"Don't be frightened, Mrs. Glendon. It's only Limber, I brung a message for you from Glendon."
He entered the room, and blinked in the lamplight, but Katherine, seeing the expression on his face, was not deceived.
"What's the matter?" she asked quickly.
Limber hesitated, cleared his throat and wondered how it would be best to tell his message. All the way he had been puzzling what to say. If it had been a man, or any other woman, it would have been easier; but the cowpuncher shrank from adding to the troubles of the woman. It was like striking her.
"Why—it's—just—don't be frightened, Mrs. Glendon," floundered Limber, and cursed himself for making matters worse. "It's not so serious—"
She clutched the back of a chair; her face was white, but her voice steady. "Tell me, just as you would another man, Limber. I won't break down. Is he dead?"
"Not a bit of it," replied Limber in relieved tones. "He's all right—well as I am. But thar's been trouble in town and Glen shot Paddy Lafferty. Dick Alpaugh seen it and says it was self-defence. So Glen will be acquitted all right; but he's under arrest till the inquest. He wanted me to come and tell you."
Limber repeated the meager details, avoiding her eyes as much as possible, and watching Tatters, whose head he was stroking as he talked. The silence became oppressive after he ceased speaking, and Limber lifted his eyes.
Katherine, apparently forgetful of his presence, sat staring at the wall, her hands twitching nervously at her kitchen apron. Her face was deathly white. Limber wished she would cry, though he dreaded a woman's tears.
"Don't take it so hard, Mrs. Glendon. It's just a matter of form, him bein' held. Glendon will be home tomorrow night."