Part 15 (2/2)

”But I didn't say I would go,” she called. And then, receiving no answer to this, she waited until he had swung into the saddle and was waving a farewell to her.

”Don't come before ten o'clock!” she advised.

She saw him smile and then she returned to her ma.n.u.script.

When the Sun-G.o.ds kissed the crest of the hill and bathed her in the rich rose colors that came straight down to the hill through the rift in the mountains, she rose and gathered up her papers. She had not written another line.

It was late in the afternoon when Leviatt rode up to the door of Stafford's office and dismounted. He took plenty of time walking the short distance that lay between him and the door, and growled a savage reply to a loafing puncher, who asked him a question. Once in the office he dropped glumly into a chair, his eyes glittering vengefully as his gaze rested on Stafford, who sat at his desk, engaged in his accounts. Through the open window Stafford had seen the range boss coming and therefore when the latter had entered he had not looked up.

Presently he finished his work and drew back from the desk. Then he took up a pipe, filled it with tobacco, lighted it, and puffed with satisfaction.

”Nothin's happened?” he questioned, glancing at his range boss.

Leviatt's reply was short. ”No. Dropped down to see how things was runnin'.”

”Things is quiet,” returned Stafford. ”There ain't been any cattle missed for a long time. I reckon the new stray-man is doin' some good.”

Leviatt's eyes glowed. ”If you call ga.s.sin' with Mary Radford doin'

good, why then, he's doin' it!” he snapped.

”I ain't heard that he's doin' that,” returned Stafford.

”I'm tellin' you about it now,” said Leviatt. ”I seen him to-day; him an' her holdin' hands on top of a hill in Bear Flat.” He sneered.

”He's a better ladies' man than a gunfighter. I reckon we made a mistake in pickin' him up.”

Stafford smiled indulgently. ”He's cert'nly a good looker,” he said.

”I reckon some girls would take a s.h.i.+ne to him. But I ain't questionin' his shootin'. I've been in this country a right smart while an' I ain't never seen another man that could bore a can six times while it's in the air.”

Leviatt's lips drooped. ”He could do that an' not have nerve enough to shoot a coyote. Him not clas.h.i.+n' with Ben Radford proves he ain't got nerve.”

Stafford smiled. The story of how the stray-man had closed Leviatt's mouth was still fresh in his memory. He was wondering whether Leviatt knew that he had heard about the incident.

”Suppose you try him?” he suggested. ”That'd be as good a way as any to find out if he's got nerve.”

Leviatt's face bloated poisonously, but he made no answer. Apparently unaware that he had touched a tender spot Stafford continued.

”Mebbe his game is to get in with the girl, figgerin' that he'll be more liable that way to get a chancst at Ben Radford. But whatever his game is, I ain't interferin'. He's got a season contract an' I ain't breakin' my word with the cuss. I ain't takin' no chances with him.”

Leviatt rose abruptly, his face swelling with an anger that he was trying hard to suppress. ”He'd better not go to foolin' with Mary Radford, d.a.m.n him!” he snapped.

”I reckon that wind is blowin' in two directions,” grinned Stafford.

”When I see him I'll tell him----” A clatter of hoofs reached the ears of the two men, and Stafford turned to the window. ”Here's the stray-man now,” he said gravely.

Both men were silent when Ferguson reached the door. He stood just inside, looking at Stafford and Leviatt with cold, alert eyes. He nodded shortly to Stafford, not removing his gaze from the range boss.

The latter deliberately turned his back and looked out of the window.

There was insolence in the movement, but apparently it had no effect upon the stray-man, beyond bringing a queer twitch into the corners of his mouth. He smiled at Stafford.

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