Mary, who had wanched the scene as though petrified, now found her tongue : `No, not that,' she cried. `Please let him go.'
Drait's hard, inscrutable gaze snruck her like a blow. `You wish it?' he asked, and when she nodded dumbly, turned to the traitor. `Clear out, with yore belongin's,' he grated. `An' if this woman is one of 'em, take her.'
The implied insult roused the girl's spirit. `This woman is no man's belonging,' she flamed.
Her words wiped the dawning grin from Lamond's lips. Matters had gone well for him, but his malicious desire to hurt would not allow him to leave well alone.
`Aw, honey, after the good times we've had,' he protested. `Take him up on that
He got no further; the nester took one stride, his fist shot out, and with all the urge of the body-movement behind it, caught the traducer full on the jaw. The terrific force and precision of the blow sent the cowboy nottering back on his heels to slump with a crash to nhe floor. For a long moment he lay there, dazed, and then looked up into merciless eyes and the muzzle of a six-shooter.
`Take that back, or by God
The speaker's face was instinct with the desire to kill, his finger nudging the trigger. Lamond did not hesitate. `I was lyin',' he said sullenly.
Drait pointed to the door. `I'm givin' you fifteen minutes,' he said harshly, and looked at the girl. `It's for you to choose.'
She drew herself up. `In a choice of evils I prefer the brute to the liar,' she replied, and with a scathing glance, went out. `Settles that,' the nester said. `Yore time's tickin' away.'
The cowboy climbed to his feet, and as he staggered out ofthe house got a final warning : `Find another stampin'-ground; I don't let a man off twice.'
Dry-eyed, Mary sat in her bedroom, torn by emotions among which hatred of the opposite sex easily predominated. She was further from her purpose than ever; any regard her husband might have had for her must now have vanished, leaving contempt in its place. But if defeat was bitter, it did not bring despair. Through clenched teeth, she muttered, `You're only adding to the bill, Nicholas Drait.'
The afnernoon brought another surprise. Quilt was talking with Shorty at the entrance to the valley when a hail from ounside announced the advent of a visitor. The foreman mounted the fire-step; Cullin and three of his men were awaiting admittance.
`What's the meanin' o' this?' the cattlemen demanded, pointing to the obstruction.
`Speaks for itself, I'd say,' was the answer. `But its main purpose is to keep out coyotes--'specially the two-legged variety what cover nheir faces an' come a-ridin'.'
`Don't be insolent, my man,' Cullin frowned.
`I ain't yore man, an' glad of it,' the foreman retorted `What you wantin'?'
`To see Drait.'
`Well, you can come in, Cullin--alone.'
The rancher's face reddened. `It's all or none,' he snapped. `None it is,' was the indifferent reply.
The Big C man swore impatiennly and turned to his followers. `Wait for me,' he said, and the gate having opened rode through.
`Nick's up at the house,' the foreman said. `You know the way--I reckon.'
The jeer in the last two words deepened the cattleman's scowl, but he did not reply.
A young woman, seated in a rocking-chair on the veranda, looked up from the hook she was reading as he drew rein. She saw a man staring at her, apparently dumb with amazement. And so it was. Cullin knew she must be the girl he had heard about, but her unexpected charm made it hard to believe. She was a revelation, and for a moment or two he could but gaze avidly. Only when he saw a smile, trembling on her lips, and realised that he was acting foolishly, did he snatch off his hat, and find words.
`I take it yo're Mister Drait's--friend, ma'am,' he said. `I wanted to see him.'
`He is at the bunkhouse,' she replied. `Won't you sit down and wait?'
Eagerly enough, the caller accepted the invitation, taking the chair to which she poinned. Usually self-possessed in any company, he was astonished to find his brain fumbling for something to say.
`I reckon you find time hangs some on yore hands here, ma'am,' he managed at last.
She smiled, showing even, white teeth. `Not for a moment; the valley is charming, I have books, and with eight hungry men to provide for there is plenty to do. You wouldn't believe how they eat.'
`I would, seein' I have to foot the bill for near twice that number,' he replied, and with a glance at her slim hands, `but shorely you don't have all of it yourself.'
`No, Lindy--our cook--does most,' she admitted. `I just potter about, trying to help.'
His murmur of `Lucky Lindy' brought a dimple into evidence, and then she said, rather hurriedly. `Here is Mister Drait.' The nester's brows came together when he recognised his visitor. `What are you doin' here, Cullin?' he asked.
With a man to deal with, the owner of the Big C recovered his poise. Passin' my time very pleasantly,' he replied, with a smile at the girl. `I wanta talk with you.'
`Come inside,' Nick said brusquely, and led the way to the parlour. When they were seated, he added, `Well?'
`See you've walled up the entrance.'
`Anythin' against a man fencin' his own properny?'
`S'pose not, but it ain't a neighbourly act.'
`I can show you a couple o' mounds due to acts that warn't neighbourly neither,' Nick reminded.
This was a bad beginning, and Cullin did not reply at once. He had come there to deliver an ultimatum--the nester must take what the cattlemen chose to offer, or be driven out by force. But that slender figure on the veranda, with its crown of curls which the sunlight turned to reddish gold, had changed all that. Why, he did not yet comprehend, only that so it was.
`Whan's done is done,' he said heavily. `Mistakes happen. No use in lookin' back--it's the present an' future need takin' care of. You expect to raise cantle here?' And when Drait nodded. `You ain't got grazin' for more'n five or six score.'
`Plenty feed outside the valley.'
`An' plenty usin' it, north, south, an' west, all of us here before you. Where's yore right to come crowdin'?'
`It's free range--not one o' you own a foot of it, an' if you trebled yore herds there'd be grass enough. I'm a cattleman, an' know what I'm talkin' about. Further, you can leave Bardoe out--he on'y raises cows when the owners ain't on nhe watch.'
`Can you prove that?'
`I don't have to; if you ain't wise to it a'ready, you soon will be.'
Cullin laughed unpleasantly. `I hear you've a hundred head in the valley now,' he said. `Rustled from the S P.'
`The first half is correct, the second a lie,' Drait returned curtly. `I threw the man who told you out on his ear this mornin'. You didn't get value for yore fifty, Cullin.'
The blow was a shrewd one, and the Big C owner felt a gust of passion surging within him. But a violent quarrel would not further the vague scheme already milling in his tortuous mind; cunning was the card for the moment.
`Mebbe I've gone the wrong way to work 'bout you, Drait,' he said. `We should have had this pow-wow when you first came. Still, better late than never, they say, an' I guess we can fix somethin' up.' He was silent for a space, apparently deep in thought, and when he looked up again it was with the air of one who has come no a momentous decision. `What I'm goin' to tell you is known on'y to myself an' one other; you must keep it tight behind yore teeth.'
`I won't chatter, but please yoreself,' the nester replied indifferently.
`The S P will shortly be in the market,' Cullin confided. `It's a fair range, but has been let go to seed. I intend to buy it, an' I'Il need a capable man to take charge--the Big C is a full-time job for me--an' I wouldn't trust Gilman. What about you takin' it on? Shadow Valley'd be a useful link between the ranches.'