He detested himself for having alarmed her. Instead of the pleasant half hour he had looked forward to, he had frightened and hurt her. The thing to do now was to still any rising suspicion she might have and get her started for home. So he made small of Molly’s deductions.
“Traynor may have been a friend of your father’s,” he said to her. “Or again just another coincidence. As you rightly said, things like that don’t prove a thing. Wasn’t nothin’ else planted a doubt in my mind, and I see how downright senseless it was now.”
“Are you being honest with me, Johnny?”
“Of course. Why don’t you take the night train to Argenta? Matt will see that you git home. Won’t be no trouble sendin’ your horse out to the ranch.”
“I guess that would be the best thing to do. But you, Johnny, what are you going to do?”
“Goin’ over to the Injun country tomorrow.”
“Elk Valley? What strange business is taking you there?”
“Crosbie Traynor. I aim to find out who killed him. He was on the Reservation two days just before he came into the Rock. I reckon I’ll find out who had it in for him over there. I owe it to you to clear up this thing.”
“I wish I could go with you, but of course I can’t. Will you go in by the way of the ranch? It’s not much farther than by way of the North Fork.”
It was on Johnny’s tongue to say: “Of course, if you want me to,” but hadn’t old Jackson Kent warned him off? Rebellion began to surge in Johnny’s soul. Kent confronted him at every turn. And this would continue to happen. It began to dawn upon the boy that things indeed were at a pretty pass. It was squarely up to him to decide those little questions of conduct by which he would either win or lose Molly Kent. She was the stake.