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Updated: July 27, 2025
"Miss Last," said Kenset as the men began to dig with the spades brought along for the purpose, "you had best step back a bit." But Tharon pushed nearer. "This is my work," she said with dignity. "I started this, I think." It was a pitiful job that Service and those with him had done for Old Pete.
Hundreds and thousands of spires and faces towered about them. It was a mystic maze of dead stone, cut and weathered by the elements. "No wonder!" he told himself, "that the Indians call it the Enchanted Land!" "We'll reach False Ridge tomorrow, Billy," Tharon told him confidently, "an' over it lies God's Cup. There's water there an' Kenset." "What makes you think so?" "I don't know. Just feel.
Kenset led Captain around back where a living spring sang and gurgled into a section of tree, deeply hollowed and covered with moss. When he came back to the shade the woman had brought from some near place a second chair, and he dropped gratefully into it, weary from his long ride. He laid his hat on the earth beside him and smoothed the sleek, dark hair back from his forehead.
The cottonwoods whispered in the dawn-wind, the spring beneath the milk-house talked and murmured. Out in the big corrals the cattle were beginning to stir and bawl. In the kitchen old Anita and young Paula had breakfast waiting for the men. Deep in that dim south room where the pale Virgin kept watch and ward, Kenset of the foothills slept in healing peace.
"All right," she said briefly, "let go an' I'll come." Without a word the man loosed her. She went to El Rey and mounted. Her riders mounted with her, Billy's face frowning and set. From the steps of Baston's store a few cowboys watched. There were no Stronghold men in town, for it was too early in the day. In silence Kenset led out of town at a brisk canter.
"Do I seem different to you?" asked Kenset quickly. "How?" "Yes. I don't know how. You seem soft, like a woman some women an' I'm afraid " She stopped suddenly, abruptly halted in her naïve speech, as if she had come face to face with something she had not meant to meet. "Afraid?" probed the man gravely, "go on. You are afraid of what?" "No," said Tharon, "I won't say it" "Please do.
When Kenset, quietly impervious to the veiled hostility that met him everywhere, faced Steptoe Service and made his request, that dignitary felt a chill go down his spine. Like Old Pete he felt the man beneath the surface. He met him, however, with bluster and refused all reopening of a matter which he declared settled with the burial of the snow-packer in the sliding cañons where he was found.
For one amazed moment Kenset thought the horse was hit. Then, as he straightened in his saddle and dropped his hand to catch up his hanging rein, he looked quickly down. Where he was accustomed to the smooth feel of the pommel beneath his palm there was a sharp raw edge. A splinter of wood stood up and a small flare of leather hung to one side.
But that uncanny instinct which had brought her this far was at her command still. She went down faster than it seemed possible for anything to go, and before the rider was able to catch up she had leaped to the grassy floor, and was running forward toward that still form on the blanket. "Kenset!" she cried like a bugle, "Kenset! Kenset! Oh, David!"
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