“Tell her, Rosario.”
The woman poured her story forth fluently in the native tongue. O’Connor had killed her son—did not deny that he had done it. And just because Tony had tried to escape. This man had freed the ranger. Very well. He should take O’Connor’s place. Let him die the death. A life for a life. Was that not fair?
Flatray turned his head and caught sight of Melissy. A startled cry died on his lips.
“Jack!” She held out both hands to him as she ran toward him.
The sheriff took her in his arms to console her. 292 For the girl’s face was working in a stress of emotion.
“Oh, I’m in time—I’m in time. Thank God I’m in time.”
Jack waited a moment to steady his voice. “How came you here, Melissy?”
“He brought me—Black MacQueen. I hated him for it, but now I’m glad—so glad—because I can save you.”
Jack winced. He looked over her shoulder at MacQueen, taking it all in with an air of pleasant politeness. And one look was enough to tell him that there was no hope for him. The outlaw had the complacent manner of a cat which has just got at the cream. That Melissy loved him would be an additional reason for wiping him off the map. And in that instant a fierce joy leaped up in Flatray and surged through him, an emotion stronger than the fear of death. She loved him. MacQueen could not take that away from him.
“It’s all a mistake,” Melissy went on eagerly. “Of course they can’t blame you for what Lieutenant O’Connor did. It is absurd—ridiculous.”