“Why, of course you may come in Mr. Rizor,” the girl said, opening the door welcomingly wide, “and I hope that you will remain with us for the midday meal which is about to be served.”
Evidently he had not accompanied his men to the Mexican border, and Virginia was wondering about his reason for not having done so.
“Thanks, I’ll not be stopping but a minute,” he said. “My men are following what they think is a pretty sure trail, but my presence is more needed back in town today and so I’m headin’ that way, but, bein’ as I had something very important to say to you, I thought I’d stop even though it is a mile farther.”
Virginia’s heart beat rapidly. Had the sheriff real knowledge about Tom, and had he come to arrest him? If so, she must try to save their new cow-boy, but, how could she do it? The girl had been so busy with her own anxious thoughts that she had failed to note the expression of pleased pride that appeared in the face of the sheriff.
“Well, to come to the point, Miss Virginia,” he was saying, “we’ve got company down to our house, so to speak. Little Virginia Rizor arrived yesterday and she weighs eight pounds. My wife told me whether I caught the mail thief or not, I was to be sure and stop and tell you that she wants you to come as soon as you can to see your little namesake.” Then he added, “we’re hoping that she’ll grow up to be as fine a girl as you are.”
Virginia’s relief was so great that she almost shouted for joy. “I am indeed glad, Mr. Rizor!” she said. “Margaret, did you hear that splendid news? Please tell Mrs. Rizor that my friend and I will ride into town in a very few days to see her and the darling little baby.”
When the sheriff was gone Virginia almost cried, her relief was so great.
“The queer part of it is,” she told Margaret, “I just know that Mr. Rizor believes our Tom was the lad who was with the men who robbed the mail train, but for my sake he isn’t going to say a word about it.”
“I’m not so sure,” the other girl replied as she pointed out of the window. Virginia looked and saw that the sheriff, instead of taking the trail toward town, was slowly and thoughtfully riding toward the bunkhouse.