He approached Elizabeth with a
high flourish of his hat and a profound bow, for Uncle Joe Minter
affected the mannered courtesy of the "Southern" school. Vance had them
in profile from the side, and his nervous glance flickered from one to
the other. The sheriff was plainly pleased with what he had seen on his
way up Bear Creek. He was also happy to be present at so large a
gathering. But to Elizabeth his coming was like a death. Her brother
could tell the difference between her forced cordiality and the real
thing. She had his horse put up; presented him to the few people whom he
had not met, and then left him posing for the crowd of admirers. Life to
the sheriff was truly a stage. Then Elizabeth went to Vance.
"You saw?" she gasped.
"Sheriff Minter? What of it? Rather nervy of the old ass to come up here
for the party; he hardly knows us."
"No, no! Not that! But don't you remember? Don't you remember what Joe
Minter did?"
"Good Lord!" gasped Vance, apparently just recalling. "He killed Black
Jack! And what will Terry do when he finds out?"
She grew still whiter, hearing him name her own fear.
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