“It isn’t so funny after all; it’s really pathetic. But—a house-woman! Ye Gods! That is the last thing I want to be—or could be. It’s all well for a novelty, but for steady diet—oh, me! If Hebby could have heard the law laid down to me, he’d be overcome with glee. Poor old Heb! I bet he is still frothing at the mouth because I gave him such a neat slip. I seem, however, to have only succeeded in changing keepers.”
She rode on, her conscience smiting her now and then when she recalled the look in Kurt’s eyes.
“I don’t deserve pity from him or anyone,” she thought a little sadly.
She made no mention at Top Hill of having met the foreman. Notwithstanding his orders, for three days she revelled in the companionship of Jo and the men.
“We must harvest all the hay we can,” she told him, “while Kind Kurt is away.”
On the evening of the third day, she found herself watching the hill road from town.
“I feel like Sister Anne,” she thought. “It’s odd, why I am wanting him to return, for when he does, my fun will be nipped in the bud. It may be the feeling of a dog for its master that I have acquired for my sheriff man. Jo will be going soon to Westcott’s. I think I will play up to Kind Kurt and then tell him what I revealed to Mrs. Kingdon. Wow!”
She turned from the window to hear the message Kingdon had just received from the telegraph office in town. An old-time friend had asked him to join a party of men at a ranch a hundred miles distant. His wife urged him to follow his apparent inclination.
“It’ll do you good, Louis, to see more of your kind again.”
“I wouldn’t consider it if you didn’t have such good company,” he said, with a whimsical smile in Pen’s direction.