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Updated: May 19, 2025
Several times she had observed meetings between him and Chavis and Pickett; invariably Chavis was sullen and disagreeable in his presence, and a number of times she had seen Pickett sneer when Randerson's back was turned. No one had told her of the open enmity that existed between Pickett and Randerson; the latter had not hinted of it.
And then, white, shaking, clammy from her dread of the darkness, the awesome silence, and the possibility of Chavis and Kester finding her here, she groped blindly until she found a big rock rising high above its fellows, and after a struggle during which she tore the skin from her hands and knees, she climbed to its top and crouched on it, shuddering and crying.
"You're welcome to the Flyin' W," said the man, breaking an awkward silence. "Tom Chavis is special glad to see a pretty woman around these parts." She felt, in his eyes more than his words, a veiled significance. She reddened a little, but met his gaze fairly, her eyes unwavering. "Who is Tom Chavis?" she asked. "I'm reckonin' to be Tom Chavis," he said, studying her.
Through it she saw Chavis stagger, clap one hand to his chest and tumble headlong, face down, at her feet. The interior of the cabin whirled in mad circles; the floor seemed to be rising to meet her, and she sank to it, the six-shooter striking the bare boards with a thud that sounded to her like a peal of thunder. And then oblivion, deep and welcome, descended.
He had told the men to be doubly alert to their work, and he had hired two new men from the Diamond H to replace those who had left the Flying W. His surmise that they wanted to join Chavis had been correct, for the two new men whom he had put on special duty and had been given permission to come and go when they pleased had reported this fact to him.
"I reckon Linton didn't pull it off or them Flyin' W guys are stickin' close to the herd," said another voice. "He ought to have been here an hour ago." "Linton ain't no rusher," said Chavis. "We'll wait." There was a silence. Then Chavis spoke again: "Flyin' W stock is particular easy to run off. Did I tell you?
Since he had sent Chavis with the note to Hagar, Masten had been uneasy. He had not stayed inside the shack for more than a minute or two at a time, standing much in the doorway, scanning the basin and the declivity carefully and fearfully. And he had seen Catherson lead his pony down. He went in and took the rifle from its pegs. He had had a hope, at first, that it might be Kester or Linton.
The outfit came in the next morning fourteen punchers, the horse-wrangler having trouble as usual with the remuda, the cook, Chavis, and Pickett. They veered the herd toward the river and drove it past the ranchhouse and into a grass level that stretched for miles.
Jim Pickett an' Tom Chavis ain't fit for no lady to look at let alone talkin' to them. There's others, too. Now, if she was comin' to the Diamond H why, shucks! Mebbe she wouldn't think I'm any better than Pickett an' Chavis! If she looks anything like her picture, though, she's got sense. An' "
He could even hear the intonations of the voice that had uttered them: "This country is too crowded for both of us." Masten was beginning to believe that. He had thought that very morning, of leaving, of escaping, rather. But Chavis had reassured him, had ridiculed him, in fact. "Randerson's four-flushin'," Chavis had laughed. "He's took a shine to Ruth, an' he's aimin' to scare you out.
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