Allen saw that he had stepped out of character. In order to gain time for thought, he busied himself with his food for a moment. After he had swallowed his meat, he looked up at her and grinned.
“I don’t mean nothin’. Only the way yuh spoke, I sorta thought yuh liked him, an’ it ain’t right to believe nothin’ of nobody unless yuh give them a chance to tell their side,” he blundered.
“But—the rustlers were blottin’ the Double R to Double B, an’ that’s his brand. He—he—— Some one said he killed a man an’ he had to hide out. Spur said he came back an’ tried rustlin’ to get even.”
“Did yuh see your dad after he was shot?” Allen asked quickly, as thought materialized in his brain.
“No.”
“Then he didn’t live to say nothin’?”
“Yeh, he talked to Spur an’ wrote a—a——” She broke off, as a heavy tread sounded in the next room.
A moment later, the door opened and Spur Treadwell entered. Allen noticed he was so tall that he had to stoop as he came through the door. He glanced swiftly at Allen and then to the girl. His eyes were penetrating, inquiring, and Allen saw a glint of suspicion in them.
“If yuh’re goin’ to work for me, yuh have to hustle down your grub faster than that,” he said with a touch of harshness in his voice.
“It was my fault, an’ it is my ranch, an’ if I want to talk to one of my men, I will.” The girl was quick to spring to Allen’s defense.