“Indeed, sister, I agree with him. You won't obey me.”
“Reckon some one's got to be your boss,” drawled Carmichael. “Shore I ain't hankerin' for the job. You could ride to Kingdom Come or off among the Apaches—or over here a ways”—at this he grinned knowingly—“or anywheres, for all I cared. But I'm workin' for Miss Nell, an' she's boss. An' if she says you're not to take them rides—you won't. Savvy that, miss?”
It was a treat for Helen to see Bo look at the cowboy.
“Mis-ter Carmichael, may I ask how you are going to prevent me from riding where I like?”
“Wal, if you're goin' worse locoed this way I'll keep you off'n a hoss if I have to rope you an' tie you up. By golly, I will!”
His dry humor was gone and manifestly he meant what he said.
“Wal,” she drawled it very softly and sweetly, but venomously, “if—you—ever—touch—me again!”
At this he flushed, then made a quick, passionate gesture with his hand, expressive of heat and shame.
“You an' me will never get along,” he said, with a dignity full of pathos. “I seen thet a month back when you changed sudden-like to me. But nothin' I say to you has any reckonin' of mine. I'm talkin' for your sister. It's for her sake. An' your own.... I never told her an' I never told you thet I've seen Riggs sneakin' after you twice on them desert rides. Wal, I tell you now.”
The intelligence apparently had not the slightest effect on Bo. But Helen was astonished and alarmed.