He and Skinny occupied their usual places. He looked once at Skinny's shirt, murmured softly and in a tone of infinite disgust and pity, "Hell!" then ate his food in silence. During the meal Carolyn June ignored him, but smiled tenderly and often at Skinny. Old Heck and the widow, at the far end of the table, carried on a low-voiced dialogue.
During the afternoon the Ramblin' Kid remained away from the house. A couple of times, glancing out of the window, Carolyn June saw him at the circular corral petting and caressing Captain Jack or the Gold Dust maverick.
When Sing Pete hammered the iron triangle announcing supper Parker and the cowboys had returned, the hides from the dead steers had been unloaded and the men were ready for the meal.
As Carolyn June and Ophelia went into the kitchen they exchanged a look of understanding. Skinny lagged behind Old Heck. He dreaded the shock of the white shirt on the other cowboys. When he stepped into the room his face flamed scarlet and beads of sweat stood out on his forehead. He expected merciless, sarcastic chiding—thinly veiled but cruel. He was disappointed. The cowboys looked at him for a moment, exchanged winks, then sat silently and solemnly down to the table. The presence of the women had saved, for the time being, the suffering Skinny.
Carolyn June distributed tender words and velvety looks impartially among the younger cowboys, while Ophelia alternated sweet nothings between Parker and Old Heck, with an occasional sidelong glance at Charley that brought a heightened color to his sun-browned cheeks.
Chuck sighed dolefully.
"Why so sad?" Carolyn June asked gently, looking with melting sympathy at the pensive cowboy.
"I—I—was just thinking of a—a—funeral I saw once!" he answered, gazing steadily and with pretended awe at Skinny's white shirt. "Some colors always remind me of funerals or—or—weddings!" he explained.
A suppressed snicker circled the table.
"Don't be down-hearted," Carolyn June laughed, "it may not go that far.