Ranching -- West (U.S.) -- Fiction; Western stories
Her eyes, which from the first had scarcely left his face, widened, and a
puzzled look came into them.
"But you must know," she returned a trifle stiffly.
"I'm sorry, but I don't," he assured her.
"Oh--duties!" She spoke with a touch of soft impatience. "It's what you've
done, not what you haven't done that--. But surely this is a waste of
time? It's not particularly--pleasant; and I don't see what will be gained
by going into all the--the details."
Something in her tone stung him. "Still, it doesn't seem quite fair to
condemn even a common cow-puncher unheard," he retorted with a touch of
sarcasm.
She stiffened, and a faint flush crept into her face. Then her chin went
up determinedly.
"You rode to Paloma yesterday morning." It was more of a statement than a
question.
"Yes."
"In the gully this side of the Rocking-R trail you met a Mexican on a
sorrel horse?"
Again Buck acquiesced, but inwardly he wondered. So far as he knew there
had been no witness to that meeting.
"He handed you a letter?"
Buck nodded, a sudden feeling of puzzled wariness surging over him. For an
instant the girl hesitated. Then she went on in a soft rush of
indignation:
"And so last night those Mexican thieves, warned that the middle pasture
would be unguarded, broke in there and carried off nearly two hundred head
of cattle!"
As he caught her meaning, which he did almost instantly, Buck flushed
crimson and his eyes flashed. For a moment or so he was too furious to
speak; and though most of his rage was directed against the man who, with
such brazen effrontery, had sought to shift the blame of his own criminal
plotting, he could not help feeling resentment that the girl should so
readily believe the worst against him. A vehement denial trembled on his
lips, but in time he remembered that he could not utter it without giving
away more than he was willing to at the present moment. With an effort he
got a grip on himself, but though his voice was quiet enough, his eyes
still smoldered and his lips were hard.
"I see," he commented briefly. "You believe it all, of course?"
She had been watching him closely, and now a touch of troubled uncertainty
crept into her face.
"What else can I do?" she countered. "You admit getting the letter from
that Mexican, and I saw Tex take it out of your bag."
This information brought Buck's lips tightly together and he frowned.
"Could I see it--the letter, I mean?" he asked.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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