"I ain't working now," he said, lowering his voice so that Lorraine could not hear. "So I'm going to stay here and help see you through with this. I've quit the Sawtooth."
Brit's eyes cleared and studied Lone's face. "D'you know--anything?"
"No, I don't." Lone's face hardened a little. "But I wanted you to know that I'm--with the Quirt, now."
"No. I ain't hired at all. I'm just--_with_ yuh."
"We--need yuh," said Brit grimly, looking Lone straight in the eyes.
"Frank come yet?" The peevish impatience of an invalid whose horizon has narrowed to his own personal welfare and wants was in Brit's voice. Two weeks he had been sick, and his temper had not sweetened with the pain of his broken bones and the enforced idleness. Brit was the type of man who is never quiet unless he is asleep or too ill to get out of bed.
Lorraine came to the doorway and looked in at him. Two weeks had set their mark on her also. She seemed older, quieter in her ways; there were shadows in her eyes and a new seriousness in the set of her mouth. She had had her burdens, and she had borne them with more patience than many an older woman would have done, but what she thought of those burdens she did not say.
"No, dad--but I thought I heard a wagon a little while ago. He must be coming," she said.
"Where's Lone at?" Brit moved restlessly on the pillow and twisted his face at the pain.
Lorraine came to the bedside and, lifting Brit's head carefully, arranged the pillow as she knew he liked it. "I don't know where he went," she said dully. "He rode off just after dinner. Do you want your supper now? Or would you rather wait until Frank brings the fruit?"
"I'd ruther wait--if Frank don't take all night," Brit grumbled. "I hope he ain't connected up with that Echo booze. If he has----"
"Oh, no, dad! Don't borrow trouble. Frank was anxious to get home as soon as he could. He'll be coming any minute, now. I'll go listen for the wagon."
"No use listenin'. You couldn't hear it in that sand--not till he gits to the gate. I don't see where Lone goes to, all the time. Where's Jim and Sorry, then?"
"Oh, they've had their supper and gone to the bunk-house. Do you want them?"
"No! What'd I want 'em fur? Not to look at, that's sure. I want to know how things is going on this ranch. And from all I can make out, they ain't goin' at all," Brit fretted. "What was you 'n Lone talkin' so long about, out in the kitchen last night? Seems to me you 'n' him have got a lot to say to each other, Raine."