She had been watching him closely, and now a touch of troubled uncertainty crept into her face.
“What else can I do?” she countered. “You admit getting the letter from that Mexican, and I saw Tex take it out of your bag.”
This information brought Buck’s lips tightly together and he frowned. “Could I see it—the letter, I mean?” he asked.
She hesitated a moment, and then, reaching across the table, took up the shabby account-book he had seen before and drew from it a single sheet of paper. The note was short and written in Spanish. It was headed, “Amigo Green,” and as Buck swiftly translated the few lines in which the writer gave thanks for information purported to have been given about the middle pasture and stated that the raid would take place that night according to arrangement, his lips curled. From his point of view it seemed incredible that anyone could be deceived by such a clumsy fraud. But he was forced to admit that up to a few weeks ago the girl had never set eyes on him, and knew nothing of 170 his antecedents, whereas she trusted Lynch implicitly. So he refrained from any comment as he handed back the letter.
“You don’t—deny it?” asked the girl, an undertone of disappointment in her voice.
“What’s the use?” shrugged Stratton. “You evidently believe Lynch.”
She did not answer at once, but stood silent, searching his face with a troubled, wistful scrutiny.
“I don’t know quite what to believe,” she told him presently. “You—you don’t seem like a person who would—who would— And yet some one must have given information.” Her chin suddenly tilted and her lips grew firm. “If you’ll tell me straight out that you’re nothing but an ordinary cow-puncher, that you have no special object in being here on the ranch, that you’re exactly what you seem and nothing more, then I—I’ll believe you.”
Her words banished the last part of resentment lingering in Stratton’s mind. She was a good sort, after all. He found himself of a sudden regarding her with a feeling that was almost tenderness, and wishing very much that he might tell her everything. But that, of course, was impossible.
“I can’t quite do that,” he answered slowly.