me then either. No woman would. I'd be a man without self-respect, a man hiding behind a woman's skirts.' His voice was very low. 'Ma waited here many times while Dad was out fighting for Wagon. I don't believe she ever complained, and I reckon she loved Dad as much as any woman ever loved a man.'
Jen caught her breath, her eyes filling with tears.
'You had a right to say that. I guess I'm not as strong as Ma was. But I ask you to remember that she had her man a long time before he ever had to ride out and leave her with fear and dread for company. I just couldn't do it, Kirby. I couldn't marry you, knowing that you might have to leave me, even on our wedding night.'
Kirby said nothing for a long time; he looked at her almost as if she were a stranger. Gently he said at last, 'Maria will help you get your things together. I'll be ready to take you to town when you're packed.' He turned on his heel and left the kitchen, closing the door carefully behind him.
Jen turned to Maria, tears streaming down her face. 'I love him, Maria. Can't you see that? Doesn't he know that's why I have to go?'
Maria's dark eyes showed nothing. She made no move to offer comfort, to take the girl into her arms as Jen expected. 'Maybe you don't love him enough!' was all she offered. 'I'll get your suitcases.'
She left Jen standing in a room which had suddenly become unfamiliar, although it was a room she had known all her life. She would never visit the big kitchen again. Kirby's gentle voice and the stiffness of Maria's back as she walked out told her that. I've burned my bridges, she thought. And I know I'm right, even if they don't understand. Maybe I've lost Kirby, but I haven't lost a husband. She walked slowly to her room.
An hour later she finished packing the few things Maria had brought from town. She stood, feeling very lonely, in the big bedroom she had known since girlhood. She was leaving a part of herself in that bedroom, a part of her life that was infinitely precious. She squared her shoulders and, her heart a cold lump in her breast, walked out and closed the heavy oak door.
Maria was back in the kitchen when she went through. She didn't look up or stop what she was doing as Jen paused expectantly, then sadly closed the door behind her. Kirby appeared in the entrance to the shed when she walked across the yard.
'Ready, Josh,' he called, and in a few moments the old foreman came from the stable, leading three saddled ponies. Kirby helped her mount without a word and Josh didn't even glance in her direction as they trotted across the muddy yard. Her pony wanted to pitch a bit, and she was glad of the attention she had to give her mount. It was something to do to avoid meeting Kirby's eyes.
'Our whole cavvy needs riding,' he said. 'This weather none of 'em have been worked enough to get the ginger out of 'em.'
'How is the filly this morning?' she asked, grateful for something to say.
'Manuel says that she's going to be all right. He's going to have Miguel keep walking her every day. That way she may not have a stiff shoulder.' He grinned ruefully. 'Right now he's giving her more attention than I'd get if I were to break a leg.' He paused in thought. 'I'll have her brought to town as soon as Manuel thinks she's well enough.'
Jen shook her head. 'Don't do that, Kirby. I've no place to keep her except the livery, and I probably won't do any riding until spring. She'll be better off with Manuel to look out for her. Maybe this spring…' Her voice died away as she realized that for her there wouldn't be any spring except some black letters on a calendar.
'Whatever you say… she belongs to you,' Kirby answered.
She was about to say that nothing at Wagon belonged to her any more, but decided not to add to the hurt she saw far back in his eyes.
The rest of the trip into Streeter was made in silence. Under ordinary circumstances it would have been a gay ride. There was one long stretch of trail, where the snow had melted, where she and Kirby would have raced… under Josh's disapproving eyes. She knew that Kirby, too, remembered those wild rides they had shared. But they trotted into the hills in silence. Josh gave his close attention to something between his horse's ears and didn't speak throughout the trip, which was unusual even for the taciturn foreman.
He dropped out of the little procession as they passed the Nugget; Kirby rode on with Jen to the little white cottage. He tied their horses to the fence and carried her things inside.
'It's cold in here,' he said as he unlocked the door. 'Would you like me to build a fire?'
Jen knew that there was no fire that would warm the coldness building up around her heart. 'No, thanks. It will give me something to do.'
He shrugged. 'Suit yourself. Well, I've got to meet Josh. We have to try and find some hay and…' His excuse fell lamely in the cold stale air of the parlor.
'Kirby!' She held out her hands imploringly. 'I can't help feeling the way I do. Won't you please try to understand?'
He made no move to touch her. 'I understand, Jen. A person has to do what he thinks is right. You know how I feel, too.' He walked swiftly to the door, knowing that if he stayed he would take her into his arms. 'Remember this, Jen, no matter what happens. When Ma and Muddy were here you were a part of Wagon. That hasn't changed any. If you have need of me or anyone at Wagon, you have only to send us word.' He tried a smile that didn't quite come off. 'I'll be seeing you.'
The door closed, and in a few moments she could hear him as he rode away, leading her horse. She covered her face with her hands and let the flood of tears she had been holding back break forth.
Fine, hard pellets of ice that looked like tapioca but stung their faces like shot peppered Wagon's boss and his foreman all the way back to Wagon. With the collars of their sheepskin coats turned up over their ears, they rode in silent discomfort.
Doc Williams, in his official capacity of town coroner, had headed a panel, and the jury had quickly decided that Bill's two hired gunmen had met 'death by accident.' Bill hadn't appeared, nor had any member of his crew shown up at the inquest. Two fresh mounds of earth were all that was left of two men who, living by the gun, had expected no other end… no other mourners.
'Don't believe this is going to turn into a blizzard,' Josh said, shrugging deeper into his coat collar. 'Does look like the beginning of a heavy snow, though. I'd as soon be at Wagon as out here on the range.'
Kirby felt like saying that he felt like riding as far away from Wagon as his horse would carry him, now that Jen was no longer there, but he merely nodded in agreement and gigged his bronc into a hard, fast trot, making further conversation impossible.
In town, Kirby had learned two things over which he puzzled as they rode through an increasingly heavy snowfall; facts for which there seemed to be no logical explanation. First of all, banker Burch had told him about Bill's precarious financial condition. It had been something of a shock to learn that Bill had run through the money Muddy had left him as well as the proceeds from the sale of his herd. On top of that, Burch had told him worriedly, Bill had borrowed five thousand dollars, giving the title to Lazy B as security. Kirby hated the thought of the mortgage. On several occasions Muddy had been forced to borrow, but it was always in times of drought or blizzard, and the loan had always been repaid as soon as the notes fell due.
'I heard somewhere that Bill was going to restock Lazy B with blooded cattle,' he told the banker.
'I did, too,' Burch replied, 'but so far I haven't heard he has bought a single bull.'
Sheriff Lon Peters had been able to fill in some of the gaps. 'Bill is over his head in the company he's been keeping,' he said. 'He's been gambling for pretty high stakes over at Galeyville. One of my deputies heard of a game he was in where white chips were twenty dollars apiece. Dropped a couple of thousand that one night.' Lon had known the brothers since they were mere buttons, and he was frankly distressed as he said, 'Whiskey and poker don't mix. But the way I get it, the harder Bill drinks the more he wants to get back his losses. What surprises me is that Hub Dawes has been sitting in some of those high stake games. Where's he gettin' the money? Some of my boys think Dawes may be a come-on for those rough Galeyville gambling men. I know for sure he hasn't got cows enough on his spread to buy a new saddle. By the way, I met a friend of yours when I was out there this morning.'
Kirby looked at him in astonishment. 'Friend of mine?'
The sheriff sighed. 'I was just tryin' to make a joke, boy. The gunhawk I run outa town is making his headquarters at Dawes' place. Claims him and three or four more like him are on the payroll. What they do for their thirty and found is more than I can see, unless they're havin' a whiskey-drinkin' contest. There's a wagonload of
