She was a queer girl, he told himself; but then, so far
as he had discovered, all women were queer; the only difference being
that some women were more so than others.
He sat down on the bunk where she had lain, and speedily forgot the girl
and the incident in facing the problem of that foremanship. He could not
get away from the conviction that he was not to be trusted. He did not
trust himself, and there was no reason why any man who knew him at all
should trust him. Ches Mason was a good fellow; he meant well, Ford
decided, but he simply did not realize what he was up against. He meant,
therefore, to enlighten him further, and go his way. He was almost sorry
that he had come.
Mason, when Ford confronted him later at the corral and bluntly stated
his view of the matter, heard him through without a word, and did not
laugh the issue out of the way, as he had been inclined to do before.
"I'll be all right for a month, maybe," Ford finished, "and that's as
long as I can bank on myself. I tell you straight, Ches, it won't work.
You may think you're hiring the same fellow that came out of the North
with you--but you aren't.
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