Mackenzie broke off his story to remonstrate. “This won’t do at all, Kate. If you’re going to help find Luck, you’ve got to keep yourself fit. Now, you try this chicken, honey.”
“I—just can’t, Uncle Mac.”
“But you need it.”
“I know,” the girl confessed, and as she said it broke down again into soft weeping.
Mac let her have her cry out, petting her awkwardly. Presently she dried her eyes, set at her supper in a businesslike way, heard the story to an end quietly, and volunteered one heartbroken comment.
“As if father could do such a thing.”
The cattleman agreed eagerly. There were times when he was full of doubt on that point, but he was not going to let her know it.
Curly came into the room, and the girl rose to meet him. He took her little hand in his tanned, muscular one, and somehow from his grip she gathered strength. He would do all that could be done to find her father, just as he had done so much to save her brother.
“I’m so glad you’ve come,” she said simply.
“I’m glad you’re glad,” he smiled cheerfully.