There was something in his manner that comforted her—a calm confidence, a slow ease of movement as he fingered his cigarette that indicated perfect tranquility—an atmosphere of peace that could not have surrounded him had he meditated any evil whatever.
She knew, now, that she had misjudged him. For he had made no attempt to take advantage of her loneliness and helplessness. And whatever his reputation—whatever the crimes he had committed against the laws—he had been a gentleman in his attitude toward her. That feature of his conduct dominated her thoughts as she stretched out on the bed; it was her last coherent thought as she went to sleep.
CHAPTER XIII
HARLAN TAKES CHARGE
Barbara could not have told why she had not acted upon her determination to ride westward to the Star ranch to acquaint John Haydon with the predicament into which the events of the past few hours had plunged her. She could not have explained why she permitted the first day—after Harlan’s coming—to pass without going to see Haydon, any more than she could have explained why she permitted many other days to pass in the same manner.
She was almost convinced, though, that it was because of the manner in which Harlan took charge of the ranch—the capable and business-like way he had of treating the men.
For the outfit came in late in the afternoon following the night which had marked the death of Lawson—the straw-boss explaining that he had received explicit orders from Lawson to “work” a grass level several miles down the river.
One other reason for Barbara’s failure to ride to the Star—a reason that she did not permit to dwell prominently in her thoughts—was resentment.