On the seventh day Sanderson and Owen returned.
Mary saw them ride in and she ran to the door and waved a hand to them.
Owen flourished his hat at her, but Sanderson only grinned.
When Sanderson came in Mary did not attempt to kiss him, but she wanted
to when he seized her hand and squeezed it warmly. For it seemed to
her that he was troubled over something.
She watched him narrowly for signs that would tell her of the nature of
the trouble, but when he went to bed she had learned nothing.
At breakfast the next morning she asked him what he had discovered at
Las Vegas. He looked straight at her.
"There is no record of your birth," he said.
She paled. "Then Dale has grounds for his suspicion," she said in a
weak voice.
"Because your birth was not recorded is no sign you are not a
Bransford," he said. "I'll tell you this," he added gruffly: "as a
sister you suit me from the ground up; an' I'll stick to you until hell
freezes over!"
Not until that instant did she realize that she had entertained a fear
that Sanderson would believe as Dale believed, and in an excess of joy
over the discovery that he did believe in her she got up, ran around
the table, seized Sanderson by the shoulders and laid her cheek against
his.
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