“He admits it. Oh, he’s sorry, Conley. He swears he didn’t shoot you. Why, man, he’s in love with your daughter.”
The old man averted his eyes and his bony old face twitched.
“That’s what hurts, Hartley—hurts worse than the bullet-hole in my side. That’s what hate does. I—I was goin’ to let Dawn marry Jimmy Moran, because I hated his father. Goin’ to help his son marry a half-breed girl. It wasn’t right.”
“It was right, Conley; he loves her.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I didn’t want him to at first. I gave him orders to keep away. But I got to thinkin’ how it would hurt Frank Moran. That’s hate. I’m not fit for much. By God, I was goin’ to sell my girl! It’s the same thing. Love! Bah! What in hell did I care about love? But I’ve had plenty of time to think lately. I fenced Hot Creek against the Big 4, but I didn’t kill them steers. No, I didn’t, Hartley. I’m a cowman. I’ve been a cowman ever since the old minin’ days. Do you know, this ranch was a minin’ claim? It was. About twenty-five years ago I located this as a minin’ claim. In them days there was plenty of buyin’ and sellin’ prospects. You know Ryker? He was an assayer. Frank Moran was here. He had plenty of money to buy mines. He’s always had money.”
“You not talk too much,” advised Mrs. Conley.
“I’m all right, mother. It was great in the old days; but the mines played out. This was my last location. I dug my discovery hole just west of Hot Creek. There’s an old sycamore up there on the slope. It was a small tree twenty-five years ago, and it was there that I tacked my notice and dug my discovery. But things went wrong in the minin’ game, and a little later I homesteaded and went in for cattle. I went up into Idaho to buy stock and that’s where I met Minnie.”
“My father big chief,” said Mrs. Conley.
“Mm-m-m-m,” grunted Conley. “Not so awful big. You see, he stole some horses from me, and I went after ’em. I made him a trade for Minnie. He had six other daughters; so it wasn’t hard to make a trade, you see.”
“We get married, too,” said Minnie.