He had heard. He had seen. A poignant shame enveloped and scorched the girl’s body. She was a wild thing who lived within herself. It was easy to put her in the wrong. She felt the mortification of one who has been caught in some indecent exhibition.
The humiliation was at first for the song and dance. Not till another moment did she think of the bare legs rising out of the soapsuds. His smouldering gaze brought them to mind.
Instantly she leaped from the tub, shook down the skirts, snatched up shoes and stockings, and fled barefooted to the house. A brogan dropped a few steps from the start. She stopped, as though to pick it up. But Houck was following. The girl turned and ran like a deer.
Houck retrieved the brogan and followed slowly. He smiled. His close-set eyes were gleaming. This was an adventure just to his taste.
The door of the cabin was bolted. He knocked.
“Here’s yore shoe, sweetheart,” he called.
No answer came. He tried the back door. It, too, had the bolt driven home.
“All right. If it ain’t yore shoe I’ll take it along with me. So long.”
He walked away and waited in the bushes. His expectation was that this might draw her from cover. It did not.
Half an hour later Tolliver rode across the mesa. He found Houck waiting for him at the entrance to the corral. Pete nodded a rather surly greeting. He could not afford to quarrel with the man, but he was one of the last persons in the world he wanted to see.