Part 12 (2/2)
”You lied! Nothin' short of that! Say you lied and say it now....
Quick!”
He half lurched forward, lifting his eager, vengeful hands, when Webb relaxed and gave a short, half laugh and said:
”Have it your own way. I lied, I guess. I didn't mean--”
”That'll do, Webb. You've said all that's necessary.”
He stood back and dropped his hands limply to his side, eyeing the other with dying wrath. His gaze then went to Hepburn and clung there a moment, eloquent of contempt and he might as well have said: ”You're her foreman. Why didn't _you_ take this up?”
Then he moved to the bar and asked for a drink. Constrained talk arose.
Webb sulkily recovered his gun and stood close to Sam McKee, drinking.
From the doorway which led into the hotel office d.i.c.k Hilton turned back, whistling lowly to himself, a speculative whistle.
Tom Beck rode home alone, hours before he had intended to leave town.
Why had he done that? Always he had disliked Webb but why had this thing roused in him such tremendous rage? he asked as he unsaddled.
He laughed softly to himself as though he had done something ridiculous; then he strolled down toward the creek and stood under the cottonwoods a long interval, watching a lighted chamber window.
”You're a queer little yellow-head,” he said aloud to that window.
”You're the kind that gets men into trouble, but maybe you're ... worth it, a lot of it.”
He stood for some time, until his wrath had wholly gone and the mood which sent merriment dancing in his eyes had returned. It had been a day of understanding: he had broken down the barrier of deceit which Hepburn had attempted to build, he had come to understand that there was something strange in the pursuit of Jane Hunter by d.i.c.k Hilton, he had understood that in his employer was at least a physical courage which was promising, he had humiliated Webb and given the whole country to understand that there should be no doubting of the new girl's reputation.
Of those incidents the only one now giving him concern was the att.i.tude of the foreman. His suspicion was strong, his evidence wholly inadequate.
Tom stood beside his bunk for a time. He had thrown down his gauntlet; he had taken a chance. He might, from now on, face danger or humiliation but he experienced a relief at knowledge that so far as he was concerned there was no longer anything under cover. He did not fear Hepburn or Webb so far as his own safety went. But there were other things, he told himself.
What _was_ up? Just what game would Hepburn play ... if any? And who was that man from the East? To what was Jane's confusion due that afternoon? Was it only embarra.s.sment? Only?
He dozed off and woke with a start. Again he felt the weight of her body on his arm, again the warmth of her breath on his cheek. He lay there with his heart hammering, then, with a growl, rolled over and went to sleep.
Well he could that night! But other nights were coming when he would ponder the significance of Hilton, when the cloud which he then saw vaguely over Jane Hunter's future would be real and appalling, when he would actually feel her body in his arms, when her warm breath would mingle with her warm tears on his cheek, when he would hope that death might come to him as a tribute to her. Oh, yes, Tom Beck could put it all aside and sleep this night, but there were others coming ... other nights....
CHAPTER V
THE COURTING
Jane Hunter was in work up to her trim elbows. She had little time for anything else. Twice again d.i.c.k Hilton came to see her, riding a horse in the second visit, but his stays were not lengthy ... and not satisfactory, because the girl had little thought for anything but ranch affairs.
For long hours she sat at the desk which she had placed in a bay window that commanded a superb view of far ridges and pored over records she had found. She discovered a detailed diary of events for the past ten years, a voluminous chronicle kept more for the sake of giving self-expression to the old colonel than for an efficient record, but it served her well as a key to the fortunes of the property.
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