“It—it’s awful. What in the world can I do, anyway?”
“How about a room at the hotel?”
“No; I’ve got to get out of here. You don’t understand, of course, but I must go, and there isn’t a train until morning.”
Cultus grinned to himself at the whims of fate. He couldn’t let her leave Medicine Tree. It would ruin all his plans. And but for the twisted ankle she would have simply disappeared. And he didn’t intend to let her get away.
“You set right here,” he told her. “I’m goin’ to get a rig at the stable and take you where you’ll be safe.”
Della was suffering too much to question her destination. She wanted to get out of Medicine Tree; to get to almost any place, except the Triangle X, and she felt sure that Cultus was not going to take her out there.
It seemed hours before Cultus drove the team around to the corner of the corral and lifted her into the buggy, and she was too weak from the pain to question him. As they drove past the lighted window of Henderson’s store, Oscar Link, the bartender, saw them and waved his hand at Cultus.
He went across the street to the War Dance, where he found Butch and Mac still at the bar. Oscar was amused.
“Wimmin must be scarce around here,” he laughed. “I jist seen Cultus Collins takin’ Della for a buggy ride.”
Butch stared at him foolishly.