“He doesn’t appear to me to be the sort of man who would steal cows,” she said with a smile which made Duncan’s teeth show. “Although,” she continued significantly, “it does seem that he is the sort of man I would not care to trifle with—if I were a man. You told me yourself, if you remember, that you were not taking any chances with him. And now you accuse him. If I were you,” she warned, “I would be more careful—I would keep from saying things which I could not prove.”
“Meaning that I’m afraid of him, I reckon?” sneered Duncan.
Sheila looked at him, her eyes alight with mischief. That day on the edge of the butte overlooking the river, when Duncan had talked about Dakota, she had detected in his manner an inclination to belittle the latter; several times since then she had heard him speak venomously of him, and she had suspected that all was not smooth between them. And now since Duncan had related the story of the calf incident she was certain that the relations between the two men were strained to the point of open rupture. Duncan had bothered her, had annoyed her with his attentions, had adopted toward her an air of easy familiarity, which she had deeply resented, and she yearned to humiliate him deeply.
“Afraid?” She appeared to hesitate. “Well, no,” she said, surveying him with an appraising eye in which the mischief was partly concealed, “I do not believe that you are afraid. Perhaps you are merely careful where he is concerned. But I am certain that even if you were afraid of him you would not refuse to take his pony back. I promised to send it back, you know.”
A deep red suddenly suffused Duncan’s face. A sharp, savage gleam in his eyes—which Sheila met with a disarming smile—convinced her that he was aware of her object. She saw also that he did not intend to allow her to force him to perform the service.
He bowed and regarded her with a shallow smile.
“I will have one of the boys take the pony over to him the first thing in the morning,” he said.
Sheila smiled sweetly. “Please don’t bother,” she said. “I wouldn’t think of allowing one of the men to take the pony back. Perhaps I shall decide to ride over that way myself. I should not care to have you meet Dakota if you are afraid of him.”
Her rippling laugh caused the red in Duncan’s face to deepen, but she gave him no time to reply, for directly she had spoken she turned and walked toward the ranchhouse. Both Duncan and Langford watched her until she had vanished, and then Langford turned to Duncan.
“What on earth have you done to her?” he questioned.