There was a battle of eyes between the two men. Westcott’s flinched, finally, and sought the horizon.
“There ain’t any other ‘or else,’” Gard said, at last. “It’s going the way I stated.”
Westcott had arisen, sneering, but before he could speak again Helen’s voice broke in upon them:
“They’re coming!” she cried, joining her guests. “You’d think they had a whole drove of cattle, from the noise.”
A cloud of white dust far on the desert had resolved itself into a flurry of men, horses and cattle, coming in on a run. There was a thunder of hoofs, and a chorus of yells, and presently the “gentle” work-cattle were being herded into one of the corrals.
One of the horsemen separated himself from the group and rode on to the casa. This was Morgan Anderson, and he shouted greeting to Westcott as he swung from the saddle. He came into the shade of the cottonwoods firing a volley of genial questions, and giving bits of detail about the morning’s work, until Helen reminded him that it was close upon dinner-time. That meal was taken at noon, at the Palo Verde, so Anderson excused himself to clean up. He was dusty and begrimed from the hot day’s work. He carried Westcott off as well, to remove the traces of his own long ride, and as Helen had already gone into the house, on some domestic errand, Gard was left alone.
The temporary solitude was welcome, and he lay back in the long chair half dizzied by the thoughts and memories that besieged his brain. Uppermost, for the instant, was an intense, grateful sense of relief. Westcott had so plainly not recognized him that he might consider one source of immediate danger to himself removed. He would probably be able to carry this business through with no other difficulties than lay in the matter itself.
There would be plenty of these. Westcott would see to that. He was evidently fully aware of the position he was in, and would let no scruples stand in the way of protecting himself.
“He’ll do just about anything—” Gard spoke half aloud, then checked himself, recalling that this was not the solitude of the glade.
“He’ll make a big fight,” he thought, “both to keep the property and to escape being punished.”