“Her blood ain’t so bad. Wetherford was a fool and a daredevil, but he came of good Virginia stock—so I’ve heard.”
“Well, whatever was good in both sire and dame this girl seems to have mysteriously gathered to herself.”
The old man looked at him with a bright sidelong glance. “You are a little sweet on the girl, eh?”
Ross began to regret his confidence. “She’s making a good fight, and I feel like helping her.”
“And she rather likes being helped by you. I could see that when she brought the coffee to you. She likes to stand close—”
Ross cut him short. “We’ll not discuss her any further.”
“I don’t mean any harm, Mr. Ranger; we hobos have a whole lot of time to gossip, and I’m old enough to like a nice girl in a fatherly way. I reckon the whole valley rides in to see her, just the way you do.”
Cavanagh winced. “You can’t very well hide a handsome woman in a cattle country.”
Edwards smiled again, sadly. “Not in my day you couldn’t. Why, a girl like that would ‘a’ been worth a thousand head o’ steers. I’ve seen a man come in with a span of mules and three ordinary female daughters, and without cinching a saddle to a pony accumulate five thousand cattle.” Then he grew grave again. “Don’t happen to have a picture of the girl, do you?”
“If I did, would I show it to you?”