she
went to the law for redress? Her friends in the East whose good wishes,
whose respect, she desired? Mockers there would be among them, she was
certain; there were mockers everywhere, and she feared their taunts, the
shafts of sarcasm that would be launched at her--aye, that would strike
her--when they heard that she had passed a night in a lone cabin with a
strange cowboy--had been married to him!

A month had passed since the afternoon on which she had ridden up to the
porch of the Double R ranchhouse to be greeted by Duncan with the
information that he had that morning received a telegram from her father
announcing her coming. It had been brought from Lazette by a puncher who
had gone there for the mail, and Duncan was at that moment preparing to
drive to Lazette to meet her, under the impression that she would arrive
that day. There had been a mistake, of course, but what did it matter now?
The damage had been wrought and she closed her lips. A month had passed
and she had not told--she would never tell.

Conversations she had had with Duncan; he seemed a gentleman, living at
the Double R ranchhouse with his sister, but in no conversation with
anyone had Sheila even mentioned Dakota's name, fearing that something in
her manner might betray her secret. To everyone but herself the picture of
her adventure that night on the trail must remain invisible.

She looked furtively at Duncan, stretched out beside her on the grass.
What would he say if he knew? He would not be pleased, she was certain,
for during the month that she had been at the Double R--riding out almost
daily with him--he had forced her to see that he had taken a liking to
her--more, she herself had observed the telltale signs of something deeper
than mere liking.

She had not encouraged this, of course, for she was not certain that she
liked Duncan, though he had treated her well--almost too well, in fact,
for she had at times felt a certain reluctance in accepting his little
attentions--such personal service as kept him almost constantly at her
side. His manner, too, was ingratiating; he smiled too much to suit her;
his presumption of proprietorship over her irritated her not a little.

As she sat beside him on the grass she found herself studying him, as she
had done many times when he had not been conscious of her gaze.

He was thirty-two,--he had told her so himself in a burst of
confidence--though she believed him to be much older. The sprink