"I'd like to," he said, dryness definitely in his voice, and went out. She waited a little while, altogether still in the middle of the room, listening to the robust racket below and yet paying no attention to it. Afterward she tidied herself and walked to a window and opened it to the wind rolling off the high hills. She stood with her hands on the sill, thinking—because she could not help it—of Owen Merritt and the way he had talked to her in the dark stairway at the hotel, the way he had held himself back, the way he had failed to hide himself completely from her. She was a cool-minded girl and an honest one with herself as with others, and she knew there had been a moment this night when Owen Merritt, had he wished, could have changed her mind by the least pressure of his hand. She had almost wanted it, and had been glad when he left her. It was that way with her. Hurt and worried by the memory, she went down to join the crowd.
They were all here, Mike Tague and Helen, and Swanee Vail and his daughter from the lower Skull, and the Nankervells, and Mark Medary, and the Spaughs who ran cattle near the Fremont, and half the families of the Piute. She knew why they came. Not so much for her sake as for Will, who was a power in the land. She came down the stairs, tall and sorrel-headed, and smiling in a way to accent the serene confidence so much a part of her character. There was one man here—Pay Lankershim—whom she was quite surprised to see. Pay was a neighbor who had a small place on the southern end of the hills, adjoining Skull. He was a thin and smart and stubborn old man, who bore Skull no love, but he came to her and took her hand, the weather wrinkles around his gray eyes deep-cut for a moment. She didn't know if he was smiling or not. She couldn't tell. But he said, quietly, "You're a good girl, Sally, a good girl," and went away.
Her father was drunk and had followed from The Wells, though she had asked him to stay behind. He had cornered Will and was speaking with a good deal of hand-waving. She watched this for a moment, observing the noncommittal expression on Will's face. Then she went over and said, "I want to see you, Dad," and drew him out to the porch. He was just sober enough to be angry at her. He said, "Ain't I good enough?"
"Get on your horse and go home."
He started to speak, but she cut in without regard for him. "It's a little bit early to start panhandling Will Isham. Get out of here and stay out till I tell you to come back."
He said, mumbling oddly, "Daughter, I—"
"No," she said, "go on. I'll never let you starve, but I don't want you here. Haven't you made people laugh at our name enough? Where's Starr?"
"Don't know."
"Tell him," she said, "to quit riding with Hugh Clagg. Tell him to quit stealing."
She waited until he had gone from the porch, and drew a long breath, smoothing her face with an effort, and turned in. She saw Sheriff Medary and went over to him, gay for his benefit. He said, deeply flattered, "Lord, Will's lucky," and then she saw Will in a corner of the room. He was watching the way she handled herself, and her slow smile went over to him, making him smile back. Presently the crowd flowed into the mess hall. She sat at the foot of the table, with the sheriff to one side and old Mike Tague, whose cheeks were vermilion-bright, on the other. Outside, the crew had opened a steady gunfire. Clay Spaugh rose and proposed a toast. This was the way it went for an hour or more, the room growing warmer and the talk livelier and livelier, with Isham all the while looking on with a kind of reserve that nothing could thaw.
Afterward, in the living-room again, she joined the women, careful in the way she treated them. Will stood in another corner with Tague and Spaugh and Swanee Vail and Lankershim. Now and then her glance went his way. He was a smaller man than the rest, but it was odd to note how they listened to him and nodded when he spoke and were, all the while, faintly ill at ease with him.
Isham said to Spaugh, "You heard about the new brand law?"
Spaugh nodded, but Pay Lankershim said, "What law?" Isham said, "We got it through the Legislature this time. It's an offense for a rider to carry a running iron unless he's directly in the hire of some ranch. Too many stray riders in this country. They pack a straight iron and come in on the edges of our outfits. It's no trick to catch a cow and doctor a brand."
Pay Lankershim gave him a strong glance. "If I was a free rider and wanted to pack a runnin' iron I'd do it and to hell with you, Will."
Isham said in good nature, "All right, Pay, all right. But you don't suffer from stealing like I do. That is just one way of making it harder to rustle. A big outfit is always fair game for the little fellow."
Pay said, "Yeah? I always thought it was the other way around," and walked into the crowd. Isham looked at the man's high back, a remote show of irritation in his glance.
Sheriff Medary came up. He faced Isham, meanwhile bracing himself genially between Mike Tague and Clay Spaugh. He was well fed and content and said so. "But I got a couple of questions, Will. Been a couple of complaints about your fence riders. You throwin' lead at trespassers?"
Isham said, "Never heard anything about it, Mark. I'll find out from Dutcher. We try to keep riders off our range. You know. We've been having a lot of trouble like that. Maybe some of the boys wasted a few shots at the sky. Just for warning."
"Sure, sure," agreed Medary. Tague and Spaugh and Vail listened with a poker-cheeked disinterest. Isham's voice was soft, almost apologetic, and Mark Medary permitted no trace of skepticism to show on his face. "Sure. But just have Dutcher keep an eye on your riders. We don't want any shootings. Well, I'll be saying good night."
He walked over to pay his respects to Sally. Mike Tague's great body stirred with a suppressed laughter. He said to Isham, "And I thought only Irishmen spread the blarney!" Spaugh and Vail said nothing.
Isham added at once, with a degree of sharpness, "I've got to protect myself. And, so have you fellows. It's all right to be fair. But this country won't respect anything but strong medicine. I won't tolerate stealin'. It is getting worse. I—" He stopped on that, for Pay Lankershim had come up again.
Pay said, "I guess I know when plenty is enough. I'll make the deal."
Isham said, calmly, "All right, Pay." He put out his hand. But Pay didn't take it. The old man wasn't friendly. Isham said to the others, "So Skull goes south another five miles."
Mike Tague shook his head. "You grow too fast, Will," Will Isham said, "Life's pretty short and a man has to hurry. Pay, what made you change your mind?"
Pay looked at him through a sustained and unfriendly interval. "I never thought you was so tough, Will. But I made up my mind tonight that you can't be beat. If a man like Merritt won't fight for what belongs to him, I guess I'm too old to try."
Isham stared at Lankershim, and the touched temper showed. "What belonged to him, Pay?"
Pay looked at him with an old man's tight-mouthed secrecy. But everybody there knew what he meant. Tague and Spaugh and Vail remained still, vaguely embarrassed. Isham's cheeks colored.
"Pay," he said, "you're my guest and I will say nothing tonight. When you ride off Skull tonight, be sure you don't come back on my land."
Pay said, "I may and I may not. You been pressin' me a long time to sell out. You ain't very careful and you ain't very particular how you persuade a man. I ain't a fellow to forget, Isham, and I'm plumb too old to be charitable. There's a lot of people in this country who'd like to see you humble. It may come." This he considered sufficient, and stalked from the house.
The crowd had meanwhile started to break up, and Sally had moved to the door. Isham joined her there, accepting congratulations and shaking hands. Mrs. Nankervell fell on Sally's shoulders, wept a little, and strode into the night with her husband. There was a good deal of calling and hallooing through the night. The river bridge boomed from its traffic; then quiet returned to Skull, and the trickle of the irrigation ditches began to make a little melody in the overwhelming dark.
Sally left the door, crossing the long room. Will Isham's voice came over, turning her around.
"You