WHEN HE REACHED Prescott’s place, he braced himself for the storm. But it didn’t come. Prescott came out of the house to greet him when he heard his horse in the yard. It was dark and he carried a lamp in his hand.
‘Thought I’d never see you alive again,’ he shouted. ‘Goin’ into that hornets’ nest. I take it you toted Mank home.’
McAllister said he did. Prescott said he thought McAllister sure took the biscuit. He had real nerve. It took nerve to stop three determined men from hanging a horse-thief. And he was grateful. McAllister was right. He’d stopped him from committing murder. If he’d of hung Mank, he’d never be able to look the little woman in the eye again. So he was grateful—he clapped McAllister on the back to prove it. Go on into the house now, the little woman would give him some supper. He’d be there in a minute—he was just going to the bunkhouse for a word with the boys.
McAllister threw the canelo into the corral and walked into the kitchen. Prescott had gone to tell the boys to lay off. Abe and Curly were still mad because of McAllister’s intervention. Prescott didn’t want trouble.
Mrs. Prescott was sitting near the lamp at the table, sewing. She looked up and smiled as McAllister entered.
‘Sit down,’ she said, ‘I’ll get you something to eat. Had a good day?’
McAllister saw that she had no idea what had happened. He sat down and said he’d had a good day. Had anybody been near the dun horse? No, she said, it had been left strictly alone. She got up and threw a steak into a pan. He excused himself and walked out to the dun. When he went near it, it didn’t snap at him. He brought it a little water and it drank avidly. He reckoned he wouldn’t feed it until the next day. He talked to it a little and tried touching it. It trembled a little, but it took it. He ran his hands over its head and face, down its neck to its front legs. It took that quietly. He’d start work properly in the morning.
He went back into the house and sat at the table watching the woman at work at the stove. She had arranged her hair carefully tonight and she looked pretty good. Prescott was a lucky man to have a woman like that. She must have been aware of his eyes on her, she turned her head and smiled at him.
A short while later as he sat at the table eating, Prescott came in. He was all smiles. He sat at the table opposite McAllister and drank coffee.
‘Mack,’ he said, ‘how’d you like to do me a big favor?”
‘I’d like to,’ McAllister told him.
‘Me an” the boys have to drive the horses to Fort Lennox. We’ll be gone two three days. Would you stay an’ look after the place. It’s a lot to ask, I know.’
‘Sure,’ McAllister said. ‘I’ll be working on the dun. It’s no hardship.’
‘It’ll be a comfort to know you’re here,’ Prescott told him. ‘I don’t like to leave the little woman on her lonesome. And there’s the stock.’
It was settled. Prescott and the men would ride out first thing in the morning. McAllister finished his supper, thanked Mrs. Prescott and walked out to the bunkhouse. The men greeted him with silence. They were sitting on their bunks; Abe was cleaning his gun and Curly was mending some gear. The boy lolled on his bunk. McAllister permitted them their silence. They acted as if he wasn’t there and he reckoned he could live without them. He took off his boots, pants and shirt and got between the blankets. In minutes he was asleep.