He had kissed her because he loved her, meaning
her no harm, offering her no insult. She had slapped him because she
was Terry, and because she couldn't very well help it. Not because she
did not love him!
Somewhere in the world, off in some misty distance, there was a man
named Blenham, a trickery, treacherous, cruel hound of a man. He would
require attention presently. Just now----
"You've come back to me!" whispered Steve Packard.
And he sighed and shook himself and wished longingly that the return
drive were over and that he had a bath and a shave and were just
calling at the Temple ranch.
Though presently he overhauled his men Steve rode all that day pretty
well apart, maintaining a thoughtful silence which Barbee and the
others supposed had to do solely with the failure of his plans for a
good market. His men knew that he had banked pretty heavily on this
deal; and that now again he would be confronted by the old problem of
finding sufficient feed to pull his herds through.
Hay was scarce and high and would need to be hauled far, making its
final cost virtually prohibitive. The herders, grumbling among
themselves, were for the most part of the opinion that he should have
accepted his defeat at Blenham's hands and sold to Doan at a sacrifice
figure.
That night they camped at the Bitter Springs, making but a brief stop
to water and feed and rest the road-weary cattle.
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