would be brought in and some of the timber cut, and maybe the gap between the hills and lowlands would not be as great as it had been before—but maybe a change would be to the good.
Maybe, he pondered, the Lesters and the Tanises and all the others had lived too long by themselves. And maybe, he thought, it wouldn't do us no harm to mix with people like the marshal once in a while.
It was curious how his brief association with the marshal had changed his mind about a lot of things. He felt that he had grown simply by being with arid watching Owen Toller. He could not explain this, even to himself, but he knew it to be true.
He thought about all these things, and more, as they rode the long grade back to Reunion, but most of the time his thoughts were filled with Leah Stringer. He had it all planned in his mind what he was going to say when he saw her. He would tell her about the cabin he meant to build on the home place, and then he would ask her to be his wife and live with him. And on a Saturday, or once a month at least, they would hitch up and go down to a settlement, like the foothill farmers did. She would have people to talk to and would not be lonesome, for his folks would be moving back, now that the Brunners were no more.
He liked to think about this, but sometimes he would get to worrying, thinking that maybe Leah wouldn't want him, or that she would want more than just a log-and-mud cabin in the woods. Once he had been pondering that problem and the marshal had looked at him steadily.
“Don't worry, son,” he said. “I figure she'll still be waitin' for you.”
Somehow that made him feel better, and he didn't worry about it much after that.
It was near noon of the second day when they sighted Reunion. Owen's impulse was to ride straight through and head for the farm and Elizabeth, but he knew that it could not be quite as simple as that.
They tied up in front of the courthouse. “I'll have to report to the sheriff,” Owen said. “You can ride on to the farm, if you want to, son.”
“I'll wait,” Dunc said.
Owen had forgotten how much hunting and being hunted could change a man. Will Cushman didn't recognize them at first. Owen smiled and rubbed his hand over his gaunt and bearded face. “We're back, Will.”
“My God! Owen!”
Will came out of his chair and around the desk, and took Owen's hand. “I was afraid you weren't coming back at all!”
“All of us didn't,” Owen said gently, and the sheriff blinked.
“Arch Deland?” he asked.
Owen nodded.
Cushman frowned, then dismissed Deland from his mind completely. “You don't know how glad I am to see you, Owen. It's been pure hell around here.” He glanced blankly at Dunc, then fixed his gaze on Owen. “Well, tell me what happened, man! What about the Brunners?”
“Dead,” Owen said quietly.
“Both of them?”
Owen nodded.
Cushman's bland face broke into a wide smile. “By God!” he said happily. “That'll fix these wolves that've been nipping at my heels!” Suddenly he laughed and slapped his deputy's back, not noticing the blood-stiffened shirt or the pain that appeared in Owen's eyes. “This will show them! Do you know there's been talk around town of removing me from the sheriff's office? Well, they won't try it now!” He laughed again. “Now tell me all about it, man! What about the rest of the gang?”
“There is no gang any more,” Owen said.
Cushman looked startled. “Good Lord! Don't tell me they're
Owen glanced at Dunc and smiled faintly. “No. The gang has simply broken up. That's all I mean.”
The sheriff smiled, extremely pleased at the way things had worked out. “I'll have to tell Ben McKeever about this. Ben will want to know.” Then, at last, he noticed the bloodstained shirt. “Owen, are you hurt?”
“It isn't much. It's dried over now.”
Cushman tried to look concerned, but he couldn't keep from looking pleased. “I'll tell you what you do, Owen. You wait here and I'll fetch Doc Linnwood. I want to see McKeever anyway, and Doc's place is on the way to the bank.”
Suddenly Owen realized how tired he was and sank wearily into a straight-backed chair. He nodded to Cushman. Maybe it would be better to have Linnwood look at his side before he started home; he didn't want to worry Elizabeth any more than necessary.
After the sheriff was gone, Dunc Lester took a chair on the other side of Cushman's desk. “Marshal,” he said slowly, “would you tell me somethin'?”
“What is it?”
“Why did you do it? Go huntin' for the Brunners, I mean. It wasn't your job. Nobody could have made you do it.”
For some reason, Owen remembered what Judge Lochland had told him once about civilization and heroes, and he laughed. “Dunc,” he said, “if you have to have a reason, maybe you'd better just put it down to damn foolishness.”
“I think it was more than that,” the boy said.
And the way he said it made Owen squirm uncomfortably, and he was glad to see Doc Linnwood's thick figure appear in the doorway. “So you made it back,” the doctor said, shooting quick glances at Owen and Dunc. He
