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Updated: June 19, 2025
He intended to make this one trip, present to Ruth his excuses for staying away, and then go back to Chavis' shack, there to remain out of Randerson's sight, until he could devise another plan that, he hoped, would put an end to the cowpuncher who was forever tormenting him.
And some time later, when the laughter ceased and she went to the window and looked out, the cowboys had vanished. They had gone in to dinner. But Chavis and Pickett still sat on their bench, talking. Ruth shivered and turned from the window. She was in better spirits shortly after dinner, and went out to the stable to look at her pony.
Two hours later he was riding down the declivity toward Chavis' shack, in the basin. He had ridden first to the outfit, and had talked with Owen. And his appearance had been such that when he left the foreman the latter sought out Blair. "If I don't miss my reckonin', Masten's goin' to get his'n today." Randerson rode, straight as Patches could carry him, to the door of Chavis' shack.
And so she felt a little more at ease. "I'm glad to meet you, Mr. Chavis," she said. "Your friend Mr. Pickett too." She indicated Masten with a nod of her head toward him. "This is Mr. Willard Masten, a very dear friend of mine." The color in her face deepened with the words. Chavis had looked twice at Masten before Ruth spoke. He looked again now, meeting the Easterner's eyes.
Curiously enough, despite her former fear of the man she did not fear him now, and after the first shock of surprise she looked at him composedly, for she half suspected that Masten had sent him, fearing that she would wait in spite of his admonition not to do so. She got up and faced Chavis. "Mr. Masten couldn't come, I suppose?" she said.
She had looked, once, at Chavis, on the floor of the cabin, when she had recovered, and her knees had sagged. But Randerson had gone to her assistance. She had looked at him, too, in mute agony of spirit, filled with a dull wonder over his presence, but gaining nothing from his face, sternly sympathetic.
Red Owen, foreman of the Flying W in place of Tom Chavis, resigned, was stretched out on his blanket, his head propped up with an arm, looking at the lazy, licking flames of the campfire.
But when they go with Chavis, it's mighty likely that we'll miss more cattle." She stiffened. "Come with me," she ordered; "they shall have their money right away." She urged her pony on, and he fell in beside her, keeping his animal's muzzle near her stirrup. For he was merely an employee and was filled with respect for her.
You see, that in those days Gipsies were very scarce, and people were very much astonished at rat-drawing, and so they made a queer story of it." "But how about the children?" "Well," I answered; "I suppose you have heard occasionally that Gipsies used to chore Gorgios' chavis steal people's children?" Very grave indeed was the assent yielded to this explanation.
For she knew that a while ago, if she had had a pistol with her, she would have killed Chavis and Kester without hesitation. At about the time that Chavis and Kester had discovered Ruth's pony and had clambered up the slope in search of the girl, the two figures on the timber-fringed level near the break in the canyon wall were making grotesque shadows as they danced about in the dying sunlight.
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