Silently she cooked a meal for the men. The girl was past tears. She had
wept herself out.

While they ate the men told of her father's fury when he had discovered
the elopement, of how he had gone down to the mill and cast her off with
a father's curse, renouncing all relationship with her forever. It was a
jest that held for them a great savor. They made sport of him and of the
other Clantons till she could keep still no longer.

"I won't stand this! I don't have to! Where's Dave?" she demanded, eyes
flashing with contempt and anger.

Ranse grinned, then turned to his companion with simulated perplexity.
"Where is Dave, Brother Hugh?"

"Damfino," replied the red-headed man, and the girl could see that he was
gloating over her. "Last night he was at a dance on God Forgotten Crick.
Dave's soft on a widow up there, you know."

The color ebbed from the face of the wife. One of her hands clutched at
the back of a chair till the knuckles stood out white and bloodless. Her
eyes fastened with a growing horror upon those of the red-headed man. She
had come to the edge of an awful discovery.

"You're no preacher. Who are you?"

"Me?" His smile was cruel as death. "You done guessed it, sister. I'm
Hugh Roush--Dave's brother."

"An'--an'--my marriage was all a lie?"

"Did ye think Dave Roush would marry a Clanton? He's a bad lot, Dave is,
but he ain't come that low yet."

For the first and last time in her life 'Lindy fainted.

Presently she floated back to consciousness and the despair of a soul
mortally stricken. She saw it all now. The lies of Dave Roush had enticed
her into a trap. He had been working for revenge against the family he
hated, especially against brave old Clay Clanton who had killed two of
his kin within the year. With the craft inherited from savage ancestors
he had sent a wound more deadly than any rifle bullet could carry. The
Clantons were proud folks, and he had dragged their pride in the mud.

If the two brothers expected her to make a scene, they were disappointed.
Numb with the shock of the blow, she made no outcry and no reproach.

"Git a move on ye, gal," ordered Ranse after he had finished eating.
"You're goin' with us, so you better hurry."

"What are you goin' to do with me?" she asked dully.

"Why, Dave don't want you any more. We're goin' to send you home."

"I reckon yore folks will kill the fatted calf for you," jeered Hugh
Roush. "They tell me you always been mighty high-heel