Karla began, “When I tell Mr. Falvey-”
“And Willis,” Renda broke in, “will tell the marshal that he read the letters and threw them away when he was finished, and if some girl out for a ride happened to find them, that’s no concern of his. All Willis will know is that he threw the letters away. You see how it is, honey?”
Karla looked at Lizann who returned her gaze almost without expression, telling nothing, least of all offering assistance. Then, to Renda again, “I don’t see how you have the nerve to admit what you just did.”
Renda shrugged. “You’re the only one hearing it. You got no witnesses. I got a man who’ll admit reading the letters and throwing them away for you to find.”
“You’re very sure of yourself,” Karla said.
“Honey, when you’re minding thirty convicts you got to be sure of yourself.”
“I’m still going to tell my father.”
“You go right ahead…And tell him for me, I want to know the day my supplies come in this week. I don’t want them laying around for some stage passenger to drop a cigar butt on. You hear me? Soon as they come in, I want to know about it.”
“You’ll notice,” Lizann said mildly, “he’s worried about his investment and not your station.”
“I’ll hear from you in a minute,” Renda said. He looked at Karla again. “You run home now. And remember what I said. Soon as it comes in I want to know about it.”
“I’m dismissed now?” Karla said.
“You’re double dismissed. Ride directly through that gate and don’t let me see your face around here till my stuff comes.”
“Mr. Renda,” Karla said, “you’re a real gentleman.”
Renda smiled pleasantly. “Thank you, Karla. Now get out before I kick you the hell out!” He saw her about to speak and he yelled, “Go on!” then kept his eyes on her until she had left the adobe, mounted her horse and ridden off toward the gate.
Lizann asked, “What did all that prove?”
“When somebody talks like that,” Renda said, “I get sick to my stomach.”
“Maybe it’s your conscience backing up on you.”
“A sermon now?”
Lizann shook her head. “Not even if I thought it would do you good.”
Renda moved to the table. He half sat on the edge of it, hooking his leg over one corner, and leaned his weight heavily against the table. Watching him, still sitting in the canvas chair, Lizann said, “Don’t make yourself too comfortable.”
“I thought we’d have a talk,” Renda said.
“About what?”
“Willis’s letters.”
“I’m not interested.”
“You want me to think you’re not,” Renda said. “You’re bustin’ to know what was in them.”
“Then keep it to yourself,” Lizann said, “and see if I bust.”
“They were from Washington.”
“I told you, I’m not interested.”
Renda came to his feet. “I’m interested! You understand that? I’m interested and we’re going to damn-well talk about them whether you want to or not!”
“As usual,” Lizann said calmly, “you’ll be talking to yourself.”
The table creaked as Renda leaned his weight on it again. “Let’s find out,” he said mildly, and noticed the look of momentary surprise on Lizann’s face. “We don’t have to yell at each other, Lizzy. Pretend you’re in Washington and you’re talking to one of Willis’s political friends. Like Mr. Everett C. Allen.”
“The letters were from him?”
“That’s better,” Renda grinned.
“Were they?”
“They were from him.”
“What did he say?”
“He was answering Willis.”
“I didn’t know Willis had written him.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I don’t care what you believe!”
“You should. It makes a difference.”
“I didn’t know Willis had written to him,” Lizann said evenly. “You can believe that or not.”
“Let’s say I don’t. Who is he?”
“Everett? He’s with the Department of the Interior.”
“High up?”
“High enough.”
“High enough to get Willis away from here?”
Lizann nodded. “What did he say?”
Renda’s leg, hooked over the corner of the table, began to swing slowly back and forth. He stared at Lizann and for perhaps a full minute he said nothing. Then, “What’re you so anxious to know for? You don’t even know what Willis said to him first.”
“Does it matter?” Lizann asked.
“You know damn well it matters.”
“If you are going to insist that I know what Willis wrote,” said Lizann, “there’s no use discussing it further.”
“I’ll bet you even told him what to write.”
Lizann sat lower in her chair. Her gaze went to the open doorway and she ignored Renda.
“I’ll bet Willis didn’t even want to write it. But you made him.”
Lizann’s gaze came back to Renda. “Willis asked for a transfer!”
“That’s pretty good,” Renda said. “You must’ve been rehearsing-opening your big brown eyes, looking surprised-”
“What did Everett say,” Lizann demanded.
“What do you think he said?”
Lizann hesitated thoughtfully. “Something to the effect that Willis was gaining valuable experience…that there were no openings elsewhere, but when the right opportunity presented itself-”
“You know this man pretty well,” Renda said.
“I have seen his letters before.”
“So Willis is stuck,” Renda said. “I told him that a long time ago.”
Lizann said nothing.
“I told him. I said, ‘Willis, relax and enjoy it. You’re gaining valuable experience here and if you do good, maybe they’ll make you superintendent at my next camp.’ ”
“God help him,” Lizann murmured.
“That could happen, Lizzy.”
“I wish you wouldn’t call me that.”
“It bothers you?”
“How do you know there’s going to be a next camp?”
“Same way I got this one.”
“You bribed someone for the contract?”
“That’s a bad word.”
“You must have.”
“Mine was low bid, Lizzy.”
“You know nothing about road construction. Someone must have told you what to bid-for a price. Someone on the inside.”
Renda grinned. “A silent partner.”
“What I don’t understand,” Lizann said, “is why you bother. You have to use bribes. You have to watch every move anyone makes. You hire a man like Brazil, who would come higher than the ordinary guard. You’re constantly in danger of being found out. For what?”
“For fifteen dollars a day profit, free and clear,” Renda said.
“Which isn’t very much,” Lizann said.
“Besides what I make on the road contract.”
“But with your expenses, there couldn’t be much left of that.”
“Enough,” Renda said. “Which adds on to the fifteen a day-”
“How do you come to that amount?”
“The government subsistence!” He sounded surprised that she had to ask. “I don’t know why they think each man’s worth seventy cents a day-when you only need about twenty cents to take care of one. But as long as they want to pay it, I’ll make my fifteen a day. Figure that back over four months. Then go ahead a couple more months. See how it adds up? I figure I’ll make three thousand on that alone…something I didn’t even count on when I got the contract.”
“Do you think it’s worth the effort?”
“Lizzy, I’m not straining. I sit in the shade all day counting my money. When this job’s over, I spend the money. Then I get another contract.”
“Considering the chances you’re taking,” Lizann said, “I would think you’d play for higher stakes.”
“Why? I’m not greedy.”
“How much do you pay my husband?”
“Whatever I feel like, now.”
“Just enough to keep him drunk.”