She gave him a sharp glance. The woman had an extraordinary play of feature, Duane thought, and unless she was smiling was not pretty at all.
“I've been alone,” replied Duane. “Haven't seen anybody but a sick-looking girl with a bucket. And she ran when she saw me.”
“That was Jen,” said Mrs. Bland. “She's the kid we keep here, and she sure hardly pays her keep. Did Euchre tell you about her?”
“Now that I think of it, he did say something or other.”
“What did he tell you about me?” bluntly asked Mrs. Bland.
“Wal, Kate,” replied Euchre, speaking for himself, “you needn't worry none, for I told Buck nothin' but compliments.”
Evidently the outlaw's wife liked Euchre, for her keen glance rested with amusement upon him.
“As for Jen, I'll tell you her story some day,” went on the woman. “It's a common enough story along this river. Euchre here is a tender-hearted old fool, and Jen has taken him in.”
“Wal, seein' as you've got me figgered correct,” replied Euchre, dryly, “I'll go in an' talk to Jennie if I may.”
“Certainly. Go ahead. Jen calls you her best friend,” said Mrs. Bland, amiably. “You're always fetching some Mexican stuff, and that's why, I guess.”