For several moments no one moved or spoke. Eph King looked at Molly, whose face had gone white.
“That’s the rub,” said Jack harshly. “—— knows I don’t blame her, after what she’s had to stand, but you should have known that she would be suspected. And you sent that note.”
“That note?” King’s voice was husky.
“The note that that man—” pointing at Mac—“brought. The note that caused me to cripple him, King. I got a corner off it, anyway. I reckon you were willin’ to take any old kind of a chance to get information. You knew that the men of Lo Lo never hang women, so you used my wife.
“Oh, it don’t matter much now, except that it will cause a few men to lose their lives, and the sheep will make a dust pile out of Lo Lo, like you promised. They’ve branded me a traitor, because Molly is my wife. I wanted you to know all about it, King. But I’m not runnin’ away. I won’t blame Molly if she goes back to you—but I’d—I’d miss her somethin’ awful.”
Jack turned and looked at Molly, as he finished speaking. She shook her head slowly, her eyes filled with tears.
“Well——”
King sighed deeply and moistened his lips with his tongue. He seemed undecided what to say. There was nothing arrogant about him now; nothing that would brand him as the hard fighting sheep king. He seemed to have grown suddenly old.
“I’m not going, Dad,” Molly whispered.
“No, I don’t suppose so,” said her father dully.