"They're in the dugout—with the horses. They were in here, until you came."
She leaned back, breathing fast. Her color was high, her eyes were shining with satisfaction. And while Lawler watched her she laughed quaveringly.
"Then I had that long, cold ride for nothing," she said.
Lawler looked straight at her. "You knew the fence was to be cut?"
Her color receded and she met his gaze unflinchingly, resolutely.
"Yes. I overheard Gary Warden telling two of the Two Diamond men—Link and Givens—to cut it. Warden wanted to destroy all your cattle. It seems he has had men watching them—and your men. And he learned the herd was on the level near here. He told the men to wait until a storm threatened. Gary didn't know I overheard him telling the men to cut the fence; and I said nothing to him. But I waited until I saw an opportunity, and then I came, to warn the men I expected would be here. I didn't expect to find you here; and I intended to keep silent regarding what I had heard."
"Why are you telling it, now?"
She blushed again and gazed downward. Then she looked at him with direct, puzzled eyes.
"I—I really don't know," she said, hesitatingly. "I expect it was because I felt guilty—or because I thought I saw something in your eyes that made me think you knew that I hadn't ridden over here for the fun of it. It was a very cold and disagreeable ride.
"And, somehow, I—I think you ought to know it. When I overheard Gary telling those men to cut the fence it seemed to me that it was the meanest scheme I ever had heard of. I was so angry I could have horse-whipped Gary. At the time I believe I wasn't thinking of you at all—I just kept seeing those poor cows wandering away in the storm, to freeze to death in the open. And I determined to ride over here and prevent it. I suppose what I have told you will make trouble for Gary. I suppose I shouldn't have told you."