"Our friend Chaves. He's escaping because he thinks we'll have
him assassinated in revenge," the big Irishman returned
gleefully. "You should have seen his color, me bye, when he
caught sight of me. I asked him if he'd been reduced to the
ranks, and he begged me not to tell you he was here. Go in and
devil him."
Bucky glanced at his lover. "No, I'm so plumb contented I haven't
the heart."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
At the Rocking Chair Ranch there was bustle and excitement.
Mexicans scrubbed and scoured under the direction of Alice and
Mrs. Mackenzie, and vaqueros rode hither and thither on bootless
errands devised by their nervous master. For late that morning a
telephone call from Aravaipa had brought Webb to the receiver to
listen to a telegram. The message was from Bucky, then on the
train on his way home.
"The best of news. Reach the Rocking Chair tonight."
That was the message which had disturbed the serenity of big Webb
Mackenzie and had given to the motherly heart of his wife an
unusual flutter. The best of news it could not be, for the ranger
had already written them of the confession of Anderson, which
included the statement of the death of their little daughter.
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