And obviously Johnny could not answer truthfully. He pondered lie after lie without finding one to pass muster. Kent saw his helplessness.
“You can’t answer, eh? Well, maybe you can tell me what you’re doin’ here in this room.”
“Tony and I came to git our stuff,” Johnny replied.
“Your stuff? It ain’t in here, is it?”
“I had a little present for Miss Molly. I wanted to leave it where she’d git it. I reckoned I’d not be seein’ her again, soon.”
“Present?” Old Jackson’s lips curled contemptuously. “I’ll bring all the presents she needs. You been treated most like one of the family round here, so you show your gratitude by shinin’ up to my girl, eh?”
“You know that ain’t so,” Johnny answered miserably. “Hobe and me has been bringin’ her little things nigh ten years.”
“She was a child then. And you carryin’ her picture around. I won’t have it! Damn it, I won’t! My girl ain’t intended for no forty-dollar-a-month cowpunch. I want that picture.”
Johnny shook his head. Less angry than he had been, he said:
“I can’t give it to you. If Molly says she wants it, all right. I’ll give it to her. Ain’t no talk goin’ to make me change my mind about that.”