Free Ladybird by Grace Livingston Hill Page B

voice questioned anxiously.
    “Oh, yes, she was there. I seen her all right. I trailed her down.”
    Fraley’s heart stood still with horror. These must be some of Brand’s gang, and they had been trailing her! But what had Pierce Boyden to do with it? Had he some fiendish plan to trap her and make her pay for her escape?
    Then the older voice spoke again, gravely, as if perplexed. “But I thought that woman was dead. I thought they told you they saw her buried.”
    “Oh, you mean the old ’un,” said the other man. “Yep, she’s dead all righty. No mistake! But the young ’un is at the old stand, an’ she’s ninety times as peppy as her ma! She’s a looker, too—got bleached hair an’ has the boys right on her string. She keeps ’em all a-guessing, too.”
    “And you think Boyden did it for her sake?” questioned the elder.
    “Positive! He’s jealous as a cat. I stood right beside him an’ I saw him look at her, an’ then I saw him draw a bead ”
    The riders suddenly rounded a curve behind the trees, and their voices were drowned in a breeze that sprang up and tossed the branches around.
    Fraley sat up and strained her ears but could only catch detached words now and then that meant nothing, and there she sat for some time trying to make out what the men had meant. Draw a bead. Then they were not talking about her after all, perhaps. It must be some other girl. Who were these men? They did not sound as if they were friends of Pierce Boyden. The older voice sounded sad and different from the men around here. Perhaps it was the owner of the log cabin where she had milked the cow.
    But she could take no chances. She must get away from here as soon as it was light enough to see a step before her. It would not do to go yet, however. The men might be returning soon, or others of their party might straggle on behind. She must wait until she could see ahead of her or she would run into more difficulties.
    She let her head drop back again on her hard pillow and closed her eyes. She did not intend to go to sleep again, just to rest until she felt it was safe to go on; but the weariness of her young flesh asserted itself, and she was soon soundly sleeping again, so soundly that she did not hear a stealthy foot on the trail ten feet from her bed, nor hear the sniff of an inquisitive nose as the creature paused and tried to analyze the new scent. Then across the valley a dark shadow stole into deeper shadows, and all was still again.
    Day was just dawning when she was awakened again, this time by a leaf softly fluttering down on her face. Looking up startled, she saw two bright eyes above her as a saucy chipmunk frisked away on a slender limb and chattered noisily.
    She sat up and looked around her cautiously. The woods were very dim behind her yet, and still, save for a stray bird note now and then as some old chorister gave his warning cry preparatory to the early matins. Gray and dim also was the valley stretching out to the grim mountain beyond. But down at the end of the valley toward which she was facing, the mountain pass was lit with the rising sun, just the first pale streaks in the sky, rosy and golden, framed by the mountains on either hand a wondrous picture to gaze at. Fraley caught her breath at the beauty of it.
    But this was no time to gaze at beautiful vistas. She must be on her way before the enemy was on her track. If she could make the mountain pass before anyone came by, she felt she would have some chance. But it was a long way off, and she could not tell but perhaps it might be an all-day’s walk. Distances were deceptive. She had learned that yesterday.
    Reaching in her bag, she took out the little bottle of milk and drank its contents. She might need it more later, but by then it might have soured, and she must not run the risk of losing it.
    She started on her way in the mist before the dawn, walking toward the rising sun. She found herself stiff and sore from lying on her humpy bed and