a letter
from her daughter.

"So that was what Bud Lee did after he kissed me!" mused Judith.

She sent immediately for Carson and forced from him the full story.
Dismissing Carson, she remained for a long while alone. Only one
remark had she made to the cattle foreman, and that a little aside from
the issue occupying his mind:

"Keep your weather eye open for what's in the wind," she told him
briefly. "Behind Quinnion is Trevors, and the year isn't over yet."

The ranch was stocked to its utmost capacity. Carson had bought
another herd of cattle; Lee had added to his string of horses. The dry
season was on them, herds were moved higher up the slopes into the
fresh pastures. Carson, converted now to the silos, was a man with one
idea and that idea ensilage. Again the alfalfa acreage was extended,
so that each head of cattle might have its daily auxiliary fodder.
Carson now agreed with Judith in the matter of holding back sales for
the high prices which would come at the heels of the lean months.

The man Donley, who had brought to the ranch the pigeons carrying
cholera, was tried in Rocky Bend. The evidence, though circumstantial,
was strong against him, and the prosecution was pushed hard. But it
was little surprise to any one at the ranch when the trial resulted in
a hung jury. The ablest lawyer in the county had defended Donley, and
finally, late in August, secured his acquittal. The man himself did
not have ten dollars in the world; the attorney taking his case was a
high-priced lawyer. Obviously, to Judith Sanford at least, Bayne
Trevors was standing back of every play his hirelings made.

Doc Tripp had the hog-cholera in hand. And every day, out with the
live stock whose well-being was his responsibility, he worked as he had
never worked before, watchful, eager, suspicious. "If they'll drop
cholera down on us out of the blue sky," he snapped, "I'd like to know
what they won't try."

For the first few days following the dance Bud Lee had within his soul
room but for one emotion: he had held Judith in his arms. He had set
his lips on hers. He went hot and cold with the remembrance. Being a
man, he made his man-suppositions of the emotions that rankled in her
breast. He imagined her contempt of a man who by his strength had
forced her lips to wed his; he pictured her scorn, her growing hatred.
He told himself that he should go, rid the ranch of his presence, take
his departure without a wor