Yeager rode into Los Robles an hour after Harrison and Ruth had left. He turned in at the Lunar stables the pony Pasquale had so kindly donated to his use and walked across town to the Seymour bungalow. Passing through the garden and round the house, he disappeared without being seen into the remodeled barn where he lodged.
He felt bully. After an adventure that had been a close call he was back home among friends who would be glad to see him. As he took his bath and shaved and dressed he broke occasionally into a whistle of sheer exuberant joy of life. He intended to surprise the folks by walking down and taking his place with the others when the dinner bell rang. Daisy Ellington would clap her hands and sparkle in her enthusiastic way. Shorty would begin to poke fun at him. Mrs. Seymour would probably just smile in her slow, motherly fashion and see that he got one of the choice steaks. And Ruth—would she flash at him her swift dimpled smile of pleasure? Or would she still be harboring malice toward him for having warned her against Harrison?
Steve waited until he thought they would be seated before he opened the door and stepped into the dining-room. The effect was not at all what he had expected. Daisy was the first to see him. She dropped her knife on the plate with a clatter and gave a little scream. Shorty stopped a spoonful of soup halfway to his mouth, as if he were waiting to have a still picture of himself taken. His eyes stared and his jaw fell. Mrs. Seymour, who was bringing a platter from the kitchen, stood stock-still in the doorway. The expression, on her face arrested Yeager's smile.
"What's the matter with you all? Looks like you were seeing a ghost," he said.
"Where did you come from, Steve Yeager?" demanded Mrs. Seymour.
"Me? Why, I came from my room—reached town an hour or so ago."
Something cold clutched at the heart of the mother. "Where from? Weren't you in Sonora?"
"Sure I was. At Noche Buena. And I want to tell you that I've had enough of that burg for quite some time."
Daisy broke in. "Isn't it true that you were shot?"
He turned to her, surprised. "How did you hear that story already. No, it ain't true. I was to have been shot this mawnin', but I broke jail and made a getaway."