“Did you hear? Rex Randerson killed Kelso.”
“I heard about it some days ago,” said Ruth. “It’s horrible!”
“What do you reckon is horrible about it?” questioned Hagar, with a queer look at her friend.
“Why,” returned Ruth, surprised; “the deed itself! The very thought of one human being taking the life of another!”
“There’s worse things than killin’ a man that’s tryin’ to make you shuffle off,” declared Hagar evenly. “Rex Randerson wouldn’t kill nobody unless they made him do it. An’ accordin’ to what dad says, Kelso pulled first. Rex ain’t lettin’ nobody perforate him, you bet!”
“He is too ready with his pistol.”
The girl caught the repugnance in Ruth’s voice. “I thought you kind of liked Randerson,” she said.
Ruth blushed. “What made you think that?” she demanded.
“I’ve heard that you’ve gone ridin’ with him a lot. I just reckoned it.”
“You are mistaken, Hagar. I do not like Randerson at all. He is my range boss—that is all. A murderer could never be a friend to me.”