“It’s like this, Phil,” one of them told the governor. “The Government has stepped in and settled this whole sheep and cattle war. We don’t aim to go night raiding any more—none of us. Sheep are here, and they’re going to stay whether we like it or not. So we got to make the best of it—and we do. What’s the use of keeping Mac and Brad and the other boys locked up for an example when we don’t need one any more? Everybody would be satisfied to see ’em paroled; even the sheepmen would. You couldn’t do a more popular thing than to free the whole passell of ’em.”
The governor made no promises, but he kept his ears open to learn the drift of public opinion. Even before he reached Circle Diamond he knew that there would be no strong protest against a parole from the western part of the State.
Ruth did not make the mistake of letting the governor see her in the rough-and-ready ranch costume to which she was accustomed. She dressed her hair with care and wore a simple gown that set off the slender fullness of her figure. When she came lightly and swiftly to meet them as the car drew up at the Circle Diamond, her guests were impressed anew with the note of fineness, of personal distinction. There was, too, something gallant and spirited in the poise of the small head set so fastidiously upon the rounded throat.
Mrs. McDowell always admired tremendously her school companion. She was more proud of her than ever now, and as she dressed for dinner she attacked her husband.
“You’ve got to do something for her, Phil. That’s all there’s to it. I can’t look that brave girl in the face if you don’t let her husband out of prison.”
He was wrestling with a collar and a reluctant button. “H’mp!” he grunted.
“And that baby—did you ever see such a darling? It’s a crime to keep his father away from him.”
“It’s a crime to keep a lot of men in prison, but we do it.”
“I’m not worrying about the rest of them. But Ruth’s husband—you’ve just got to let him out.” She came in and perched herself down on a couch beside him and cuddled him in a cajoling fashion she had.
“You can’t bribe me, young lady,” he blustered. “Don’t you see that I can’t let McCoy out unless I parole his accomplices, too? This isn’t a matter to be decided by personal friendship. I’ve got to do what’s right—what seems right to the average sense of the community.”