Connie went back to the campfire knowing that it was wise to get as much rest as possible. She warned Cecil and his sister that a storm was coming, but both elected to remain. They spread out their bed tarps near the chuck wagon.
Connie fell asleep almost at once, but in a short while she was awake again. The air had grown cold. It was pitch dark.
Connie arose and tossed a log on the fire. She could not see the herd to the southward but she heard the rumble of hoofs. The steers were on the move again.
“I ought to be getting out there,” Connie thought. “There’s going to be trouble a-plenty.”
Cookie had left the coffee pot on the bed of coals. She poured herself a cup of the strong brew, trying to get the sleep out of her eyes.
As she sipped the coffee she heard a horse pounding across the hard ground. Enid Bradshaw rode into the firelight, springing from the saddle.
“Connie,” she said breathlessly, “there’s going to be a bad storm, and your cows are sure to run. I came over to help if you need me.”
“Thank you,” replied Connie coldly, after a moment of silence. “We don’t need any help.”
“I know how you feel toward me,” Enid said earnestly. “You think Pop and I have plotted to ruin you.”
“You did take two of my guests away,” Connie returned. “But in business and love they say all is fair.”