before. His sister wa s mystified by the change. Laban seeme d suddenly grown up and far away from her.
He went about his work with grea t seriousness, and did not wait to be asked.
He did what needed doing, and Ruthie' s respect grew despite herself. She foun d herself speaking to him as she might t o someone much older. At times it irked her , but Laban seemed not to notice; sometime s she deliberately teased him, hopin g to arouse his irritation, to make him wan t to fight back, but he assumed a loft y attitude and only smiled or, worse yet , ignored her.
In the week that passed the stag e stopped only twice, and then on the day i t was due to come again, three rider s appeared, driving a herd of horses, a i dozen of them to be left at the Teale place.
One of the cowhands was a youngster , not over seventeen, the others were olde r men. Johnny McGivern came gallopin g on ahead, yelling at Laban . Open th e bars there, boy! We're a-bringin' in th e hosses !
Laban ran to open the gate and th e horses streamed in, and Johnny McGiver n swung down to put up the bars after them.
He was a smiling boy, and he grinned a t Laban . I hear you're the hostler here.
Well, there's a stage comin' through nig h on to noon, so you be set an' ready. An y chance to get some grub ?
I'll ask ma , Laban replied wit h dignity, not sure how he should react t o this free-talking stranger.
One of the older men was long and sli m and redheaded, with red hair on the back s of his hands . I'm Kris Mahler, son. Thi s galoot sportin' the remains of a shiner i s Conn Conagher. Shy clear of him, boy , he's got a burr under his saddle .
Conagher was a lean dark man o f about thirty-five, with black hair an d mustache, and a stubble of beard. He wor e a battered black hat, a shabby suit-coa t and leather chaps. His boots were down a t the heel, his gun scabbard worn, and th e walnut grips looked as if they had see n much use.
Conagher looked at Laban quite seriously.
Don't you set much store by wha t Kris tells you, boy. I'm a right peacelovin g man .
Who gave you the black eye ? Laba n asked.
Nobody gave it to me, son , Conaghe r said . I fought for it .
That's the second black eye we'v e seen , Ruthie said . Kiowa Staples ha d one, too .
When nobody replied to that, Ruthi e added , He says he's going to kill the ma n who gave it to him .
Conn Conagher said nothing, but Kri s Mahler threw him a quick glance and said , Little girl, I reckon your ma wants to se e you .
Ain't her fault , Johnny McGiver n said . If Kiowa said it, he said it, that' s all !
Evie Teale came out of the door, dryin g her hands on her apron . Won't yo u gentlemen come in for a bite? There' s been no stage, and the food is ready .
I'd take that kindly , Mahler said.
Come on, Conn. Let's eat and ride .
Conn lingered. He studied the crud e shelter and Laban watched him, fearful o f his comment. After a while, Conn nodded.
That's a pretty good job, son. Did you d o that all by yourself ?
Yes, sir .
Conn glanced at him . Sir. Now that' s nice, right nice .
Conagher strolled over and took a close r look at the shelter . It helps , he said , i f when you start laying on cover you put th e bottom ones on first, then put the next ro w a mite higher with part of it overlapping.
Helps the water to run off .
Thanks , Laban said. He foun d himself liking the grim, dark-faced man , and the boy and man walked toward th e cabin together. Outside the cabin Con n removed his coat and rolled up his sleeve s to wash his hands and face, and the n combed his black hair.
He turned, looking across the valley int o the distance . I like that , he said , gesturing toward the view . Nothing like a wide-open country .
>> j ^ i t'
We saw Indian tracks , Laban said.
Conagher stopped and looked at him , then tilted his hat brim down and studie d the hills back of the cabin . You got a rifl e in there ?
We've got a shotgun .
That's good, but you'd better have a rifle too. When your
He went about his work with grea t seriousness, and did not wait to be asked.
He did what needed doing, and Ruthie' s respect grew despite herself. She foun d herself speaking to him as she might t o someone much older. At times it irked her , but Laban seemed not to notice; sometime s she deliberately teased him, hopin g to arouse his irritation, to make him wan t to fight back, but he assumed a loft y attitude and only smiled or, worse yet , ignored her.
In the week that passed the stag e stopped only twice, and then on the day i t was due to come again, three rider s appeared, driving a herd of horses, a i dozen of them to be left at the Teale place.
One of the cowhands was a youngster , not over seventeen, the others were olde r men. Johnny McGivern came gallopin g on ahead, yelling at Laban . Open th e bars there, boy! We're a-bringin' in th e hosses !
Laban ran to open the gate and th e horses streamed in, and Johnny McGiver n swung down to put up the bars after them.
He was a smiling boy, and he grinned a t Laban . I hear you're the hostler here.
Well, there's a stage comin' through nig h on to noon, so you be set an' ready. An y chance to get some grub ?
I'll ask ma , Laban replied wit h dignity, not sure how he should react t o this free-talking stranger.
One of the older men was long and sli m and redheaded, with red hair on the back s of his hands . I'm Kris Mahler, son. Thi s galoot sportin' the remains of a shiner i s Conn Conagher. Shy clear of him, boy , he's got a burr under his saddle .
Conagher was a lean dark man o f about thirty-five, with black hair an d mustache, and a stubble of beard. He wor e a battered black hat, a shabby suit-coa t and leather chaps. His boots were down a t the heel, his gun scabbard worn, and th e walnut grips looked as if they had see n much use.
Conagher looked at Laban quite seriously.
Don't you set much store by wha t Kris tells you, boy. I'm a right peacelovin g man .
Who gave you the black eye ? Laba n asked.
Nobody gave it to me, son , Conaghe r said . I fought for it .
That's the second black eye we'v e seen , Ruthie said . Kiowa Staples ha d one, too .
When nobody replied to that, Ruthi e added , He says he's going to kill the ma n who gave it to him .
Conn Conagher said nothing, but Kri s Mahler threw him a quick glance and said , Little girl, I reckon your ma wants to se e you .
Ain't her fault , Johnny McGiver n said . If Kiowa said it, he said it, that' s all !
Evie Teale came out of the door, dryin g her hands on her apron . Won't yo u gentlemen come in for a bite? There' s been no stage, and the food is ready .
I'd take that kindly , Mahler said.
Come on, Conn. Let's eat and ride .
Conn lingered. He studied the crud e shelter and Laban watched him, fearful o f his comment. After a while, Conn nodded.
That's a pretty good job, son. Did you d o that all by yourself ?
Yes, sir .
Conn glanced at him . Sir. Now that' s nice, right nice .
Conagher strolled over and took a close r look at the shelter . It helps , he said , i f when you start laying on cover you put th e bottom ones on first, then put the next ro w a mite higher with part of it overlapping.
Helps the water to run off .
Thanks , Laban said. He foun d himself liking the grim, dark-faced man , and the boy and man walked toward th e cabin together. Outside the cabin Con n removed his coat and rolled up his sleeve s to wash his hands and face, and the n combed his black hair.
He turned, looking across the valley int o the distance . I like that , he said , gesturing toward the view . Nothing like a wide-open country .
>> j ^ i t'
We saw Indian tracks , Laban said.
Conagher stopped and looked at him , then tilted his hat brim down and studie d the hills back of the cabin . You got a rifl e in there ?
We've got a shotgun .
That's good, but you'd better have a rifle too. When your
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