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<h2 id="id00700" style="margin-top: 4em">CHAPTER XIII</h2> <h5 id="id00701">"DO YOU SMOKE?"</h5> Leviatt rode down through the gully where Miss Radford had first caught sight of Ferguson when he had entered the flat. He disappeared in this and five minutes later came out upon a ridge above it. The distance was too great to observe whether he turned to look back. But just before he disappeared finally they saw him sweep his hat from his head. It was a derisive motion, and Miss Radford colored and shot a furtive glance at Ferguson. The latter stood loosely beside her, his hat brim pulled well down over his forehead. As she looked she saw his eyes narrow and his lips curve ironically. "What do you suppose he thought?" she questioned, her eyes drooping away from his. "Him?" Ferguson laughed. "I expect you could see from his actions that he wasn't a heap tickled." Some thought was moving him mightily. He chuckled gleefully. "Now if you could only put what he was thinkin' into your book, ma'am, it sure would make interestin' readin'." "But he saw you holding my hand!" she declared, aware of the uselessness of telling him this, but unable to repress her indignation over the thought that Leviatt had seen. "Why, I expect he did, ma'am!" he returned, trying hard to keep the pleasure out of his voice. "You see, he must have been lookin' right at us. But there ain't nothin' to be flustered over. I reckon that some day, if he's around, he'll see me holdin' your hand again." The red in her cheeks deepened. "Why, how conceited you are!" she said, trying to be very severe, but only succeeding in making him think that her eyes were prettier than he had thought. "I don't think I am conceited, ma'am," he returned, smiling. "I've liked you right well since the beginning. I don't think it's conceit to tell a lady that you're thinkin' of holdin' her hand." She was looking straight at him, trying to be very defiant. "And so you have liked me?" she taunted. "I am considering whether to tell you that I was not thinking of you as a possible admirer." His eyes flashed. "I don't think you mean that, ma'am," he said. "You ain't treated me like you treated some others." "Some others?" she questioned, not comprehending. He laughed. "Them other Two Diamond men that took a shine to you. I've heard that you talked right sassy to them. But you ain't never been sassy to me. Leastways, you ain't never told me to 'evaporate'." She was suddenly convulsed. "They have told you that?" she questioned. And then not waiting for an answer she continued more soberly: "And so you thought that in view of what I have said to those men you had been treated comparatively civilly. I am afraid I have underestimated you. Hereafter I shall talk less intimately to you." "I wouldn't do that, ma'am," he pleaded. "You don't need to be afraid that I'll be too fresh." "Oh, dear!" she exclaimed, with a pretense of delight. "It will be very nice to know that I can talk to you without fear of your placing a false construction on my words. But I am not afraid of you." He stepped back from the rock, hitching at his cartridge belt. "I'm goin' over to the Two Diamond now, ma'am," he said. "And since you've said you ain't afraid of me, I'm askin' you if you won't go ridin' with me tomorrow. There's a right pretty stretch of country about fifteen miles up the crick that you'd be tickled over." Should she tell him that she had explored all of the country within thirty miles? The words trembled on her lips but remained unspoken. "Why, I don't know," she objected. "Do you think it is quite safe?" He smiled and stepped away from her, looking back over his shoulder. "Thank you, ma'am," he said. "I'll ride over for you some time in the mornin'." He continued down the hill, loose stones rattling ahead of him. She looked after him, radiant. "But I didn't say I would go," she called. And then, receiving no answer to this, she waited until he had swung into the saddle and was waving a farewell to her. "Don't come before ten o'clock!" she advised. She saw him smile and then she returned to her manuscript. When the Sun-Gods kissed the crest of the hill and bathed her in the rich rose colors that came straight down to the hill through the rift in the mountains, she rose and gathered up her papers. She had not written another line. It was late in the afternoon when Leviatt rode up to the door of Stafford's office and dismounted. He took plenty of time walking the short distance that lay between him and the door, and growled a savage reply to a loafing puncher, who asked him a question. Once in the office he dropped glumly into a chair, his eyes glittering vengefully as his gaze rested on Stafford, who sat at his desk, engaged in his accounts. Through the open window Stafford had seen the range boss coming and therefore when the latter had entered he had not looked up. Presently he finished his work and drew back from the desk. Then he took up a pipe, filled it with tobacco, lighted it, and puffed with satisfaction. "Nothin's happened?" he questioned, glancing at his range boss. Leviatt's reply was short. "No. Dropped down to see how things was runnin'." "Things is quiet," returned Stafford. "There ain't been any cattle missed for a long time. I reckon the new stray-man is doin' some good." Leviatt's eyes glowed. "If you call gassin' with Mary Radford doin' good, why then, he's doin' it!" he snapped. "I ain't heard that he's doin' that," returned Stafford. "I'm tellin' you about it now," said Leviatt. "I seen him to-day; him an' her holdin' hands on top of a hill in Bear Flat." He sneered. "He's a better ladies' man than a gunfighter. I reckon we made a mistake in pickin' him up." Stafford smiled indulgently. "He's cert'nly a good looker," he said. "I reckon some girls would take a shine to him. But I ain't questionin' his shootin'. I've been in this country a right smart while an' I ain't never seen another man that could bore a can six times while it's in the air." Leviatt's lips drooped. "He could do that an' not have nerve enough to shoot a coyote. Him not clashin' with Ben Radford proves he ain't got nerve." Stafford smiled. The story of how the stray-man had closed Leviatt's mouth was still fresh in his memory. He was wondering whether Leviatt knew that he had heard about the incident. "Suppose you try him?" he suggested. "That'd be as good a way as any to find out if he's got nerve." Leviatt's face bloated poisonously, but he made no answer. Apparently unaware that he had touched a tender spot Stafford continued. "Mebbe his game is to get in with the girl, figgerin' that he'll be more liable that way to get a chancst at Ben Radford. But whatever his game is, I ain't interferin'. He's got a season contract an' I ain't breakin' my word with the cuss. I ain't takin' no chances with him." Leviatt rose abruptly, his face swelling with an anger that he was trying hard to suppress. "He'd better not go to foolin' with Mary Radford, damn him!" he snapped. "I reckon that wind is blowin' in two directions," grinned Stafford. "When I see him I'll tell him——" A clatter of hoofs reached the ears of the two men, and Stafford turned to the window. "Here's the stray-man now," he said gravely. Both men were silent when Ferguson reached the door. He stood just inside, looking at Stafford and Leviatt with cold, alert eyes. He nodded shortly to Stafford, not removing his gaze from the range boss. The latter deliberately turned his back and looked out of the window. There was insolence in the movement, but apparently it had no effect upon the stray-man, beyond bringing a queer twitch into the corners of his mouth. He smiled at Stafford. "Anything new?" questioned the latter, as he had questioned Leviatt. "Nothin' doin'," returned Ferguson. Leviatt now turned from the window. He spoke to Stafford, sneering. "Ben Radford's quite a piece away from where he's hangin' out," he said. He again turned to the window. Ferguson's lips smiled, but his eyes narrowed. Stafford stiffened in his chair. He watched the stray-man's hands furtively, fearing the outcome of this meeting. But Ferguson's hands were nowhere near his guns. They were folded over his chest—lightly—the fingers of his right hand caressing his chin. "You ridin' up the crick to-day?" he questioned of Leviatt. His tone was mild, yet there was a peculiar quality in it that hinted at hardness. "No," answered Leviatt, without turning. Ferguson began rolling a cigarette. When he had done this he lighted it and puffed slowly. "Well, now," he said, "that's mighty peculiar. I'd swore that I saw you over in Bear Flat." Leviatt turned. "You've been pickin' posies too long with Mary Radford," he sneered. Ferguson smiled. "Mebbe I have," he returned. "There's them that she'll let pick posies with her, an' them that she won't." Leviatt's face crimsoned with anger. "I reckon if you hadn't been monkeyin' around too much with the girl, you'd have run across that dead Two Diamond cow an' the dogie that she left," he sneered. Ferguson's lips straightened. "How far off was you standin' when that cow died?" he drawled. A curse writhed through Leviatt's lips. "Why, you damned——" "Don't!" warned Ferguson. He coolly stepped toward Leviatt, holding by the thongs the leather tobacco pouch from which he had obtained the tobacco to make his cigarette. When he had approached close to the range boss he held the pouch up before his eyes. "I reckon you'd better have a smoke," he said quietly; "they say it's good for the nerves." He took a long pull at the cigarette. "It's pretty fair tobacco," he continued. "I found it about ten miles up the crick, on a ridge above a dry arroyo. I reckon it's your'n. It's got your initials on it." The eyes of the two men met in a silent battle. Leviatt's were the first to waver. Then he reached out and took the pouch. "It's mine," he said shortly. Again he looked straight at Ferguson, his eyes carrying a silent message. "You see anything else?" he questioned. Ferguson smiled. "I ain't sayin' anything about anything else," he returned. Thus, unsuspectingly, did Stafford watch and listen while these two men arranged to carry on their war man to man, neither asking any favor from the man who, with a word, might have settled it. With his reply that he wasn't "sayin' anything about anything else," Ferguson had told Leviatt that he had no intention of telling his suspicions to any man. Nor from this moment would Leviatt dare whisper a derogatory word into the manager's ear concerning Ferguson. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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