“Oh, I see,” Rock said. But somehow he didn’t feel comfortable about that. He wasn’t sure that he cared to be thrown too much in the company of this yellow-haired girl with the pansy-blue eyes and the come-hither smile lurking always about her mouth. He had no intention of stepping into Doc Martin’s shoes a second time.
“I expect I’d better get some dinner on,” Nona said finally. “After dinner you’d better go with Charlie when he heads for the Maltese Cross and have him show you where those work horses run. We’ll need them for this haying business.”
Rock went into the bunk room when Nona departed to cook. Charlie Shaw’s long form was still draped on a bunk, but he was merely resting.
“Gosh, I’ll get caught up on sleep when I get home,” he grumbled. “The man who rides with the Maltese Cross don’t need a bed. He’d just as well trade it off for a lantern, so he could see to catch his saddle horse before daylight.”
“We’re going to be hay diggers for a spell, you and me,” Rock informed him.
“Don’t hurt my feelin’s.” Charlie yawned. “Have a good bunk to sleep in an’ fancy home grub. Make up for all these hardships in the winter. Nothin’ to do then but play crib with Nona and take a ride to town once in a while. Say, there was pretty near something to clean up around here, wasn’t there? All will be peaceful along the Potomac now, I guess. Buck was hell-bent to string Doc to a cottonwood bough. They cleaned up the Burrises last night, so the boys said.”
“Was the Seventy Seven in on that?” Rock inquired.
“No; not even the whole Maltese Cross bunch. Just Buck and a few of his pets—the hardest nuts in the outfit.”
“Then their word was all that was plastered on Doc. No wonder Elmer Duffy wasn’t overly eager about the job,” Rock commented.
“Just Buck’s word, so far as I know,” the boy drawled. He turned on his side and eyed Rock attentively. “The other fellows just grunted.”