An eye derisive witnessed the handshake. “An alliance against the teeth of the wolf, I’ll bet. Good mo’ning, Miss Mackenzie,” drawled Leroy.
“Good morning,” she answered quietly, her hands behind her.
“Sleep well?”
“Would you expect me to?”
“Why not, with York here doing the virgin-knight act outside your door?”
Her puzzled eyes discovered that Neil’s face was one blush of embarrassment.
“He slept here on the po’ch,” explained Leroy, amused. “It’s a great fad, this outdoor sleeping. The doctors recommend it strong for sick people. You wouldn’t think to look at him York was sick. He looks plumb husky. But looks are right deceptive. It’s a fact, Miss Mackenzie, that he was so sick last night I wasn’t dead sure he’d live till mo’ning.”
The eyes of the men met like rapiers. Neil said nothing, and Leroy dropped him from his mind as if he were a trifle and devoted his attention to Alice.
“Breakfast is ready, Miss Mackenzie. This way, please.”
The outlaw led her to the dining room, where the young woman met a fresh surprise. The table was white with immaculate linen and shone with silver. She sat down to breakfast food with cream, followed by quail on toast, bacon and eggs, and really good coffee. Moreover, she discovered that this terror of the border knew how to handle his knife and fork, was not deficient in the little niceties of table decorum. He talked, and talked well, ignoring, like a perfect host, the relation that existed between them. They sat opposite each other and ate alone, waited upon by the Mexican woman. Alice wondered if he kept solitary state when she was not there or ate with the other men.