"Wal, I reckon it'll be sure dull fer you without me. Nobody to talk to while your dad fools around. But I can't go. Me an' the boys air a-goin' to hang some I.W.W.'s this mawnin', an' I can't miss thet fun."
Jake drawled his speech and laughed lazily as he ended it. He was just boasting, as usual, but his hawklike eyes were on Nash. And it was certain that Nash turned pale.
Lenore had no reply to make. Her father appeared to lose patience with Jake, but after a moment's hesitation decided not to voice it.
Nash was not a good nor a careful driver under any circumstances, and this morning it was evident he did not have his mind on his business. There were bumps in the orchard road where the irrigation ditches crossed.
"Say, you ought to be drivin' a hay-wagon," called Anderson, sarcastically.
At Vale he ordered the car stopped at the post-office, and, telling Lenore he might be detained a few moments, he went in. Nash followed, and presently came back with a package of letters. Upon taking his seat in the car he assorted the letters, one of which, a large, thick envelope, manifestly gave him excited gratification. He pocketed them and turned to Lenore.
"Ah! I see you get letters—from a woman," she said, pretending a poison sweetness of jealousy.
"Certainly. I'm not married yet," he replied. "Lenore, last night—"
"You will never be married—to me—while you write to other women. Let me see that letter!… Let me read it—all of them!"
"No, Lenore—not here. And don't speak so loud. Your father will be coming any minute.… Lenore, he suspects me. And that cowboy knows things. I can't go back to the ranch."