“Perhaps not. I’d hate to believe it. And, still, I don’t know. It’s just a feeling. If Elmer Duffy didn’t shoot Doc, I can’t imagine who would. Doc never quarreled with any one else around here that I know about, and I think that I would know if he had.”
“Sometimes,” Rock said, and he was thinking of himself when he spoke, “things that are a long way behind a man crop up. Queer things happen in the cow country. Well, what about it? Do you want to keep it dark about Doc being shot and let me play his hand for a while? Or shall I announce myself to Elmer Duffy and everybody else who takes me for Doc Martin?”
“Suit yourself,” she said. “You will be taking your own chances.”
“On what?”
“On whatever happens.”
“Oh, well, I don’t mind taking a sporting chance now and then.” Rock swung lightly off the fence. “What’s the program now, Miss Parke?”
“Rope that sorrel for me and that chunky bay for yourself,” she said crisply. “And catch me that black pony.”
Nona saddled her horse as soon as Rock, and she had him saddle the small black horse with an extra rig in the stable. They rode to the house. The girl swung down, darted in, and came out with a cushion, which she fastened across the fork of her saddle. Then she called Betty, and that chubby person toddled forth.
Nona put her on the cushion and swung up to her seat. The child, all smiles for Rock, rode easily within the protection of her sister’s arm. The extra horse trotted at the end of Rock’s lead rope, as they set off down the valley.