“There ain’t enough for some people,” grimly laughed Doubler. “Some people is hawgs—askin’ your pardon, ma’am. I wasn’t expectin’ your father to be like that, after seein’ you. I was hopin’ that we’d be able to get along. I’ve had some trouble with Duncan—not very long ago. Once I had to speak pretty plain to him. I expect he’s been fillin’ your dad up.”
“I’ll see father about it.” Sheila’s face was red with a pained embarrassment. “I am sure that father will not make any trouble for you—he isn’t that kind of man.”
“He’s that kind of a man, sure enough,” said Doubler gravely. “I reckon I’ve got him sized up right. He ain’t in no way like you, ma’am. If you hadn’t told me I reckon I wouldn’t have knowed he is your father.”
“He is my stepfather,” admitted Sheila.
“I knowed it!” declared Doubler. “I’m too old to be fooled by what I see in a man’s face—or in a woman’s face either. Don’t you go to say anything about this business to him. He’s bound to try to run me off. He done said so. I don’t know when I ever heard a man talk any meaner than he did. Said that if I didn’t sell he’d make things mighty unpleasant for me. An’ so I reckon there’s goin’ to be some fun.”
Sheila did not remain long at Doubler’s cabin, for her mind was in a riot of rage and resentment against her father for his attitude toward Doubler, and she cut short her ride in the hope of being able to have a talk with him before he left the ranchhouse. But when she returned she was told by Duncan’s sister that Langford had departed some hours before—alone. He had not mentioned his destination.
Ben Doubler had omitted an important detail from his story of Langford’s visit to his cabin, for he had not cared to frighten Sheila unnecessarily. But as Langford rode toward Doubler’s cabin this morning his thoughts persisted in dwelling on Doubler’s final words to him, spoken as he and Duncan had turned their horses to leave the nester’s cabin the day before:
“If it’s goin’ to be war, Langford, it ain’t goin’ to be no pussy-kitten affair. I’m warnin’ you to stay away from the Two Forks. If I ketch you or any of your men nosin’ around there I’m goin’ to bore you some rapid.”
Langford had sneered then, and he sneered now as he rode toward the river, for he had no doubt that Doubler had uttered the threat in a spirit of bravado. Of course, he told himself as he rode, the man was forced to say something, but the idea of him being serious in the threat to shoot any one who came to the Two Forks was ridiculous.