In marked contrast to this affectionate intimacy, Isobel was distrait and hurried when she came to take leave of the wounded man. He had risen to his feet, and she could not ignore his proffered hand. But she avoided his gaze and quickly withdrew her fingers from his warm clasp to hurry off.
CHAPTER XXI
MADONNA DOLOROSA
Blake was cooking supper when, shortly before sunset, Gowan drove up to the waterhole, with a pony in lead behind the heavy wagon. Leaving the wagon with the rope and other articles of his load on the far side of the creek bed, he watered and picketed the horses, and came across to the tent with his rifle and a roll of blankets.
“Howdy, Mr. Blake. Got here in time for supper, I see,” he remarked as he unburdened himself. “Met Mr. Knowles and the ladies down near the ranch. They told me about the shooting.” He faced about to stare at Ashton’s bandaged head. “They told me you came mighty near getting yours. You shore are a lucky tenderfoot.”
Ashton shrugged superciliously. “The worst of it is the additional hole in my hat. I see you have a new one. Is that the latest style on the range?”
“Stetson, brand A-1.,” replied the puncher. “How does it strike you, Mr. Blake?––and my new shirt? Having a dude puncher on our range kind of stirred up my emulosity. They don’t have real cowboy attire 245 like his at an ordinary shorthorn cow town like Stockchute––but I did the best I could.”
Blake made no response to this heavy badinage. He set the supper on the chuck-box, and laconically said: “Come and get it.”