When he ceased speaking I had the same impulse that must have governed Steele—­somehow to show Sampson not so black as he was painted, to give him the benefit of a doubt, to arraign him justly in the eyes of Rangers who knew what wild border life was.

“Steele, bring Diane in!” I called.  “I’ve something to tell her.”  They came quickly, concerned probably at my tone.  “I’ve been hoping for a chance to tell you something, Miss Sampson.  That day I came here your father was quarreling with Wright.  I had heard them do that before.  He hated Wright.  The reason came out just before we had the fight.  It was my plan to surprise them.  I did.  I told them you went out to meet Steele—­that you two were in love with each other.  Wright grew wild.  He swore no one would ever have you.  Then Sampson said he’d rather have you Steele’s wife than Wright’s.

“I’ll not forget that scene.  There was a great deal back of it, long before you ever came out to Linrock.  Your father said that he had backed Wright, that the deal had ruined him, made him a rustler.  He said he quit; he was done.  Now, this is all clear to me, and I want to explain, Miss Sampson.  It was Wright who ruined your father.  It was Wright who was the rustler.  It was Wright who made the gang necessary.  But Wright had not the brains or the power to lead men.  Because blood is thick, your father became the leader of that gang.  At heart he was never a criminal.

“The reason I respected him was because he showed himself a man at the last.  He faced me to be shot, and I couldn’t do it.  As Steele said, you’ve reason for sorrow.  But you must get over it.  You mustn’t brood.  I do not see that you’ll be disgraced or dishonored.  Of course, that’s not the point.  The vital thing is whether or not a woman of your high-mindedness had real and lasting cause for shame.  Steele says no.  I say no.”

Then, as Miss Sampson dropped down beside me, her eyes shining and wet, Sally entered the room in time to see her cousin bend to kiss me gratefully with sisterly fervor.  Yet it was a woman’s kiss, given for its own sake.  Sally could not comprehend; it was too sudden, too unheard-of, that Diane Sampson should kiss me, the man she did not love.  Sally’s white, sad face changed, and in the flaming wave of scarlet that dyed neck and cheek and brow I read with mighty pound of heart that, despite the dark stain between us, she loved me still.

Chapter 15

CONVALESCENCE

Four mornings later we were aboard the stage, riding down the main street, on the way out of Linrock.  The whole town turned out to bid us farewell.  The cheering, the clamor, the almost passionate fervor of the populace irritated me, and I could not see the incident from their point of view.  Never in my life had I been so eager to get out of a place.  But then I was morbid, and the whole world hinged on one thing.  Morton insisted on giving us an escort as far as Del Rio.  It consisted of six cowboys, mounted, with light packs, and they rode ahead of the stage.