“Nobody knows; he skipped out when everybody was away from the shack.”
“Did he have any money?”
“I guess not. Hanks wouldn’t pay him.”
“It’s an outrage,” exclaimed Alta, “to treat him that way. That boy has been cruelly wronged.”
“You seem to be takin’ his goin’ pretty rough,” Dick insinuated.
“Why shouldn’t I? Fred is a friend of mine. The Bar B ranch ought to be ashamed of this business.”
“What you people gittin’ so serious about?” Sally interrupted them as the next dance closed. “Come on and dance.”
“All right!” said Dick, jumping up. “Miss Morgan’ll be glad to excuse me. She’s frettin’ over the cow-kid.”
Alta paid no heed to his jealous tone and words. She was lost in thought. With a woman’s intuition, she had hit upon the truth. Bud Nixon was at the bottom of some of Fred’s trouble; and she innocently had been the cause. She tried to shake off her anxiety and join in the rollicking fun; but though she seemed happy, a cruel worry was in her heart.
When the celebration finally broke up and the merry noises had faded with the echoes into silence, she stood again by the window looking into the depths of the starry sky above her while she thought of Fred somewhere battling alone with his trouble and hers. It was in that hour that Alta began to learn how much she cared. At last she turned to her couch, and knelt and prayed God to protect and comfort him.