"Well," observed Sam Prescott, "folks will be sending Bill to Congress
next. Directly or indirectly, he sure has put a crimp in county
politics."
"Yes," assented his daughter, "now that the grand jury have indicted
Craft, Larder, Murray and Rale, there isn't anything left of the
Crocker County ring but the hole."
"Maybe now Hazel will make it up with him."
"Maybe." With some indifference.
"Shucks, and he used to like you, Sally Jane."
"But I never liked him--enough." This with more indifference.
"More fool you. Bill's going to get there, and you can stick a pin in
that."
She bounced up from her chair and ruffled her father's grizzled hair.
"I'd rather stick a pin in you, Samuel. Where did Hazel go?"
"Room, I guess. I don't know what's got into the child. She didn't
eat enough breakfast for a fly."
"She has been acting pretty meaching the last few days. I'll go see
what's the matter."
Sally Jane found Hazel folding up her clothes as fast as she could
fold. The bureau drawers were empty. Everything was on the bed.
"What on earth--" began Sally Jane.
"I'm going home," said Hazel, keeping her face turned away.
The direct Sally Jane cupped a hand under Hazel's chin. "Let me see
something. I _thought_ so. What's the matter?"
"Nothing," declared Hazel, beginning to sniff a little.
"Then why don't you tell him so?"
"_Him_? Him?"
"Yes, him. Bill. Mr. William H. Wingo. The sheriff of Crocker
County. That's what _I'd_ do if _I_ loved him."
"I don't love him," snapped Hazel, the shine in her black eyes giving
the lie to her words.
"You blessed child," said Sally Jane, and threw her arms around Hazel
and drew her to her breast. "You blessed child. I don't know what
ever came between you and Bill, but something did, and if you've got an
atom of sense in your head, you'll move heaven and earth to make it up
with him."
"He doesn't love me any more," declared Hazel, her emotion getting the
better of her.
"Do you love him?" probed the older girls.
A pronounced sniffle.
"Do you?"
"I always have," came the dragging confession.
"Then, for heaven's sake, tell him so! I'll bet he loves you fast
enough! Land alive, if you've got Love in your grasp, don't turn it
down! Love is the greatest thing in the world, and if you throw it
away, you'll never have any luck the rest of your life. And you won't
deserve any either."
Hazel drew out a damp ball of a handkerchief and blew her nose
vigorously. "It's no use," she told her friend with a catch in her
voice. "I couldn't tell him. I just couldn't."
Sally Jane flung up her hands. "You're a coward, that's what you are.
A moral coward. If I loved a man, which I don't, I'd tell him so, that
is, providing he didn't tell me first," she added thoughtfully.
Hazel stooped to pick up a fallen chemise. "You're--you're different,
Sally Jane. Besides, he doesn't love me any more. So it wouldn't do
any good."
"Oh, no, of course not," Sally Jane waxed sarcastic. "And they say all
mules are quadrupeds! Look here, Hazel, if it hadn't been for him,
you'd be in a fine fix right now. Why, that Rale man-- Oh, you make
me so mad I could shake you! I've told you more'n once how much you
owe Bill. Look how he fought for you. Look-- Oh, Lord! Haven't you
got any gratitude at all?"
"Plenty," Hazel replied over her shoulder. "But my gratitude can't
make him love me."
Sally Jane put her hand on her friend's shoulders and turned her
around. "I tell you, you're making a mistake. I tell you he does love
you. You remember that last winter he came here several times, and he
certainly didn't come to see me or Dad. And you weren't overly
cordial, you know, Hazel. You didn't fall on his neck exactly."
"I'm not going to throw myself at any man's head!"
"Oh, don't be so high-strung! You're too proud for any human use! And
Bill's just like you, the stiff-necked lollop!"
"He is not!" Hazel cried, with a decided flash of temper. "He's not
stiff-necked! He's not a lollop! Oh, Sally dear, don't spoil
everything," she begged. "You've been so good to me."
Sally Jane immediately changed her tune. "But why leave here? Why go
home?"
"Because I've imposed on you long enough. I'll be safe there--now."
Sally Jane looked long into the eyes of Hazel Walton. "All right," she
said shortly. "I'll drive you over myself."
Billy Wingo stretched out his long legs and absent-mindedly hacked the
edge of his desk with a pocket knife. "I told her she'd have to come
to me and put her arms around my neck and tell me I was right and she
was wrong, and now I've got to stick to it, damitall! Bill, you idiot,
you always did let your tongue run away with you. Always. And now she
won't make it up. Three days now, since I got my job back, and not a
word. Not a word. Well, one thing is certain sure, I ain't going to
run after her. I ain't, not by a jugful."
"His lips are moving, but he ain't sayin' anything," announced Riley
Tyler in a loud, cheerful tone. "Do you think he's going crazy,
Shotgun, or is it only the beginnings of droolin' old age?"
"I dunno," said Shotgun. "Better watch him. If he begins to gibber
and pull out his hair, he's looney and we'll have to tie him down, I
expect. Is your rope strong, Riley?"
"You fellers," Billy remarked with dignity, "make me more tired than a
week's work."
So saying, he arose and went to the corner where his saddle and bridle
lay. Three minutes later he rode out of Golden Bar.
"He's taken the Hillsville trail," said Riley Tyler, his nose flattened
against the window pane. "Where do you suppose he's going?"
"Going to spend some of the reward money, I expect. Joke on you,
Riley, having to dig up a thousand plunks you haven't got."
"I'd rather owe it to him than cheat him out of it," grinned Riley, who
had long since spent the money obtained from Jack Murray. "Alla same,
I'll pay him when I get it. You lend me a hundred, Shotgun."
"Go 'way from me!" snarled Shotgun, flapping both hands at him. "If
you're looking for easy money, sit into a game of draw, or rob a bank
or somethin'. You won't get a single wheel from me. Nawsir!"
Billy, riding the Hillsville road, came at last to the mouth of the
draw that led to Walton's. He stopped his horse and looked along the
draw. Then he looked along the road.
"Of course, I was going to Hillsville," he lied rapidly to himself,
"but I don't suppose it would hurt to sort of ride past her house.
Seems to me I heard somethin' about her leaving Prescott's. It may not
be true, and then again-- Let's go, feller."
Feller headed obediently into the draw.
Hazel Walton, sewing in the front room, saw a rider coming up the draw.
"That looks like Bill's horse," she muttered. "And Bill's hat. It--it
is Bill."
Her heart began to pound. Her throat constricted. There was something
the matter with her knees. She dropped the sewing in her lap and
clasped her hands together. She breathed in little gasps.
Billy Wingo came on. He came quite close--within twenty yards and
stopped his horse and rested his hands on the saddle horn, and looked
at the house. Just looked.
Although she knew he could not see her through the scrim curtains, she
drew her chair a little away and to one side.
He pushed back his hat with the old familiar gesture. His face was
expressionless. There were hollows under his eyes. He looked thin.
Poor boy. He had had an awfully hard time. And he had fought for her.
He had risked his life for her. Certainly she owed him a good
deal,--everything, in fact. And here she couldn't even find sufficient
courage to thank him. As though thanks, empty thanks, could possibly
be adequate. Sally Jane was right. She was a coward. And proud.
Especially proud. She shivered.
Suddenly Billy pulled his hat forward and picked up his reins. She saw
his heel move. The horse began to turn. It was then that something
snapped in Hazel's breast. Strength came to her shaking knees. She
sprang to her feet, ran to the door, flung it open and dashed out.
Billy's startled horse shied away. Billy dragged him back with a jerk.
Six feet from the horse Hazel stopped and stood very straight, her arms
stiff at her sides. Her knees began to shake again. She knew that her
voice would tremble. It did. "Bill, I--I've changed my mind. I was
wrong. I--you--you did the right thing to see it through. If--if you
hadn't, I don't know what would have become of me."
Then, of a sudden, he was off his horse, his arms were around her, and
she knew that all her troubles were over.