“Ain’t you all taking a lot for granted?” he asked, “and mussing in Kate Cathrew’s business?”
The bearded man turned on him.
“Damn Kate Cathrew’s business! She can’t give a decent girl to that slimy rep-tile Provine and get by with it in this man’s country—not by a damn sight! Get your horses, boys!”
As the players surged out, McKane, obeying some apprehensive instinct which pulled at his heart like a cold hand, rose and followed.
“Wait till I get mine!” he shouted as he ran.
CHAPTER XX
CONCLUSION
When Nance Allison mounted Buckskin at Kate Cathrew’s door a terrible weight hung at her heart, yet a current of strength seemed flowing in her veins.
“‘The Lord is the strength of my life,’” she thought valiantly, “‘of whom shall I be afraid?’”
The courage of the familiar words had been with her through many bitter trials—it did not fail her now.
But she was not conscious that she no longer called upon her Maker for help to bear, to be patient under persecution, or that she ran a hand along the muscle of her right arm testing its quality.