"Well, sit down," invited Tess, seeking to propitiate. "Ye knowed Daddy was dead, didn't ye, Sandy?"
"I can set down without bein' asked," grunted the squatter, dropping into a chair. "Sure I knowed yer pa's flew the coop."
"What'd ye want?" Tess asked again after a moment.
"I've come to settle with ye for somethin'," said Letts.
"I ain't done nothin'," replied Tess.
Sandy threw out an angry hand.
"Ye have, too, ye have, too! Didn't I want ye for my woman, and didn't ye go an'--"
"I said ye couldn't have me," interrupted the girl. "Folks ain't havin'
everythin' they want in this world, Sandy."
"Then ye turned me down in the church afore Waldstricker," went on Sandy. "Ye might've been glad to marry a decent man after what ye'd done. But ye ups and says, 'I won't!' An' I've come to ask the reason why."
Tess walked across the shanty kitchen and sat on the edge of the cot.
Sandy followed her with his eyes, his face growing crimson as he gazed at her.
"I air here for two things," he continued. "To find out the name of that man Waldstricker asked ye 'bout--"
Tessibel's low voice stopped his impudent speech.
"I couldn't tell ye that, Sandy, not even if ye killed me," she murmured. "What was t'uther thing?"
"I air goin' to take ye away with me fer my woman. But ye needn't think I air goin' to marry ye decent like I would in the church t'uther day, fer I won't."
Tessibel, weary and aching, grew cold with fear. She knew the squatter would keep his word, if he could. He would abuse her as Ben had tried to when her father was in Auburn unless help came. Then remembering all the days she had lived and suffered and still'd been saved from Sandy and his like, she breathed a deep sigh.
"I couldn't go with ye, Sandy," she explained.
A cruel expression set Sandy's large, sensuous mouth.
"Ye'll be glad to go with me when I git done with ye." He placed his gun against the chair and stood up. "First, I want to know what made ye act like that in the church fer. Don't ye know me well 'nough to think I'd get ye sooner or later. Ye knowed yer Daddy couldn't always live in the shack. Ye might better took me while ye could. I would jest have beat ye a bit fer yer cussedness, then mebbe after a while I'd fergive ye. But now--"
Tessibel's struggling to her feet broke off the man's volubility. She was so frightened that almost without thought she circled toward the door. Sandy got up and placed himself directly in front of her.
"No, ye don't git out o' here," he sneered, "not till I git through with ye. Jest make up yer mind to that."
Sandy was moving toward her, his eyes gleaming with rage. What could she do? She threw a hasty glance about the shanty. She knew Andy was under the straw tick in the garret and could not hear the low conversation going on in the kitchen.
As if in answer to her agonized prayer, another shadow passed the curtained window. Sandy had not seen it or he would not have thrust forth his great arms and snatched her to him. Tess uttered a scream. In another moment Jake Brewer sprang into the kitchen and was looking from Tessibel to the angry squatter.
Sandy pushed the girl roughly on to the cot--took two steps toward Brewer, his manner threatening.
"What ye sneakin' 'bout here fer?" he growled out.
Jake grinned slowly.
"I allers come in to see Tess," he replied. "What were ye doin', Sandy?"
"I air goin' to take Tessibel to be my woman," muttered Letts.
Jake glanced at the pallid girl.
"Oh, well, I swan! So that air it, eh?"
"Nope," Tess got out through her chattering teeth. Then all the pent-up rage in her body broke loose. "I ain't wantin' to be his woman. I want to be let alone in my shack! Oh, Jake, won't ye make Sandy go away and let me be?"
Sandy laughed evilly.
"It'd take a bigger man'n Jake," he remarked.
Brewer, unruffled, seated himself with the slow manner of a squatter.
"I don't say as how I air very big," replied Jake, crossing his legs, "but I guess no man'll take Tess long's she don't want to go, when I air here, Sandy."
Letts shook a threatening fist.
"Get out o' here, Jake," he growled, going toward the other man. "If ye don't, I'll make it worse fer ye! Git out, I say!"
"Shan't do it. Now, Sandy, I ain't no woman to be 'fraid of you, so just hold yer horses till us uns talk this out. Ye say ye want Tess fer your'n, an' Tess, she don't want ye, now what ye goin' to do?"
"I air a goin' to take her jest the same," snarled Letts.
But thinking better of placing his hands on the other man, he went to his chair and sat down. Tess, too, drew a little sigh of relief. Then the three sat for several quiet seconds looking from one to the other.
At length, Tess broke out.
"Sandy said he'd keep away an' wait till he caught Andy Bishop afore he come to git me."
Sandy glared at her.
"But I told ye if ye had a nuther man hangin' round I'd fix both of ye, an' I'm goin' to keep my word," he snapped back.
"Ye can't fix any one but me, Sandy, 'cause ye don't know nobody else to hurt, do ye," she interrupted him.
"It air easy fer a man like me to choke the name out of ye, brat,"
replied Letts, blinking his eyes at her. "I'd be likin' nothin' better."
Jake moved his big boots back and forth several times.
"I wouldn't try it if I was you, Sandy," he cautioned, "'cause ye know uther folks might be interferin' with ye."
Sandy's throat emitted a deep, doglike growl as he clambered to his feet.
"I'll do it now, dam ye both," he barked back in ugly defiance.