“I dunno,” admitted Luke, scratching his head; “but it did seem dern funny to me.”
“It’s funny the man with you didn’t take a shot at him,” commented Wichita. “Most all of the boys believe in shooting an Apache first and inquiring about his past later.”
“There wasn’t no one with me,” explained Luke. “There wasn’t no one around but me when I left, and I didn’t want to waste time waiting fer someone to show up. Anyways, I kin see alone jest as fer as I kin with help.”
“Well, I reckon he’ll be coming along pretty soon, Luke,” said Wichita. “Good night.”
“Good night, Miss,” replied Jensen.
Chapter Thirteen
Back To Sonora
DAWN broke and Wichita Billings still sat fully dressed waiting for her father. It was the first time that she had ever worried greatly over his absence, and she could not explain why she worried now. She had always thought of her father as absolutely able to take care of himself in any emergency. He was a masterful man, utterly fearless, and yet not prone to take unnecessary chances.
A dozen times she had been upon the point of going to the bunk house and sending the entire outfit out to search for him, but each time she had shrunk from the ridicule that she well knew would be slyly heaped upon both her father and herself if she did so without good warrant; but now with a new day come and no word from him, she determined to swallow her pride and carry out her plan, however foolish it might appear.
Persistent knocking on the bunk house door finally elicited a profane request for information as to what was “eating” her.