“In Calford? Why?”
The girl’s sharpness told of a sudden fear which the name of Calford inspired.
“It’s your evidence that’ll have to send him to the rope. You saw him shoot Sinclair, your man, the father of your child, to death?”
“Yes.”
“Then you’ll give that evidence in Calford.”
Years of experience lay behind the gaze which never for a moment left the girl’s face. Fyles was striving to fathom her savage soul. But he remained baffled.
Suddenly Annette swung around on him and her voice was moaning.
“My kid’ll have no father,” she cried. “I tell you my kid’ll have no father. Say—— Yes. The rope’ll get him if I ken pass it. We were raised together. The Wolf an’ me. Kids. Play kids. He made me do as he said, an’—an’ I didn’t mind. We fought together. An’ played, too. An’ we were mostly ready to fight anyone who butted in. An’—he’s killed my man. The father of my kid. Yes, I’ll go to Calford. But Pideau’ll kill me fer it.”
“No. You can cut that notion right out. I’ve told you. You’ll be safe.” Fyles moved to go. “Come right along. I’m going back. Before we make Buffalo Coulee you’ll go your way, and I mine. And remember. Six to-morrow night.”