Part 20 (1/2)
”An' I reckon you'll say you hadn't heerd he was there?”
”I had not,” flashed Columbine.
”Wal, _did_ you see him?”
”Yes, sir, I did, but quite by accident.”
”Ahuh! Columbine, are you lyin' to me?”
The hot blood flooded to Columbine's cheeks, as if she had been struck a blow.
”_Dad_!” she cried, in hurt amaze.
Belllounds seemed thick, imponderable, as if something had forced a crisis in him and his brain was deeply involved. The habitual, cool, easy, bold, and frank att.i.tude in the meeting of all situations seemed to have been encroached upon by a break, a bewilderment, a lessening of confidence.
”Wal, are you lyin'?” he repeated, either blind to or unaware of her distress.
”I could not--lie to you,” she faltered, ”even--if--I wanted to.”
The heavy, shadowed gaze of his big eyes was bent upon her as if she had become a new and perplexing problem.
”But you seen Moore?”
”Yes--sir.” Columbine's spirit rose.
”An' talked with him?”
”Of course.”
”La.s.s, I ain't likin' thet, an' I ain't likin' the way you look an'
speak.”
”I am sorry. I can't help either.”
”What'd this cowboy say to you?”
”We talked mostly about his injured foot.”
”An' what else?” went on Belllounds, his voice rising.
”About--what he meant to do now.”
”Ahuh! An' thet's homesteadin' the Sage Creek Valley?”
”Yes, sir.”
”Did you want him to do thet?”
”I! Indeed I didn't.”
”Columbine, not so long ago you told me this fellar wasn't sweet on you.
An' do you still say that to me--are you still insistin' he ain't in love with you?”