“I don’t know of anyone who would buy it.”
“If your price was right I might be able to find you a buyer,” Blakeman said quickly. “But you couldn’t expect any fancy figure.”
“Who is your prospect?”
“Well, I’m not at liberty to say. But if you’d take, say five thousand dollars, I think I could swing the deal. That would pay off your bank note and give you something clear.”
“This ranch is worth three times that amount at least,” Connie replied. “I’ll never sell unless I’m compelled to do it.”
“If you wait very long you’ll miss your chance,” Blakeman warned. “The bank may sell you out, and then you’ll get even less.”
Connie made no reply but turned away. She had seen Jim Barrows crossing the courtyard and wished to talk with him. The foreman followed her gaze.
“If you’d give me a free hand I’d send that fellow on his way,” he declared.
“What do you know about Jim Barrows?” Connie questioned, pausing again.
“I told you what I thought of him the other day. They’re saying in town that you’ve taken a fugitive from justice to shelter.”