“But, surely, some of the men will stay with me?”
“I reckon. But not enough.”
“Then I can hire more. The Beeman boys. And Dale would come to help me.”
“Dale would come. An' he'd help a heap. I wish he was here,” replied Carmichael, soberly. “But there's no way to get him. He's snowed-up till May.”
“I dare not confide in uncle,” said Helen, with agitation. “The shock might kill him. Then to tell him of the unfaithfulness of his old men—that would be cruel.... Oh, it can't be so bad as you think.”
“I reckon it couldn't be no worse. An'—Miss Nell, there's only one way to get out of it—an' thet's the way of the West.”
“How?” queried Helen, eagerly.
Carmichael lunged himself erect and stood gazing down at her. He seemed completely detached now from that frank, amiable cowboy of her first impressions. The redness was totally gone from his face. Something strange and cold and sure looked out of his eyes.
“I seen Beasley go in the saloon as I rode past. Suppose I go down there, pick a quarrel with him—an' kill him?”
Helen sat bolt-upright with a cold shock.