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He didn’t answer me. Chris was looking down to the back end where the rolltop and the door was. A woman, a black-haired, slim-built, prettier-than-ordinary woman, closed the door and came toward us.

She came right up and gave us a little welcome smile, and said, “May I serve you gentlemen something to eat?” Her voice was pleasant, but she seemed to be holding back a little.

Chris said, “Eat?”

And I said, “We ate at camp, ma’am,” touching my hat. “We were thinking of a drink.”

She smiled again and you could tell that one was put on. “The bar is Mr. Brady’s department,” she said and started to turn. “He can’t be far. I’ll see if I can find him.” She started to walk to the back, and that’s when Kite and Vicente and Tobin Royal came in.

She looked around, but must have reasoned they were with Chris and me, because she went on then until Tobin called out, “Hey… where you going?”

She stopped, turning full around as Tobin brushed past us saying, “Now that old man’s using his head,” meaning Brady, I guess.

The smile didn’t show this time, but she said, “May I serve you something to eat?”

Tobin grinned. “Not to eat.”

“I don’t serve the bar,” the woman said. “Mr. Brady does that.”

“Uh-huh,” Tobin said. Then he laughed out loud. “Like you never been behind a bar before! What’re you doing here then?”

“I’m here,” she said quietly, “with my husband.”

“You’re married to Brady?”

“I’m Mrs. Lefton.”

“Lefton!” Tobin’s mouth hung open. “You’re married to that one-armed stable boy!”

The color came up over her face like she’d been slapped, but she didn’t say a word. Tobin was grinning and shaking his head like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard of. “Listen,” he said to her. “You get me a whiskey drink and I’ll tell you something about your husband you probably don’t know.”

Right then Brady came in behind us. His coat was on and he was breathing in and out like he’d hurried. From the look on his face you could tell he’d seen our horses and the El Centro brand and the chances were good he knew who he’d find.

The woman said quickly, “Is my husband coming?” and now sounded frightened and as if she were trying hard to keep from crying.

Tobin added, “Or is he busy cleaning the stable?”

“He’s breaking a horse,” Brady stated.

I said, “Breaking a horse?”

Brady turned on me. “That’s what I said, breaking a horse!”

Tobin must have been as surprised as any of us; but he wouldn’t show it. He just shrugged. “Well, I guess one wing’s as good as two for that anyway.” Without her expecting it he grabbed Mrs. Lefton’s arm. “Honey, your husband waits on me. Why shouldn’t you?” He gave her a little push toward the bar and that snaky quirt of his slapped backhanded across where her bustle was.

Brady said something, but I don’t know what… because I heard a step behind me. I just glanced, then came full around realizing who it was. John Lefton.

Chapter Four

BUT NOT THE John Lefton we had seen the last time. He didn’t have on a hat and his wool shirt was dirty from sweat and dust. His hair was cut shorter than before and hung down a little over his forehead; his jaw was clean-shaved, but he was wearing a full-grown cavalry kind of mustache. That’s where the big difference was: the mustache, and the eyes that were dark and clear and looking straight ahead to Tobin.

He walked past us and as he did I saw the quirt hanging from his wrist. I remembered Brady saying that he’d been breaking a horse, but somehow you got the idea he was wearing it for another reason.

He walked right up to Tobin and said, without wasting breath, “Mr. Royal, I’ve been waiting some months to see you again.”

Tobin was half smiling, but you could tell it was put on, while he tried to figure out the change in this man. Tobin moved a little bit. He cocked his hip and leaned his hand on the bar to show he was relaxed.

“First,” John Lefton said, “I want to thank you for what you did.”

Tobin frowned then. “What’d I do?”

“If you don’t know,” Lefton said, “I’m not going to explain it. But you must know what I’m going to give you.”

Tobin