Anne Marshall had stepped from the porch to the living-room. Overland Red was alone with Louise.
Facing her quickly, his easy banter gone, his blue eyes intense, untroubled, magnetic, he drew a deep breath. "They're waiting for me down the cañon, about now," he said, and his tone explained his speech.
Louise frowned slightly, studying his face. "That is unfortunate, just now," she said slowly.
"Or most any time—for the other fella," responded Overland cheerfully.
The girl gazed at the toe of her slipper. "I know you didn't speak because you were afraid. What do you intend?"
"If I ain't oversteppin' the rules in invitin' you—why, I was goin' to say, 'Miss Lacharme, wouldn't you like to take a little buggy-ride in the Guzzuh, nice and slow. She's awful easy ridin' if you don't rein her too strong.'"
"I don't know," said Louise pensively. "Your car can only hold two?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"I couldn't run away and leave Mrs. Marshall. Of course, you would go on—after—after we were in the valley. How could I get back?"
"That's so!" exclaimed Overland, with some subtlety, pretending he had not thought of that contingency. "'Course Collie could ride down ahead with a spare hoss. You see the sheriff gent and Saunders—"