The Best Western Novels of William MacLeod Raine. William MacLeod Raine

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СКАЧАТЬ y'u for my ride and get out here.”

      “But—why?”

      He waved a jaunty hand toward the recent battlefield. “The Lazy D lies right back of that hill. I expect, mebbe, those wolves might howl again if we went back.”

      “Where, then, shall I take you?”

      “I hate to trouble y'u to go out of your way.

      “I dare say, but I'm going just the same,” she told him, dryly.

      “If you're right determined—” He interrupted himself to point to the south. “Do y'u see that camel-back peak over there?”

      “The one with the sunshine on its lower edge?”

      “That's it, Miss Messiter. They call those two humps the Antelope Peaks. If y'u can drop me somewhere near there I think I'll manage all right.”

      “I'm not going to leave you till we reach a house,” she informed him promptly. “You're not fit to walk fifty yards.”

      “That's right kind of y'u, but I could not think of asking so much. My friends will find me if y'u leave me where I can work a heliograph.”

      “Or your enemies,” she cut in.

      “I hope not. I'd not likely have the luck to get another invitation right then to go riding with a friendly young lady.”

      She gave him direct, cool, black-blue eyes that met and searched his. “I'm not at all sure she is friendly. I shall want to find out the cause of the trouble you have just had before I make up my mind as to that.”

      “I judge people by their actions. Y'u didn't wait to find out before bringing the ambulance into action,” he laughed.

      “I see you do not mean to tell me.”

      “You're quite a lawyer, ma'am,” he evaded.

      “I find you a very slippery witness, then.”

      “Ask anything y'u like and I'll tell you.”

      “Very well. Who were those men, and why were they trying to kill you?”

      “They turned their wolf loose on me because I shot up one of them yesterday.”

      “Dear me! Is it your business to go around shooting people? That's three I happen to know that you have shot. How many more?”

      “No more, ma'am—not recently.”

      “Well, three is quite enough—recently,” she mimicked. “You seem to me a good deal of a desperado.”

      “Yes, ma'am.”

      “Don't say 'Yes, ma'am,' like that, as if it didn't matter in the least whether you are or not,” she ordered.

      “No, ma'am.”

      “Oh!” She broke off with a gesture of impatience at his burlesque of obedience. “You know what I mean—that you ought to deny it; ought to be furious at me for suggesting it.”

      “Ought I?”

      “Of course you ought.”

      “There's a heap of ways I ain't up to specifications,” he admitted, cheerfully.

      “And who are they—the men that were attacking you?”

      There was a gleam of irrepressible humor in the bold eyes. “Your cow-punchers, ma'am.”

      “My cow-punchers?”

      “They ce'tainly belong to the Lazy D outfit.”

      “And you say that you shot one of my men yesterday?” He could see her getting ready for a declaration of war.

      “Down by Willow Creek—Yes, ma'am,” he answered, comfortably.

      “And why, may I ask?” she flamed

      “That's a long story, Miss Messiter. It wouldn't be square for me to get my version in before your boys. Y'u ask them.” He permitted himself a genial smile, somewhat ironic. “I shouldn't wonder but what they'll give me a giltedged testimonial as an unhanged horse thief.”

      “Isn't there such a thing as law in Wyoming?” the girl demanded.

      “Lots of it. Y'u can buy just as good law right here as in Kalamazoo.”

      “I wish I knew where to find it.”

      “Like to put me in the calaboose?”

      “In the penitentiary. Yes, sir!” A moment later the question that was in her thoughts leaped hotly from her lips. “Who are you, sir, that dare to commit murder and boast of it?”

      She had flicked him on the raw at last. Something that was near to pain rested for a second in his eyes. “Murder is a hard name, ma'am. And I didn't say he was daid, or any of the three,” came his gentle answer.

      “You MEANT to kill them, anyhow.”

      “Did I?” There was the ghost of a sad smile about his eyes.

      “The way you act, a person might think you one of Ned Bannister's men,” she told him, scornfully.

      “I expect you're right.”

      She repented her a little at a charge so unjust. “If you are not ashamed of your name why are you so loath to part with it?”

      “Y'u didn't ask me my name,” he said, a dark flush sweeping his face.

      “I ask it now.”

      Like the light from a snuffed candle the boyish recklessness had gone out of his face. His jaws were set like a vise and he looked hard as hammered steel.

      “My name is Bannister,” he said, coldly.

      “Ned Bannister, the outlaw,” she let slip, and was aware of a strange sinking of the heart.

      It seemed to her that something sinister came to the surface in his handsome face. “I reckon we might as well let it go at that,” he returned, with bitter briefness.

      Chapter 2.

       The King of the Big Horn Country

       Table of Contents

      Two months before this time Helen Messiter had been serenely teaching a second grade at Kalamazoo, Michigan, notwithstanding the earnest efforts of several youths of that city to induce her to retire to domesticity “What's the use of being a schoolmarm?” had been the burden of their plaint. “Any spinster can teach kids C-A-T, Cat, but only one in several thousand can be the prettiest bride in Kalamazoo.” None of them, however, had been able to drive the point СКАЧАТЬ