"You got business around here?"
"If I do it's mine," Brady answered. "Nobody else's."
He tried to turn, hearing the quick steps behind him, but caught only a glimpse of the man before he was pulled off the saddle, and as he hit the ground and tried to roll away, the barrel of the Henry chopped against the side of his head to stop him.
The rifle barrel prodded him then. "Get up. That didn't hurt."
Brady pushed himself up slowly with a ringing in his ears and already a dull, hard pain in his temple.
He felt the rifle barrel turn him to face the horse.
"Now stand like that while you take your shirt off and drop your pants."
"I can't go around without any clothes " He felt the hand suddenly on his collar, pulling, choking him, then jerking and the shirt ripped open down the back. Behind him the man laughed.
"You don't know what you can do till you try," the man with the Henry said.
Brady pulled off the shirt without unbuttoning it, used his heels to work off his boots, let his pants drop then stepped into the boots again. He stood now in his long white underwear, wearing boots and hat, and staring at the smooth leather of his saddle close in front of him.
The second man came out of the trees. "Let him go now," he said.
"When I'm ready."
"You're ready now. Let him go."
"Russ, you're the nervous type." The Henry swung back on Brady "Go on!" then raised slightly as Brady stepped into the saddle, and the younger man said, "Don't he cut a fine figure, Russ?" He stood grinning, looking up at Brady, then moved toward him and yelled, "Kick him! Go on, run!"
As Brady started off, the man called Russ went back into the trees for the horses. When he came out, Brady was halfway across the meadow and the younger man was going through Brady's pockets.
"How much?" Russ asked.
"Ten dollars plus and some papers."
"What kind of papers?"
"How'd I know?"
"Bring them along, for Ed to look over."
"You can have them," the younger man said. He began unbuckling his gun belt and Russ frowned.
"Where're you going?"
"Steppin' out, with my new suit on."
"Listen, you know what Ed said "
"Russ, I don't care what old Ed thinks or says."
He winked, grinning, kicking off his boots. "That's a fine looking girl down there."
As Joe Mauren had described it, the Glennan place was almost hidden in deep tree shadow: a stand of aspen bordering the front yard, pinyon close behind the house and beyond, on higher ground, there were tall ponderosa pines. The house was a one story log structure with a shingle roof but an addition to it, built out from the side and back to form an L, was of adobe brick. A stable shed, also adobe and joined to the addition by twenty feet of fence, stood empty, its doors open.
Brady passed through the aspen, noticing the empty shed, then moved his gaze to the house, expecting the door to open, but thinking: Unless everybody's gone.
You're doing fine your first day.
Straight out from the door of the log house he reined in, waited a moment then started to dismount.
"Stay up!"
Over his shoulder Brady caught a glimpse of the girl standing at the corner of the house. She was holding a shotgun.
"You don't have to turn around, either!"
Brady shook his head faintly. He didn't move.
Twice in one day.
The girl said, "You're a friend of Albie's, aren't you?"
"I never heard of him." Brady started to turn.
The shotgun barrel came up. "Keep your eyes straight!"
Brady shrugged. "I know what you look like anyway."
"Fine, then you don't have to be gawking around."
"Your head'd come up to about my nose," Brady said. "You look more boy than girl, but you got a pretty face with nice blond hair and dark eyes and eyebrows that don't match your hair."
"Albie told you that," the girl said. "You talk just like him."
"Miss Glennan, I'll take an oath I don't know any Albie." He cleared his throat before saying, "My name's Stephen J. Brady of the Hatch and Hodges Company come here to see your dad with the agreement "
"You don't have any clothes on!"
Brady turned in the saddle to look at her and this time she said nothing to stop him. Her lips were parted and her eyes held him with open astonishment. He had time to take in details the dark eyes that looked almost black, and her face and arms warm brown against the whiteness of her blouse and her hair that was pale yellow and combed back and tied with a black ribbon seeing all this before the shotgun tightened on him again.
Brady said, "You've seen men's underwear before. What're you looking so shocked for?"
"Not with you in them," the girl said.
"I thought maybe I could borrow a pair of your brother's pants "
"How'd you know I had a brother?"
"You got two. The little one, Mike, is in school down in Bisbee. The big one, Paul, whose pants I want to borrow till I get up to Rock of Ages and buy my own, is in the Army. Farrier Sergeant Paul J.
Glennan, with the Tenth down to Fort Huachuca."
The girl's eyes narrowed as she studied him.
"You know a lot about my family."
"More'n Albie could've told me?"
The girl said nothing.
"I told you I was with Hatch and Hodges,"
Brady said. "A while back a man took my clothes, guns, and papers, and that's why I'm sitting here like this. But I can still prove I'm from Hatch and Hodges, and here to see your father."
"How?"
"All right," Brady said. "Your father's name is John Michael Glennan, born in Jackson, Michigan, in . . . 1837. Same town your mother's from. Your dad served with the late George Custer and was wounded in the Rock Creek fight at Gettysburg.
Your brother Paul was born in '62. You came along in '65; then six years later your dad brought the family out here. You first settled up north near Cabezas, but there weren't enough trees there to suit him, so you came down here and been here ever since.
"Your dad's raised stock, but it never paid him much. Twice he wintered poorly and another year the market was down; so now he'd like to just raise horses and on the side, for steady money, run a stage line stop. Paul'll be out of the Army in six months; Mike out of school in a year. Your name's Catherine Mary Glennan and every word my Uncle Joe Mauren said about you is true."
"If it's a trick, it's a good one," the girl said. "You knowing all that."
"Sister, I'm trying to do my job, but I can't do it without my pants or my papers. Add to that your dad's not here anyway."
"How do you know that?"
"The stable door's open and your team and wagon's gone."
"They'll be back soon," the girl said quickly.
"Then I'll wait to talk to him."
"But I don't know when."
"You just said soon." Brady watched her. "Look, if you're worried about being alone with me I'll move along; but all I got to say is your dad must not want this franchise very much, else he'd be here."
"He does want it!" The girl moved toward him.
"He had to drive my mother over near Laurel.
There's a lady there about to deliver and Ma'd promised to help. But my dad said if you came, to explain it to you so there'd be no misunderstanding, because he does want to have that . . . whatever you call it."
"So you don't know when he'll be home."
"Probably tomorrow."
"Why didn't you tell me that before?" Brady said.
" 'Stead of this business about he'll be back soon."
"Because I didn't know who you were," the girl said angrily. "In fact, I still don't. All I'm sure of is you're a man sitting there in your underwear and not much of a man at that to let somebody take your clothes right off you."
"He had a gun," Brady said.