Wyoming | Page 7

drop me somewhere near there I think I'll manage all
right."
"I'm not going to leave you till we reach a house," she informed him
promptly. "You're not fit to walk fifty yards."
"That's right kind of y'u, but I could not think of asking so much. My
friends will find me if y'u leave me where I can work a heliograph."
"Or your enemies," she cut in.
"I hope not. I'd not likely have the luck to get another invitation right
then to go riding with a friendly young lady."
She gave him direct, cool, black-blue eyes that met and searched his.
"I'm not at all sure she is friendly. I shall want to find out the cause of
the trouble you have just had before I make up my mind as to that."
"I judge people by their actions. Y'u didn't wait to find out before
bringing the ambulance into action," he laughed.
"I see you do not mean to tell me."
"You're quite a lawyer, ma'am," he evaded.

"I find you a very slippery witness, then."
"Ask anything y'u like and I'll tell you."
"Very well. Who were those men, and why were they trying to kill
you?"
"They turned their wolf loose on me because I shot up one of them
yesterday."
"Dear me! Is it your business to go around shooting people? That's
three I happen to know that you have shot. How many more?"
"No more, ma'am--not recently."
"Well, three is quite enough--recently," she mimicked. "You seem to
me a good deal of a desperado."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Don't say 'Yes, ma'am,' like that, as if it didn't matter in the least
whether you are or not," she ordered.
"No, ma'am."
"Oh!" She broke off with a gesture of impatience at his burlesque of
obedience. "You know what I mean--that you ought to deny it; ought to
be furious at me for suggesting it."
"Ought I?"
"Of course you ought."
"There's a heap of ways I ain't up to specifications," he admitted,
cheerfully.
"And who are they--the men that were attacking you?"
There was a gleam of irrepressible humor in the bold eyes. "Your
cow-punchers, ma'am."
"My cow-punchers?"
"They ce'tainly belong to the Lazy D outfit."
"And you say that you shot one of my men yesterday?" He could see
her getting ready for a declaration of war.
"Down by Willow Creek-- Yes, ma'am," he answered, comfortably.
"And why, may I ask?" she flamed
"That's a long story, Miss Messiter. It wouldn't be square for me to get
my version in before your boys. Y'u ask them." He permitted himself a
genial smile, somewhat ironic. "I shouldn't wonder but what they'll give
me a giltedged testimonial as an unhanged horse thief."
"Isn't there such a thing as law in Wyoming?" the girl demanded.
"Lots of it. Y'u can buy just as good law right here as in Kalamazoo."

"I wish I knew where to find it."
"Like to put me in the calaboose?"
"In the penitentiary. Yes, sir!" A moment later the question that was in
her thoughts leaped hotly from her lips. "Who are you, sir, that dare to
commit murder and boast of it?"
She had flicked him on the raw at last. Something that was near to pain
rested for a second in his eyes. "Murder is a hard name, ma'am. And I
didn't say he was daid, or any of the three," came his gentle answer.
"You MEANT to kill them, anyhow."
"Did I?" There was the ghost of a sad smile about his eyes.
"The way you act, a person might think you one of Ned Bannister's
men," she told him, scornfully.
"I expect you're right."
She repented her a little at a charge so unjust. "If you are not ashamed
of your name why are you so loath to part with it?"
"Y'u didn't ask me my name," he said, a dark flush sweeping his face.
"I ask it now."
Like the light from a snuffed candle the boyish recklessness had gone
out of his face. His jaws were set like a vise and he looked hard as
hammered steel.
"My name is Bannister," he said, coldly.
"Ned Bannister, the outlaw," she let slip, and was aware of a strange
sinking of the heart.
It seemed to her that something sinister came to the surface in his
handsome face. "I reckon we might as well let it go at that," he returned,
with bitter briefness.

CHAPTER 2
. THE KING OF THE BIG HORN COUNTRY
Two months before this time Helen Messiter had been serenely
teaching a second grade at Kalamazoo, Michigan, notwithstanding the
earnest efforts of several youths of that city to induce her to retire to
domesticity "What's the use of being a schoolmarm?" had been the
burden