Jean saw the growing and weaving and thickening threads of a tangle that had already involved him. And the sudden pang of regret he sustained was not wholly because of sympathies with his own people.
"The other day back up in the woods on the Rim I ran into a sheepman who said his name was Colter. Who is he?
"Colter? Shore he's a new one. What'd he look like?"
Jean described Colter with a readiness that spoke volumes for the vividness of his impressions.
"I don't know him," replied Blaisdell. "But that only goes to prove my contention--any fellow runnin' wild in the woods can say he's a sheepman."
"Colter surprised me by callin' me by my name," continued Jean. "Our little talk wasn't exactly friendly. He said a lot about my bein' sent for to run sheep herders out of the country."
"Shore that's all over," replied Blaisdell, seriously. "You're a marked man already."
"What started such rumor?"
"Shore you cain't prove it by me. But it's not taken as rumor. It's got to the sheepmen as hard as bullets."
"Ahuh! That accunts for Colter's seemin' a little sore under the collar. Well, he said they were goin' to run sheep over Grass Valley, an' for me to take that hunch to my dad."
Blaisdell had his chair tilted back and his heavy boots against a post of the porch. Down he thumped. His neck corded with a sudden rush of blood and his eyes changed to blue fire.
"The hell he did!" he ejaculated, in furious amaze.
Jean gauged the brooding, rankling hurt of this old cattleman by his sudden break from the cool, easy Texan manner. Blaisdell cursed under his breath, swung his arms violently, as if to throw a last doubt or hope aside, and then relapsed to his former state. He laid a brown hand on Jean's knee.
"Two years ago I called the cards," he said, quietly. "It means a Grass Valley war."
Not until late that afternoon did Jean's father broach the subject uppermost in his mind. Then at an opportune moment he drew Jean away into the cedars out of sight.
"Son, I shore hate to make your home-comin' unhappy," he said, with evidence of agitation, "but so help me God I have to do it!"
"Dad, you called me Prodigal, an' I reckon you were right. I've shirked my duty to you. I'm ready now to make up for it," replied Jean, feelingly.