She began to forget that he was
kin to her; she began to see only that here was a man playing his game
with high, very high, stakes, that he was watchful and determined, that
he was not the sort to let anything, no matter what, stand between him
and the thing he had made up his mind to do. She saw that he was growing
nervous and sensed that he was in that frame of mind when men act
swiftly and unscrupulously. She took no step about the house that
Pollard did not know of it.
The fourth day came, and her own nerves were strained to snapping. If
she could only do something! She must do something. But what? If
Broderick were the guilty man, and from a score of little things, she
knew that he was, then Henry Pollard was no less guilty. If Pollard were
a part of the horrible scheme, how about Cole Dalton, the sheriff? She
began to think that she saw why the months had gone by and Dalton had
made no arrests! If he was one of them, if the man paid by the county to
defend the county against outlawry were hand and glove with the outlaws,
to whom then could she turn?
But at last, upon the evening of the fourth day, when her spirit was
ready for some desperate measure unless fate came to help her, fate did
help and young Bud King called.
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