“He was your enemy and now he’s your friend. Course since I’m your foreman I got to keep posted on how we stand with our neighbors. If your feelings change to him again y’u’ll let me know, I expect.”
“Why should they change?” she asked in a cold voice that her rising color belied.
“Search me! I just thought mebbe——”
“You think too much,” she cut in, shortly.
“Yes, ma’am,” admitted the youth, meekly, but from time to time as they rode she could hear, faint sounds of mirth from his direction.
McWilliams telephoned from the Meeker ranch to Slauson’s, and inside of two hours the Lazy D knew that its owner had been found. As one puncher after another reported there on jaded ponies to get the latest word they heard that all was well. Each one at once unsaddled, ate and turned in for the first night’s sleep he had had since his mistress had been missing. Next morning they rode in a body to meet her.
She saw them galloping toward her in a cloud of dust, and presently she was the centre of a circle of her happy family. They were like boys—exuberant in their joy at her deliverance and eager to set out at once to avenge her wrongs.
Ned Bannister, from his window, saw them coming. When the group separated at the corral and she rode from among them with McWilliams toward the house the sheepman could sit still no longer. He limped to the front door and waved the American flag which he had unearthed for the occasion.
CHAPTER XII.
MISTRESS AND MAID
Now that it was safely concluded, Helen thought the adventure almost worthwhile for the spontaneous expressions of good will it had drawn forth from her adherents. Mrs. Winslow and Nora had taken her to their arms and wept and laughed over her in turn, and in their silent undemonstrative way she had felt herself hedged in by unusual solicitude on the part of her riders. It was good—none but she knew how good—to be back among her own, to bask in a friendliness she could not doubt. It was best of all to sit opposite Ned Bannister again with no weight on her heart from the consciousness of his unworthiness.