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He saw the door open, but caught only a glimpse of the woman. His father went inside then, but the door remained open.

The room clerk grinned and winked at the boy. “Now, if that was me, I think I’d close the door.”

A moment later they came out of the room. The boy watched his father close the door and follow the woman along the balcony to the stairs and then down. The woman was younger than he’d imagined her, much younger, with a funny hat and blond hair fixed in a bun. And she wasn’t fat; if anything, skinny. Her face was slender, the skin pale-clear and her eyes seemed sad. The boy looked at her until she got close.

“This here is my son,” Will Calender said. “We left Molly at the Granbys’. She’s only four years old”—he smiled self-consciously—“like I told you in the letters.”

The woman smiled back at him. She seemed ill at ease but she said, “How do you do?” to the boy, and her voice was calm and without the false enthusiasm of Will Calender’s.

The boy said, “Ma’am,” not looking at her face now but noticing her slender white hands holding the ends of the crocheted shawl in front of her.

A silence followed, and Will Calender suggested that they could get something to eat. He had intended mentioning Maddox’s name up in the room then watch her reaction, but there hadn’t been time. She didn’t look like the kind Maddox hinted she was, did she? Maybe Maddox was just talking. She was better-looking than he’d expected. Those eyes and that low, calm voice. Dick Maddox better watch his mouth.

They went to the café next door for breakfast. Calender and the boy ordered eggs and meat, but Clare Conway just took coffee, because she wasn’t very hungry. Most of the time they ate in silence. Every now and then Will Calender could hear himself chewing and he’d move his fork on the plate or stir at his coffee with the spoon scraping the bottom of the cup. Clare said the coffee was very good. And, maybe a minute later: It’s going to be a nice day. It’s so dry out here you can stand the extra heat.

Then it was Will’s turn. Where you from originally? …New Orleans….I never been there but I hear it’s a nice town. …It’s allright…. Silence…. How long’d you live in Tascosa?… Five years. Myhusband was with one of the cattle companies…. Oh…. He died threeyears ago…. Silence…. That’s right, you told me in your letter….That’s right, I did…. Silence…. What’ve you been doing sincethen? …I took a position…. Calender’s jaw was set…. At the CasaGrande?… Clare Conway blushed suddenly. She nodded and took a sip of coffee in the silence.

There were two men at a table near them and Will Calender had the feeling one nudged the other, and they both grinned, looking over, then looked away quickly when Calender shot a glance toward them.

Calender passed the back of his hand across his mouth and cleared his throat. “Miss Conway, I planned on ordering some stores this morning, long as I was here. They’re hauled down to Puerto de Luna, and I pick ’em up there. Some seed and flour”—he cleared his throat again—“and I have to speak to the justice yet.” He looked quickly toward the front window, though it wasn’t necessary because Clare’s eyes were on her coffee cup.

“Jim, here, will stay with you.” The boy looked at him with a plea in his eyes, and Will scowled. Then he rose and walked out without looking at the woman.

Standing in front of the hotel, Dick Maddox looked over toward the café as Calender came out, putting on his hat. Maddox glanced at the three men with him, and they grinned as he looked back toward Calender, who was coming toward them now.

“You married yet, Will?”

Calender glanced at Maddox’s closed face, at the beard bristles and the cigarette and the eyes in the shadow of the hat brim. “Not yet,” he said, and looked straight ahead again, not slowing his stride.

Maddox waited until he was looking at Calender’s back. He drew on the cigarette and exhaled and said slowly, “Some men will marry just about anything.”

Calender’s boots sounded on the planking one, two, three, then stopped. He came around. “Do you