“That’s right.” The cool, hard eyes of Sheriff Matson rested quietly in those of the cattleman. “Wonder if I’m on one now. I’ve been asked to arrest a man eloping with another man’s wife, Mac.” “I reckon Tait phoned you from Wagon Wheel.” “You done guessed it.” “He’s gone crazy with the heat. False alarm, sure.” “Says his wife is aboard this train. Is she?” “Yes.” “Says you took him by surprise and knocked him cold on the depot as the train was leaving.” “He’s made a record and told the truth twice running.” “Where’s she going? Mrs. Tait, I mean.” “To Laramie. Her sister lives there.” “Running away from Tait?” “Looks like it.” Again the sheriff’s hard gaze searched McCoy. “Came down from Bovier’s camp with you in your car, I understand.” “Yes. I gave her a lift down.” Rowan’s voice was as even as that of the officer. “Suppose you give me a bill of particulars, Mac.” The cattleman told a carefully edited story. When he had finished, Matson made one comment: “Tait says she hadn’t a dollar. Wonder where she got the money for a ticket.” “I wonder.” The eyes of the two men met in the direct, level fashion of the country. “Going anywhere in particular in those glad rags, Mac?” The sheriff’s question was dropped lightly, but McCoy did not miss its significance. He knew that for the sake of Norma’s reputation he must remove all doubt from the mind of the officer. “Why, yes, Aleck. I’m going to Cheyenne,” he assented. “A cattle deal?” “Not exactly—object-matrimony, Sheriff.” Matson shot a direct, stabbing look at him. “You’ve told me too much or too little.” “The young lady is named Trovillion. She spent two months at the Dude Ranch this summer.” The sheriff rose. “Nuff said, Mac. I wasn’t elected to do Tait’s dirty work for him. I get off at this crossing. So long, old scout—and good luck to you on that object-matrimony game.” Left to himself, Rowan did not at once return to his magazine. His mind drifted to the girl he was on his way to marry. It was likely these days, whenever he was not busy, to go back to her, magnetized by the lure of her dark-eyed beauty. The softness and fragility of his sweetheart moved him to awe. That her fancy had selected him out of so many admirers was to him still an amazing miracle. He did not know that the mystery back of his silence had captured her imagination just as the poignancy of her piquant charm had laid a spell on his. CHAPTER IX A RIFT IN THE LUTE THEY were married. And in swift procession the months followed the weeks.