first person he glimpsed as he stepped through the door was Marie Shattuck. She had turned toward the door as he stepped in, and for an instant she remained still, staring at him, startled at his unexpected arrival.
"Miss Shattuck?" He spoke in his best Kehoe style. "It is good to see you again."
"Why, yes-I didn't know . . . I mean I wasn't expecting to see you here."
"I invited him." Peg Oliver was suddenly beside her. "After all, we can't let him think we aren't hospitable."
Across the room he saw Dan Shattuck turn and glance toward him, and saw the older's man's expression change and become bleak.
"I can't stay long," he said. "I've got a long ride before me."
"You're leaving?" Marie was surprised at the intensity of her own voice, and saw Peg glance at her suddenly.
"To buy cattle," he said. "I heard of some I can buy-if I hurry."
Dan Shattuck was suddenly beside them. "If you mean the herd at Spanish Fork," he said, "you'd be wasting your time. The farmers along the trail will not allow any trail herds to come through."
"I'll bring them through."
Dan Shattuck was irritated. This young man disturbed him and aroused his ire, and that very fact served to nettle him even more. Why should he worry what Riley did? Only . . . his were the only whiteface herd in the Territory, and he was proud of the fact. Also, there was that matter of rustling-as long as his were the only cattle of the kind, his herd was relatively safe. But which was the more important reason?
"You'll have to have hands," he said, "and they aren't easy to find. But even with enough cowhands, there's no way you could get those cattle through without sprouting wings on them."
The music had started and Riley turned quickly to Marie. "Will you dance with me?" He spoke quickly, before her uncle could interrupt, and in an instant, while Dan Shattuck's face hardened with anger, they were out on the floor with the others. "He's a handsome man, Uncle Dan," Peg said, "and he likes Marie."
"He's a damned fool!" Shattuck replied roughly, and strode away.
Gaylord Riley danced well, for he was a man handy with his feet, and with rhythm in his blood, and there had been times here and there about the country when he had danced with girls from the Rio Grande to the Sacramento.
"You dance well, Mr. Riley," Marie said.
"It is because I dance with you," he said, and was surprised at how easily the words came to him.
"Are you going to stay with us, then?"
"Yes."
"You must not let Uncle Dan worry you. He is a good man, but very proud."
"There are too many other things about which to worry," he said, then looking down at her: "I have not known many girls."
"I don't believe that," she said quickly, and added, "Peg likes you."
"I like her," he agreed, "and she thought to ask me over."
Suddenly the small talk died within him. A thin, stooped man, his face deep-lined, was standing at the far side of the room. He wore a low-slung gun, and his eyes were watching Riley.
"What's the matter?" Marie asked quickly. "You sure you're feeling well?"
"I never felt better," he said, "but let's get off the floor."
That man was Desloge, an outlaw, one Riley had met and known slightly near Lordsburg-at a town called Shakespeare, actually. What was he doing here, of all places?
He had never liked the man, and Jim had refused Desloge sharply when he suggested he throw in with the Colburn gang. He was a hired gunman, but the stories about him went beyond that. Several times he had outlaw companions who disappeared abruptly, and others who found themselves in the hands of the law under peculiar circumstances. Nobody could prove a thing, but too much had happened to be mere coincidence.
And now he was here, and Riley was sure the man had recognized him.
How long had it been? Most of two years, and Riley had changed-but not enough.
They stood together on the porch, with other couples around them, and they talked quietly. For the first time Riley forgot who he was and what he
"Miss Shattuck?" He spoke in his best Kehoe style. "It is good to see you again."
"Why, yes-I didn't know . . . I mean I wasn't expecting to see you here."
"I invited him." Peg Oliver was suddenly beside her. "After all, we can't let him think we aren't hospitable."
Across the room he saw Dan Shattuck turn and glance toward him, and saw the older's man's expression change and become bleak.
"I can't stay long," he said. "I've got a long ride before me."
"You're leaving?" Marie was surprised at the intensity of her own voice, and saw Peg glance at her suddenly.
"To buy cattle," he said. "I heard of some I can buy-if I hurry."
Dan Shattuck was suddenly beside them. "If you mean the herd at Spanish Fork," he said, "you'd be wasting your time. The farmers along the trail will not allow any trail herds to come through."
"I'll bring them through."
Dan Shattuck was irritated. This young man disturbed him and aroused his ire, and that very fact served to nettle him even more. Why should he worry what Riley did? Only . . . his were the only whiteface herd in the Territory, and he was proud of the fact. Also, there was that matter of rustling-as long as his were the only cattle of the kind, his herd was relatively safe. But which was the more important reason?
"You'll have to have hands," he said, "and they aren't easy to find. But even with enough cowhands, there's no way you could get those cattle through without sprouting wings on them."
The music had started and Riley turned quickly to Marie. "Will you dance with me?" He spoke quickly, before her uncle could interrupt, and in an instant, while Dan Shattuck's face hardened with anger, they were out on the floor with the others. "He's a handsome man, Uncle Dan," Peg said, "and he likes Marie."
"He's a damned fool!" Shattuck replied roughly, and strode away.
Gaylord Riley danced well, for he was a man handy with his feet, and with rhythm in his blood, and there had been times here and there about the country when he had danced with girls from the Rio Grande to the Sacramento.
"You dance well, Mr. Riley," Marie said.
"It is because I dance with you," he said, and was surprised at how easily the words came to him.
"Are you going to stay with us, then?"
"Yes."
"You must not let Uncle Dan worry you. He is a good man, but very proud."
"There are too many other things about which to worry," he said, then looking down at her: "I have not known many girls."
"I don't believe that," she said quickly, and added, "Peg likes you."
"I like her," he agreed, "and she thought to ask me over."
Suddenly the small talk died within him. A thin, stooped man, his face deep-lined, was standing at the far side of the room. He wore a low-slung gun, and his eyes were watching Riley.
"What's the matter?" Marie asked quickly. "You sure you're feeling well?"
"I never felt better," he said, "but let's get off the floor."
That man was Desloge, an outlaw, one Riley had met and known slightly near Lordsburg-at a town called Shakespeare, actually. What was he doing here, of all places?
He had never liked the man, and Jim had refused Desloge sharply when he suggested he throw in with the Colburn gang. He was a hired gunman, but the stories about him went beyond that. Several times he had outlaw companions who disappeared abruptly, and others who found themselves in the hands of the law under peculiar circumstances. Nobody could prove a thing, but too much had happened to be mere coincidence.
And now he was here, and Riley was sure the man had recognized him.
How long had it been? Most of two years, and Riley had changed-but not enough.
They stood together on the porch, with other couples around them, and they talked quietly. For the first time Riley forgot who he was and what he
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