It seemed that Jack Silver’s name was connected with the word “rustler.” There were two of these foreman that June did not like--Nort Jackson of the Lightning and Dave McLeese of the Two Bar X. Nort Jackson was tall, thin, swarthy, black of eye, and wore a weak black mustache. He smiled at her too much, June thought. McLeese was ruddy of skin, with cold blue eyes under huge blonde brows. His nose had been broken across the arch and a huge scar twisted his mouth into a leer. Reber told her McLeese had been kicked in the face by a shod horse. * * * * * It was several days after the shooting of Reber. Up to this time he had not mentioned Buck Priest to her. The doctor had finished dressing the wound and had given her orders for the feeding of the patient. Reber had been watching her closely for quite a while. “Gettin’ tired of bein’ nurse to an old man?” he asked suddenly. June smiled at him and shook her head. “No, I’m not tired, Mr. Reber.” “That’s good. I like you, June. You saved my life that night. Buck Priest is a good shot. He meant to kill me, yuh see. You shore thought real quick, June. You’ve got a head, girl. I’ve watched yuh around here and I’ve talked to yuh. You’ve got sense--too much sense to be playing a violin in a honkatonk.” June smiled at him. “One must eat, Mr. Reber. And you have paid me better than I could get any other place.” “You’ve earned it, June. I wondered how they’d take yore kind of music. But cowboys are sentimental. I’ve seen ’em cry over yore music. Give the average cowboy a few drinks and he’ll cry over ‘Home Sweet Home’. Yes, they will, June. Lot’s of ’em never had a regular home; lots of ’em were kicked out early in life--but they’ll cry, just the same.” “I suppose,” said June, nodding. “And you never asked me anythin’ about Buck Priest. That night he called me a dirty cow thief, didn’t he?” Park Reber smiled bitterly. “Mebbe Buck was drunk. He’s hated me for years, June. Oh, I’m no angel. I tried to run Buck out of this country. He’s a fighter. He’s not sorry he shot me, but sorry he didn’t kill me.” “Why didn’t you have him arrested, Mr. Reber?” “Arrested? For shootin’ me? Why, no, June, it was an even break. My shoulder-holster--well, it isn’t a fast draw. I’d have killed him. Oh, he hates me! Funny, isn’t it, June? We used to be pardners--me and Buck. “And it was all over a woman--a woman like you, June. She was like you in lots of ways, I think. The valley wasn’t what it is now. Tomahawk was a tradin’ post. This girl came here with her family in a covered wagon. I was in the south end of the valley at that time, where me and Buck had a small herd of cattle. Buck was here at the post, and met her.