United States or Togo ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Yet he could not permit Kester and Chavis to think they could repeat the offense with impunity. That would be an indication of impotence, of servile yielding to the feminine edict that had already gone forth, and behind which Chavis and his men were even now hiding the decree of the Flying W owner that there should be no taking of human life.
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.
His objective was Chavis' shack, and he wanted to come upon it unnoticed. Or, if that failed, he desired to make his visit appear casual. But in Chavis' shack was a man who of late had formed the habit of furtive watchfulness. He wore a heavy six-shooter at his waist, but he knew better than to try to place any dependence upon his ability as a marksman.
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.
In the doorway, leaning against one of the jambs, regarding her with narrowed, gleaming eyes, a pleased, appraising smile on his face, was Tom Chavis. Her first sensation was one of relief. She did not know what she had expected to see when she turned; certainly something more dire and terrible than Tom Chavis.
With Masten absent with Chavis and Pickett nearly every day, Ruth had much time to herself. The river attracted her, and she rode to it many times, on a slant-eyed pony that Vickers had selected for her, and which had been gentled by a young cowpuncher brought in from an outlying camp solely for that purpose by the range boss.
These men were rough, but they had been quick to recognize and appreciate Masten's good qualities. They had gone more than half way in welcoming him. Of course, there was Chavis' bold allusion to a "pretty woman," but the very uncouthness of the men must be the explanation for that breach of etiquette. She was much relieved. Masten was suave and solicitous.
He turned his back to her and presently went away with Chavis and Pickett. She stood for a little time, watching them as they mounted down near the corral gate and rode away, and then she turned and observed Uncle Jepson standing near a corner of the house, smoking, and watching her. She forced a smile and went into the house.
Twice his lips opened, in astonishment or fear, she could not tell which, but no sound came from them. He stood silent, watching her, furtive-eyed, crouching. In this interval her thoughts rioted in chaos, like dust before a hurricane. But a question dominated all: could she carry out her threat to kill Chavis, if he took the step? She knew she would.
Chavis had been ready to sneer at Masten because of his garments they were duplicates of those he had worn before the ducking, and quite as immaculate but something in the Easterner's eyes kept the sneer back; his own eyes gleamed with a quick, comprehensive fire, and he smiled. In the buckboard, fresh from that civilization which Chavis was ready to scorn, he had recognized a kindred spirit.
Word Of The Day