"It was after you had left that I saw it. And I did go down to
the ranch to tell you. But I--you were so--occupied--in other
directions--" She let go his wrists, and began fumbling at her
hair, and she bowed her head again so that her face was hidden
from him.
"You could have told me, anyway," Good Indian said constrainedly.
"You didn't want her to know. I couldn't, before her. And I
didn't want to--hurt her by--" Miss Georgie fumbled more with her
words than with her hair.
"Well, there's no use arguing about that." Good Indian also
found that subject a difficult one. "You say he was shot. Did
he say--"
"He wasn't able to talk when I saw him. Pete said Saunders
claimed he was shot at the stable, but I know that to be a lie."
Miss Georgie spoke with unfeeling exactness. "That was to save
himself in case he got well, I suppose. I believe the man is
going to die, if he hasn't already; he had the look--I've seen
them in wrecks, and I know. He won't talk; he can't.
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