"Then go," she cried eagerly.
"But I hate still more to go back on my word. So I'll stay."
There was nothing more to be said. They rode forward to the ranch. 'Rastus, at the stables, raised a shout and broke for the store on the run.
"Hyer's Miss Phyl done come home."
At his call light-stepping dusty men poured from the building like seeds from a squeezed orange. There was a rush for the girl. She was lifted from her saddle and carried in triumph to the porch. Jim Sanderson came running from the cellar in the rear and buried her in his arms.
She broke down and began to cry a little. "Oh, Dad—Dad, I'm so glad to be home."
The old Confederate veteran was close to tears himself.
"Honey, I jes' got back from town. Phil, he done wrong not letting me know. I come pretty nigh giving that boy the bud. Wait till I meet up with Buck Weaver. It's him or me for suah this time."
"No, Dad, no! You must let me explain. I've been quite safe, and it's all over now. Everything is all right."
"Is it?" Sanderson laughed harshly.