“Oh, Mrs. Goode, please don’t! Somehow she startles me.” It was Mary imploring, although she knew her fears were foolish.
Mrs. Goode merely replied, “All right, dear. The tray can wait until morning.”
Dora moved the kerosene lamp from the bureau to the small table. Then they sat down and nibbled at the chicken sandwiches which had been temptingly made. The milk was creamy and Dora succeeded in finishing her share.
Mary, carrying a half-eaten sandwich, went to the window and looked across the desert. She whirled and beckoned, then pointed. “Don’t you see a horseman galloping this way?”
“I do see some object that seems to be coming pretty fast,” Dora conceded. “Now it’s out of sight below the silver hills.”
Almost breathless they waited until the horseman again appeared. “He’s probably the bearer of some sort of message,” Dora decided when the man leaped from his horse and ran into the hotel.
Mary had put the partly eaten sandwich back on her plate and sat with clenched hands waiting—hoping that they would soon learn the news which the man brought.
“Don’t expect the worst,” Dora begged.
Although Mary was hoping there would come a knock at their door, she jumped again when she heard it. Once more it was Dora who went to admit their caller. A young cowboy, hot and panting, stood there holding out an envelope.
“The writin’ ain’t in it, it’s on the back of it,” he informed them.