The Desert Moon Mystery by Kay Cleaver Strahan

When I finally did get myself downstairs, I found Sam, seemingly alone in the living-room, playing solitaire. I judged, from the look he gave me, and from the way he had his shoulders hunched, that he was still in a right ugly humor.

"Where's everybody? " I asked.

"Out committing murders, somewhere, likely."

"That's a nice way to talk, isn't it?"

He mumbled something.

"What? " I said. "I can't hear you when you mutter like that."

"I didn't talk much louder when I told Miss MacDonald about John's trying to make a getaway. She heard me all right. That's all the good it did. Do you know how much I trust that woman?"

"No, I don't know. I don't care, either."

Sam got out that silly, shrill voice he has for talking when he is trying to mock a woman, any woman, and in using it he spoke up, real loudly. "‘Well, Mr. Stanley, why not allow your son to go down and live with the ranch hands, in their houses, for a time, since he is so eager to do so?"

"Well, what about that?"

"Ahk! " Sam barked. "She is head over heels in love with him, that's a part of what is the matter with her."

I said, "I wish I thought so."

"Why do you wish that, Mary? " It was Danny's voice. Her white face, with the big, sorrowful eyes, peeked around the high back of a chair near the fireplace.

I was too taken aback to answer her.

"How long have you been sitting there, eavesdropping, young lady? " Sam asked.

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop," she answered, quietly. "I am sorry. I was reading, and didn't hear anything until you began to mimic Miss MacDonald. I heard all of that. Why does John wish to go down and live with the outfit?"

"John and Sam had a little trouble to-day," I told her.

Sam, with his usual helpfulness in embarrassing situations, pushed back his chair and went walking fast out of the room.

"Mary," she questioned, "why aren't you my friend any more?"

"Lands, child," I said, "if you mean that because I was wishing Miss MacDonald was in love with John, it was only because I've always reckoned that the more women in love with a man the better for him. John loves you. What do you care how many women love him?"