It was a mystery that
maddened him; he seemed to be losing his grip on himself, and, though he
fought against it, he found that he dreaded her disapproval, her sarcasm,
and her taunts.
It seemed to him puerile, ridiculous, to think of refusing to continue
with the work he had started. As long as he was going to stay at the
Lazy Y he might as well keep on. Betty would surely laugh at him if he
refused to go on. He fought it out and took a long time to it, but he
finally pulled the saddle from Blackleg and hitched the two horses to the
wagon. When he drove out of the ranchhouse yard he saw Betty watching
him from one of the kitchen windows. He felt like cursing her, but did
not.
"I reckon," he said as he curled the lash of the whip viciously over the
shoulders of the horses, "that she's got me locoed. Well," he cogitated,
"any woman's liable to stampede a man, an' I ain't the first guy that's
had his doubts whether he's a coyote or a lion after he's been herd-rode
by a petticoat. I'm waitin' her out. But Taggart--" The frown on his
face indicated that his intentions toward the latter were perfectly clear.
CHAPTER XV
A MEETING IN THE RED DOG
Of the good resolutions that Calumet had made since the night before,
when he had re-read his father's letter in the moonlight while standing
beside the corral fence, none had survived.
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