“I haven’t yet. I expect I will later.”
“Why do men do such things?” she went on, letting the hands that held the paper drop into her lap helplessly. “You don’t look bad. Anyone would think——”
Her sentence tailed out and died away. She was still looking at Curly, but he could see that her mind had flown to someone else. He would have bet a month’s pay that she was thinking of another lad who was wild but did not look bad.
Flandrau rose and walked round the table to her. “Much obliged, Miss Laura. I’ll shake hands on that with you. You’ve guessed it. Course, me being so ‘notorious’ I hate to admit it, but I ain’t bad any more than he is.”
She gave him a quick shy look. He had made a center shot she was not expecting. But, womanlike, she did not admit it.
“You mean this ‘Bad Bill’?”
“You know who I mean all right. His name is Sam Cullison. And you needn’t to tell me where he is. I’ll find him.”
“I know you don’t mean any harm to him.” But she said it as if she were pleading with him.
“C’rect. I don’t. Can you tell me how to get to Soapy Stone’s horse ranch from here, Miss London?”
She laughed. Her doubts were vanishing like mist before the sunshine. “Good guess. At least he was there the last I heard.”