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Running back into the shack, he satisfied himself with a hasty glance in the mirror, stuck a jaunty stiff hat askew on his head, and sped away up the path his feet had worn through the months straight to Tressa's door. Torrance was still examining the bullet marks when Conrad dropped over the grade. "There!" He placed a big finger tip importantly over one hole. "And there and there!"
Constable Williams, blinking at the sudden darkness of the sitting room, stepped aside and made way for a straight, bronzed figure wearing the stripes of a Sergeant, who was already acknowledging with a winning smile Tressa's unspoken welcome. "Torrance, shake hands with Sergeant Mahon. He's been sent up to clear "
It reminds the few of us who see it of my friend, simple, plain, rugged, lasting. There's no name on it, just 'Greater Love." "You didn't find him? What was he like?" Tressa's face was flushed. "A big, slouching sort of figure, but with a world of muscle you'd never suspect. The face of an Indian, but lighter; it's bluish tint gave him his name.
But Torrance's likewise were the wrong size, and the Indian disappeared into Tressa's room. The brakesman entrusted with a rifle in that room paid no attention until a strong hand wrenched it from him. "Yuh'll hurt yerself, sonny, playin' with a real gun. Yuh can have all I shoot to eat." When he returned to the living room, Mahon laid a hand on his shoulder. "My God, who are you?"
I don't know what you got against the trestle, but I do know you're a hellish cuss I'm going to break to the halter. If you count to bust things up here, I'll see that the busting falls on your own head. Scat!" "Were they real dead, daddy? Couldn't we can't we do anything?" Horror stared from Tressa's eyes; she was trembling from head to foot.
I guess you came in time Say! Where's he gone?" The window in Tressa's room rattled. "By hickory! If that fellow don't owe me something I don't know about, he's running up a big bill against me."
Adrian Conrad, Torrance's foreman, Tressa's lover the latter first in sequence of time as in everything else knew these men and hated them with an intensity born of enforced association. Their unorthodox but definitive methods of settling the smallest dispute were familiar to him by experience.
The covers of the coloured magazines he lifted and let fall, pressed the gaudy cushions that strewed the couch, touched the cheap ornaments Tressa had woven into the picture with happy hand, stared into the home-framed pictures. Over the vase of wild flowers he stooped with a reminiscent smile; and thoughtfully for several minutes he rocked Tressa's own chair.
Of the eight Constable Williams and Murphy were stationed in the kitchen, with its one window and door. In Tressa's room, the point of least exposure, two of the crew were established. Torrance and another of the crew held the contractor's bedroom at the front. The living room Mahon himself, assisted by the last member of the crew, took in charge.
He marvelled at his own lack of concern. He could see Tressa's struggle with her father, and he suspected its cause. Also he had sufficient faith in her to feel that she was right. The stranger puzzled him. In the way he handled a rifle was the carelessness of complete confidence.
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