The question came with a curious little gulp.
Jim shook his head, which the lamplight transformed to something like burnished silver.
“I didn’t see him,” he said smilingly. “No, he wasn’t there,” he went on definitely. “It didn’t seem he’d been there since he came up here with Blanche, chasing after you. The harvest was standing in fine ear. Your team and cows were out at grass. There wasn’t a sign at the house, or his bunk-house, that he’d been around.”
Larry hastily devoured the remains of his drink. Jim was lighting his pipe. Blanche had forgotten the beauties of the night, and laid one hand gently on Molly’s shoulder.
“He borrowed my Pedro,” she said. “He left his horse here, down at the barn.”
Molly turned in a flash.
“You hadn’t told me,” she said sharply.
“No,” Blanche said. “You were sick.”
Molly drew a deep breath.
“Why did he borrow your Pedro?” she asked.