Lingle mumbled that he "presumed so."
"I suppose you are the new herder?"
"I came out with him," the deputy replied evasively.
"Didn't Uncle Joe come?" Kate's face fell in disappointment.
Lingle shifted his weight and looked elsewhere.
"He's in town yet," he answered.
Lingle knew instinctively that she thought Mormon Joe was drinking heavily.
Then, fixing her troubled eyes upon him she asked hesitatingly: "Did he--say when I could expect him?"
The merciless hound of the law, who had dismounted, shuffled his feet uneasily and looked down to see if his badge was showing.
"Er--he didn't mention it." In the panic which seized him he could not frame the words in which to tell her, and he felt an illogical wrath at Bowers--the coward--for not coming with him. For a moment he considered resigning, then walked over to where her horse was feeding to collect himself while her wondering gaze followed him.
Lingle ran his hand along the horse's neck, the hair of which was stiff with dried sweat, lifted the saddle blanket and looked at its legs, where streaks of lather had hardened. He regarded her keenly as he turned to her.
"You been smokin' up your horse, I notice."
"I ran a coyote for two miles this morning--emptied my magazine at him and then didn't get him." The truth shining in her clear eyes was unmistakable.
Lingle broke off a handful of sagebrush and used it as a makeshift currycomb, while Kate, a little surprised at the action, picked up the bridle reins when he had finished the gratuitous grooming and started the sheep moving.
"I'll feed back to camp slowly. Don't wait for me--you and the herder eat supper."
"Anything I can do, ma'am?"
"Oh, no, thank you."
Bowers met the deputy at the door of the cook tent, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.
"Did she beller?"
Lingle sat down morosely and removed his spurs before answering.
"I didn't tell her."
"What!" Bowers fairly jumped at him. "What's the matter?"
"She might as well eat her supper, mightn't she?" defiantly.
"Do you know what I think?" Bowers pointed a spoon at him accusingly. "I think your nerve failed you. All I got to say is--you're a devil of an officer."
"Maybe you'd like to tell her," sneeringly.
"I shore ain't afraid to!" bristling. "I don't like to listen to a female's snifflin', and I say so, but when it comes to bein' afraid of one of 'em--" Bowers banged the pan of biscuits on the table to emphasize the small esteem in which he held women. "What fer a looker is she?" he demanded.
"You'd better eat your supper before she gets here."