Outside the open second story window of the hotel Melissy heard a voice
that sounded familiar. She moved toward the window alcove, and at the same
time a quick step was heard in the hall. Someone opened the door of the
parlor and stood on the threshold. It was the man called Boone.
Melissy, from the window, glanced round. Her first impulse was to speak;
her second to remain silent. For the Arkansan was not looking at her. His
mocking ribald gaze was upon Ferne Yarnell.
That young woman looked up from the letter of introduction she was reading
and a startled expression swept into her face.
"Dunc Boone," she cried.
The man doffed his hat with elaborate politeness. "Right glad to meet up
with you again, Miss Ferne. You was in short dresses when I saw you last.
My, but you've grown pretty. Was it because you heard I was in Arizona
that you came here?"
She rose, rejecting in every line of her erect figure his impudent
geniality, his insolent pretense of friendliness.
"My brother is in the hotel. If he learns you are here there will be
trouble."
A wicked malice lay in his smiling eyes. "Trouble for him or for me?" he
inquired silkily.
His lash flicked her on the raw. Hal Yarnell was a boy of nineteen. This
man had a long record as a gunfighter to prove him a desperate man.
Moreover, he knew how hopelessly heart sick she was of the feud that for
many years had taken its toll of blood.
"Haven't you done us enough harm, you and yours? Go away. Leave us alone.
That's all I ask of you."
He came in and closed the door. "But you see it ain't all I ask of you,
Ferne Yarnell. I always did ask all I could get of a girl as pretty as
you."
"Will you leave me, sir?"
"When I'm through."
"Now."
"No, I reckon not," he drawled between half shuttered eyes.
She moved toward the door, but he was there before her. With a turn of his
wrist he had locked it.
"This interview quits at my say-so, honey. Think after so many years of
absence-makes-the-heart-grow-fonder you're going to trample over me like I
was a kid? Guess again."
"Unlock that door," she ordered.
"When I get good and ready. We'll have our talk out first."
Her eyes blazed. She was white as paper though she faced him steadily. But
her heart wavered. She dared not call out for fear her brother might hear
and come to her assistance. This she must forestall at all costs.