Scurrying away, McAlpin came back in a jiffy with the driver, Bradley. Thin, bent and grizzled though he was, Kate thought she saw under the broad but shabby hat and behind the curtain of scraggly beard and deep wrinkles dependable eyes and felt reassured.
"How far is it to the ranch?" she asked of the queer-looking Bradley.
"Long ways, the way you go, ain't it, Bill?" McAlpin turned to the old driver for confirmation.
"'Bout fourteen mile," answered Bradley, "to the ford."
"What time should I get there?" asked Kate again.
Bradley stood pat.
"What time'll she get there, Bill?" demanded Lefever.
"Twelve o'clock," hazarded Bradley tersely. "Or," he added, "I'll stop when I pass the ranch 'n' tell 'em to send a rig down in the mornin'."
"That would take you out of your way," Kate objected.
"Not a great ways."