.

But to think that these things could be done without fear of
retribution. Jim and Sorry, Swan and Lone had not attempted to hide
their belief that the Sawtooth was responsible for Frank's death, yet
not one of them had hinted at the possibility of calling the sheriff, or
placing the blame where it belonged. They seemed brow-beaten into the
belief that it would be useless to fight back. They seemed to look upon
the doings of the Sawtooth as an act of Providence, like being struck by
lightning or freezing to death, as men sometimes did in that country.

To Lorraine that passive submission was the most intolerable part, the
one thing she could not, would not endure. Had she lived all of her life
on the Quirt, she probably would never have thought of fighting back and
would have accepted conditions just as her dad seemed to accept them.
But her mimic West had taught her that women sometimes dared where the
men had hesitated. It never occurred to her that she should submit to
the inevitable just because the men appeared to do so.

Wherefore it was a new Lorraine who rose at daybreak and silently cooked
breakfast for the men, learned from Jim that Sorry was not back from
Echo, and that Swan and Lone had gone down to the place where Frank had
been found. She poured Jim's coffee and went on her tiptoes to see if
her father still slept. She dreaded his awakening and the moment when
she must tell him about Frank, and she had an unreasonable hope that the
news might be kept from him until the doctor came again.

Brit was awake, and the look in his eyes frightened Lorraine so that she
stopped in the middle of the room, staring at him fascinated.

"Well," he said flatly, "who is it this time? Lone, or--Frank?"

"Why--who is what?" Lorraine parried awkwardly. "I don't----"

"Did they git Frank, las' night?" Brit's eyes seemed to bore into her
soul, searching pitilessly for the truth. "Don't lie to me, Raine--it
ain't going to help any. Was it Frank or Lone? They's a dead man laid
out on this ranch. Who is it?"

"F-frank," Lorraine stammered, backing away from him. "H-how did you
know?"

"How did it happen?" Brit's eyes were terrible.

Lorraine shuddered while she told him.

"Rabbits in a trap," Brit muttered, staring at the low ceiling. "Can't
prove nothing--couldn't convict anybody if we could prove it. Bill
Warfield's got this county under his thumb. Rabbits in a trap. Raine,
you better pack up and go home to your mo