lookin' for,' he cried. His gaze travelled over the trim figure gloatingly. `I knowed you was a pretty piece, but duds shore do make a difference.'
He leaned nearer and she tried to sway away. `I thought you were killed,' she said.
`Near thing,' he replied, tapping the soiled rag twisted about his head. `Creased me, that's all. I was out for a coupla days, an' them cussed idjuts o' mine had me all ready for plantin'. Funny to come to life in yore coffin. You don't seem overjoyed.'
`Why should I be?' she retorted. `I'm glad you escaped, but
`One man's as good as another, huh?' he sneered. `Mebbe better, if he buys you fine fixin's. Allasame, yo're wrong--Drait ain't goin' to last ten flicks of a cow's tail. He makes mistakes; the man who steals my hoss, money, an' woman, has gotta take my life too.'
`I was not your woman,' Mary said furiously. `And
`Don't say it,' he grated. `We're startin' for the 8 B right now.'
He dragged her pony's head round. Suddenly she remembered, drew her revolver from the holster, and levelled it at his head. `Get away from me or I'll fire,' she threatened.
For an instant he paused, staring, and then, with a grin, came closer. She pulled the trigger, but only a click resulted; she had neglected Drait's instruction to always reload at once. In anger and disgust she flung the weapon to the ground. Bardoe's laugh was torture.
`I like 'em with guts,' he said. `Yore man should 'a' told you that an empty gun is more dangerous than no gun a-tall.' `He did,' she muttered miserably. `I forgot.'
`Well, well, you'll know better next time--mebbe,' he jeered, and jerked at the rein of the unwilling Brownie. `C'mon, lift yore damn legs, you.'
`Lift yore damn paws, you,' echoed a rather high-pitched but very steady voice.
Bardoe dared not disobey; one glance at the girl's face told him he was trapped. As he made the movement, he risked a lightning peep over his shoulder but got no satisfaction. The newcomer was young, little more than a boy, but there was nothing juvenile about the Winchester he held, finger tight against the trigger; the slightest increase of pressure.... Like most of his kidney, Bardoe was a willing gambler, but here he had no chance; long before he could start anything, hot lead would be boring his body.
`Shuck yore shootin'-irons--all of 'em,' came the curt order. `An' make it snappy.'
The ruffian obeyed; with the enemy behind him, even a gun in his hand was of no use. A pair of revolvers and a rifle dropped to the ground. Lynx-eyed, Yorky watched the operation.
`You all right, ma'am?' he asked.
`Yes,' she replied. `Please let him go.'
Yorky did not approve of this--he wanted to hand the fellow over to Quilt--but the girl was obdurate, and he gave in. 'Yo're playin' in luck, hombre, but don't figure on it,' he said. `Next time you'll be shot on sight. Now fade.'
`Yore turn today, mebbe mine tomorrow,' Bardoe retorted, with a black scowl.
The boy waited until he disappeared, and then, having fetched his horse and collected the forfeited arms, they set out for the house. After she had thanked him warmly--to his great discomfort--she wanted to know how he happened to be at that end of the valley.
`I was lookin' for another way out, an' stickin' close to the cliff,' he explained.
`Did you find one?'
He shook his head. `Ain't finished searchin'.'
She suspected this to be a mere excuse but did not pursue the subject. Yorky, she learned, had come upon the scene only a moment before he intervened and did not know the intruder's identity.
`That was Bardoe,' she told him.
