“Bring her in,” ordered Mrs. Snow. “I’ll sure take care of her and nobody’s goin’ to know where she is. Prob’ly end up in a killin’, but that ain’t my affair. Say you’re livin’ at the Tombstone ranch? Yeah, that danged Swede came back.”
Hashknife went back to the dim outlines of a horse and buggy and returned in a moment with Jane Lee and Sleepy. After thirty miles in a top-buggy, with a companion who only talked in monosyllables, Jane Lee was more than willing to stay any place. She did not have the slightest idea of what it was all about. It was not like the reception she had expected. In fact, it was like a nightmare.
“Just edge to one side, while she comes in,” ordered Mrs. Snow. “Frosty Snow’s old woman is kind of in the rough at this time o’ day.”
Jane Lee walked in and Mrs. Snow closed the door to a few inches.
“Come agin, cowboys.”
“Yes’m, y’betcha,” laughed Hashknife, and the two men clumped down the steps and back to their horses and buggy, while Mrs. Snow put her arms around Jane Lee.
“Whatcha cryin’ for?” demanded Mrs. Snow. “My gosh, you’re all right, honey.”
“I—I don’t know what it is all about,” sobbed Jane. “I don’t know what became of Mr. Easton, and——”
“Don’tcha worry about that sidewinder,” Mrs. Snow said soothingly. “You brace up and quit worryin’. Mebbe it was danged lucky them two punchers kidnaped you, honey.”
“But why did they?” demanded Jane with some heat.