“Even your enemy.”
“Oh, well, enemies don’t count when you’re fightin’ Utes together. I had to look after him—couldn’t duck it. Different with Dud when he rode back to get Tom Reeves. Did you hear about that?”
She put a damper on the sudden enthusiasm that lilted into his voice. “Yes, I heard about that,” she said dryly. “But we’re talking of another man now. You’ve got to stand there an’ take it, Bob. It won’t last but a minute anyhow. I never was so tickled in my life before. When I thought of all you’ve suffered an’ gone through, an’ how now you’ve stopped the tongues of all the folks who jeered at you, I went to my room and cried like a little girl. You’ll understand, won’t you? I had to tell you this because we’ve promised to be friends. Oh, I am so glad for you, Bob.”
He swallowed a lump in his throat and nodded. “Yes, I’ll understand, June. It—it was awful nice of you to tell me. I reckon you ought to hate me, the way I treated you. Most girls would.”
She flashed a quick look at his flaming face. His embarrassment relieved hers.
“As if you knew what most girls would think,” she derided. Nevertheless she shifted the conversation to grounds less personal and dangerous. “Now you can tell me some more about that Dud you’re always braggin’ of.”
Bob did not know as he talked of his friend that June found what he said an interpretation of Robert Dillon rather than Dudley Hollister.
Piling up brush to protect the bank from being washed away.