The Sheriff's Son
It was of no importance that he was a man she detested, one who had quarreled with her father and been thrashed by her brother for insulting her. All she thought of was that help had come to her at last and she was now safe.
He stared down at her with a kind of drunken malevolence.
"So you fell in, eh?"
"Yes. Please help me out right away. My riata is tied to Blacky's saddle."
He looked around. "Where?"
"Is n't Blacky there? He must have broken loose, then. Never mind. Pass me down the end of a young sapling and you can pull me up."
"Can I?"
For the first time she felt a shock of alarm. There was in his voice something that chilled her, something inexpressibly cruel.
"I 'll see my father rewards you. I 'll see you get well paid," she promised, and the inflection of the words was an entreaty.
"You will, eh?"
"Anything you want," she hurried on. "Name it. If we can give it to you, I promise it."
His drunken brain was functioning slowly.
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