Believing that the woman’s volubility would soon wear itself out, Bowser had waited for her to pause of her own accord. But when, after extending her hearty invitation for the riders to come in and eat, she started on a fresh tack, the ranchman decided to interrupt.
“Isn’t Hen home?” he asked, the failure of the man to appear suggesting the far from welcome idea.
“No. He and the boys have been gone three days driving in the cattle for shipping. I expect him back this afternoon, though. He said it wouldn’t be more than three days at the longest.” Then, noting the look of disappointment that her words brought to her neighbor’s face, she asked hastily: “There isn’t anything wrong, is there? Nothing’s happened to Sarah?”
“Sarah’s all right; at least, she was when we left at daybreak. But some ornery cowlifters got into my home corral last night and made off with fifty head.” And briefly he told Mrs. Hawks the uncanny circumstances of the raid.
With eyes growing bigger at each word, the good woman listened to the account of the mysterious spectre.
“Sakes alive! and you’ve left Sarah alone with that thing liable to drop in on her any minute?” she exclaimed, in consternation. “If I were she, I wouldn’t stay there by myself a minute. No, sir, not a single minute. It isn’t fair of you to make her, Sam. I’d just like to see Henry Hawks leave me alone under such conditions.”
This vigorous scolding for failure to afford protection to his wife shamed the owner of the Double Cross, and hot flushes glowed beneath his weather-tanned face as he strove to excuse himself.
“That’s just what I came over here for,” he stammered. “I wanted Hen to let me have a couple of his boys so’s I could use mine to trail the raiders.”
“It makes no difference what you intended to do,” declared Mrs. Hawks. “You men are all alike. You seem to think that we women can take care of ourselves, no matter what happens. And, as though it weren’t enough to make us live way out in the plains, you go and leave us whenever you feel like it. If I were Sarah, I’d let you know what I thought of such treatment, especially with a spook hanging about.”
“Well, thank goodness, you’re not Sarah,” muttered Bowser under his breath, though aloud he said: “To tell the truth, Amy, I was so riled up over being tricked the way I was that the only thing I thought of was getting on the lifters’ trail. But, after what you’ve said, I see it wasn’t just right toward Sarah.