Reber shook his head sadly.
“You don’t understand what I’m offerin’ you, Silver.”
“Yes, I do, Reber.”
Silver was not smiling now and he had shoved away from the wall.
“You’re tryin’ to buy me off—tryin’ to get me to work for you. You’re afraid of me, Reber. I dunno why, but yuh are. Your men watch me day and night. I’m tired of it, but not so tired that I’ll take a job with you. You hate me because I’m half Cheyenne.
“You ran my people out of Tomahawk Valley, Reber. I know your story—know why you hate my people. I had a little herd of cattle started, but you and your men killed ’em off to keep me from being a cattleman. I’ve no cause to love you. I don’t want your job. Give it to the squaw.”
He flung his left leg across the windowsill, and before any one could say anything further, he disappeared. Patterson sprang to his feet, and the other men were behind him, but Reber stopped them.
“Sit down,” he ordered. “He’s done no wrong.”
“The dirty half-breed!” snarled McLeese.
June Meline was on her feet, her hands on the table, as she leaned forward, staring at the window where Silver had disappeared. He had taunted her, called her a squaw! But there was something romantically wild about this tall, slim, white-toothed young man who defied them. He had laughed at them and refused to work for Park Reber.