Through the down pointed field glasses, his gaze inched from left to right along the road that twisted narrowly through the ravine. Where he sat, hunched forward with his legs crossed and with his elbows resting on raised knees to steady the field glasses, the ground dropped away before him in a long grassy sweep; though across from him the slope climbed steeply into dwarf oak and above the trees a pale orange wall of sandstone rose seamed and shadowed into sun glare. Below and to the right, the road passed into tree shadow and seemed to end there.
'How far to Glennan's place?'
'About four miles,' the man who was next to him kneeling on one knee said. He was twice the age of the man with the field glasses, nearing fifty, and studying the end of the ravine his eyes half closed, tightening his face in a teeth clenched grimace. His name was Joe Mauren, in charge of road construction for the Hatch & Hodges Stage Line Company.
'Past the trees,' Mauren said, 'the road drops down through a draw for maybe two miles. You come to grass then and you think you're out of it, but follow the wagon tracks and you go down through another pass. Then you're out and you'll see the house back off a ways. It's built close to deep pinyon and sometimes you can't see it for shadows, but you will this time of day.'
'Then twelve miles beyond it to the Rock of Ages mine,' Steve Brady, the man with the field glasses, said.
'About that,' Mauren said.
The field glasses moved left again. 'Will you have to do any work along here?'
'No, those scrub oaks catch anything that falls.'
'Just back where you're working now.'
'That's the only dangerous place.'
'The mine's been hauling through for three months,' Brady said. 'Rock slides don't worry them.'
'The driver of an eight team ore wagon isn't a stage full of passengers,' Mauren said. 'If we expect people to ride over this stretch, we have to make it near presentable.'
'So two miles back to your construction site and eight back of that to Contention,' Steve Brady said.
He lowered the field glasses. 'Twenty six miles from Contention to Rock of Ages.'
'You'll go far,' Mauren said dryly.
'I see why we need a stop at Glennan's place,'
Brady said.
Mauren nodded. 'To calm their nerves and slack their thirst.'
'Will Glennan serve whiskey?'
'He blame well better,' Mauren said, rising.
'Else you don't give him the franchise. That's an unwritten rule, boy.' He watched Brady get to his feet, brushing his right leg and the seat of his pants.
'New job, new suit,' Mauren said. 'And by the time you get to Glennan's the suit's going to be powder colored instead of dark gray.'
Brady turned, his free hand brushing the lapels now. 'Does it look all right?'
'About a size too small. You look all hands, Steve. Like you're ready to grab something.'
Mauren almost smiled. 'Like that little Kitty Glennan.'
'She must be something, the way you talk.'
'It'll make the tears run out of your eyes, Steve.
She's that pretty.'
'The suit's all right then, huh?'
'Take the shooter off and you'll be able to button it.' Mauren was looking at the Colt that Brady wore on his right hip.
'It feels good open,' Brady said.
Mauren studied him up and down. 'Suits are fine, but you get used to wearing them and before you know it you're up in Prescott behind a desk.
Like your pa.'
'That might'n be so bad.'
'You try it, boy. A week and you'd go back to driving or shotgun riding just to get away.' They mounted their horses and Mauren said, 'You've wasted enough time. Now do something for your pay.'
'I'll try and come back this way,' Brady said.
'Do that now,' Mauren answered. He reined tightly and moved off through the pinyon pine.
For a moment Brady watched him, then slipped the glasses into a saddlebag, tight turned his own mount and slanted down the slope to the road below. He reached the end of the ravine and followed the double wagon ruts into the trees, feeling the relief of the shade now and he pushed his hat up from his forehead, thinking then: Maybe I should've got a new one. The tan Stetson was dusty and dark stained around the band, but it felt good.
The fact was, everything felt good. It was good to be here and good to see the things there were to see and good to be going where he was going.
He thought of Mr. Glennan whom he had never seen before Mr. J. F. Glennan and tried to picture him.
'Mr. Glennan, my name's Brady, with Hatch and Hodges, come with the franchise agreement for you to sign.' No 'Hello Mr. Glennan, my name's Brady, with Hatch and Hodges you sure got a nice place. Fine for a stage stop, trees for shade and not much building on to do. Here's the agreement, Mr. Glennan. I think you'll like working for' no 'being with the company. Take me. I been with Hatch and Hodges for eight years; since I was a sixteen yearold boy.'
Then what?
'Yes, sir. I like it very much. See, my father is general manager up to Prescott. He said, 'Steve, if you're going to work for me you're going to start at the bottom and pull your ownself up.' Which is what I did starting as a stable boy in the Prescott yard.'
He thought: He's not interested in that. But thought then: You got to talk, don't you? You have to be friendly.
'Then I went out, Mr. Glennan. Went to work for Mr. Rindo who's agent up on the Gila Ford to San Carlos run. Then my Uncle Joe Mauren, who isn't my uncle but that's what I call him, made me his shotgun messenger. Uncle Joe drove then. Now he's in charge of all construction. But when I was with him he taught me everything there is to know how to drive, how to read sign, how to shoot. . . . But you met him! Mr.
Mauren? The one first talked to you a couple weeks ago?'
See, he thought. You talk enough and it comes right back to where you started.
'So then I drove a stage for four years and then, just last week, was named a supervisor for the Bisbee to Contention section and for this new line that goes up to Rock of Ages. And that's why I'm the one calling on you with the franchise agreement.'
See? Right back again.
You talk all your life and you don't worry about it, he thought. But when it's your job to talk then you worry like it's some new thing to learn. Like it's harder than hitting something with a Colt gun or driving a three team stage.
Chapter Two
Two with Guns
A quarter of a mile ahead of Brady, two riders came down through the rocks and scrub brush to the mouth of the draw. They dismounted, leaving their horses in the trees, came out to the edge of the wagon ruts at the point where they entered the open meadow, and looked back up the draw.
The younger of the two, his hat low and straight over his eyes, and carrying a Henry rifle, said, 'He'll be along directly.' They moved back to the shadowed cover of the pine trees and stood there to wait.
'You don't know who he is,' the second man said. 'Why take a chance?'
