Parrish asked hesitatingly would the next night do as well? He had promised Mrs. Parrish to go to Yuma to fetch some medicines she needed. She wasn’t well, but if it was pressing—
“Surely, go,” agreed Rickard. “But you will be passing the camp. Lay off early to-night, and start in time to have a talk with me before going to Yuma. Here, this is what I’m figuring on.” He wanted to try it on the practical mind, unbiased by conventions. He drew his idea again, elaborating the suggestion of inside borrow-pits.
“I don’t see why it isn’t right,” frowned Parrish, whose ideas grew slowly.
“I believe it is right. But I’ll go over it carefully at the office. Drop in early. I’ll give you your orders for to-morrow.”
Rickard turned back toward camp, deep in his thought; so intent that a sharp cry had lost its echo before the import came to him. He stopped, hearing running steps behind him. Innes Hardin was loping up the bank like a young deer, with terror in her eyes.
“Mr. Rickard,” she cried, “Mr. Rickard!”
She was trembling. Her fright had flushed her; cheek to brow was glowing with startled blood. He saw an odd flash of startling beauty, the veil of tan torn off by her emotion. The wave of her terror caught him. He put out his hand to steady her. She stood recovering herself, regaining her spent breath. Rickard remembered that this was the first time he had seen her since the murder of Maldonado, since the meeting with the Mexican woman at his tent. “What was it frightened you?”
“The Indian, the murderer. Just as they describe him on those notices, the high cheek-bones, the scar, a terrible gaunt face. I must have fallen asleep. I’d been reading. I heard a noise in the brush, and there was his face staring at me. Foolish how frightened I was.” Her breath was still uneven. “I screamed and ran. Silly to be so scared.”
He started toward the willows, but she grabbed his sleeve. “Oh, don’t.” She flushed, thinking to meet the quizzical smile, but his eyes were grave. He, too, had had his fright. They stood staring at each other. “I’m afraid—” she completed. How he would despise her cowardice! But she could not let him know that her fear had been for him!
He was looking at her. Suppose anything had happened to her! He had a minute of nausea. If that brute had hurt her—and then he knew how it was with him!