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Updated: June 25, 2025
Kate did not ask him the purpose of his visit, for her etiquette was the etiquette of the ranges, which does not countenance questions, and Disston, absorbed in the beauty of the sunset and his own thoughts, was in no mood to introduce the unpleasant subject of the dynamiting of the sheep wagon.
Disston lingered to watch her as she pulled the bedroll from her horse; and, clearing a space with her foot, freeing it of sticks and pebbles, spread out the canvas, pulling the "tarp" over a pillow beneath which he noticed a box of cartridges and a six-shooter. "For close work," she said, with a short laugh, observing his interest. He did not join her; instead his brows contracted.
Mormon Joe's expression was not too friendly when he saw strangers but it changed upon recognizing Teeters. "Maybe you don't remember this here gent," said that person, indicating Disston with his thumb after he and Mormon Joe had shaken hands. "He's growed about four feet since you saw him." "I remember him very well."
Disston colored. Kate replied ironically: "Perhaps he is one of those who do not boast of their acquaintance with sheepherders." "Kate!" he protested vigorously. She regarded him with a faint inscrutable smile until Bowers interrupted: "How many bells shall I put on them yearlin's?" "One in fifty; and cut those five wethers out of the ewe herd.
It was a great lark to Disston, now a tall boy of nineteen, handsome, attractive, with the soft drawl of his southern speech and the easy manners of those who have associated much with women-folk. He was in high spirits as, one morning early, he and Teeters turned off from the main road and took the faint trail which led up Bitter Creek.
The various hardware exhibits, such as the Disston saws, Ames shovels, Collins axes, Batcheller forks, Russell & Erwin builders' hardware, as well as the Remington, Colt, Winchester, Sharpe and Owen Jones rifles and revolvers, and the Gatling and Gardner guns, are a little on one side of my present line of subjects.
When it was to his satisfaction, Disston put the gun together and sat with it across his knees, staring absently at the spur of mountains which Beth Rathburn had come to feel she detested. She tingled with irritation. She wanted to say something mean, something to make him feel sorry and apologetic.
Beth wept in chagrin and rage while Disston rode away buoyantly, marvelling at his own light-heartedness, tingling with the old-time eagerness which used to come to him the moment he was in the saddle with his horse's head turned toward Bitter Creek. He had stubbornly fought his desire to visit Kate again. What was the use, he demanded of himself sternly.
Disston tried to analyze his feelings, the emotions she inspired in him as he looked at her, but his lines of thought with their many ramifications always came back to the starting point to the sure knowledge that he wanted her tremendously, that he yearned and hungered for her with every fiber of his nature.
Upon second thought, you are quite right about everything right to keep your promise to Mrs. Toomey, since you gave it, right in your assertion that I am jealous. I am but not in the sense in which you mean it. "I have been jealous of your dignity of the respect that is due you. I have resented keenly any attempt to belittle you. That is why Disston was not welcome when he came to see you.
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