She shuddered.
“What’s worryin’ you now?” Robin asked.
He did not see how news of his clash with Mark Steele could possibly have reached the Bar M Bar so soon. Therefore something else had cropped up to trouble Ivy. But he was wrong.
“One of the Davis boys was in town yesterday,” Ivy told him. “He got home in the night. Dad was up there seein’ the kids. Sam told him about you and Mark and Thatcher lockin’ horns. Oh, Robin, I was lookin’ to hear you’d been killed. I was scared—scared and sorry.”
“You got nothin’ to be sorry for about that,” Robin soothed her.
“Didn’t I act like a fool at that dance and stir things up?” Ivy mourned. “I asked Mark to take me to Davis’s just to spite you. Ugh!”
She peered up into Robin’s face.
“Did you—did Mark?” She seemed unable to go farther.
Robin shook his head.
“I didn’t have a gun. I couldn’t get one in Big Sandy. Maybe he’d ’a’ got me if I’d been heeled. ’Tain’t finished.”