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When the settler had gone, incoherent and half-incredulous, Conford drew a long breath and looked at his mistress in the dusk. "Tharon, dear," he said so gently that his words were like a caress "you're jest a-breakin' your riders' hearts. You're heapin' anxiety on us mountain-high. Now what on earth'll we do?" Young Billy Brent pushed near and slapped a hand against a doubled fist.
She dried them quickly, however, and set another notch to her score with Courtrey. It was then that the waiting game ceased abruptly. Tharon, riding on El Rey, went in to Corvan. She tied the horse at the Court House steps and went boldly in to the sheriff's office. Behind her were Billy, like her shadow, and the sane and quiet Conford. Steptoe Service, fat and important, was busy at his desk.
She stepped clear by the table, stood at attention a second, and, with a peculiar outward whirl, lightning-quick, of her two wrists, had him covered with the big blue guns. He nodded. "Good as I learned ye," he whispered, "make it better." "I will," promised Tharon swiftly. The man closed his eyes, swayed, recovered as Conford caught him, and brightened again. "Now th' under-sling."
I'm goin' down the wall come day me an' my woman an' th' two boys. Got our duffle ready packed, an' Lord knows, it ain't enough t' heft th' horses. After five year!" There was the sound of the hopeless tears of masculine failure in the man's tragic voice. His fingers twisted his flabby hat. "Hold up," said Conford, pushing nearer, "straighten out a bit, Dement. Now, tell us what's up."
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