He sat up and rolled a cigarette. The sun thrust searching yellow fingers into the valley of the Marias. The winter-bleached log walls of the house drew his gaze and set his mind to work in fruitless speculation. This must be quite an outfit, he reflected. The house was big, built to accommodate a score of men. He had marked a bunk room across that hall from the roomy kitchen. The stable argued plenty of riding stock in winter. There were machinery and wagons, even a spring buggy, under a lean-to shed. Yet apparently the place was held down by a young woman, a baby, and one man. Hadn’t the girl said there were no other men? Still, she had been more or less fussed at the time. The riders might be afar on round-up. But Rock had that sense of abandonment, just the same. It was rather puzzling. Whereupon he reached for his boots, dressed, fed and watered the horses, and sat down on the river bank to watch the clear water sparkle in the sun, while he waited some sign of life from the house.
He didn’t wait long. A voice at his elbow roused him to attention. The girl had come unseen and unheard. Her dark hair was coiled in a neat rope about her head. She had on a short gray skirt and a white blouse. Her skin, in the clear morning light, was like a piece of satin, dusky and transparent. Rock had seen enough of slatternly women on ranches to make him appreciate freshness. There was a peculiar interest-compelling quality about this girl, over and above her youth and charm. Rock had felt it last night. He felt it now, even when she said no more than a low-toned: “Good-morning, Mr. Holloway.
“I thought you had gone,” she continued, “until I saw you moving around here. I must have seemed rather inhospitable last night, not even thinking where you were to sleep.”
“A cowpuncher,” Rock drawled, “generally carries his bed with him when he’s on the move. And there’s all outdoors to spread it in.”
“Of course. But when you come to a ranch—— Well, breakfast’s ready.”
He walked with her to the house.
“I got up early,” she said when they had finished. “Betty generally sleeps till seven or eight o’clock. I thought——”
She stopped a moment, then continued with quiet decision:
“I want to bury him.”
“Here?” Rock didn’t mistake her meaning.