hawses, cap. We got no call to be threatening this young lady. We keep her for a ransom because that's business. But she's as safe here as she would be at the Rocking Chair. She's got York Neil's word for that.”
The Wolf snarled. “The word of a miscreant. That'll comfort her a heap. And York Neil's word don't always go up here.”
The cowpuncher's steady eyes met him. “It'll go this time.”
The girl gave her champion a quiet little nod and a low “Thank you.” It was not much, but enough. For on the frontier “white men” do not war on women. Her instinct gave just the right manner of treating his help. It assumed that since he was what he was he could do no less. Moreover, it had the unexpected effect of spurring the Wolf's vanity, or something better than his vanity. She could see the battle in his face, and the passing of its evil, sinister expression.
“Beg your pardon, Miss Mackenzie. York's right. I'll add my word to his about your safety. I'm a wolf, they'll tell you. But when I give my word I keep it.”
They turned and followed through the gateway the cattle which Hardman and another rider were driving up the canon. Presently the walls fell back, the gulch opened to a saucer-shaped valley in which nestled a little ranch.
Leroy indicated it with a wave of his hand. “Welcome to Hidden Valley, Miss Mackenzie,” he said cynically.
“Afraid I'm likely to wear my welcome out if you keep me here until my father raises thirty thousand dollars,” she said lightly.
“Don't you worry any about that. We need the refining influences of ladies' society here. I can see York's a heap improved already. Just to teach us manners you're worth your board and keep.” Then hardily, with a sweeping gesture toward the weary cattle: “Besides, your uncle has sent up a contribution to help keep you while you visit with us.”
York laughed. “He sent it, but he didn't know he was sending it.”
Leroy surrendered his room to Miss Mackenzie and put at her service the old Mexican woman who cooked for him. She was a silent, taciturn creature, as wrinkled as leather parchment and about as handsome, but Alice found safety in the very knowledge of the presence of another woman in the valley. She was among robbers and cutthroats, but old Juanita lent at least a touch of domesticity to a situation that would otherwise have been impossible. The girl was very uneasy in her mind. A cold dread filled her heart, a fear that was a good deal less than panic-terror, however. For she trusted the man Neil even as she distrusted his captain. Miscreant he had let himself be called, and doubtless was, but she knew no harm could befall her from his companions while he was alive to prevent it. A reassurance of this came to her that evening in the fragment of a conversation she overheard. They were passing her window which she had raised on account of the heat when the low voices of two men came to her.
“I tell you I'm not going, Leroy. Send Hardman,” one said.
“Are you running this outfit, or am I, Neil?”
“You are. But I gave her my word. That's all there's to it.”
Alice was aware that they had stopped and were facing each other tensely.
“Go slow, York. I gave her my word, too. Do you think I'm allowing to break it while you're away?”
“No, I don't. Look here, Phil. I'm not looking for trouble. You're major-domo of this outfit What you say goes—except about this girl. I'm a white man, if I'm a scoundrel.”
“And I'm not?”
“I tell you I'm not sayin' that,” the other answered doggedly.
“You're hinting it awful loud. I stand for it this time, York, but never again. You butt in once more and you better reach for your hardware simultaneous. Stick a pin in that.”
They had moved on again, and she did not hear Neil's answer. Nevertheless, she was comforted to know she had one friend among these desperate outlaws, and that comfort gave her at least an hour or two of broken, nappy sleep.
In the morning when she had dressed she found her room door unlocked, and she stepped outside into the sunshine. York Neil was sitting on the porch at work on a broken spur strap. Looking up, he nodded a casual good morning. But she knew why he was there, and gratitude welled up in her heart. Not a young woman who gave way to every impulse, she yielded to one now, and shook hands with him. Their eyes met for a moment and he knew she was thanking him.
An eye derisive witnessed the handshake. “An alliance against the teeth of the wolf, I'll bet. Good mo'ning, Miss Mackenzie,” drawled Leroy.
“Good morning,” she answered quietly, her hands behind her.
“Sleep well?”
“Would you expect me to?”
“Why not, with York here doing the virgin-knight act outside your door?”
Her puzzled eyes discovered that Neil's face was one blush of embarrassment.
“He slept here on the po'ch,” explained Leroy, amused. “It's a great fad, this outdoor sleeping. The doctors recommend it strong for sick people. You wouldn't think to look at him York was sick. He looks plumb husky. But looks are right deceptive. It's a fact, Miss Mackenzie, that he was so sick last night I wasn't dead sure he'd live till mo'ning.”
The eyes of the men met like rapiers. Neil said nothing, and Leroy dropped him from his mind as if he were a trifle and devoted his attention to Alice.
“Breakfast is ready, Miss Mackenzie. This way, please.”
The outlaw led her to the dining room, where the young woman met a fresh surprise. The table was white with immaculate linen and shone with silver. She sat down to breakfast food with cream, followed by quail on toast, bacon and eggs, and really good coffee. Moreover, she discovered that this terror of the border knew how to handle his knife and fork, was not deficient in the little niceties of table decorum. He talked, and talked well, ignoring, like a perfect host, the relation that existed between them. They sat opposite each other and ate alone, waited upon by the Mexican woman. Alice wondered if he kept solitary state when she was not there or ate with the other men.
It was evening before Hardman returned from the mission upon which he had been sent in place of the obstinate Neil. He reported at once to Leroy, who came smilingly to the place where she was sitting on the porch to tell her his news.
“Webb Mackenzie's going to raise that thirty thousand, all right. He's promised to raise it inside of three days,” he told her triumphantly.
“And shall I have to stay here three whole days?”
He looked with half-shut, smoldering eyes at her slender exquisiteness, compact of a strange charm that was both well-bred and gypsyish. There was a scarce-veiled passion in his gaze that troubled her. More than once that day she had caught it.
“Three days ain't so long. I could stand three months of you and wish for more,” he told her.
Lightly she turned the subject, but not without a chill of fear. Three days was a long time. Much might happen if this wolf slipped the leash of his civilization.
It was next day that an incident occurred which was to affect the course of events more than she could guess at the time. A bunch of wild hill steers had been driven down by Hardman, Reilly, and Neil in the afternoon and were inclosed in the corral with the cows from the Rocking Chair Ranch. Just before sunset Leroy, who had been away all day, returned and sauntered over from the stable to join Alice. It struck the girl from his flushed appearance that he had been drinking. In his eye she found a wild devil of lawlessness that set her heart pounding. If Neil and he clashed now there would be murder done. Of that she felt sure.
That she set herself to humor the Wolf's whims was no more for her own safety than for that of the man who had been her friend. She curbed her fears, clamped down her startled maiden modesty, parried his advances with light words and gay smiles. Once Neil passed, and his eyes asked a question. She shook her head, unnoticed by Leroy. She would fight her own battle as long as she could.