'Now ride right to me!' he said.
It was so dark now she could make him out only by his face and the brightness of some of the studs on the stallion's bridle. She turned again, and after stumbling and sliding for another fifty yards, the mare scrambled onto solid earth and stopped, trembling in every limb.
Remy slid to the ground and her knees melted under her. 'I wouldn't do that again,' she protested, 'for all the money in the world! How do you ever live in such a place?'
Mahone laughed. 'I like it!' he said. 'Wait until you see Crystal Valley!'
She started to get up and he helped her. The touch of his hand made her start, and she looked up at him in the darkness, just distinguishing the outline of his face. She sensed his nearness and moved back, strangely disturbed. Something about this man did things to her, and she was angered by it.
'But what will we do?' she protested. 'Isn't there another slide? Longer than this?'
He grinned and nodded. She saw his white teeth in the darkness. 'Yes, there is, but I'll put a rope on your saddle horn for luck and lead the mare by the bridle reins.'
'Are you trying to frighten me?' she flared.
'No, not a bit. If you were riding ahead of me, and my horse didn't know the trail, I'd want your rope on my saddle horn. This next slide is a dilly!'
They started on, and he rode rapidly, eager to get the last of the dim light. The sky was still a little gray. When they reached the edge of the slide it was abysmally dark. He reined in abruptly. 'Too dark,' he told her. 'We'll get off and wait until the moon comes up. It should be over the rim in about an hour. By moonlight we can make it.'
He walked over to some trees and tied the two horses loosely. Gathering some sticks, he built a fire. When the dry sticks blazed up, he looked across at her and grinned. 'Seems sort of strange. This is the first time a woman's ever crossed that slate bank, unless it was some Indian.-'
Remy looked at him gravely, then stretched her hands toward the fire. Surprisingly, the evening was quite cool, and the air was damp. Mahone knelt beside the fire and fed dry sticks into it, then looked up at her. 'Your name is Kastelle?' he said. 'It's an odd name. It has a ring to it, somehow.'
'Perhaps you knew my father?' she suggested. 'Before we came here we lived in Texas, and before that he was a gambler in San Francisco, what used to be called the Barbary Coast. They called him Frenchy.'
He was looking at the fire. 'Frenchy Kastelle?' He shook his head thoughtfully. 'Seems like I would remember.'
'I gathered from what my foreman said today that you know him.' Remy leaned back, looking at the fire. 'His name is Texas Dowd.'
'Did this Dowd say he knew me?'
'No, he didn't, but he won money on your fight. He won a bet from Pierce Logan. Logan was sure Leibman would win.'
'This Pierce Logan must know Leibman,' Mahone commented. 'No man risks his money on a stranger.'
It was something she had not considered. Still, Logan got around a good deal, and he might have met the big German. But she was not to be turned from her main interest. 'That's why I thought Dowd knew you. He seemed so sure.'
'He might know me. In cattle country men get to know others by name lots of times, or maybe you meet in a bar, or in passing.'
'Were you ever in Mexico?' It was a shot in the dark, but she noticed that Finn picked up a stick and began poking Ilhe fire. Why, she could not have guessed, but suddenly she felt she had touched the nerve of the whole story.
'Mexico? I reckon most every man who lives along the border gets into Mexico. Right pretty country ... some of it. Fine folks, too.'
They were silent for a moment.
'What's it like in there?' Remy indicated the trail toward Crystal Valley.
'Like a little bit of heaven,' he said. 'Quiet, peaceful, green ... the most beautiful spot I ever saw. There's something about living back in these hills that gives a man time to think, to consider. Then, I like to read. Back there I can sit on my porch for hours, or over a fire in the cabin, and read all I like.'
'How about your cattle? Don't you ever work them?'
He shrugged, and poked thoughtfully at the fire. 'They aren't much trouble,' he said. 'No other cattle can get to them. I brand the calves while out riding around.
Carry a running iron with me all the time. That way the work never gets much behind.'
He stood up. 'The moon's higher. We'd better go.'
Remy knew one thing. She would never forget that night ride across that mile of treacherous shale. It was a ride she would never want to make alone, even by day. Yet she was dozing in her saddle and half asleep when they pulled up at the cabin.
'Go on in,' he said. 'I'll put up the horses.'
She went up the steps and opened the door. It was dark but warm inside. She was struck at once by that warmth. An empty house, empty for hours on a chill night, shouldn't have been warm. She struck a light, and saw the candle on the table. When she lighted it, she turned slowly, half expecting to see someone in the room, but it was empty.
Puzzled, she walked to the fireplace and, with the poker, stirred the coals. They glowed red. Then she saw the coffeepot and, stooping, touched it with her hand. It was warm, almost hot.
She straightened then, and looked around. The room-was small, but comfortable, having none of the usual marks of bachelor quarters. Surprisingly, it was neat. The few clothes she saw were hung on pegs, the pots and pans were polished and shining, the dishes on the shelves were neatly stacked, and all was clean. Only one cup stood on the table. In it were a few coffee grounds.
Remy was standing there looking at that cup when Finn came in. He tossed his hat to a peg across the room and it caught. He glanced at the cup, then at her eyes. 'We'll warm the coffee up,' he said, 'and then have something to eat.'
She turned and looked at him thoughtfully. 'The coffee,' she said, and there was a question in her voice, 'is warm. Almost hot!'
'Good,' he said. She stared at him while he stirred the fire. 'We'll eat right away, then.'
'Can I help?'
'If you like.' He got some plates down and put them on the table.
Why she should be disturbed, she didn't know. Obviously, there was someone else around. She had understood that Finn Mahone lived alone in the valley. Who was here with him? Where was she now?
Why must it be a woman? Remy didn't know why, but she wondered if it was. There was nothing effeminate about the room, yet it was almost too neat, too perfect. From her experience with cattlemen and cowhands, they usually lived in something that resembled a boar's nest. This was anything but that.
She looked up suddenly to see him watching her with a covert smile. 'Would you like to see the rest of the house?' he suggested. She had the feeling that she amused him, and her spine stiffened.
'No, I don't think I'd care to! It isn't at all necessary!'
He grinned and picked up the candle. 'Come on,' he said.
She hesitated, then followed. She was curious.
The next room was a bedroom with a wide, spacious bed, much resembling an old four-poster. She thought it was, but when she drew nearer she could see it was homemade. On the floor was an Indian rug, and here, too, there were pegs on the walls. There were three pictures.
She started toward them, but he turned away and went into a third room. She followed him, then stopped. Here was a wide, homemade writing desk, and around her the walls were lined with books. The candlelight gleamed on the gold lettering, and she looked at them curiously. How her father would love this room! She could imagine his eyes lighting up at the sight of so many books. /
They returned to the other room and he got the coffee and filled two new cups. They ate, almost in silence, but Remy found her eyes straying again and again to that empty cup. If Finn Mahone noticed, he gave no sign.
When they had finished eating, she helped him stack the few dishes. Somewhere not far-off a wolf howled, a weird, yapping chorus that sounded like more than a dozen.
