Tharon drew a long breath.
“Courtrey’s beginnin’,” she said. “He’s heard th’ word I sent th’ settlers. He’s goin’ t’ use th’ tactics now with Last’s that he’s used with every poor devil he wanted to run out of th’ Valley, th’ tactics he darsent use while Jim Last lived. Well––go send Conford to me, Billy.”
The girl sat down in the doorway and gazed sombrely out over the summer land.
When her foreman came and stood before her, a slim, efficient figure, dark-faced and quiet, she had already made up her mind.
“Burt,” she said swiftly, “drive th’ cattle down from th’ Cup Rim right away. We’ll run those two bunches under Blue Pine an’ Nick Bob out toward th’ Black Coulee. Tell ’em t’ keep 56 close t’ th’ others. I trust th’ Indians, but there ain’t no Indian livin’ can meet Courtrey’s white renegades in courage an’ wits. Then we’ll start right in an’ dig a well th’ first well ever dug on th’ open range in this man’s land.”
“Good Lord, Tharon!” said Conford, “A well!”
“Yes. Th’ livin’ water holes have been th’ pride of th’ Valley, I know, but we’ll fix this well of ours so’s even Courtrey will respect it.”
There was a grim note in the golden voice.
“How?” asked Conford uneasily.
“Dig it first,” said Tharon, “then I’ll tell you.”