“How are yuh feelin’, June?” he asked.
“All right, Jack. Oh, I must have slept a long time. Why, it’s morning!”
“Just about. We’ll get some breakfast and then I’ll rope a couple of horses. I dunno what became of my horse, but I think they took him away. We’re goin’ back to Tomahawk, June. Somethin’ is wrong out here.”
She nodded and got up from her chair.
“I’ll get the breakfast, Jack. I can cook.”
“I’ll betcha,” he smiled. “Yo’re quite a woman, June. I don’t blame Reber for likin’ yuh. I never knew that women had the nerve you’ve got. After what you went through since yuh left Tomahawk yesterday, it’s a wonder you’ve got any nerve left.”
“But I’ve been frightened,” confessed June. “If you had said ‘boo!’ to me yesterday I’d have dropped your gun.”
“Mebbe not,” said Jack smiling. “That gun is too easy on the trigger to take any chances. I might have just booed a bullet into my nervous system.”
Jack laughed and turned back to the window, leaning forward tensely. There were cattle drifting past the rear of the corrals and sheds—a compact mass of moving animals heading northwest toward the West Fork pass. Jack stepped to the door and opened it enough to give him a farther view down the valley. As far as he could see down the valley there were cattle surging ahead like a brown wave.
Jack shut the door quickly. A man had slipped through the corral-fence at the corner of a shed, a man carrying a rifle in his hand.