Ross was angry now. “What I intend to do is none of your business.”
The other man was suddenly ablaze with passion. His form had lost its stoop. His voice was firm. “I merely want to say that if you play the goat with that girl, I’ll kill you!”
Ross stared at him quite convinced that he had gone entirely mad. “That’s mighty chivalrous of you, Mr. Sheep-herder,” he replied, cuttingly; “but I’m at a loss to understand this sudden indignation on your part.”
“You needn’t be—I’m her father!”
Cavanagh fairly reeled before this retort. His head rang as if he had been struck with a club. He perceived the truth of the man’s words instantly. He gasped: “Good God, man! are you Ed Wetherford?”
The answer was quick. “That’s who I am!” Then his voice changed. “But I don’t want the women to know I’m alive—I didn’t intend to let anybody know it. My fool temper has played hell with me again”—then his voice grew firmer—“all the same, I mean it. If you or any man tries to abuse her, I’ll kill him! I’ve loaded her up with trouble, as you say, but I’m going to do what I can to protect her—now that I’m in the county again.”
Ross, confused by this new complication in the life of the girl he was beginning to love, stared at his companion in dismay. Was it not enough that Virginia’s mother should be a slattern and a termagant? At last he spoke: “Where have you been all these years?”
“In the Texas ‘pen.’ I served nine years there.”
“What for?”
“Shooting a man. It was a case of self-defence, but his family had more money and influence than I did, so I went down the road. As soon as I was out I started north—just the way a dog will point toward home. I didn’t intend to come here, but some way I couldn’t keep away. I shied round the outskirts of the Fork, picking up jobs of sheep-herding just to have time to turn things over. I know what you’re thinking about—you’re saying to yourself, ‘Well, here’s a nice father-in-law?’ Well, now, I don’t know anything about your people, but the Wetherfords are as good as anybody. If I hadn’t come out into this cursed country, where even the women go shootin’ wild, I would have been in Congress; but being hot-headed, I must mix in. I’m not excusing myself, you understand; I’m not a desirable addition to any man’s collection of friends, but I can promise you this—no one but yourself shall ever know who I am. At the same time, you can’t deceive my girl without my being named in the funeral that will follow.”