“You make me ashamed,” said Tharon straightly, “but Last’s ain’t takin’ chances these days. You may belong to Government, an’ you may belong to Courtrey, an’ I’m against ’em both.”
She walked with him to the door, stepped out, as if with some thought to soften her unprecedented treatment of the stranger under her roof. She noted the trim figure of him in its peculiar garb, the proud carriage, the even and easy comportment under insult.
From his saddle he untied a package wrapped in paper.
“Will you please take this?” he asked lightly, holding it out. “Just on general principles.”
But she shook her head.
“I can’t take no favours from you when I’ve just took stand against you, can I?” she asked in turn.
“Well, of all the ridiculous–––”
The man laughed again shortly, tossed the 94 package on the step, mounted, whirled and rode away without a backward glance.
Tharon stood frowning where he left her until the brown horse and its rider were well down along the levels toward Black Coulee.
Then a sigh at her shoulder recalled her and she turned to see the wistful dark face of Paula gazing raptly in the same direction.