As much as was good for her to know Curly told. Without saying a word she listened till he was through. Then she asked a question.

"Won't Dutch tell about Sam being in it?"

"Don't matter if he does. Evidence of an accomplice not enough to convict.

Soapy overshot himself. I'm here to testify that Sam and he quarrelled before Sam left. Besides, Dutch won't talk. I drilled it into him thorough that he'd better take his medicine without bringing Sam in."

She sat for a long time looking out of the window without moving. She did not make the least sound, but the young man knew she was crying softly to herself. At last she spoke in a low sweet voice.

"What can we do for you? First you save Father and then Sam. You risked everything for my brother--to win him back to us, to save his life and now his reputation. If you had been killed people would always have believed you were one of the gang."

"Sho! That's nonsense, Miss Kate." He twisted his hat in his hand uneasily. "Honest, I enjoyed every bit of it. And a fellow has to pay his debts."

"Was that why you did it?" she asked softly.

"Yes. I had to make good. I had to show your father and you that I had not thrown away all your kindness. So I quit travelling that downhill road on which I had got started."

"I'm glad--I'm so glad." She whispered it so low he could hardly hear.

"There was one way to prove myself. That was to stand between Sam and trouble. So I b.u.t.ted in and spoiled Soapy's game."

"I wish I could tell you how fine Father thinks it was of you. He doesn't speak of it much, but I know."

"Nothing to what I did--nothing at all." A wave of embarra.s.sment had crept to the roots of his curly hair. "Just because a fellow--Oh, shucks!"

"That's all very well for you to say, but you can't help us thinking what we please."

"But that ain't right. I don't want you thinking things that ain't so because----"

"Yes? Because----?"

She lifted her eyes and met his. Then she knew it had to come out, that the feeling banked in him would overflow in words.

"Because you're the girl I love."

He had not intended to say it now, lest he might seem to be urging his services as a claim upon her. But the words had slipped out in spite of him.

She held out her two hands to him with a little gesture of surrender. The light of love was in her starry eyes.

And then----

She was in his arms, and the kisses he had dreamed about were on his lips.

CHAPTER XVIII

CUTTING TRAIL

Kate Cullison had disappeared, had gone out riding one morning and at nightfall had not returned. As the hours pa.s.sed, anxiety at the Circle C became greater.

"Mebbe she got lost," Bob suggested.

Her father scouted this as absurd. "Lost nothing. You couldn't lose her within forty miles of the ranch. She knows this country like a cow does the range. And say she was lost--all she would have to do would be to give that pinto his head and he'd hit a bee line for home. No, nor she ain't had an accident either, unless it included the pony too."

"You don't reckon a cougar----," began Sweeney, and stopped.

Luck looked at his bandy-legged old rider with eyes in which little cold devils sparkled. "A human cougar, I'll bet. This time I'll take his hide off inch by inch while he's still living."

"You thinking of Fendrick?" asked Sam.

"You've said it."

Sweeney considered, rasping his stubbly chin. "I don't reckon Ca.s.s would do Miss Kate a meanness. He's a white man, say the worst of him. But it might be Blackwell. When last seen he was heading into the hills. If he met her----"

A spasm of pain shot across Luck's face. "My G.o.d! That would be awful."

"By Gum, there he is now, Luck." Sweeney's finger pointed to an advancing rider.

Cullison swung as on a pivot in time to see someone drop into the dip in the road, just beyond the corral. "Who--Blackwell?"

"No. Ca.s.s."

Fendrick reappeared presently and turned in at the lane. Cullison, standing on the porch at the head of the steps looked like a man who was pa.s.sing through the inferno. But he looked too a personified day of judgment untempered by mercy. His eyes bored like steel gimlets into those of his enemy.

The sheepman spoke, looking straight at his foe. "I've just heard the news. I was down at Yesler's ranch when you 'phoned asking if they had seen anything of Miss Cullison. I came up to ask you one question. When was she seen last?"

"About ten o'clock this morning. Why?"

"I saw her about noon. She was on Mesa Verde, headed for Blue Canon looked like."

"Close enough to speak to her?" Sam asked.

"Yes. We pa.s.sed the time of day."

"And then?" Luck cut back into the conversation with a voice like a file.

"She went on toward the gulch and I kept on to the ranch. The last I saw of her she was going straight on."

"And you haven't seen her since?"

The manner of the questioner startled Fendrick. "G.o.d, man, you don't think I'm in this, do you?"

"If you are you'd better blow your brains out before I learn it. And if you're trying to lead me on a false scent----" Luck stopped. Words failed him, but his iron jaw clamped like a vice.

Fendrick spoke quietly. "I'm willing. In the meantime we'd better travel over toward Mesa Verde, so as to be ready to start at daybreak."