than this.
Looking down the rippling green of the grasslands, she saw the enormous stone towers that marked the entrance, a division in the wall that could have been scarcely more than fifty feet wide. From out on the porch, she could look up the valley toward where Crystal Creek cut through another entrance, this one at least two hundred yards across, looking into a still larger valley. Scattered white-face cattle grazed in the bottoms along the stream. Not the rawboned half-fed range cows she knew, but fat, heavy cattle.
As she looked, she saw a horseman come through that upper opening, a big man riding at a fast canter on a black stallion. She watched him, and something stirred deeply within her. So much so that, disturbed, she wrenched her eyes away and walked back into the kitchen. Putting down her cup she went into the bedroom to get her hat. Only then did she see the picture.
There were three, two of them landscapes. It was the third that caught her eyes. It was a portrait of a girl with soft dark eyes and dark hair, her face demure and lovely. Remy walked up to it, and stared thoughtfully.
A sister? No. A wife? A sweetheart?
She looked at the picture first because of curiosity, and then her eyes became calculating, as with true feminine instinct she gauged this woman's beauty against her own. Was this the girl he loved? Was this the reason he preferred to live alone?
Memory of the cup and the warm coffee returned to her. Was he alone?
The sound of the arriving horse jerked her attention from the picture, and hat in hand she walked out to the porch.
'Hi!' Mahone called. 'Had some coffee?'
Remy nodded. 'If you'll show me the way, I'll start back now.'
'Better let me show you the rest of the valley,' he suggested. 'This is beautiful, but the upper valley is even more so.'
'No. I often stay away all night. Father's used to it. But I always head back early. I stay at the Brewsters' occasionally, and sometimes with the Mclnnis family. Once even at Judge Collins's ranch.'
She laughed. 'The judge was really nervous. I'm afraid he thought I was compromised and that he might have to marry me!'
Finn looked at her, his eyes curious. 'You're right. And I think you'd better be sure somebody knows where you are from now on.'
'You think there'll be trouble?'
'Uh-huh.' He was deadly serious now. 'That valley is going to be on fire from one end to the other in a few weeks. Maybe even a few days. You mark my words.'
Remy walked down to the corral while he roped Roxie and saddled her. 'You know what they think, don't you?' she said.
'That I'm a rustler?' he asked. 'Sure. I know that. But look around ... why would I rustle? And if I did, how would I get them in here?'
'There isn't any other way?'
'Not from Laird. I've got all the cattle I want. As long as I keep the varmints down there's nothing to worry me here.'
'If they accuse you, and try to make trouble, what will you do?' Remy asked as they neared the slate slide again.
He shrugged, and his face was grim. 'What can I do? I'll fight if I have to. I never rustled a cow in my life, and I'm not going to take any pushing around.'
She looked at Finn thoughtfully. 'Texas Dowd doesn't think you're a rustler, but he warned me to stay away from you, that you were dangerous ... to women.'
Finn Mahone's head jerked around, and she could see the flare of anger in his eyes. 'Oh, he did, did he? Yes, he would think that.'
'Why did he say it?' she asked.
'Ask him,' Finn replied bitterly. 'He'll tell you. But he's wrong, and if he says that in public, I'll kill him!'
Remy tensed, and her eyes widened. There was something here she didn't understand. 'Shall I tell him that, too?'
'Tell him anything you want to!' he snapped. 'But tell him he's hunting the wrong man and he's a fool!'
'If there's trouble coming I'd like to think you were on our side,' Remy said.
He looked at her cynically. 'That cuts both ways, but Dowd wouldn't stay with you if I was. Dowd wants to kill me, Remy.'
'And what about you?'
For a moment, he did not answer, then he said simply, 'No, I don't want to kill anybody.'
He was silent, leading the way down to the slide. They made it now, by daylight, without mishap, but Remy kept her eyes away from the depths beyond the rim.
'You said,' Finn suggested suddenly, 'that you wanted me on your side. Who do you think is on the other side?'
They were fording the Laird, and she looked around at him. 'I don't know,' she protested. 'That's what makes the whole situation so bad. Nobody seems to know.'
She left him at the opening of the Notch and rode on toward home. She was well aware what the people of Laird would say if they knew she had spent the night in Crystal Valley. The ranch people who knew her would think little of it, for she came and went on the range as freely as a man. But, in town, those people would be another matter.
She was halfway to the Lazy K ranch when she met Texas Dowd. He was wearing his flat-brimmed black hat and a gray shirt. With him were Stub and Roolin, two of the hands.
'We was lookin' for you, ma'am,' Dowd said. 'All hell's busted loose!'
'What do you mean?' Remy reined the mare around, frightened at the grimness of their manner.
'Somebody shot Abe Mclnnis last night. He went off up the valley, with that cowhand named Tony. When they didn't get back, Roolin here, who was up that way waitin' for him, rode up after him with Nick James, that hand of Logan's.
'They found 'em back in a narrow canyon near a brandin' fire. Tony was dead, shot three times through the belly, once in the head. Mclnnis had been shot twice. Doc says he might live; he's in purty bad shape.'
'Who did it? Who could have done it?'
'I don't know who done it,' Roolin said suddenly, harshly, 'but he took off through the mountains ridin' a black stallion. There was another man or two with him. Abe evidently come up on 'em, an' they went t' shootin'.'
'People in Laird's some upset,' Dowd said. 'Miller's gone out that way to have a look. Abe's got him a lot of friends around.'
'I'd like to have a talk with Mahone!' Roolin said. 'I got my own ideas about him!'
She started to speak, then hesitated. 'Just when did it happen?'
'Near's we can figger it was late yesterday afternoon,' Roolin offered. 'Could have been evenin', but probably was earlier.'
That could have been before she met Mahone at the slide. Where had he been coming from then? He had offered no explanation. Was there a trail out through one of the narrow canyons that opened up near where she had first seen him? If there was, he could have ridden the distance without trouble.
Brewster was at the ranch when she got there, accompanied by Dowd. Her father had put his book aside and his face was grave. He was a quiet man, but she knew from past experience that when stirred he was hard, bitterly hard, and a man who would fight to the last shell and the last drop of blood.
Van Brewster was a burly man, deep-voiced and hardbitten. His background was strictly pioneer. He had spent most of his life until now working in the plains country or the mountains, had soldiered, hunted, trapped, and fought Indians and rustlers.
'Abe was my friend!' he was saying as she entered, 'and I aim to get the man responsible!'
Dowd drew back to one side of the room and thoughtfully rolled a cigarette. His eyes went from Kastelle to Brewster. He said nothing, invited nothing. A few minutes later, horses were heard in the ranch yard. 'That'll be Logan an' Collins,' Brewster said. 'I told 'em we would meet here.'
