Dakota’s eyes lighted with incredulity. “I reckon you’re a liar,” he said with cold emphasis.
Duncan’s gaze went to the pistol in Dakota’s hand and his lips curled. He knew that he was perfectly safe so long as he made no hostile move, for in spite of his derogatory remarks about the man he was aware that he never used his weapons without provocation.
Therefore he forced a smile. “You ain’t running no Blanca deal on me,” he said. “Calling me a liar ain’t going to get no rise out of me. But she sent me, just the same. I reckon, liking you as I do, that I ought to be glad she gave me the chance to come over and see you, but I ain’t. We was gassing about you and she told me I was scared to bring your cayuse back.” He laughed mirthlessly. “I reckon I’ve proved that I ain’t any scared.”
“No,” said Dakota with a cold grin, “you ain’t scared. You know that there won’t be any shooting done unless you get careless with that gun you carry.” His eyes were filled with a whimsical humor, but they were still alert, as he watched Duncan’s face for signs of insincerity. He saw no such signs and his expression became mocking. “So she sent you over here?” he said, and his was the voice of one enemy enjoying some subtle advantage over another. “Why, I reckon you’re a kind of handy man to have around—sort of ladies’ man—running errands and such.”
Duncan’s face bloated with anger, but he dared not show open resentment. For behind Dakota’s soft voice and gentle, over-polite manner, he felt the deep rancor for whose existence he alone was responsible. So, trying to hold his passions in check, he grinned at Dakota, significantly, insinuatingly, unable finally to keep the bitter hatred and jealousy out of his voice. For in the evilness of his mind he had drawn many imaginary pictures of what had occurred between Dakota and Sheila immediately after her rescue by the latter.
“I reckon,” he said hoarsely, “that you take a heap of interest in Sheila.”
“That’s part of your business, I suppose?” Dakota’s voice was suddenly hard.
Duncan had decided to steer carefully away from any trouble with Dakota; he had even decided that as a measure for his own safety he must say nothing which would be likely to arouse Dakota’s anger, but the jealous thoughts in his mind had finally gotten the better of prudence, and the menace in Dakota’s voice angered him.
“I reckon,” he said with a sneer, “that I ain’t as much interested in her as you are.”
He started back, his lips tightening over his teeth in a snarl of alarm and fear, for Dakota had stepped down from the doorway and was at his side, his eyes narrowed with cold wrath.