"To tell him--something--and why I can't come to-morrow, or ever afterward," she replied, low and tremulously.
Wade pondered over her words. It seemed to Columbine that her sharpened faculties sensed something of hostility, of opposition in him.
"Reckon to-morrow would be better," he said, presently. "Wilson's had enough excitement for one day."
"Then I'll go to-morrow," she returned.
In the gathering, cold twilight they rode down the trail in silence.
"Good night, lass," said Wade, as he reached his cabin. "An' remember you're not alone any more."
"Good night, my friend," she replied, and rode on.
Columbine encountered Jim Montana at the corrals, and it was not too dark for her to see his foam-lashed horse. Jim appeared non-committal, almost surly. But Columbine guessed that he had ridden to Kremmling and back in one day, on some order of Jack's.
"Miss Collie, I'll tend to Pronto," he offered. "An' yore supper'll be waitin'."
A bright fire blazed on the living-room hearth. The rancher was reading by its light.