“Are you against us, too?” Hetty asked, with a flash in her eyes. “I am not afraid.”
The judge made her a little respectful inclination. “You are Torrance of Cedar’s daughter, and everyone knows the kind of grit there is in that family. While I knew the cattle-men would raise a good deal of unpleasantness when I married you, I did it out of friendliness for Larry; but it is my duty to uphold the law, and I can’t have your husband’s friends and your father’s cow-boys making trouble here.”
“Larry,” said the girl tremulously, “we must go on again.”
Grant’s face grew stern. “No,” he said. “You shall stay here in spite of them until you feel fit to ride for the railroad.”
Just then a man came in. “Battersly saw Torrance with the Sheriff and Clavering and quite a band of cow-boys ride by the trail forks an hour ago,” he said. “They were heading for Hamlin’s, but they’d make this place in two hours when they didn’t find Larry there.”
There was an impressive silence. Hetty shuddered, and the fear in her eyes was unmistakable when she laid her hand on her husband’s arm.
“We must go,” she said. “It would be too horrible if you should meet him.”
“Mrs. Grant is right,” said the storekeeper. “We know Torrance of Cedar, and if you stayed here, Larry, you and she might be sorry all your lives. Now, you could, by riding hard, make Canada to-morrow.”
Grant stifled a groan, and though his face was grim his voice was compassionate as he turned to Hetty.
“Are you very tired?” he said gently. “It must be the saddle again.”