just throw a man out of the house for nothing."
"He's a thief, Pa, and probably worse. You know it, and I do."
There was silence within, and Ben Cowan waited. He did not like to eavesdrop on private conversations, but in this case it was his business to do so, for without doubt they were talking of Miller.
"Pa, he's afraid of somebody ... or something. He never steps into the street without looking out the window first."
Her father was silent for several minutes, and then he said, "I know it, Cordelia." A pause. "Cordelia, I can order him from our home, but what if he refuses to go? I was not in the war ... I've never used a gun but once or twice. I doubt," he added, "whether any other man in Tucson can say that, and living in the country as we do, I am surprised that I can." "I would not want you to fight him."
"If he refuses to go, what else could I do? I am afraid, Cordelia, that women sometimes make demands on their men without realizing the consequences."
Ben Cowan had lost interest, for the time being, in Bijah Catlow and the Mexican soldier. For a moment he considered going in the shop next door and asking them to invite him to supper ... then he could leave with Miller and make his arrest. But to do such a thing might endanger the Burtons, and he had no right to bring trouble to innocent people.
Miller was a cross-grained man with a hard, arrogant way about him, a man born to cause trouble wherever he might go. Ben Cowan tried to imagine Miller in the same house with Catlow, and could not; for Miller's attitude was just that calculated to move Bijah to action.
A door closed and Ben Cowan stiffened, glancing swiftly to right and left ... could it have been the shop door? He heard no voices--only the pound of a hammer on leather. He started to step from the doorway and found himself face to face with Cordelia Burton. He swept off his hat.
"I beg your pardon," he said, greatly embarrassed. "I--"
She glanced from him to the window, then abruptly walked on. He was about to speak, but held his tongue. He remained there, staring after her. She was lovely, undeniably lovely ... she was also very definitely a girl who knew her own mind. After a moment of consideration, Ben decided that she was not overmatched in coping with Bijah, for Bijah was basically a gentleman. Miller was another item, another item entirely.
Annoyed with himself, Ben started for the Quartz Rock. He felt a fool, being caught eavesdropping by such a girl, and he had stared at her like a damned fool.
Cordelia Burton walked on down the boardwalk, her heels clicking. The momentary irritation she had felt on seeing the man standing where he could obviously hear all that was said within passed away, but she was puzzled.
The man was a stranger ... a tall man with broad shoulders. In the shadow of the building she had seen only his chin, but he had spoken courteously and she had been wrong not to acknowledge it. Who could he be? And why would he be standing there?
The building was empty. There was nothing nearby, unless ... unless for some reason he was watching for somebody at the Quartz Rock. Suddenly she had a distinct impression that there had been a badge on his chest.
Badges were not frequent in Tucson, and she had never seen a man who resembled this one wearing a badge. He had been standing in the dark doorway of an abandoned building watching somebody or something. She flushed as she realized how self-centered she must have been to be so sure he had been listening in on her conversation. She paused on the corner.
She knew she had best be getting home. It was late, and a decent woman kept off the streets at this hour. Yet her curiosity made her turn to look back. The man she had seen was crossing the street toward the Quartz Rock Saloon. At the same time she noticed Bijah Catlow's horse tied to the rail.
She would ask Bijah--he would certainly know something about the tall stranger with the badge.
Suddenly, from behind her she heard the
"He's a thief, Pa, and probably worse. You know it, and I do."
There was silence within, and Ben Cowan waited. He did not like to eavesdrop on private conversations, but in this case it was his business to do so, for without doubt they were talking of Miller.
"Pa, he's afraid of somebody ... or something. He never steps into the street without looking out the window first."
Her father was silent for several minutes, and then he said, "I know it, Cordelia." A pause. "Cordelia, I can order him from our home, but what if he refuses to go? I was not in the war ... I've never used a gun but once or twice. I doubt," he added, "whether any other man in Tucson can say that, and living in the country as we do, I am surprised that I can." "I would not want you to fight him."
"If he refuses to go, what else could I do? I am afraid, Cordelia, that women sometimes make demands on their men without realizing the consequences."
Ben Cowan had lost interest, for the time being, in Bijah Catlow and the Mexican soldier. For a moment he considered going in the shop next door and asking them to invite him to supper ... then he could leave with Miller and make his arrest. But to do such a thing might endanger the Burtons, and he had no right to bring trouble to innocent people.
Miller was a cross-grained man with a hard, arrogant way about him, a man born to cause trouble wherever he might go. Ben Cowan tried to imagine Miller in the same house with Catlow, and could not; for Miller's attitude was just that calculated to move Bijah to action.
A door closed and Ben Cowan stiffened, glancing swiftly to right and left ... could it have been the shop door? He heard no voices--only the pound of a hammer on leather. He started to step from the doorway and found himself face to face with Cordelia Burton. He swept off his hat.
"I beg your pardon," he said, greatly embarrassed. "I--"
She glanced from him to the window, then abruptly walked on. He was about to speak, but held his tongue. He remained there, staring after her. She was lovely, undeniably lovely ... she was also very definitely a girl who knew her own mind. After a moment of consideration, Ben decided that she was not overmatched in coping with Bijah, for Bijah was basically a gentleman. Miller was another item, another item entirely.
Annoyed with himself, Ben started for the Quartz Rock. He felt a fool, being caught eavesdropping by such a girl, and he had stared at her like a damned fool.
Cordelia Burton walked on down the boardwalk, her heels clicking. The momentary irritation she had felt on seeing the man standing where he could obviously hear all that was said within passed away, but she was puzzled.
The man was a stranger ... a tall man with broad shoulders. In the shadow of the building she had seen only his chin, but he had spoken courteously and she had been wrong not to acknowledge it. Who could he be? And why would he be standing there?
The building was empty. There was nothing nearby, unless ... unless for some reason he was watching for somebody at the Quartz Rock. Suddenly she had a distinct impression that there had been a badge on his chest.
Badges were not frequent in Tucson, and she had never seen a man who resembled this one wearing a badge. He had been standing in the dark doorway of an abandoned building watching somebody or something. She flushed as she realized how self-centered she must have been to be so sure he had been listening in on her conversation. She paused on the corner.
She knew she had best be getting home. It was late, and a decent woman kept off the streets at this hour. Yet her curiosity made her turn to look back. The man she had seen was crossing the street toward the Quartz Rock Saloon. At the same time she noticed Bijah Catlow's horse tied to the rail.
She would ask Bijah--he would certainly know something about the tall stranger with the badge.
Suddenly, from behind her she heard the
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