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Updated: June 4, 2025
How soon would August Naab strike out on the White Sage trail? Would he come alone? Whether he came alone or at the head of his hard-riding Navajos he would arrive too late. Holderness's life was not worth a pinch of the ashes he flecked so carelessly from his cigarette.
The life he owed to August Naab, the strength built up by the old man's knowledge of the healing power of plateau and range these lay in a long curve between the day Naab had lifted him out of the White Sage trail and this day of the Mormon's extremity. A long curve with Holderness's insulting blow at the beginning, his murder of a beloved friend at the end!
He also wanted to find out what kept his son Snap so long among the Navajos. "I'll take Billy and go at once. Dave, you join George and Zeke out on the Silver Cup range. Take Jack with you. Brand all the cattle you can before the snow flies. Get out of Dene's way if he rides over, and avoid Holderness's men. I'll have no fights. But keep your eyes sharp for their doings."
I was foreman, but there were things gain' on thet I didn't know of. I kicked on thet deal with Martin Cole. I quit. I steal no man's water. Is thet good with you?" Snood's query was as much a challenge as a question. He bit savagely at his pipe. Hare offered his hand. "Your word goes. Dave Naab said you might be Holderness's foreman, but you weren't a liar or a thief.
Joy at the sight of Mescal, blessed relief to see her unscathed, pride in her fighting spirit these came side by side with gratitude to the kind Nebraska rustler, strange deepening insight into Holderness's game, unextinguishable white-hot hatred of Snap Naab. And binding all was the ever-mounting will to rescue Mescal, which was held in check by an inexorable judgment; he must continue to wait.
"And I suppose, if your father and you boys were to ride over to Holderness's newest stand, and tell him to get off there would be a fight." "We'd never reach him now, that is, if we went together. One of us alone might get to see him, especially in White Sage. If we all rode over to his ranch we'd have to fight his men before we reached the corrals.
I didn't see his face; I can't remember his voice." "Think! Think! He'll be hanged if you don't recall something to identify him. He deserves a chance. Holderness's crowd are thieves, murderers. But two were not all bad. That showed the night you were at Silver Cup. I saved Nebraska " "Were you at Silver Cup? Jack!" "Hush! don't interrupt me. We must save this man who saved you. Think! Mescal!
Then he slipped down, back to the stone, with a bloody hand fumbling at his breast. Dave leaped with tigerish agility, and knocking up the levelled Colt, held Snap as in a vise. George Naab gave Holderness's horse a sharp kick which made the mettlesome beast jump so suddenly that his rider was nearly unseated. Zeke ran to Hare and laid him back against the stone. "Cool down, there!" ordered Zeke.
"Howdy, boys?" called out Holderness, with a smile, which was like a gleam of light playing on a frozen lake. His amber eyes were steady, their gaze contracted into piercing yellow points. Dave studied the cattle-man with cool scorn, but refusing to speak to him, addressed his brother. "Snap, what do you mean by riding in here with this fellow?" "I'm Holderness's new foreman.
Hare searched the red sage-spotted waste for Holderness's ranch. He located it, a black patch on the rising edge of the valley under the wall, and turned Silvermane into the tracks that pointed straight toward it. The sun cleared Coconina and shone warm on his back; the Pink Cliffs lifted higher and higher before him. From the ridge-tops he saw the black patch grow into cabins and corrals.
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