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Updated: May 14, 2025
She knew she did not like Randerson well enough to wish to see him merely on that account that was ridiculous, in spite of the vivid recollection of him that still lingered with her, for she had met him only once, and she assured herself that she was too practical-minded to fall in love with anyone at first sight.
"He's made the outfit feel like a lost doggie," grumbled Blair. "The blamed cuss is grievin' over somethin'." And they went disconsolately to their work. Randerson rode on his way. He felt a little relieved. No longer was he bound by his job; he was now a free agent and could do as he pleased. And it would please him to settle his differences with Masten.
She knew he referred to Masten, Chavis and Pickett, and she knew that this would be all the reference Randerson would ever make to them. But no answer formed in her mind and she kept silent. When they came to the rock upon which he had found her, he halted and regarded it gravely. "You had me scared that night," he said. "Patches had most run his head off. I was mighty relieved to see you."
She had reopened the subject a little wearily, for now that Randerson was hopeless she wanted to have the marriage over with as soon as possible. She saw now, that it had been the vision of Randerson, always prominent in her mind, that had caused her to put off the date of her marriage to Masten when he had mentioned it before.
"Of course," growled Uncle Jepson, a venomous flash in his eyes, slightly reproachful. "Sure of course," agreed Randerson. He was grim-eyed; there was cold contempt in the twist of his lips. He sat for a long time, silent, staring out through the door, Uncle Jepson watching him, subdued by the look in his eyes. When he spoke at last, there was a cold, bitter humor in his voice.
Why not have Randerson discharge him? He is range boss, you know. In the meantime, can't you manage to stay away from places where the men might molest you? They are all unprincipled scoundrels, you must remember!" He left her, after a perfunctory caress which she suffered in silence.
Randerson was sorry that he upset you in the mud, Willard," she said gently. "I don't think he did it to be mean. And it was so manly of him to apologize to you." She laughed, thinking that time had already removed the sting. "And you really did look funny, Willard, with the mud all over you. I I could have laughed, myself, if I hadn't felt so indignant."
But there was no thought of the dramatic in Randerson's mind as he stood there nothing but cold hatred and determination nothing except a bitter wish that the man on the pony would reach for his gun and thus make his task easier for him. The hoped-for movement did not come, and Randerson spoke shortly: "Get off your cayuse!" Masten obeyed silently, his knees shaking under him.
Looking back, when he reached the house, he saw that Masten was still standing beside his horse. At the sound of hoof beats, Uncle Jepson came out on the porch and peered at the rider. Randerson could see Aunt Martha close behind him. Uncle Jepson was excited. He started off the porch toward Randerson. "It's Randerson, mother!" he called shrilly back to Aunt Martha, who was now on the porch.
I don't know why, unless you'd selected the girl yourself " "That's ag'in you too," interrupted Randerson coldly. "You're goin' to pay." "You're making a lot of fuss about the girl," sneered Masten. "A man " "You're a heap careless with words that you don't know the meanin' of," said Randerson. "We don't raise men out here that do things like you do. An' I expect you're one in a million.
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