“Of course,” said Helen, lightly, as if she had not caught his meaning. But she turned her eyes away, while her heart thumped disgracefully and all her body was aglow. “Will Tom and Bo go?”
“It was Tom who got me to ask you,” replied Dale. “John an' Hal can look after the men while we're gone.”
“Oh—so Tom put it in your head? I guess—maybe—I won't go.”
“It is always in my mind, Nell,” he said, with his slow seriousness. “I'm goin' to work all my life for you. But I'll want to an' need to go back to the woods often.... An' if you ever stoop to marry me—an' make me the richest of men—you'll have to marry me up there where I fell in love with you.”
“Ah! Did Las Vegas Tom Carmichael say that, too?” inquired Helen, softly.
“Nell, do you want to know what Las Vegas said?”
“By all means.”
“He said this—an' not an hour ago. 'Milt, old hoss, let me give you a hunch. I'm a man of family now—an' I've been a devil with the wimmen in my day. I can see through 'em. Don't marry Nell Rayner in or near the house where I killed Beasley. She'd remember. An' don't let her remember thet day. Go off into the woods. Paradise Park! Bo an' me will go with you.”
Helen gave him her hand, while they walked the horses homeward in the long sunset shadows. In the fullness of that happy hour she had time for a grateful wonder at the keen penetration of the cowboy Carmichael. Dale had saved her life, but it was Las Vegas who had saved her happiness.
Not many days later, when again the afternoon shadows were slanting low, Helen rode out upon the promontory where the dim trail zigzagged far above Paradise Park.