So this long and simple love-letter from Bud, while satisfying the cravings of the lover, stirred up again the misgivings of the doubter. And her cogitations resulted in the admission that Bud must be either one of two things. Either he was absolutely innocent of the imputations contained in the letter that Skidmore brought, or he was one of the most consummate villains at large.
There were grounds for both suppositions, and the girl, after hours of vain struggle, found herself still in the middle ground, but more nervous and anxious than she had ever been.
The arrival of Mike Stelton under guard two days after that of the other rustlers created a sensation. For the girl it was the blow that shattered another illusion, for although she had never cared for the foreman, her belief in his unswerving faithfulness to the Bissell house was absolute. Now to see him the admitted leader of the gang that had steadily impoverished her father was almost unbelievable.
The man who brought Stelton in also brought a hurried scrawl to Juliet from Bud, which read:
Darling:
We are more than half-way up the range. Have recovered 1,500 head of rebranded stock, much of which is Bar T. Stelton is the head of the rustlers and I have the proof. Sorry to foist these criminals on the Bar T, but it was the nearest ranch, and besides, I want them there when your father comes home. Also I want to be able to tell you that I love you, and will love you always. With luck, two days ought to see the end of all these troubles.
Your Bud.
Probably the most miserable man in the whole cow country at this time was Smithy Caldwell. Aside from the fate he feared, his position among the captured rustlers was one of utter torture. The men had discovered that it was through his selfish scheming that Stelton had been betrayed, and they treated him with the cruelty and scorn of rough, savage men.
So, when Stelton appeared, Caldwell fairly cringed. With the strange, unreasoning terror of a coward he feared bodily harm at the hands of the foreman, forgetting that, in all probability, his life was forfeit sooner or later.
His fear was all but realized, for no sooner were Stelton's hands unbound as he caught sight of Caldwell than he made a leap for him and would have strangled him then and there had not others pulled the two apart.
"There, you whelp!" bellowed Stelton. "That's a sample of what you'll get later on. All I ask is to see you kickin' at the end of a rope, you yellow-bellied traitor!" And Smithy, clutching at his throat, staggered, whimpering, away.
The day after Stelton's arrival Juliet conceived the idea of questioning the foreman about the letter that she knew Smithy Caldwell had written her. At her request he was brought into the living-room of the ranch house with his hands tied to permit of the guard leaving them together.
Now that all Bud's prophecies in regard to the man had been fulfilled, she feared him, and one glance at his dark, contorted face as he was led in increased this fear.
For his part the very sight of this sweet, quiet girl for whom he had waited so long, and through whose lover he was now doomed, brought a very eruption of rage. His lips parted and bared his teeth, his eyes were bloodshot, and his swarthy face worked with fury.
"Mike, I'm sorry to see you here like this," said Juliet gently.
"A lot you are!" he sneered brutally. "You're tickled to death. Hope to see me swing, too, I suppose?"
"Don't talk like that," she protested, horrified at the change in the man. "I'm going to try to see what I can do for you, though Heaven knows you don't deserve much."
Fury choked him and prevented a reply. At last he managed to articulate.
"What do yuh want of me?" he growled.
"I want you to tell me about a letter that I received a few days ago. It was brought here by a man by the name of Skidmore, who takes pictures."
At the identification of the letter, Stelton's eyes glittered and his mouth grinned cruelly.
"What do yuh want to know about it?" he asked.
"First I want to know why you wrote it?"
"I didn't write it," he snarled.
"Well, then, why you had Caldwell write it?"
"How do you know I had Caldwell write it?"
His tone was nasty and she could see that he was enjoying the misery he caused her.
But though Juliet was humbled, she was none the less a daughter of her father, and at Stelton's tone and manner her imperious anger flashed up.
"Look here, Stelton," she said in a cold, even tone, "please remember who I am and treat me with respect. If you speak to me again as you have this afternoon I will call those men in and have you quirted up against a tree. If you don't believe me, try it."
But Stelton was beyond speech. All the blood in him seemed to rush to his head and distend the veins there. He struggled with his bonds so furiously that the girl rose to her feet in alarm. Then she walked to the library table, opened the drawer and took out a long, wooden-handled .45.
With this in her possession she resumed her seat. Presently the foreman, unable to free his hands, ceased his struggles through sheer exhaustion.
"I know you made Caldwell write that letter," she said, balancing the gun, "and I want to know why you did it?"
Stelton, finding physical intimidation impossible, resorted to mental craft.
"I didn't want you to love that sheepman," he replied sullenly.
"Why not?"
"Because all those things about him are true, and I thought I'd let yuh know before yuh broke yore heart."
She searched his face keenly and had to confess to herself that he spoke with absolute sincerity. Her face slowly paled, and for a moment the room seemed to whirl about her. The world appeared peopled with horrible gargoyles that resembled Stelton and that leered and gibbered at her everywhere.
The foreman saw her wince and grow pallid, and his fury was cooled with the ice of fiendish satisfaction. He could hurt her now.
"Because you say so doesn't prove it to me," she managed to say at last, though she scarcely recognized the voice that came from her tremulous lips.
"I can give you proof enough if you want it," he snapped, suddenly taken with an idea.
"You can?" The words were pitiful, and her voice broke with the stress of her misery.
"Yes."
"How?"
"Get Smithy Caldwell in here. He knew that lover of yore's when he wasn't quite such a sheepman. He'll tell yuh things that'll make yore hair stand on end."
In his delight at his plan Stelton could not keep the exultant cruelty out of his voice.
Juliet pounded on the floor with the butt of her weapon (this was the signal agreed upon for the removal of Stelton), and a sheepman almost immediately thrust his head in at the door.
"Yes, ma'am?" he inquired.
"Bring Smithy Caldwell in, please," she requested, "and tie his hands."
When the miserable fellow was pushed through the doorway and saw Stelton standing inside he shrank back against the wall and stood looking from one to the other with the quick, white eyes of a trapped animal. The thought came to him that perhaps these two were already deciding his fate, and his weak chin quivered.
"Sit down, Caldwell," said Juliet, coolly motioning him to one of the rough chairs. He slunk into it obediently.
"I want to ask you about that letter you sent me in which you said several things about Mr. Larkin," she went on not unkindly,