Each cast furtive, curious glances at Ophelia. The information that she was an "Organizer"—presumably for a "Movement" involving woman's political rights—caused them to view her with a kind of reverential awe and fear. The widow and Carolyn June, apparently, were wholly unconscious of the thoughts in the minds of the men. Both women were as innocent-looking and attractive as ever—matching with their early morning freshness the bowl of roses Carolyn June, before the call to breakfast, had gathered and placed on the table.
The Ramblin' Kid sat at the right of Carolyn June. It was the first time they had met at the table. He said nothing and seemingly was lost in thought. When they had entered the kitchen Carolyn June and he had spoken and for a moment he looked into her eyes with an expression that caused her own to drop and the warm blood to rush over her throat and face. She had felt that same sensation of "soul-nakedness" she experienced when she looked into his eyes that first time when she was at the circular corral and he was lying under the shed. Neither spoke of the incidents of the previous day.
The other cowboys and Old Heck studied Ophelia with a sort of fascination, casting shy upward glances at her from over their plates.
Parker and the Ramblin' Kid only, were at ease and undisturbed.
"You wouldn't think she was one by looking at her, would you?" Chuck said in an undertone to Charley.
"Some of them's so blamed slick they can't hide it."
"I reckon that's right," Chuck whispered back, "it's an awful jolt to
Old Heck, ain't it?"
"Yes, he's taking it pretty hard," Charley mumbled.
"Her forehead does bulge out a good deal in front, when you come to look at it, don't it?" Chuck observed under his breath.
"Quite a lot," Charley answered in the same tone; "that's one indication!"