"You go on home or I'll break you in two," said Tenlow.
Collie's reply was a flail-like blow between Tenlow's eyes. The deputy staggered, gritted his teeth, and flung himself at the younger man. The fight was unequal from the beginning. Apache snorted and circled as the bushes crashed and crackled.
A few minutes later, Tenlow strode from the brush leading his pony. He wiped the blood and sweat from his face and spat viciously.
Louise, riding homeward slowly, heard a horse coming behind her. She reined Sarko and waited. Collie saw no way out of it, so he rode up, grinning from a bruised and battered face.
"Why, Collie!"
The young man grinned again. His lips were swollen and one eye was nearly closed.
Dismounting, Louise stepped to the ford. "Oh, I'm sorry!" she cried. "Your face is terribly bruised. And your eye—" She could not help smiling at Collie's ludicrous appearance.
"I took a fall," he mumbled blandly. "Apache here is tricky at times."
Louise's gaze was direct and reproachful. "Here, let me bathe your face. Stoop down, like that. You don't look so badly, now that the dirt is off. Surely you didn't fall on your eye?"