“Oh!” cried the girl, surprise and indignation in her voice. Her freed hand slapped Robinson’s cheek smartly; then she stared at him with widening eyes and flushed cheeks. “Oh!” Her voice was suddenly different, vibrant with eager welcome. “Oh, it’s you! My goodness, is that the way you show up?”
Holding the platter, Robinson surveyed her with twinkling eyes.
“That’s sure the way to show up, isn’t it?” he drawled. “I was afraid you might not give me the right kind of welcome, so I took it. Sort of forgot what I look like, since you and Jake were down in Pecos County last fall, haven’t you? Who’d you think was kissing you, anyway?”
The girl’s cheeks reddened again, then she broke into a glad laugh.
“If I’d known it was you,” she cried, “why——”
Hastily Robinson set down the doughnuts and turned to the doorway—but Estella had changed her position and now stood outside, laughing at him.
“Too late!” she exclaimed, and then held out her hand. “Goodness, but I’m glad to see you. I knew from what Miguel said that——”
“You see, Stella,” broke in Robinson, “there was a lot o’ trouble down below. The sheriff had been killed and Sam Fisher was filling out the job; he’ll prob’ly be elected anyhow. So Sam being sheriff, he couldn’t get away, and sent me up instead.”
Estella frowned sharply at him for a moment, studying his face. She was brown-haired, hazel-eyed, healthily brown of cheek and arm. Robinson returned her gaze innocently.
“I always did admire the way those tendrils of brown hair sort of break loose and curl down around your ears,” he said, cocking his head to one side and surveying her with critical stare. “Yes, ma’am, I always did, sure’s my name’s Jack Robinson! I met Miguel back yonder, where he’s powerful busy with some wire, and he allowed you would be glad to see me——”