had been, and was simply a man talking to a girl. From time to time he was aware that a number of young men wanted to interrupt, but all of them hesitated.
Desloge appeared in the door, and Riley saw his eyes darting this way and that, searching. It was time to ride out.
Suddenly he saw Darby Lewis out at the edge of the light. "Marie," he said quickly, "there's Darby Lewis. I've been watching for him, and it's time to go. Will you excuse me?"
Before she could even reply he threw a leg over the porch rail and dropped to the ground. A moment later he disappeared into the night with Darby. Nettled, she stared after him in the darkness.
Peg Oliver came up beside her. "What happened, Marie? What did you say to him?"
"Nothing. We were just talking, and all of a sudden he excused himself and disappeared."
She was irritated, and somewhat taken aback by the sudden leave-taking. Had she offended him somehow? But how?
Surprisingly, she was dismayed and hurt. It was not like her to be worried by what any man might do, and there was no reason for her feeling so now. Certainly, he had said nothing to her to lead her to believe he was interested in her. And she was definitely not interested in him.
Definitely. . . .
She was still telling herself that hours later, when she lay in bed. And then for the first time she remembered something else.
That strange man standing in the doorway-the one with the lined face. In the moment before they left the dance floor she had seen him-was he the reason for Gaylord Riley's sudden wish to go out on the porch? And later to disappear into the darkness?
She was imagining things. . . . Only, that man had been there both times, and he had seemed to be looking for someone.
She must remember, and tomorrow she must find out who he was.
She snuggled deeper under the blankets, for the night was chill. She went to sleep remembering how Gaylord Riley moved and talked, and the way he looked at her. There was something strange about him, strange and exciting.
Cruz was awake when they rode in, leading the four extra saddle horses Oliver had sold them. The Mexican got up and strolled over.
"Get some sleep," Riley suggested. "Tomorrow we ride to Spanish Fork."
When Darby had led the horses away, Cruz said, "Somebody should stay here. I have seen tracks." "Fresh tracks?"
"Si."
"Many riders? Or one?"
"One only . . . he watches."
Riley was relieved. One rider would scarcely mean the Colburn outfit. Yet who could it be? Was it the man who had been in Trail Canyon that night when Riley returned from checking the outlaw camp? If, indeed, there had even been a man.
Despite the need for sleep before the long ride, he lay awake for some time, pondering the situation. Why was Desloge in Rimrock? And who were the two strange riders talking to Spooner? Three gun-hands in the space of a couple of days could not be coincidence. Trouble was breeding, but for whom? He lay staring up at the stars, hearing the remote sounds as night and the cooling of the rocks brought little movements to the darkness.
What must Marie think of him? He had left her so abruptly. .
One thing he knew. He did not wish to talk to Desloge, nor to be seen talking to him. He had left all that behind him-or had he?
Chapter 8
Darby Lewis was a good sleeper, and the light rain that commenced to fall shortly before daybreak lulled him into an even deeper sleep. He did not hear the soft hoof-falls of the horse, nor did he hear the hooting of a lonely owl.
Cruz did hear the owl. It was the wrong time for an owl to be hooting, and Cruz was a man alive to such things. He awakened, but lay still, listening. Gaylord Riley rose swiftly and silently, belted on his gun, and picked up his hat and slicker. The three men were bedded down on the floor of the newly completed room, but Riley had been closest to the door. He opened it without a sound, and stepped out into the night.
Cruz lay still and listened. He heard Riley's footsteps as he walked
Desloge appeared in the door, and Riley saw his eyes darting this way and that, searching. It was time to ride out.
Suddenly he saw Darby Lewis out at the edge of the light. "Marie," he said quickly, "there's Darby Lewis. I've been watching for him, and it's time to go. Will you excuse me?"
Before she could even reply he threw a leg over the porch rail and dropped to the ground. A moment later he disappeared into the night with Darby. Nettled, she stared after him in the darkness.
Peg Oliver came up beside her. "What happened, Marie? What did you say to him?"
"Nothing. We were just talking, and all of a sudden he excused himself and disappeared."
She was irritated, and somewhat taken aback by the sudden leave-taking. Had she offended him somehow? But how?
Surprisingly, she was dismayed and hurt. It was not like her to be worried by what any man might do, and there was no reason for her feeling so now. Certainly, he had said nothing to her to lead her to believe he was interested in her. And she was definitely not interested in him.
Definitely. . . .
She was still telling herself that hours later, when she lay in bed. And then for the first time she remembered something else.
That strange man standing in the doorway-the one with the lined face. In the moment before they left the dance floor she had seen him-was he the reason for Gaylord Riley's sudden wish to go out on the porch? And later to disappear into the darkness?
She was imagining things. . . . Only, that man had been there both times, and he had seemed to be looking for someone.
She must remember, and tomorrow she must find out who he was.
She snuggled deeper under the blankets, for the night was chill. She went to sleep remembering how Gaylord Riley moved and talked, and the way he looked at her. There was something strange about him, strange and exciting.
Cruz was awake when they rode in, leading the four extra saddle horses Oliver had sold them. The Mexican got up and strolled over.
"Get some sleep," Riley suggested. "Tomorrow we ride to Spanish Fork."
When Darby had led the horses away, Cruz said, "Somebody should stay here. I have seen tracks." "Fresh tracks?"
"Si."
"Many riders? Or one?"
"One only . . . he watches."
Riley was relieved. One rider would scarcely mean the Colburn outfit. Yet who could it be? Was it the man who had been in Trail Canyon that night when Riley returned from checking the outlaw camp? If, indeed, there had even been a man.
Despite the need for sleep before the long ride, he lay awake for some time, pondering the situation. Why was Desloge in Rimrock? And who were the two strange riders talking to Spooner? Three gun-hands in the space of a couple of days could not be coincidence. Trouble was breeding, but for whom? He lay staring up at the stars, hearing the remote sounds as night and the cooling of the rocks brought little movements to the darkness.
What must Marie think of him? He had left her so abruptly. .
One thing he knew. He did not wish to talk to Desloge, nor to be seen talking to him. He had left all that behind him-or had he?
Chapter 8
Darby Lewis was a good sleeper, and the light rain that commenced to fall shortly before daybreak lulled him into an even deeper sleep. He did not hear the soft hoof-falls of the horse, nor did he hear the hooting of a lonely owl.
Cruz did hear the owl. It was the wrong time for an owl to be hooting, and Cruz was a man alive to such things. He awakened, but lay still, listening. Gaylord Riley rose swiftly and silently, belted on his gun, and picked up his hat and slicker. The three men were bedded down on the floor of the newly completed room, but Riley had been closest to the door. He opened it without a sound, and stepped out into the night.
Cruz lay still and listened. He heard Riley's footsteps as he walked
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