“Also my cousin,” murmured Dicksie evenly.
“You don’t understand this matter at all!” declared Lance Dunning vehemently.
“Nothing could justify your language.”
“Do you think I am going to allow this railroad company to ruin this ranch while I am responsible here? You have no business interfering, I say!”
“I think I have.”
“These matters are not of your affair!”
“Not of my affair?” The listeners stood riveted. McCloud felt himself swallowing, and took a step backward with an effort as Dicksie advanced. Her hair, loosened by her ride, spread low upon her head. She stood in her saddle habit, with her quirt still in hand. “Any affair that may lead my cousin into shooting is my 140 affair. I make it mine. This is my father’s roof. I neither know nor care anything about what led to this quarrel, but the quarrel is mine now. I will not allow my cousin to plunge into anything that may cost him his life or ruin it.” She turned suddenly, and her eyes fell on McCloud. “I am not willing to leave either myself or my cousin in a false position. I regret especially that Mr. McCloud should be brought into so unpleasant a scene, because he has already suffered rudeness at my own hands–––”
McCloud flushed. He raised his hand slightly.
“And I am very sorry for it,” added Dicksie, before he could speak. Then, turning, she withdrew from the room.
“I am sure,” said McCloud slowly, as he spoke again to her cousin, “there need be no serious controversy over the right-of-way matter, Mr. Dunning. I certainly shall not precipitate any. Suppose you give me a chance to ride over the ground with you again and let us see whether we can’t arrive at some conclusion?”