The sleep of the night seemed to blot1 out the excitement of the preceding evening. A bright sun, a cool stir of air, brought in the next morning, and certainly calamity2 had never seemed farther from the Cornish ranch3 than it did on this day. All through the morning people kept arriving in ones and twos. Every buckboard on the place was commissioned to haul the guests around the smooth roads and show them the estate; and those who preferred were furnished with saddle horses from the stable to keep their own mounts fresh for their return trip. Vance took charge of the wagon4 parties; Terence himself guided the horsemen, and he rode El Sangre, a flashing streak5 of blood red.
The exercise brought the color to his face; the wind raised his spirits; and when the gathering6 at the house to wait for the big dinner began, he was as gay as any.
"That's the way with young people," Elizabeth confided7 to her brother.
"Trouble slips off their minds."
And then the second blow fell, the blow on which Vance had counted for his great results. No less a person than Sheriff Joe Minter galloped8 up and threw his reins9 before the veranda10. He approached Elizabeth with a high flourish of his hat and a profound bow, for Uncle Joe Minter affected11 the mannered courtesy of the "Southern" school. Vance had them in profile from the side, and his nervous glance flickered12 from one to the other. The sheriff was plainly pleased with what he had seen on his way up Bear Creek13. He was also happy to be present at so large a gathering. But to Elizabeth his coming was like a death. Her brother could tell the difference between her forced cordiality and the real thing. She had his horse put up; presented him to the few people whom he had not met, and then left him posing for the crowd of admirers. Life to the sheriff was truly a stage. Then Elizabeth went to Vance.
"You saw?" she gasped14.
"Sheriff Minter? What of it? Rather nervy of the old ass15 to come up here for the party; he hardly knows us."
"No, no! Not that! But don't you remember? Don't you remember what Joe
Minter did?"
"Good Lord!" gasped Vance, apparently16 just recalling. "He killed Black
Jack17! And what will Terry do when he finds out?"
She grew still whiter, hearing him name her own fear.
"They mustn't meet," she said desperately18. "Vance, if you're half a man you'll find some way of getting that pompous19, windy idiot off the place."
"My dear! Do you want me to invite him to leave?"
"Something—I don't care what!"
"Neither do I. But I can't insult the fool. That type resents an insult with gunplay. We must simply keep them apart. Keep the sheriff from talking."
"Keep rain from falling!" groaned20 Elizabeth. "Vance, if you won't do anything, I'll go and tell the sheriff that he must leave!"
"You don't mean it!"
"Do you think that I'm going to risk a murder?"
"I suppose you're right," nodded Vance, changing his tactics with Machiavellian21 smoothness. "If Terry saw the man who killed his father, all his twenty-four years of training would go up in smoke and the blood of his father would talk in him. There'd be a shooting!"
She caught a hand to her throat. "I'm not so sure of that, Vance. I think he would come through this acid test. But I don't want to take chances."
"I don't blame you, Elizabeth," said her brother heartily22. "Neither would I. But if the sheriff stays here, I feel that I'm going to win the bet that I made twenty-four years ago. You remember? That Terry would shoot a man before he was twenty-five?"
"Have I ever forgotten?" she said huskily. "Have I ever let it go out of my mind? But it isn't the danger of Terry shooting. It's the danger of Terry being shot. If he should reach for a gun against the sheriff—that professional mankiller—Vance, something has to be done!"
"Right," he nodded. "I wouldn't trust Terry in the face of such a temptation to violence. Not for a moment!"
The natural stubbornness on which he had counted hardened in her face.
"I don't know."
"It would be an acid test, Elizabeth. But perhaps now is the time. You've spent twenty-four years training him. If he isn't what he ought to be now, he never will be, no doubt."
"It may be that you're right," she said gloomily. "Twenty-four years! Yes, and I've filled about half of my time with Terry and his training. Vance, you are right.............