The Last Straw Part 25

"I'll be d.a.m.ned!" she said, rather reverently.

Hilton did not ride far. His horse was reluctant to go at first and then stopped and stood with head in the air, nickering softly and would not go on when his rider spurred him. After a moment Hilton sat still and listened. He heard the steady _plunk-plunk-plunk_ of a trotting horse and, soon, the swish of brush; then a call, rather low and cautious.

The canvas before the doorway was drawn back.

"You decided to stay?" Then, in surprise, "Who's there?"--sharply.

One word in answer and Hilton remembered it:

"Hepburn."

The rider dismounted and entered.

d.i.c.k rode on up the trail. When he reached Ute Crossing his clothing was dried by the early sun. He ate breakfast and crawled into his bed, angered one moment, puzzled the next and, finally, thrilled as he dropped asleep with a vision of firelight playing over a deliciously slender throat.

CHAPTER XI

HEPBURN'S PLAY

It was the next morning. Beck, standing beside Jane's desk, had told her of the foreman's departure and its motive.

"But doesn't that mean he'll be in danger?" she queried in frank dismay.

"A man who goes after horse thieves is likely to run into trouble, ma'am. That is, if he gets close to 'em. He wouldn't let anybody go with him so I guess he figures he's competent,"--dryly. "He'll come back all right. I'd bet on it."

"But I don't want any of you men to put yourselves in danger for me, for the things I own. I won't have it! Haven't we any law to protect us?"

Beck shook his head.

"There's law, on books. But using that law takes time and in some cases, like this, there ain't time to spare. You've got to make a law of your own or those that somebody else makes won't be worth much to you.

"It ain't just pleasant to have to go gunning for your horses and cattle, but if that's the only way to hold 'em it's got to be done.

It's either go get 'em and drive the thieves out or be driven out yourself. You don't want to be driven out, do you, ma'am?"

"You know the answer to that," she declared resolutely. "Where is this place? How long will it take him to get there?"

"Can't tell that. Twenty Mile is only a short ride, but we got the news late. They're probably gone yonder by now and he might trail 'em a good many days an' then lose 'em."

Again that dryness of manner as he looked at the girl.

"And this other? This water hole? What about that?"

Beck could not give her an answer.

"It all depends on what sort of nester this is. He might be talked out of it, though that ain't likely."

She tapped the desk with nervous fingers.

"I came down to tell you about Dad last night. That's why I was here,"

he explained, as though he considered an explanation necessary. And with it was an indication of the curiosity which he could not conceal.

Jane flushed, and her gaze fell. The man stood looking down at her golden hair, the soft skin of cheeks and throat, the parted lips. One of his hands closed slowly, tightly. For a moment he let himself want her!

"I am very glad that you did come. I don't know how much you heard or what you saw but--"

"Nothing that I can recall, except that you wasn't havin' your own way."

The courtesy of this touched her and she smiled her grat.i.tude.

"d.i.c.k Hilton had been an old friend of mine; that is, I thought he was a friend. I....

"He said some things last night that I wouldn't want you to misunderstand. They.... That is, it would hurt me to think that you might believe what you heard him say."

"I don't think there's any danger of me misunderstanding anything that man would say about you. I mean, his meaning, ma'am, not only his words."

"That is as much a.s.surance as could be given," she replied.

For forty-eight hours following Hepburn's departure the HC was in a state of expectation. Frequently, even on the first night following, the men would stop talking and listen at any unusual sound as though that all believed it might be the foreman returning or some one with the word that he would never return, because the remainder of the crew did not have the faith in his well being that Beck had expressed to Jane Hunter.

The Reverend held the floor much of the time, preaching frequent impromptu sermons, discoursing largely on small matters. To him the rest listened in delight with the exception of Two-Bits, who was overawed by the verboseness of his kin.

A less obvious activity of the Reverend's was his pertinent, never ceasing questioning. He asked questions casually and covered his attempts to glean information by long-winded comments on irrelevant subjects. Tom Beck, even, caught himself expressing opinions when he had not intended to and guarded himself thereafter.

"He's an old fox!" he thought. "He knows a heap more than he lets on ... like some other folks."

Otherwise the man seemed harmless. He let no opportunity pa.s.s to sell his fountain pens which he carried always in the pockets of his frock coat. He took frequent inventories of his stock and when he miscounted or actually found some article missing he turned the place upside down until the loss was adjusted.

He seemed inclined to linger because though a.s.suring the rest that his plans were not of mortal making he often spoke of the summer's work. He was no mean ranch hand himself and was with his brother much, doing everything from branding colts to digging post holes.

When, on the morning of the third day Hepburn had not returned, Jane called Beck to the house and asked if he did not think it wise to send help. The man did not reply at once because at this suggestion a possibility flashed into his mind which he had not considered hitherto.

He looked at the girl who stood fingering the locket and asked himself:

"Has he taken this chance to quit the country? Has something happened that is bound to come to light?"

Aloud, he said:

"Your worry is in the wrong place. You're worrying over your men and you ought to be worrying over your stock. You've come into this country; you want to stay; you don't seem to understand, quite, that this is no polite game you're playing.

"When a man goes to work for an outfit, if he's the right kind to be a top hand out here, he's willing to do anything that comes up, even if it's risking his life. That ain't right pleasant to think about, ma'am, but we all understand it. If it has to be it has to be; no choice.

"If you're going to worry more about your men in a case like this than you do about havin' them hold up your end of the game you ain't going to play up to your part. You can't be soft hearted and stand off horse thieves."

"But, don't you see that I can't feel that way?" she pleaded.