From a distant corral where he tinkered at some trivial task Big Basford watched her with wild red eyes. At these times the man was a savage who would have killed Arnold joyfully had the thing been possible. Minnie Pine, busy at the kitchen window, watched him.
“The Black Devil is in hell, Josefa,” she said guardedly, “he knows the master’s coming—and that the Boss will lie in his arms.”
“He pays for his sins,” said Josefa calmly, “which is more than the others do.”
“Rod,” returned the half-breed, “has no sins.”
“He-ugh! He-ugh!” laughed the old woman, “so says the young fool because she loves him.”
“I know what I know,” said Minnie, “the Blue Eyes has a clean heart. One sin, maybe, yes—or two, maybe—but he sits sometimes with his head in his hands, and he mourns—like our people for death. He says it is for death—death of a man’s honor killed by mistake. I know, for I’ve sat with him then—and he has put his face in my neck.”
There was a high beauty about the simple words and the ancient dame looked at the girl with understanding. For a moment the cynicism was absent.
“You speak truth,” she said softly, “the man is a stranger to these others. Also he is of a white heart. He should have been a Pomo chief in the old days.”
Noon came and passed and Kate Cathrew did not eat.
She watched the sun drop over toward the west, the pine shadows turn on the slopes.