"I think maybe we better talk," he said.
She looked scared. "What about?"
"Cherry!" Dick's voice came from behind the inner closed door.
She gave Sam a sharp, bitter glance and hurried across the room, disappearing through the door. He heard the low mutter of voices behind it. Then it opened and Cherry came out first, followed by Dick, wearing only pants and undershirt and a sheepish grin.
"You met Cherry, huh? Purty ain't she?" He pulled achair out from the wall and straddled it, looking up at Sam with a stubborn expression.
"Yeah. We met," Sam said.
"Ain't you gonna congratulate me?"
"Congratulations."
"Oh, damn!" Dick exploded.
"You'll have to pardon me," Sam said. "I've got a few weighty problems on my mind. And somebody's been busy tryimg to kill me off. So you might say that this takes up a lot of energy that otherwise might be used to congratulate you."
Dick's face darkened. "Real funny," he said softly. He stood up, his fists clenched. "One of these days, Sam, you—" Sam looked at Cherry. "I want to talk to him—alone."
She nodded, walked to the inner door and disappeared in the other room, closimg the door with a bang. Dick stood there, looking at him expectantly, with a touch of dread on his face.
"You've really played hell," Sam said, as quietly as he could. "I didn't even know you were interested in this girl." He suddenly remembered that Cherry had been in this hotel the night Dick was on the prod. Molly McGee had said she was visiting a friend.
"Oh, hell, I've been friends with Cherry ever since her brother got killed."
"You'd better get rid of her," Sam said. "She's a dance hall girl, Dick."
Dick's mouth was suddenly ringed with white. "She's my wife, Sam."
Sam laughed deep in his throat.
Dick grabbed his arm. "Don't laugh like that" he said, low-voiced between clenched teeth. "Don't do it."
"You can give her a hundred bucks and tell her—" Dick pushed him. "Get out, Sam, while you're in one piece!"
"You're a fool," Sam Harden said, knocking his brother's hand from his arm.
Dick's face twisted with rage. "Get out, Sam, before I kill you!"
IX
WHEN SAM
reached the lobby Molly McGee was lighting a lamp. She turned around when she heard him and, smiling, said, "Come on back. I've a pot of coffee on the stove."
He followed her to the back of the hotel and into the corner apartment where she lived with her father. It was a pleasant room, the kitchen, with reflector lamps on the wall, bright curtains, a highly polished cook stove, and with the warm smell of coffee in the air. A coffee grinder stood on the table, attesting to the freshness of the steaming brew.
"I guess you heard Dick got married," he said with a twist to his mouth.
"Well, he's young and handsome—and rich," she said. "But he married a dance hall girl," he said, watching her, waiting for her shocked surprise.
There was none. He felt let down as she tilted her head back and looked at him. "She sings, Sam," she said.
He wrinkled his forehead and came to the stove, shrugging out of his coat and hanging it over the back of a chair. He pushed the chair closer to the stove. "Yeah, a dance hall girl."
She put her back to the stove and crossed her arms, clasping her upper arms with brown hands. "You're not happy about that, Sam?"
"Should I be?"
She laughed, shaking her head. "You men—you do any darn thing you please—insisting all the time on women being up on a pedestal." She uncrossed her arms and went with her lithe walk to the cupboard to get two cups and two saucers. She brought them to the red and white checkered cloth-covered table. "Pour the coffee, Sam."
He poured the coffee and put the pot back on the stove, shaking his head. "I can't figure you. Go to church every Sunday, teach a class, too. Yet you take the news that Dick married a dance hall girl as though it was all right."
"Maybe it is all right. All the good people in the world don't go to church."
"I'll swear," he said heavily and sat down. "You think she's the woman for him, then?"
"That's for Dick to decide," she said and sat across the table from him. She rested her chin on her hand, looking at him. "Why don't you give them a chance?"
"I guess it took me by surprise," Sam said. "I didn't even realize he knew her."
"Maybe I should have told you," she said.
He stared at her in surprise. "You knew all the timer Without waiting for an answer he added angrily, "When did it start?"
She flinched at the sudden anger. "They've been seeing each other for a long time, more often since her brother was killed. She was all alone . . . I guess Dick felt sorry for her."
That's Dick all right, he thought, always picking up strays. The sound of a running horse came to them and then a strident voice called, "Whoa! Whoa, Charlie!"
She looked at him wide-eyed. "That's Fill."
The rapid drum of boots spoke of a man in a hurry. Fill McGee plunged through the door, his mouth open. He saw Sam at once and he slowed down, gulped once, and then came more slowly to stand in the middle of the room. He seemed at loss for words. "Didn't know you'd be here, Sam," he said, and then, "How's your head?"
"Fine." Sam said no more, waiting expectantly. "You were in an awful hurry when you came in," Sam added, when the silence grew heavy.
Never an indecisive man, McGee drew in a deep breath. "Sam, I didn't expect to find you here. Maybe it's just as well because I've got a mountain lion by the tail and can't let go."
"More trouble," Sam said.
McGee nodded. "More than I can handle. The settlers are out of hand. They're goin' to hang Reno. On their way to his spread this minute. I thought I'd get Alonzo—nearly killed poor ol' Charlie getting here. To find our sheriff dead. What'll I do? I can't stop 'em by myself."
"I'll get Clay and as many of my men as possible," Sam said quietly. "This is one thing we can't let happen, Fill. I was banking on Reno to help us out of the mess we're in."
"Now, those settlers are not all that bad," Fill said with some heat. "Reno has been askin' for trouble, actin' like he has."
"It's not the settlers at all," Sam said, forcing himself to speak quietly and without any trace of the rage that gripped him. "For the most part, it's Jesse Kenton." In as few words as possible he sketched the attempt on his life at the ranch, the trail that led to Kenton's, the ambush that killed Winner, and then finding that the Squaw had been dammed.
"And you can take some of the blame, Fill," he finished. "You brought these settlers in."
"No such thing," McGee declared. "They came and I helped them as much as I could. If we'd take those settlers in and help them get established, they could even help us.
Our cattle will never survive without the settlers' help. There's enough of them to take bunches of stock and care for them through this drought."
"You're out of your mind," Sam said swiftly. "I've got no time to talk. I've got to get out to Reno's place in a hurry." "And that's a fact," McGee said wearily.
"Be careful, Sam," Molly said as Sam took long steps toward the door.
Molly and her father listened to the sounds of Sam's rapidly retreating footsteps. Fill looked at his daughter. "You like him a lot, Mol girl?"
She nodded, feeling the rough texture of Sam's coat which he'd left hanging on a chair.
Smelly old thing, she
thought,
and he's gone off and left it.
"Since I wore pigtails," she said.
"He's a lot of man," McGee said. "Terrible temper like all them Hardens, but he's different, too."
"What do you mean, Dad?"
"Not as bullheaded as the rest. He can change his mind, and not pussyfoot about it."