He held his paper in his left hand while he gave her his right, and made a sort of scraping movement with his foot as he executed a bow.
As she went back into the main room she was conscious of the fear that Albert Frazier might have discovered her presence at the bank and be waiting for her outside. Why, she asked herself, was the thought actually so terrifying? He might propose that he should have her horse sent out and that he be allowed to drive her home. In that case it would all be over. She would have to give the promise he had so long sought and she had so long withheld. A thrill of relief went through her on finding that he was not in sight anywhere about the busy square. She walked rapidly now toward the livery-stable, still with the fear of pursuit on her that was like the haunting dread of a nightmare. She was soon in the saddle and galloping homeward. At the point where the village street gave into the main country road she checked her speed. What, after all, was she running from? If the thing was inevitable, what was the use in putting it off? Was not the delay injurious to the end she was seeking? Might not even another day count fatally against Tobe Keith's recovery? Yes, the answer was yes, and nothing else. If it had to be done, why wait longer? She actually tried to turn the head of her horse toward the village, but the animal had scented home and the food to be had there, and refused, allowing the taut rein to bend his neck but not to guide his limbs. She finally came to regard it as an omen to be obeyed and allowed him to gallop on toward the farm.
As she neared her home the sun's rays were dying out of the landscape and the dusk was gathering. Coming to meet her from the house she saw Charles, and she wondered what had happened, for he never left the field before sundown; moreover, it struck her that he was walking rapidly, as if to reach her before she got to the house. He could not be coming to take the saddle from her horse, for Kenneth or Martin at the stable could do that. She summoned a smile as she greeted him at the barn-yard gate and he reached up to catch the bridle-rein. To her surprise he failed to return it. She had never seen a graver expression on his face as he held up his strong arms to help her down.
"What is the matter?" she asked, now alarmed.
"Don't get frightened," he said. "After all, it may amount to nothing, but still, I had to reach you and put you on your guard. I was afraid you might call out or whistle to your brothers, and that wouldn't do. After you left, they were so quiet, and remained out of sight so persistently, that, as the time passed, I became concerned about them. Usually, you know, they steal out and go into the woods for recreation or join me at my work. To-day they did not appear, so I went to the barn about two hours ago. Fortunately I did not whistle, but went directly up to them in the loft. They explained it. It seems that Kenneth had observed a strange man moving stealthily in and out of the woods, sometimes watching me, sometimes the house, and sometimes the barn."
"Oh!" and Mary went white from head to foot. "It is one of the sheriff's men. Don't you think so?"
"I don't know. Kenneth says he got a good look at him and that he is sure he is a stranger here. To be plain, Kenneth thinks that the sheriff has sent for a detective and that the detective may suspect the thing we are trying to hide—that the boys are not in the West, but here at home."
Mary said nothing. The deepening pallor of her face rendered it grim and firm, but it was none the less beautiful in its unwonted lines. He took off the saddle, opened the gate, and turned the horse into the lot.
"When the boys hear the horse in the stall," he said, "they will know you are back. Will it be necessary for you to go in to them? I mean—you see, if the fellow is still watching; in that case he might draw deductions from your being there. While if you go on to the house now—"
"I understand, and you are right," Mary said, with tight lips. "No, I'll go to the house. It is awful—awful—awful!"