arrived, when Lingle rode around the side of the hill and came upon her suddenly.
Immediately the deputy's face set in lines of sternness. He had been rehearsing his part in the dialogue which was to follow and believed he had it sufficiently well in hand to play the act admirably. This murder was the first big case he had had since being appointed deputy. It was a great opportunity and he meant to make the most of it, for if handled creditably it might prove a stepping stone to the sheriff's office. The element of surprise he knew was most effective and he was counting upon it to obtain valuable admissions. In the scene, as he visualized it while riding, he was to advance gimlet-eyed, throw open his coat and confront her with the badge which made the guilty tremble.
"Guess you know what I'm here for, Madam," he was to say significantly and harshly. But like most prearranged things in life it all went differently. When he was close enough to see well his jaw dropped automatically. There was no more resemblance between the girl who straightened up and smiled upon him and the hard-featured woman, he had pictured as "Mormon Joe's Kate," than there was between himself and the horse he was riding.
Younger by years than he had anticipated, she radiated wholesomeness, simple friendliness and candor. A strand of soft hair had slipped from beneath her cap and lay upon a cheek that was a vivid pink in the cold atmosphere; she had the clear skin of perfect health and her lips were red with the blood that was close to the surface, while the gray eyes with which she regarded him were frank and steady as she gazed at him inquiringly.
Lingle tugged at his hat brim instinctively.
"I thought you were a coyote when the sheep began
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