“Wait!” commanded the sheriff shortly. “Your foreman made me certain promises, and I reckon that you are out against orders. I wouldn’t be surprised if Sneed wants you right now.”
Larry laughed uneasily. “Oh, I reckon he ain’t losin’ no sleep about us. We won’t hurt nobody” –whereat Bill grinned. “Come on, fellows.”
“Well, I hope you get what you’re looking for,” replied the sheriff, whereat Bill snickered outright and winked at Charley, who sat alert and scowling behind the sheriff, rather hoping for a fight.
Larry flashed the driver a malicious look and, wheeling, cantered south, followed by his companions. They rode straight for the point at which The Orphan had disappeared, Bill waving his arms and crying: “Sic ’em.” The chase was on in earnest.
The stage door suddenly flew open with a bang and interrupted the explanations which Bill was about to offer, and in a flash the sheriff was almost smothered by the attentions showered on him. Laughing and struggling and delighted by the surprise, the peace officer could not get a word edgewise in the rapid-fire exclamations and questions which were hurled at him from all sides.
But finally he could be heard as he extricated himself from the embraces of his sisters.
“Well, well!” he cried, smiles wreathing his face as he stepped back to get a good look at them. “You’re a sight to make a sick man well! My, Helen, but how you’ve grown! It’s been five years since I saw you–and you were only a schoolgirl in short dresses! And Mary hasn’t grown a bit older, not a bit,” addressing the elder of the two. Then he turned to the friend. “You must pardon me, Miss Ritchie,” he said as he shook hands with her. “But I’ve been looking forward to this meeting for a long time. And I’m really surprised, too, because I didn’t expect you all until the next stage trip. I had intended meeting you at the train and seeing you safely to Ford’s Station, because the Apaches are out. I couldn’t get word to you in time for you to postpone your visit, so I was going to take Charley and several more of the boys and escort you home.”
Then he looked about for Charley, and found that person engaged in conversation with Bill as the two examined the bullet-marked stage.
“Come here, Charley!” he cried, beckoning his friend to his side. “Ladies, this is Charley Winter, and he is a real good boy for a puncher. Charley, Miss Ritchie, my sisters Mary and Helen. I reckon you ladies are purty well acquainted with Bill Howland by this time, but in case you ain’t, I’ll just say that he is the boss driver of the Southwest, noted locally for his oppressive taciturnity. I reckon you two boys don’t need any introducing,” he laughed.
Then, while the conversation throbbed at fever heat, Bill suddenly remembered and wheeled toward the sheriff.