Boone stifled a startled oath.
“Melissy Lee!” Like a swiftly reined horse he swung around upon his chief. “What devil’s work is this?”
“My business, Dunc!” the other retorted in suave insult.
“By God, no! I make it mine. This young lady’s a friend of mine—or used to be. Sabe?”
“I sabe you’d better not try to sit in at this game, my friend.”
Boone swung abruptly upon Melissy. “How come you here, girl? Tell me!” 259
And in three sentences she explained.
“What’s your play? Whyfor did you bring her?” the Arkansan demanded of MacQueen.
The latter stood balanced on his heels with his feet wide apart. There was a scornful grin on his face, but his eyes were fixed warily on the other man.
“What was I to do with her, Mr. Buttinski? She found out who I was. Could I send her home? If I did how was I to fix it so I could go to Mesa when it’s necessary till we get this ransom business arranged?”