Johnny knew that the old man would use any end to turn the girl against him. So, naturally, he asked himself what he had to gain by walking wide of the old cattleman. To defy her father might turn the girl against him. Johnny wondered. Surely Molly would like him less if he turned tail and ran. Yes, that was the correct answer, provided he considered himself as only an undesirable suitor. But just how much did that enter into the break between them?
To be frank, didn’t Jackson Kent see in him his accuser, the man whom he feared? Therefore, Traynor’s death had to be explained before he could hope for fair play from Kent. And Johnny was too pessimistic to believe that when solution of the murder had been achieved it would prove anything other than the old man’s guilt. Knowledge of that sort would not heal the breach. They would go to their death bitter enemies.
Knowing Molly for the girl she was Johnny realized that she would never go back on her father. The boy’s teeth sank into his lips. He saw now just how hopeless his dreams were. There was a barrier between Molly and him which could never be removed.
His head snapped back at the thought. Well, if it was written that he had to lose her, he at least would go down fighting. To hell with Jackson Kent! He was her father, but he was also a man. They were two men facing each other, fighting for her love. Kent was old, but his money and his power made it a fair fight. Let it ride!
Molly little guessed the thoughts racing through Johnny’s mind or understood the tenseness of his voice as he answered her.
“Why,” he said slowly, “I’ll stop at the Diamond-Bar if you want me to.”
“No, you won’t!” came a startling interruption; “the last word I said to you was ‘git!’ Keep off the Diamond-Bar! I might ’a’ known I’d find you here fillin’ my girl’s head with your schemes and nonsense. I told you before to git, and I tell it to you now! Go!”
Kent’s wrinkled face was crimson as he thundered on, and Molly’s knees shook at his sudden appearance. Johnny’s eyes narrowed angrily at the old man. How long he had been there in the doorway the boy did not know. He must have crept up the stairs.
Beseechingly, Molly held out her arms to her father.
“Please, father,” she entreated, “don’t make a scene! Are you mad? You didn’t have to steal upon us in this fashion. Whatever difference of opinion there is between you two, it doesn’t call for this sort of conduct.”