“Much you know about love, Mr. Brandon,” replied Jacqueline. “Neither of them could heah—the crack of doom.”
“Even so, Hogue will hear you, if you don’t stop crying.”
“I’ll stop. This is the first time—I’ve broken down,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Your being heah with me—sharing it—standing so loyally by Hogue—just—”
“Quiet!” whispered Wade in her ear. “They’re coming.” And he drew Jacqueline a little farther back in the shadow. He had heard a light step—too light for the boot of a cowboy unused to walking.
Wade saw a gliding shadow. It vanished—again appeared. Jacqueline saw it, too, for she clutched Wade’s warning hand. Then a white slender form came out in the moonlight. Rona! Her hair shone silver. She had the poise of a listening deer, but there was no hint of fear in her intensi
