So, though his fingers twitched, he held his hand, and presently, hearing voices in the living-room, he crept over to an open window and, standing close to one side of it, bent his head to listen.
On the other side of the house Buck found the mistress of the ranch and her two guests standing in a little group beside one of the dusty, discouraged-looking flower-beds. As he appeared they all glanced toward him, and a troubled, almost frightened expression flashed across Mary Thorne's face.
"Could I speak to you a moment, ma'am?" asked Stratton, doffing his Stetson.
That expression, and her marked hesitation in coming forward, were both significant, and Buck felt a sudden little stab of anger. Was she afraid of him? he wondered; and tried to imagine what beastly lies Lynch must have told her to bring about such an extraordinary state of mind.
But as she moved slowly toward him, the anger ebbed as swiftly as it had come. She looked so slight and frail and girlish, and he observed that her lips were pressed almost as tightly together as the fingers of those small, brown hands hanging straight at her sides. At the edge of the porch she paused and looked up at him, and though the startled look had gone, he could see that she was still nervous and apprehensive.
"Should you rather go inside?" she murmured.
Buck flashed a glance at the two Mannings, still within hearing. "If you don't mind," he answered briefly.
In the living-room she turned and faced him, her back against the table, on which she rested the tips of her outspread fingers. She was so evidently nerving herself for an interview she dreaded that Buck almost regretted having forced it.
"I won't keep you a minute," he began hurriedly. "Tex tells me you have no more use for me here."
"I'm--sorry," fell almost mechanically from her set lips.
Her eyes, which from the first had scarcely left his face, widened, and a puzzled look came into them.
"But you must know," she returned a trifle stiffly.
"I'm sorry, but I don't," he assured her.
"Oh--duties!" She spoke with a touch of soft impatience. "It's what you've done, not what you haven't done that--. But surely this is a waste of time? It's not particularly--pleasant; and I don't see what will be gained by going into all the--the details."