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Updated: June 20, 2025
With the memory of Randerson's threat always before him, "if I ever lay eyes on you ag'in, I'll go gunnin' for you," Masten rode slowly and watchfully. For he had felt that the words had not been idle ones, and it had been because of them that he had hired Kelso. And he went toward the ranchhouse warily, much relieved when he passed the bunkhouse, to find that Randerson was apparently absent.
The steer had got to its feet and stood with legs braced in sharp outward angles, trembling, its great head rolling from side to side, lowered almost to the dust, snorting breath into its lungs. The girl was fascinated, but she heard Randerson's voice again, flung at her this time: "Get away from here quick!"
Randerson's face was expressionless. Only his eyes, squinted a little, with a queer, hard glint in them, revealed any emotion that might have affected him over Kelso's words. "Yes, Dorgan," he said gently, "I was mighty lucky." Kelso's lips curved into a slow, contemptuous smile. "I reckon you've always been lucky," he said. "Meanin'?"
A look silenced him choked the words in his throat, and he turned without protest, at Randerson's jerk of the head toward the ford, and walked without looking back, Randerson following on Patches. When they reached the narrow path that led to the crossing, just before entering the brush Randerson looked back. Hagar was still lying in the grass near the path.
It explained Randerson's seeming panic; it made the girl accuse herself sharply for doubting him. She watched the scene to its conclusion. The steer started off, shaking its head from side to side. Plainly, it wanted no more of this sort of work; the fight had all been taken out of it. Again the pony stiffened, and again the steer went down with a thud.
Three pairs of lungs sighed audibly in process of deflation. It was Chavis who answered; the other two looked at him when the question came, silently. Chavis would have lied, but the light in Randerson's eyes warned him not to trifle, and the truth came from his lips: "Masten's gone to the Flyin' W ranchhouse." "I reckon that's all," said Randerson shortly. "I'm thankin' you."
In a brief time Randerson learned that Ruth had gone riding alone about noon, and had not returned. Randerson also discovered that the girl had questioned a puncher who had ridden in asking him about Chavis' shack and the basin. Randerson's face, red from the blows that had landed on it, paled quickly. "I reckon she's takin' her time about comin' in," he said.
The handclasp between them was warm, for Uncle Jepson had been strongly attracted to this son of the plains; and the twinkle in Randerson's eyes as his met Uncle Jepson's was not to be mistaken. "So Vickers has gone," said Randerson as he dropped into a chair. "He's a mighty fine man." "Willard wanted Chavis to have his job," whispered Uncle Jepson. "You don't say!" Randerson's eyes gleamed.
He's dead scared to come here any more, since Randerson's aimin' to perforate him!" Only one conscious emotion afflicted her at this minute: rage over Chavis' inability to understand that she was not of the type of woman who could discuss such matters with a man. Evidently, in his eyes, all women were alike.
But Aunt Martha's voice gave the words an exactly opposite meaning, and Ruth blushed. There had been a dread fear in Ruth's heart. For she had seen warning of impending tragedy in Randerson's face when she had looked at him. It seemed to have passed. His, "I reckon I'll be seein' Pickett," meant, perhaps, that he would discharge the man.
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