Hetty's cheeks flushed. "You are horribly unkind. Can't you take anything
from me? Still--you--have got to think now. If I let you go, you will
promise not to make any more trouble for my father and Allonby, or
anybody?"
Grant only looked at her with an odd little smile, but the crimson grew
deeper in Hetty's cheek. "Oh, of course you couldn't. I was sorry the last
time I asked you," she said. "Larry, you make me feel horribly mean; but
you would not do anything that would hurt them, unless it was quite
necessary?"
"No," said the man drily, "I don't think I'm going to have an
opportunity."
"You are. I came to let you go. It will be quite easy. Chris is quite
foolish about Flo."
Grant shook his head. "Doesn't it strike you that it would be very rough
on Chris?"
Hetty would not look at him, and her voice was very low. "If anyone must
be hurt, I would sooner it was Chris than you."
He did not answer for a moment, and the girl, watching him in sidelong
fashion, saw the grim restraint in his face, which grew almost grey in
patches.
"It is no use, Hetty," he said very quietly. "Chris would tell them
nothing. There is no meanness in his father or him; but that wouldn't stop
him thinking. Now, you will know I was right to-morrow. Take him back his
pistol."
"Larry," said the girl, with a little quiver in her voice, "you are right
again--I don't quite know why you were friends with me."
Grant smiled at her. "I haven't yet seen the man who was fit to brush the
dust off your little shoes; but you don't look at these things quite as we
do. Now Chris will be getting impatient. You must go."
Hetty turned away from him, and while the man felt his heart throbbing
painfully and wondered whether his resolution would support him much
longer, stood very still with one hand clenched. Then she moved back
towards him swiftly, with a little smile.
"There is a window above the beams, where they pitch the grain-bags
through," she said. "Chris will go away in an hour or so, and the other
man will only watch the door. There are horses in the corral behind the
barn, and I've seen you ride the wickedest broncho without a saddle."
She whisked away before the man, who felt a little, almost caressing,
touch upon his arm; and heard something drop close beside him with a
rattle, could answer, and in less than a minute later smiling at Chris
Allonby gave him back his pistol.
"Do you know I was 'most afraid you were going to make trouble for me?" he
said.
"But if I had you wouldn't have told."