“You will not hate Anita?” Tears spilled over the fat lids and trickled down the cheeks of the old squaw.
Whatever Nevada said, she spoke in Indian, stealing a shy glance now and then at Rawley. But her voice crooned caresses. Now and then she kissed the old hand she held in both her own.
Anita tucked in her bangs, drew two fingers across her cheeks to dry her tears and smiled. She turned heavily toward Rawley.
“My girl say, loves you more—I love your grandfadder. My girl make you good wife.”
“Hush, Grandmother! He doesn’t want a fighting squaw—”
“Don’t, eh?” Rawley got up and made for her.
At that moment Peter walked in upon them, unconscious of the fact that he was interrupting a very interesting conversation. Peter’s face was grave.
“Nevada, do you and mother know anything about Young Jess? Gladys is all upset over him. She thought he was down in the river with his father. She heard them talking about getting gold, and then the dam went, and she hasn’t seen him since. If he’s hiding,” he added sternly, “he may as well come out and show himself. I think it can be fixed up. The Governor wants to ask him some questions.”
“How could I know? I was penned in when the cabin fell to pieces,” Nevada countered. “They certainly said nothing to me, either one of them. I didn’t see them all afternoon or evening.”
Anita slowly lifted her hand to her face and gropingly tucked in her bangs. Her eyes were fixed dumbly on Peter’s face.