The cattleman’s set face had a look more deadly than words. It told Fendrick he would gladly have killed him where he stood. For Luck knew he was cornered and must yield. Neither Dominguez nor Blackwell would consent to let her leave otherwise.
“He brought me here to have a talk with you, Dad. You must sign any paper he wants you to sign.”
“And did he promise to take you back home after our talk?”
“Miss Cullison would not want to leave as long as her father was here,” Fendrick answered for her glibly with a smile that said more than the words.
“I’m going to hold you responsible for bringing her here.”
Fendrick could not face steadily the eyes of his foe. They bored into him like gimlets.
“And responsible for getting her back home just as soon as I say the word,” Luck added, the taut muscles standing out in his clenched jaw.
“I expect your say-so won’t be final in this matter, Luck. But I’ll take the responsibility. Miss Cullison will get home at the proper time.”
“I’m not going home till you do,” the girl broke in. “Oh, Dad, we’ve been so worried. You can’t think.”
“You’ve played a rotten trick on me, Fendrick. I wouldn’t have thought it even of a sheepman.”