"If she is in love with him she did, I reckon," returned Harriet,
wisely. "I wish he was in love with her. He is getting entirely too
troublesome."

"He'll never care a snap for her as long as you are alive," retorted
the old lady. "I'm sorry now that I ever let you go with him so much.
He seems to be getting more and more determined to make you marry him
whether or no. He is jealous of Mr. Westerfelt." Mrs. Floyd lowered
her voice. "If he hadn't been, he wouldn't have fought him as he did.
That is at the bottom of it, daughter, and now that he is a regular
outlaw I am awfully uneasy. If I ever get a chance, I'm going to
convince him that it is useless for him to worry you as he does. I'd
rather see you in your grave than married to a man like that."




Chapter IX

It was a week before John Westerfelt was strong enough to leave his
room in the hotel. Inflammation of his wound had set in, and at one
time his condition was thought to be quite critical.

One day Luke Bradley came in his buggy to drive him out to his house.

"Marthy won't heer to a refusal," he said. "She's powerful' troubled.
She 'lowed ef we'd 'a' made you stay with us you'd not 'a' been apt to
'a' met Wambush that day, an' 'a' been laid up like this. She's jest
dyin' to git to cook things fer you an' doctor you up."