For a moment she grasped the side of the seat to steady herself, turning her head away quickly. Her heart seemed to come up in her throat.
It was Jack Pollock, the San Francisco gambler! Madge’s friend! He was the last man she had ever expected to see again, and the last one she wished to see. Her mind was in a whirl, as the team drew up in front of the store. Whispering looked at her and put his hand on her arm.
“What’s the matter—too much sun?” he asked.
“I—I’m all right,” she said jerkily.
“Yo’re mighty white, ma’am. I’ll help yuh down and git yuh in the shade. A derned old wagon is the hottest place on earth, anyway. We’ll git some water for yuh.”
She walked shakily into the store, where Whispering secured a cup of cold water for her. The proprietor of the store was solicitous, but helpless.
“Oh, I’m all right now,” she said weakly.
“You set right here,” advised Whispering. “I’ll go up to the bank and git them cheques, and I’ll tell Grant about it. I know him well. You jist take it easy. Give Jim Albers here yore grub list, and he’ll fix it up while I’m away.”
Nan was more than thankful to Whispering. She didn’t want to go out on the street. It was cool in that dark corner of the store, and she wanted time to think. What was Jack Pollock doing in Lobo Wells, she wondered? Baggs had spoken about him, and Nan realised that Pollock was the one who was going to send Madge Allan to Lobo Wells to take over the Box S property.
Had some one suspected that she was an impostor and sent for Jack Pollock to prove the suspicion? She was at the end of her rope, and she knew it. A word from Pollock would prove who she was.