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^BOO^C C«£A.T(ONS INC. '982

This is a work of fiction. While the general outlines of history have been faithfully followed, certain details involving setting, characters, and events may have been simr plified.

At first glance Toby Holt bore a startling resemblance to his late father, Whip Holt, the legendary mountaiQ man, trapper, and hunter, who was responsible for so much of the development of the American West. Toby had the same lanky, lean build, moving with the grace of the natural athlete; his hair was the same untamed dirty blond; and his pale blue-gray eyes had a penetrating quahty that made them seem to bore into and through the object or person at which they were looking.

There were differences between father and son, of course. Toby had fought valiantly as an officer during the long years of the Civil War. In addition, he had spent virtually the entire year since the war ended laying out a route for the new transcontinental railroad to the Pacific Northwest. Perhaps the greatest difference between Toby and his father was too subtle for almost anyone to notice: The son had enjoyed the benefits of a higher education, not to mention the excellent training

of his mother, Eulalia. As a result, Tob/s speech was more literate, his manners more polished.

Toby Holt looked up from the document he had been reading and glanced out toward the distant snowcapped mountains that lay to the east of his family's ranch house in Oregon. Then he grinned at his good friend and partner, Rob Martin, the surveyor who was working with him on the all-important railroad route.

**We can still back out of this if you want to,** Toby said. **It's not too late.**

Rob, who was Toby's height and had red hair, chuckled as he reached for the paper. He could not imagine Toby backing out of anything that he had made up his mind to do. They had been close all their lives; Rob's parents. Dr. Rob^t Martin and the former Tonie Meil, had crossed the continent to Oregon with Whip and Eulalia Holt in the first wagon train to the Pacific Northwest Most recently, the two yoimg men had formed a partnership with their good friend from Oregon, Frank Woods, who was currently working the lumber camp in the Washington Territory, sending Toby and Rob their share of the profits.

Rob scanned the paper briefly and saw that it was dated six weeks earlier in late February, 1866. It bore the signature of Andrew Johnson, President of the United States, and was written on White House stationery.

The document itself was very simple, directing Toby Holt and Robert Martin to continue with their survey for a railroad line and specifically instructing them to proceed without delay to the Montana Territory for the purpose of determining where the railroad line would be laid there.

**Why in thunderation would we want to back out?"

Rob demanded. *WeVe known for weeks that this presidential order was coming, and we've just been waiting for the weather to improve so we can carry it out."

Toby chuckled dryly. "If you think the Washington Territory was uncivilized and barbaric/* he said, "wait until you see Montana. It's primitivel The better part of it looks precisely as it did when Lewis and Clark first traveled through it sixty years ago. As a matter of fact, it hasn't changed much since the thirties and forties when mountain men like Kit Carson and my father were leaders in the fur trade.**

"All I know about Montana, really,** Rob said, **ls that the western half of the territory is very mountainous and the Continental Divide is located there. The eastern half is a lush prairie land and has a number of cattle ranches being established there, so it can*t be all that uncivilized. What's more, a great many people raced into the territory in the gold rushes of the past fifteen years. From the stories I have heard, it was as hectic there as it was in CaHf omia and in Colorado."

"The tidal wave of gold seekers passed through Montana, and practically none of them settled there,** Toby replied. "As I say, the better part of the territory is stiU in its natural state.**

"AU that is going to change in a great hurry,'* Rob said humorously. "Beth has been insisting that she is going to move to Montana when we get to work out there, and that she's going to set up a base that we can caU home. I've tried to talk her out of it, but you know my wife. Once her mind is made up, nothing will stop her from trying to get her way."

Toby's smile faded, and his heart sank at Rob*s mention of his wife. The problem was ever present, and just the thought of it paralyzed Toby Holt.

The difficulty was that he had grown up with Beth Blake, the daughter of Cathy and General Lee Blake, his parents* closest friends. Their mothers had confidently expected them to develop a romantic interest in each other, and, consequently, they had done just the opposite: They had drifted away from each other. Not im-til he had returned to the ranch after nearly being killed fighting in the Civil War had the sobered Toby realized that he actually cared for Beth, and by that time, it had been too late. Toby was already married, and Beth became betrothed to Rob, soon thereafter marrying him. Thus even after the death of his wife, from whom he had been estranged, Toby was not free to pursue Beth.

*This is none of my business," Rob said with a touch of embarrassment, **but I've been wondering lately if you and Clarissa are going to marry."

*1 honestly don't Imow what Fm going to do," Toby confessed. Certainly his partner knew that he'd been having an affair for some months with Clarissa Sinclair, a widow from Philadelphia, who lived in the Washington Territory. The truth of the matter was that he couldn't decide whether he cared enough for Clarissa to marry her. Images of Beth still intruded, and he felt in all fairness to himself, as well as to Clarissa, that he should get Beth out of his system once and for all before he even contemplated marriage to someone else.

Rob tactfully dropped the subject. He knew more than he was revealing; he had heard, for example, that Eulalia Holt was urging her son to marry Clarissa and that young Cindy Holt, Toby's teenage sister, had become another of Clarissa's champions. Certainly he had no desire to add to Toby's pressures. Besides, right now he and his wife were going to go up to Washington to spend some time together, alone, in the lodge Rob and

Toby had built. Rob Martin would have enough pressures of his own coping with his beautiful, impetuous wife.

The mountains of Montana, wild and remote, with many peaks soaring thousands of feet above sea level, brooded in white-capped, silent majesty and set the tone for the territory of which they were an integral part. To their east lay the lush prairie grasslands and meadows, a cont±Quation of the lands to be found in the Dakotas. Buffalo attracted by the vegetation roamed in large numbers, and it was the fertility of the land that had lured settlers here. Rugged and hardy ranch owners, who foimd the climate and soil perfect for the raising of cattle, were beginning to move into the territory and were establishing homesteads, most of them separated from their neighbors by vast distances.

The isolation, the difficulties of travel, were responsible for most of Montana's problems. The territorial legislature met rarely. The first governor of the territory had resigned in disgust, and the second was dead, widely believed to have been murdered. The administration in Washington as yet had been unable to find a willing replacement for him, just as it was imable to find individuals willing to work as marshals or sheriffs.

Bands of outlaws roamed through the populated sections of the territory, robbing the inhabitants and then disappearing into mountain refuges. The settlers were also harassed by sporadic Indian raids. Of late, large numbers of Indian warriors were arriving in the eastern part of the territory, all of them mounted on their small, swift horses, and all of them wearing war paint.

Had the Montana settlers been in a position to

check more closely, they would have realized that the Indians were traveling to a conclave in the hill country that led to the mountains. They came from every direction except the west, and some traveled singly, others came in groups. Some were old friends and had fought numerous battles against the wagon trains of the settlers all the way from Iowa to the Continental Divide. Others had never seen a white man but had heard bloodcurdling tales, in song and in story, of the greed and rapacity of the whites.

**Why have we been called herer^ they asked each other as they set up their tents of animal skins.

The reply was always the same. **Only Thunder Cloud knows.*

Thimder Cloud was the Sioux chief of chiefs, the undisputed leader of the nation's seven separate, distinct subtribes. He had been elected to his high post a decade and a half earlier, and he had lived up to the highest expectations of his colleagues and supporters.

Thimder Cloud was no ordinary warrior. Educated by early missionaries in what became the state of Iowa, he not only spoke and understood English, but could read and write the language, as well. He kept abreast of the activities of the white men, whom he despised, by reading their newspapers; and by avidly following the battles during the Civil War, he had become an expert on military strategy and tactics.

Tall and rugged, with an aquiline nose, deeply bronzed sldn, and penetrating eyes, Thimder Cloud resembled the American Indians who were popularized ia the illustrations for the stories by James Fenimore Cooper. Habitually closemouthed, he confided in no one and was regarded as something of an enigma even by the few colleagues who were relatively close to him.

More than one hundred war chiefs of the Sioux had gathered in a hidden valley in the Mountains of the Plains, located ia the heart of the Montana Territory. Until Thunder Cloud arrived, they whiled away their time by hunting. In addition to the vast herds of buJBFalo attracted by the splendid grass of the plains, the area abounded in deer and moose, elk and antelope. Flocks of ducks, geese, and quail flew northward overhead toward their summer resting places in Canada, and the lakes and rivers were full of trout, salmon, and other prized fish.

Thxmder Cloud had an instinctive flair for the dramatic, and he arrived in the valley at a moment when his subordinates were beginning to become restless and bored. He rode into the encampment with an escort of twenty-five yoimg warriors, each of them carrying a distinctive Sioux lance, a long, perfectly balanced polelike weapon that braves were taught from earliest boyhood to hurl while mounted on their galloping horses. For his noon meal. Thunder Cloud selected portions of the hearts and livers of a moose and an elk, a deer and an antelope. This was not accidental, and as word of his selection spread through the camp, the wiser and more experienced of the warriors realized that he had deliberately chosen a symbohc meaL

At last he was ready to speak, and he summoned the war chiefa and warriors to his campfire. They surrounded it, sitting cross-legged in a circle on the ground, their arms folded in front of them. For this special occa° sion Thunder Cloud had worn a headdress of feathers that encircled his head and trailed down his back. He had also revived an old custom of the Iroquois of upper New York state: Over his shoulders he wore a robe of

buffalo sldn decorated with dyed porcupine quills that formed various geometric patterns.

Not the least of Thunder Cloud's attributes was his talent as a speaker, and he did not disappoint his listeners. He addressed them in a deep, mellifluous voice that was capable of expressing a full range of human emotions, and as he talked, his listeners felt first sadness, then anger, and ultimately even outrage.

**My brothers," he said, *liow good it is to share fresh, roasted meat with my blood brethren of the Siouxl How I have longed for this dayl" He slowly scanned his audience, and whenever he saw a familiar face in the throng, he nodded, his dark eyes brightening.

Most of his audience was composed of mature men. Thunder Cloud's contemporaries who remembered their own youth in far-off Iowa, which lay to the east. There was no need for the chief of chiefs to remind them they had been slowly pushed westward by the pressure of the colonists who had come from the feast and set up their homes and estabHshed their farms on the lands that had belonged to the Indians.

Thunder Cloud appeared to be a mind reader. *'How far back we go togetherl" he exclaimed. *'How many winters we have been friends. How many summers we have ridden together on the hunt for buffalo.**

He had struck precisely the right note, and his listeners stirred. They and he were attached by strong bonds of shared memories, and in their nostalgia, they were ripe for whatever he chose to propose to them.

'TiOng ago in the time of our fathers," Thunder Cloud said, *'all the lands that lie west of the broad Mississippi River belonged only to the Sioux and to our friends from other nations. Then the white men came. Their appetites were huge. Little by little they took our

lands from us to build their towns, to create their farms, and to excavate their mines. Little by little we were pushed farther and farther to the west. Until now, for we can go no farther * He gestured in the direction of the distant snow->capped peaks of the Continental Divide.

His listeners nodded, and a grizzled subchief of the Sioux shouted, *The mountains are a final barrier. We can retreat no farther."

**We can retreat no farther." Thimder Cloud repeated the words with seeming relish. "In the eastern part of this land called Montana, and on the plains of Dakota, there is game without nimiber. There graze vast herds of bufEalo. There, as my brothers know, are elk and moose, deer and antelope for alL In this paradise^ this great hunting ground, which we shared with the Blackf oot, who make their home in the northern Plains, and with the Cheyenne, who live in the Wyoming country to our south, we have found contentment. But even here the white man has no intention of allowing us to live in peace!"

*Thunder Cloud speaks words of truth!" a young warrior shouted.

The chief of chiefs appeared to ignore the interruption. Tar to the east," Thunder Cloud said, **on the far bank of the Mississippi River, I have seen a terrible invention of the white men. It is an iron horse, an instrument made of metal that belches great clouds of smoke and that travels at high speeds on beds of shining rails. The iron horse carries fifty men at a time, perhaps a hundred, perhaps even two hundred. It carries all of their belongings as well, and it could be used to transport a whole herd of buflFalo in safety."

There were some in his audience who had never

seen railroad trains, and they were fascinated by his description. Those who knew railroads realized he was not exaggerating and nodded somberly.

"The first settlers who have come into the region," he said, *liave traveled by wagon train. How well we know these horse-drawn wagons of the white meni But those who will follow these first settlers expect to travel by iron horsel** His voice rose in wrathful excitement. *T^o longer will they come in tens or in ten times ten. Now they will travel by the hundreds, and they will spread out through our hunting groimds like a plague of locusts or grasshoppersr

His auditors were becoming aroused, and they began to move restlessly.

*When an Indian steals,** Thunder Cloud declared scornfully, "he is clever. He moves silently in the night, and he makes no sound as he takes that which is not his. But the white man is arrogant—as he always is. BeHeve me, my brothers, it is good that I know the tongue of these pale-sldnned serpents. They actually dare to boast that they are going to build the shiny rails that will carry the iron horses to our himting groimds. They are so certain they will succeed that they boast in advance of the benefits they will enjoy.**

He shook his fist above his head, and his listeners echoed him by doing the same.

**What say you, my brothers?" Thimder Cloud demanded fiercely. "Are we going to sit back and do nothing? Are we going to be like helpless women when the white men come in their iron horses to steal our hunting groimds from us?**

His words had the desired ejffect. More than one himdred warriors were on their feet now, brandishing tomahawks above their heads and shouting, "Nol Nol**

The chief of chiefs quieted his audience with a series of sharp, abrupt gestures, and they sat down again.

**We are of one mind, my brothers,* he said grimly, **We will drive away the white men who have settled in our hunting grounds and have cut down our forests to build homes and bams and fences. We will take their catde and their horses, and we will bum their homes to the ground, causing the settlers to flee for their lives. The white man must be driven from this favored landl*

An elderly warrior, his hair flecked with gray, was so carried away that he unleashed a bloodcurdling war cry. Instantly the air was filled with identical cries from his comrades.

Thunder Cloud was not yet finished speaking, however, and he quieted the crowd with great difficulty. **Wait, my brothers, and hear the last words that I will speak to you this day,* he said. **We virill drive the white settlers from our land, we will take their livestock and destroy their homes, but when possible, we must avoid killing them."

A strange hush fell on the assemblage, and the warriors looked at each other in puzzlement, wondering if the chief of chiefs had lost his wits.

"My reasons are simple and plain," Thunder Cloud declared. *White builders have erected a number of forts in Montana. Soldiers occupy those forts, and they are arriving in ever-increasing numbers. They are splendid fighting men,' and they have a great talent when they aim their firesticks. Thus, we must avoid at all costs starting a full-scale war with these soldiers. Though our numbers are greater than their numbers, our weapons are not the equal of their weapons,

"There will not be war, however, if we allow the

settlers to live. I will be satisfied, well and truly satisfied, if we drive the settlers out of our land. This we will do. When their horses and cattle vanish and their homes are smoldering ruins, they will become discouraged, and they will leave.**

The leaders of the Sioux looked at one another and nodded in siuprised approval. Only someone as infinitely clever as Thimder Cloud could have devised a scheme that would rid Montana of the hated white settlers but would avoid a full-scale war with the troops, whose expertise with modem rifles the Sioux had learned to respect greatly.

One major question was still imsettled, however, and an elderly subchief climbed slowly to his feet "What of the men who will come to Montana to determine the path that the shiny iron horse rails will take?" he wanted to know. **WilI we also drive them out of Montana?"

Thunder Cloud's dark eyes glittered. He said, "Once we have completed our task of driving out the settlers who are desecrating our hunting grounds, we wiU turn our attention to the men who chart the path for the iron horse. At that time we wiU teach them and their masters a lesson that will be long remembered. We wiU kiU them with our bows and arrows and our tomahawks, and we will take their scalps as symbols of the victory that will be ours when the last white man leaves the Montana hunting groimdsr

After spending almost a full year in the nation's highest oflBce, President Andrew Johnson, who had been so unexpectedly thrust into his role by the assassination of Abraham Lincoln, had grown accustomed to his surroundings and his work. Painfully honest and blunt, the

former senator from Temiessee had as many enemies as he had partisans, and although he enjoyed the presidency and hoped for another term, his foes were determined to block his ambition.

The imdeclared candidate, who was winning their support, was the Chief of StaflF of the U. S. Army, General Ulysses S. Grant, who was popularly regarded as the commander who had won the Civil War. Amiable almost to a fault. Grant saw to it that he made few enemies, and he was beginning to develop ambitions of his own for the presidency.

The newspapers of the major cities of the Eastern Seaboard were filled with speculation about the next occupant of the White House, and the talk inevitably affected the relations of Johnson and Grant They met frequently in the line of duty, and the tension that both felt began to show plainly. Both were pohte, trying hard to behave like gentlemen, but the strain showed, even though their mutual ambition was one subject that neither ever mentioned.

**I asked you here. General,** President Johnson said, *'to discuss the new railroad in the West"

General Grant opened the top brass button on the tunic of his uniform in order to obtain greater comfort **Ah, yes,** he said, **the central route from Wyoming to California."

**No,** the President replied pleasantly, in spite of the eflFort it caused him. *Tm referring to the northern route that will go through Montana to the state of Oregon and the Washington Territory.**

Grant reacted as thou^ he had been rebuked. IBs smile vanished, he sat erect, and replied in a low voice, •*Yes, sir.*'

*ln the very near future,'* the President said, *as

soon as the snows in the high Rockies melt, the team that performed for us so successfully in the Washington Territory is going to do the same for us in Montana.**

"Pardon my ignorance, Mr. President," the general said, "but just who comprise this team?^

Andrew Johnson was surprised. "Why, Toby Holt and Rob Martin, of course.**

General Grant's poKteness was studied. "You say they re competent, sir?**

"Very,** the President replied crisply. "Toby Holt is the son of Whip Holt, and that ought to be enough credentials for anybody. But the fact remains that he did a splendid job in the Washington Territory, and so did Martin, his surveyor partner.**

"With the Congress clamoring for action in the building of the railroad, Mr. President, can these two gentlemen operate quickly enough to satisfy the politicians?**

"It*s a question of whether they can respond fast enough to meet the demands of industry. There are dozens of factory owners who are eager to open major trade with Oregon and Washington. With Puget Sound as the railroad's terminus, the trade with the Orient will also be highly lucrative. So it*s businessmen, not politicians, who are the ones who need to be satisfied.*' The President didn't appear to realize he was administering a rebuke.

General Grant didn't want Andrew Johnson to think he was currying favor, and he hesitated before replying. "Perhaps the army can help speed the task, Mr. President, and complete the route for the new railroad in less time than it would otherwise take.** The President looked interested. "Major Isham Jentry is an extremely capable oflBcer

with considerable experience in surveying, and he also knows a great deal about railroads. I recommend that we assign him to work with Holt and his partner.**

"It can do no harm, certainly, to send him out," Johnson said at last. "I lu^ge you to write a letter to young Holt and tell him that competent help is on the way.'*

**ni do that," Grant said, and reaching for a piece of paper and a lead pencil, he scribbled a note to himself.

"That still leaves the basic problem in Montana unsolved,** Johnson said, frowning.

Grant knew about the state of afiFairs in Montana, but he waited for the President to elaborate.

Johnson turned to a table behind him, which was piled high with papers and documents, and after searching for some moments, he reached for a packet of letters tied together with a cord. "If you*U read these,** he said, throwing the bundle to Grant, "you*U see just how bad the problem is. These are aU letters from settlers in the Montana Territory, complaining about conditions there and asking for help from the federal government. All of them sing the same tune. They've suffered raids by bands of Sioux Indians, they*ve lost cattle and farm implements, and even their homes and bams have been burned down. The Indians seem to take sheer delight in maHce for its own sake. As if that were not enough, gangs of desperadoes are also operating in the territory. People like the notorious crew headed by a woman.** He searched his mind for her name. "Ma Hastings, I think she's called.**

None of what General Grant heard was news to him, and he listened patiently. "I think you'll find that by summer, Mr. President, the army wiU have the situa-

tion under control The Indian raids will stop abruptly, and so will the activities of the robber gangs*

Johnson was a man who dealt in specifics and wanted more than vague reassturance. *How so?* he demanded.

*The overall commander," Grant replied with a touch of asperity, **is Major General Lieland Blake, who is the oflBcer in charge of the Army of the West There's no one more competent in uniform todayl**

"I know Lee Blake, and I am familiar with his record," the President replied a trifle abruptly. *T quite agree with you. He's excepticMially capable. But that doesn't answer my question. What's he doing specifically to end the reign of lawlessness in Montana?**

''He's dispatching a full regiment to Fort Shaw in Montana," General Grant rephed. *The troops are all experienced fighting men, all war veterans. And they are being commanded by Colonel Andrew Brentwood, a highly decorated hero of the war, in whom Lee Blake has great confidence. I can't say that I blame him. He's the nephew of the late Mrs. Blake."

*Tm not disputing Colonel Brentwood's credentials," the President said, unconsciously raising his voice. "But where is he? Why aren't he and his regiment already in Montana, restoring order and establishing a rule of law? The territory is part of these United States, you know, and I can find no excuse for reigns of chaos and terror there!"

Grant took the criticism personally, and he, too, became strident *The passes through the Rockies tiiat lead from the Pacific, where the regiment is currently stationed, are six to twelve feet deep in snow. The troops can't be moved until the season is farther advanced and the snow meltsl"

Andrew Johnson was not satisfied with his explanation. **! find it odd—incomprehensible, in fact—that the situation was allowed to deteriorate so badly. How does it happen that the regiment is only now being sent into the territory? Why wasn't it stationed there last year in time to prevent these outrages that are making life so miserable for our settlers?"

General Grant h^d a diflBcult time keeping a lid on his temper. **Ever since Colonel Brentwood's unit was formed a year ago," he said, **he and his men have had their hands fulll They've been busy fighting the Nez Perc6 in Washington. You may recall, Mr. President, that the Indians there revolted, and the army had its hands full.**

, **Montana,** the President said, "must be made safe once and for all for American citizens. It must no longer be a land where outlaws find sanctuary and where Indians terrorize the settlers."

When a President of the United States spoke in that tone, only one reply was possible. **Yes, sir," Ulysses S. Grant said,

Andrew Johnson had worked himself to a fever pitch. **We're a supposedly civilized nation,** he said, "and we're living in the second half of the nineteenth century, a supposedly civilized age. So I find such activities intolerable in any territory where the flag of the United States of America flies."

Grant again said, **Yes, sir."

President Johnson spoke crisply, with finality. **Send a telegram without delay to Lee Blake," he said. "Tell him you're acting on the instructions of the Commander in Chief. Instruct him to send Colonel Brentwood's regiment to Montana with the greatest dispatch as soon as

weather conditions are reasonably safe* As far as be was concerned, tbat settled tbe problem.

General Grant fumed as he rode back to his own War Department headquarters in his carriage. He regarded Lee Blake as exceptionally competent, and he hated to interfere in any way with the operations of a subordinate's command. But in this instance he had no choice. The Commander in Chief had given him a direct order, and he was required to obey it As soon as he reached his desk, he immediately started to work, drafting a long telegram to Major General Leland Blake at Fort Vancouver in the Washington Territory, across the Columbia River from Portland, Oregon.

The open-air cooking fire could be seen for miles on the vast prairie of eastern Montana, but the members of the band, eating their supper around it, were indifferent to the reflection it cast Hard men with wooden faces and expressionless eyes, they eith^ squatted or sat on the ground and ate stoHdly in silence, tearing the buffalo meat apart with their fingers and wolfing down the baked beans that were a staple of their diet. If they seemed arrogant, they had good cause: They comprised the Hastings gang, the most feared band of cutthroats, gunslingers, and robbers in the entire West, and they were conscious of their standing.

Sitting alone, conversing with no one, was a woman with closely cropped gray hair. Sadie *'Ma*' Hastings, the widow of the foimder of the band and currentiy its head, often was mistaken for a man. She wore a man's broad-brimmed hat, open-throated shirt, breeches, and boots; a pair of six-shooters dangled from the ammimi-tion belt aroimd her middle; and she displayed no deli-

cacy, no hint of femininity as she gnawed the meat from a bone.

To her left was her elder son, ClifFord, who was thirty-one years of age and very good-looking. He was stocky, solidly built, and bore a strong resemblance to his mother. It was said that if Ma Hastings cared about anyone on the face of the earth, it was Clifford.

There was an aura of mystery that surrounded him, largely because he rarely participated in the raids that the band conducted. He was generally recognized, however, as half of the brains behind the gang's activities. It was Clifford Hastings along with his mother who planned every robbery and issued precise instructions to the men on how the action was to be carried out

Newer members of the gang, like the laconic, ugly Slim Davis, were inclined to believe that Clifford was endowed with a yellow streak that made him afraid to participate in actual combat. But the older members of the band knew better. He was a deadly shot, as cool in an emergency as his late father. The old-timers insisted that he was merciless, utterly lacking in fear, and they warned the newer members to stay on the right side of him. His only known weakness was his penchant for visiting brothels whenever he had money in the worn leather purse he carried in a shirt pocket.

Seated near Clifford, gorging himself on food, was his yoimger brother, Ralph. Ma Hastings ignored him, as did most of the others, and only Clifford glanced in his direction from time to time to make sure that he was all right. Ralph Hastings was, to put it mildly, a problem. Short, fat, and in his mid-twenties, Ralph had two obsessions. One was food, and the other was the raw gia that was available from the peddlers who crossed the territory on foot

*llalph ain't too bright," was Ma*s judgment of her younger son, and the members of the band agreed. Only Clifford knew better. Ralph was sensitive, and his older brother suspected that he drank to excess because he was secretly ashamed of the way that his mother and his brother earned their living. It was an unwritten but inviolable law of the band that Ralph was to be left behind and not participate in any of the group's activities.

As Ma put it, **My Ralph, he means good, but he's an awful slow draw, and his aim ain't worth spittin' at So we don't lose nothin' by leavin' him with the pack horses.**

Both Clifford and his mother well knew that Ralph's trouble was not due to his poor aim or his inability to draw a weapon rapidly. Usually he had consumed so much gin by the time a raid took place that he was useless. But this was a subject Clifford and his mother did not discuss. The less said the better.

Ma threw into the fire the bone on which she was chewing and wiped her hands on the sides of her breeches. Rolling a cigarette with one hand, she picked up a twig in the other. Reaching toward the fire she lighted the twig and used it to light the cigarette. It dangled from one comer of her mouth as she surveyed her subordinates, taking her time as she looked first at one, then at another. *TEverybody here?" she demanded. "Nobody's missin*?"

Clifford made a rapid coimt **We're all here. Ma,* he repHed.

*^ou boys was grumblin* to each other the last couple o' days," Ma said, "because you thought I was ridin' ya too hard, traipsin' from one end o* Montana to the other. Well, it ain't accidental that we pitched our camp right here where we're sittin' now."

Something in her tone, rather than her actual words, caught their attention, and all eight members of the band, along with Clifford, watched her closely. Only Ralph seemed lost in thought as he continued to gaze vacantly into the fire.

"Any o' you boys ever heard teU of a feller called Pete Purcelir

There was a silence, which was finally broken by Slim Davis, whose voice sounded as though he had a mouth filled with pebbles. **If were taUdn' about the same gent,** he said, **there was a Pete PurceU down Wyoming way who was supposed to be the best gunslinger in the whole West I heard tell that one time he even stood up to Whip Holt and got away with it."

Ma Hastings snorted impatiently. **There ain't a man ahve,*' she said, "that ever stood up to Whip Holt and Hved to talk about it. Don't believe every tall tale ya hear, Slim. HI say this much, though. From what I hear, Pete was a gunslinger and a first-rate one at that He also happens to be one o' the best judges o' horseflesh anywheres."

The men knew that Ma was not talking for her own entertainment.

**What happened to him?" Slim asked.

**Well, I was told Pete got married to a little gal he met down in Wyoming," Ma said, **and a year later, when she died havin' her baby, he grieved somethin' awful. That's when Pete reformed. He ain't sighted down his barrel or pulled a trigger in sixteen yearsl"

Slim was fascinated. **How come?"

**He had this Idd, ya see," Ma replied. *A boy name o* Hank. Pete had to be a ma as well as pa to the Idd, so he swore he was goin' to change his ways, and damned if he ain't kept kis word.

**That ain't sayin' he's lost the knack o* handlin' firearms," Ma went on. *He*s still as dangerous as any man youTl find anywheres. So we're goin' to need to be real careful and cautious."

Clifford, who already knew what his mother had in mind, calmly plucked a weed and chewed on the white root at its end.

**It just happens,* Ma said, "that Pete PurceU raises the finest horses you're gonna find for miles and miles around. He's been sellin* one or two a year, and his customers are so blamed anxious to get them that they pay his price, no matter how much he asks. Well, I got to thinldn', and the way I see it, we need some new mounts. I don't see no reason why Pete should be greedy and take all the profits. He should be willin* to share with those who're in need, Hke me. So we've come here, and right this minute we're sittin' no more'n a couple o' miles from his ranch. Now that we got full bellies, I think we're gonna ride over there and relieve Pete o' some o' his horses."

Members of the gang chuckled softly as they exchanged glances. Ma, as always, was thinking of their welfare, and that's why they swore loyalty to her.

Clifford took charge, and there was a ring of authority in his voice. **There's no moon tonight," he said, "which is why we planned our raid accordin'ly. Every-thin' depends on our timin', which has to be just right Fm gonna draw you a sketch o* the Purcell ranch, and I want you to come around me now and pay attention." He picked up a stick and began to draw squares and circles in the dirt near the fire. "Here's Purcell's house," he said. **A hundred yards or so from it is his corraL They're the only two places you got to worry about." He pointed the stick as he spoke. "Bob, you'U open the cor-

ral gate. That is your only job. You six will ride inside, lasso a cxjuple o* horses each, and lead them out Your job is the ticklish one, and you can't hesitate. You got to drop your ropes just right over the heads o' the horses, and don t scare them. Because once that gate is open, theyll streak for daylight if they get half a chance.**

*T3e they wild?" a member of the gang wanted to know.

Clifford shook his head. **High spirited, not wild. Purcell not only breeds fine horses, but he trains them real good, too." He looked at each man in turn. "Any questions so far?"

''What about me?" Slim Davis demanded. *What do I do?"

1 was just comin' to you," Clifford said. Tou and me have a special job. Seein' as how we're the best marksmen in the crowd, we re goin* to keep watch on Furcell's ranch house, and if Pete comes chargin' out and starts to raise his rifle to his shoulder, we do away with him, and we do it neat and clean, as well as fast."

'TTou're comin* with me. Cliff?" Slim could not hide his surprise.

Clifford spat into the dirt ''You already heard that Pete Purcell was a gunslinger second to none. I been doin' a lot of figurin*, and it's like I told Ma, we can't afford to take no chances. So you and me will ride herd on old Pete. And the minute we see him startin' to use one o' the boys as a target, well put our own lead into him. Everybody got it strai^t?"

One by one the men nodded. Each of them knew his assignment, and there were no questions.

1 guess weTl be on our way then," Ma said, and without further ado, started across the prairie toward the place where her horse was grazing.

S4 MONTANA!

The others followed her example, and bolts clicked as they checked their rifles for the task that lay ahead.

Only Ralph remained sitting at the fire. When he was alone, but not until then, he reached into a hip pocket, drew out a pint bottle of gin, and raising it to his hps, downed half the contents. He coughed, gasped, and then a complacent, satisfied smile spread across his moon face. The gang could risk their Hves for aU he cared; he was happy to stay right where he was for the rest of the evening.

The Idtchen of the small, unpretentious ranch house was bare, devoid of all ornamentation. A pair of old curtains covered the window; they had been washed so frequently over the years that they were threadbare and scarcely served the purpose for which they were intended. The kitchen table was of unpainted pine, as were the chairs, and on the small, utilitarian wood-burning stove two battered pans still simmered.

Seated at the table was tall, rangy Pete Purcell, his heavy tan emphasized by the freckles that dusted his nose and by his sun-streaked hair. Opposite him, concentrating on a mammoth steak, was his sixteen-year-old son. Hank, who bore a startling resemblance to his father and gave promise of being even taller and huskier when he stopped growing.

Pete ate methodically, shoveling his own steak and fried potatoes into his mouth, chewing them thoughtfully, and getting the next bite ready even before he swallowed. Suddenly he pointed his knife. "Hank," he directed, **eat your salad greens I"

The boy made a face. "Aw, Pa! Do I have to?*

**It strikes me you're gettin' kind of big for a visit out back 0* the woodshed," Pete told him, '^but I am still

bigger'n ya, and I can still whale ya. Fm bringin* ya up the way your ma would of if she were still livin', and ya know blame weU she would of insisted that ya eat your salad greens. She was always harpin' on me to eat greens, and that's why ya have to do it*

**How come I gotta eat greenSj when you never touch 'em, Pa?^ he demanded.

Pete chewed thoughtfully as he pondered the question. **The way I see it," he said, grinning, "ya got m© ridin' on your back, boy, but I ain't got anybody pes-terin' me, and that's the difference between us. If your ma was still here, you bet I'd eat vegetables and salad greens twice a day. But I can't hardly stomach 'em, so I don't touch 'em. But your situation ain't the same as mine." He chuckled sympathetically.

Hank couldn't help laughing, too. Then he picked up his fork manfully, speared a large quantity of lettuce in his salad bowl, and cramming it into his mouth, chewed and swallowed rapidly. There was no appeal from his father's ruling, as he well knew. They had been inseparable ever since Hank's mother had died in childbirth, and his father meant everything to him. But he knew that his late mother's slightest wishes were still law. His father had confessed to him freely, for instance, that he had beai a gunslinger in Wyoming and Utah but that he'd reformed after he had become a father. H© had walked a straight, narrow path for sixteen years.

Pete watched his son wolfing down lettuce and nodded in approval. **Thafs more like it," he said.

1 always do what ya tell me, Pa," Hank replied seriously.

Pete raised an eyebrow, *Ya finished your book leamin' for the week?"

Hank returned to his steak, and with his mouth full, he merely nodded.

"Did ya put shoes on the colt yet, like I told ya to?"

Again the boy nodded.

*TLet me see now.** Pete frowned in concentration, trying to catch his son out. "Here's one for ya. What did I tell ya is the first rule of firearms?**

Hank swallowed a mouthful of food and grinned. *That*s easy,** he said. "Ya taught me never to draw a gun unless I mean to shoot, and never to shoot unless I mean to kLU.**

Pete was highly pleased. He had taught his son all there was to know about guns, and Hank had proved to be an excellent pupil. He was now nearly as good a shot as his father, though the boy had made a solenm vow to Pete never to use a gun unless he needed to protect himself or his loved ones. Leaning across the table, Pete grasped his son affectionately by the shoulder. "Youre smart, boy,** he said. "Smart as they come.**

Pete relaxed, and they ate together in a companionable silence. Hank stood and refilled their plates \vith fried potatoes and then took several shoes of steak from the other pan. "Might as well finish up this here beef," he said. "Itll be too tough by momin* to eat.**

"Might as weU," Pete answered, and helped himself.

The silence was broken by a loud, squeaking noise, the soimd of the corral gate being opened.

Pete tensed immediately, his meal forgotten. He leaped to his feet and, glancing out the window, saw six men on horseback in the corral, roimding up the moimts that were his pride.

*There's robbers out yonder,** he said hoarsely, and immediately took his rifle from the wall pegs on which it rested.

Hank needed no urging and ran for his own rifle, which was propped against a far wall.

"Ill handle this, boy," his father told hinL *Don't you start mixin* in unless I call for ya.*

Hank wanted to protest, but his father s word was still law, and he didn't say a word.

Pete quietly qpened the door and stepped outside.

The thieves were professionals, he could see that much very clearly. A lasso had been thrown over the head of each horse in the corral, and the animals were quickly being led out into the open. The whole procedure was smooth, rapid, and amazingly efficient

Pete started to raise his rifle to his shoulder, but he had no opportunity to aim, much less to fire. Before the rifle butt even reached his shoulder, a single shot sounded sharply, and Pete Purcell crumpled to the ground, a bullet placed neatly between his eyes.

'*Ya got him, Sliml** Clifford Hastings called. **Nice shootin'."

Slim Davis laughed.

**Now let's get out o' here," Clifford called. **Ya go first. Slim."

A helpless rage, combined with an all-consuming sorrow, shook yotmg Hank Purcell. Tears stung his eyes, and he shook his head to clear his vision. Flattening himself against the open door so the raiders would not notice him, he stared hard at the man called Slim. Concentrating his whole being on the man. Hank committed every detail of that face to memory. Never would he forget the man called Slim, never would he erase the picture of his father s killer from his mind.

Recognizing the futility of striking single-handed against so large a number, he closed his eyes and stood rigidly until the hoofbeats of the raiders died away.

Then he saw that he was alone and the corral was empty. His lifeless father lay sprawled in the dirt at his feet.

The night that followed remained forever unclear in Hank's mind. The sun sank behind the snow-capped peaks to the west, and he dragged himself to the yard at the rear of the house. There, next to the pine that marked his mother's final resting place, he dug a grave for his father. He never was able to recall actually burying Pete; apparently he blocked the horrors of ihst experience from his mind.

But when dawn broke over the Dakota prairies to the east, the fog that enveloped Hank Purcell lifted, and he remembered everything from that moment with the utmost clarity.

Picking up his rifle, he dropped to one knee at the graveside. He was dry-eyed, and his voice was sHghtly hoarse when he spoke. Ta," he said aloud, "l aim to remember every last thing ya ever taught me. I know ya told me never to shoot *cept in self-defense, but Til never rest until I do to your killer what he done to ya. I pledge ya my sacred word that I won t rest until the no-good bastard called Slim is six feet underground!'' Rising stiflBy, he walked to the bam, where his two-year-old gelding was housed. He was fortunate, he supposed, that his horse hadn't been in the corral with the others, or he would be without a mount now. He saddled the animal, then carefully locked the bam, and returning to the house for his bedroll, he locked the doors behind him. There was htde, if anything, of value that he was leaving behind, other than his memories.

He mounted his horse and paused for a moment to look back at the pine tree. On one side of it stood his

mother's grave, oii the other side was the freshly turned earth of his father's. His jaw tightening, his green eyes blazing, he turned his mount and headed for the north, in the direction he had seen the bandits ride oflE.

n

Fort Vancouver, overlooking the Columbia River on its north bank opposite the town of Portland, Oregon, was a busy place, as befitted the headquarters of the Western command of the United States Army. Commissioned and noncommissioned officers on night duty in the headquarters building worked late, as usual, and oil lamps bmmed in many offices. In the barracks there were lectures and demonstrations in progress, and everywhere a sense of bustle and purpose prevailed.

Only in the private house of the commander in chief of the Army of the West, did absolute peace prevail. Major General Lee Blake, tall, gray-haired, and distinguished, a hero of both the Mexican War and the Civil War, sat at the head of his dining room table and watched the handsome lady seated opposite him pouring coffee.

Exilalia Holt, looking radiant, with her thick, dark hair hanging loosely down her bare shoulders and cascading over the top of her off-the-shoulder gown, cer-

tainly didn't look like the mother of Toby and Cindy Holt. She had recovered from the devastating blow she had suffered when Whip Holt, her husband, had been killed in a mountain sHde with Lee*s wdfe, Cathy, the previous year, and there were no dark shadows beneath her eyes now.

There was no denying that she was a middle-aged matron, but Lee reflected that she bore a surprising resemblance to the lovely, high-spirited girl she had been when they had crossed the continent together in the first wagon train to Oregon.

That was when he had won Cathy van Ayl as his bride, and Whip and Eulaha had been married, also. The two couples had been close for more than a quarter of a century since that time, and Lee felt, now that he and Eulaha were the only survivors, that they were drawn together by special bonds.

**Aren t you having any more coffee?" he asked.

She smiled and shook her head. "At my age," she said gently, "I find that more than one cup at night keeps me awake."

*'In that case," Lee said, chuckling, *Tm forced to make the same confession to you. Shall we go up to the point and see the view instead?"

"I'd love to!" Eulaha said eagerly, and they rose simultaneously to their feet.

A few minutes later they were strolling arm in arm up to the pinnacle behind the buildings of the fort to the artillery lookout that afforded a splendid view of the river and of Oregon beyond it. EulaHa was wearing a cape of beaver to ward off the chill, and Lee had donned his greatcoat and his gold braided senior oflicer s hat.

They were silent as they walked, both of them con-

tent, both of them very much at ease with each other. They had been frequent companions since the grim tragedy that had robbed them of their respective mates, and they found great solace in their close friendship.

At last they reached the summit, and Eulalia leaned on the rail and looked at the lights in Oregon on the far side of the river.

Lee Blake concentrated on her, rather than on the view. *!—Fve been wanting—very much—to have a talk with you," he said.

She turned to him and was surprised to note that he was somewhat flustered and was encountering difficulty in speaking clearly. Guessing the nature of his problem, she smiled at him in encouragement

**WeVe known each other for a great many years,* he began tentatively.

*^ore years than either of us cares to recall, Fm sure," Eulalia said lightly.

"Of course,** Lee went on, *you had your life with Whip and your childrai, and I had mine with Cathy and Beth, so it was only natural that we never developed a dose relationship. Then when tragedy struck us simultaneously almost a year ago, it pulled us together."

**Yes, that it did,* she replied. "TTouTl never know how much you helped me to overcome a terrible time.*

**You did the same for me," he said. "In fact, you saved my sanity. And that's no exaggeration.*

Eulalia reached out and put a hand on his arm. **Lee, my dear," she said, *1 remember all too clearly that you proposed marriage to me several months ago, and I told you at that time that it was premature, that we were stiU too dose to our losses to be able to think dearly.*

**I well remember the occasion," he said, "and I have waited until now. Do you still think it's too soon?**

Not trusting her voice, she made no reply in words and shook her head.

Lee's face reddened. *Tve had very Httle practice at this sort of thing," he said, "so you will have to forgive my blundering approach. But I've been wondering—that is to say, I've been hoping—I mean—"

"Yes, my dear," she said, smiling as she interrupted him, "I'll be very pleased and proud to become your wife."

His relief was so great that he exhaled very slowly. Then he recovered and, taking her in his arms, kissed her gently.

Eulalia had been kissed by no man other than Whip in more years than she could remember. But Lee's loss felt good, and she was warm, secure, and safe in the knowledge that she was cherished and that she wanted this man as much as he wanted her. Her arms tightened around his neck.

After a time they moved apart. "Well be very wise if we go back to the house before we indulge in more of that kind of thing," he said in a strained voice. "It wouldn't do at aU to have some junior officer and his fiancee come up here and stumble onto us."

Eulalia couldn't quite control the giggle that welled up in her. "I suppose I'll become accustomed to thinking of preserving a dignified front for junior officers and the young women they're going to marry," she said. Til do my best to remember it."

"You'll do whatever you please," he told her. **I think it's miraculous that we're getting together."

She looked up at him, her blue eyes luminous. "It is rather astonishing, you know. I was worried, for a time.

about certain things, as I saw us growing closer and closer to each other*

**What kind of things?" he demanded, challenging her.

Eulalia took his arm, and they started down the path that would take them back to his house. **I had two worries," she said. *'One of them was that memories of Whip and of Cathy might ccMne between us and spoil whatever happiness we could attain together. Tve thought about that problem long and hard."

**So have I," Lee told her soberly, **and it was not until I was quite sure, in my own mind, of where both of us stood that I was presimiptuous enough to propose to you a second time."

**Michael Holt was a very special man," Eulalia said softly. **! have many wonderful memories of him, and I shall carry those memories with me until the day I die. By that same token, I know that Cathy was a very special person, too. A rather wonderful person. I knew her as well as one woman can ever know another, and there is no doubt in my mind that she will occupy a special niche in your heart as long as you live. Neither of us would be the land of people we are unless we felt that way. But I don t think the ghosts of Whip and of Cathy are going to interfere with our relationship."

I'm quite sure of it, too," Lee said. **WherevCT they are now in the afterworld, Im quite sure they're rejoicing that you and I have found each other and are going to be getting together. This may sound foolish of me, but I have the feeling it's what they woidd have wanted for both of us."

She considered his statement, weighing it, and ultimately she nodded.

They walked the rest of the way to the house in companionable silence.

When they moved indoors, Lee removed his hat and coat, then helped Eulalia with her cloak, and again taking her into his arms, kissed her somidly and at length. She stepped back from him and was slightly breathless. **We re not finished talking yet," she said. *lt's not fair to distract me that way. You re destroying my ability to think clearly."

He grinned at her. "I refuse to apologize.**

**Very well, sir," she replied with spirit, "please don't. But I want you to listen to me. I said that as I saw our situation, we have two problems. WeVe discussed one of them.**

They walked side by side into the living room, and Lee went to a table where he kept several cut-glass decanters and looked at her questioningly.

She shook her head. The general poured himself a small brandy but did not give her a drink. "Im bracing myself,** he told her.

**We*re not alone in the world, either of us,** Eulalia said a trifle grimly. **We have children to consider, and their feelings about us are bound to have an effect. We already know the resentment your daughter feels about our seeing each other. Thus, you can imagine what Beth will say when she and Rob return from the lodge in Washington and she hears we're going to be married.**

Lee grimaced and then sipped his brandy. *'If I know Beth," he said, **she*U try to raise the roof with me. She's foimd it very difficult to accept the loss of her mother. She views the rock slide as an unnatural event, and she feels that Cathy was taken from us prematurely."

**So she was," Eulalia said, 'Isut tihe important thing

to keep in mind is that we did lose her and that now life must go on."

Lee nodded, and his voice was like steel as he said, "Whatever my daughter's problem may be, I refuse to let our lives be aflFected by it Beth has a very dear choice. Either she accepts our marriage, in which case well welcome her with open arms, or she wont, in which case well have virtually nothing to do with her."

**There*s no need to take that strong a stand," Eu-lalia murmured.

Lee shook his head. *Tm sorry, but that's my decision. Tm going to let nothing come between us or influence us, and that's finall"

She realized this was not a time to discuss the matter in depth with him, so she changed the subject sHghtly. "I don t foresee my daughter creating any problem whatever, for us," she said. 1 know Cindy will be genuinely pleased. She likes and admires you enormously, and I think she will very happily accept our marriage."

He smiled and nodded. **That*s a relief," he said, "because of all our children, she's the only one well have at home, and it would be tmfortunate if she were at odds with her stepfather."

*I can't imagine that happening " she replied.

He took another sip of his brandy and looked at her qui2zically. *What about Toby?"

*1 honestly don't know how Toby will react to the hews," Eulalia said. **Certainly he must realize that you and I have dinner here several evenings a week, and when we aren't here, we're eating at my house. It must have occurred to him that we have something other than an ordinary friendship, but he's very much Hke Whip in many ways. He becomes almost Indian-like in personal

matters and is so inscrutable that it's impossible for anyone, including me, to tell what he thinks."

Lee's voice became strident without his realizing it. **I believe," he said, "that Toby will have enough on his miad that he won't be able to concern himself too much about our marriage."

Surprised by both his tone and his words, Eulalia looked at him inquiringly.

**This is privileged information," he said, **so it isn't to be repeated."

It occurred to her that she would be privy to a great many government secrets from this time forward.

*1 had a confidential telegram just today from General Grant," he said, **and conditions in the Montana Territory are chaotic. There's a major Indian uprising brewing there, and the Sioux are going to raise holy hell anytime now. In addition to that, bands of thieves are pillaging settlers' homes and murdering innocent people all over the territory."

"Oh, dear," she murmured.

**Those factors, combined with a very diflScult terrain, are going to create conditions that wiU keep Toby and my son-in-law, Rob Martin, fuUy occupied," he said. *Tm sending Andy Brentwood's regiment to Montana as soon as the weather permits—on the direct orders of President Johnson—but as competent an officer as Andy is, I don't expect him to perform miracles. As I say, Toby is going to have no opportunity to worry about his mother's remarriage."

Eulalia meant what she said when she t«ld Lee Blake that she had no idea how her son would react to the news of his mothers forthcoming remarriage. But she was determined to find out, and the best of all pos-

sible ways, she thought, was to hold a confidential talk with Clarissa Sinclair, Toby's houseguest who was staying at the ranch. Clarissa had recently sold the boardinghouse she owned in Washington and was spending more and more time with Toby in Oregon. Certainly it seemed just a matter of time until the young couple got married.

From what Eulalia saw of Toby and Clarissa when they were together, she strongly suspected that they were having an affair, though since they were sensible, grown-up people, this was not her concern. Eulalia was determined to find out from Clarissa what Toby felt about his mother s remarriage, reasoning that the younger woman well might know things that Eulalia herself knew nothing about.

Fortune smiled on her that same night when Lee took her home. She found that Toby had already retired, and Clarissa, clad in a dressing gown, was in the kitchen, boiling a pot of water.

Eulalia halted and quietly studied her. She herself was far from short, but Clarissa, who was five feet ten inches tall, towered above her. The younger woman had red hair and green eyes, and she was big-boned yet well-proportioned, with broad shoulders, a high, firm bust, and an incredibly tiny waist Her hips were svelte, and her legs were exceptionally long. She moved with siuprising grace for a woman her size, and Eulalia could see why Toby found Clarissa so attractive.

EulaHa gently cleared her throat to notify the guest of her presence.

Clarissa looked up slowly, in no way surprised, and smiled. "Good evening, Mrs. Holt," she said pleasantly. **I hope you don't mind my taking over in your kitchen

this way, but I suddenly felt that I wanted a cup of tea before I went to bed*

**By aU means. Have some tea if you wish,** Eulalia told her, **but wouldn't you prefer some hot chocolate?"

The young woman laughed, **There goes my diet," she said. **You ve found one of my secret weaknesses."

Eulalia moved to the stove and took charge. *1 shouldn't have hot chocolate, either, but I think I wilL So we'll both be very wicked." She laughed.

Clarissa's giggle was conspiratorial, too. Then she looked at the older woman and said, ''I'm glad we are doing this, Mrs. Holt Tve been wanting to have a private chat with you for some time."

**No more than Tve wanted one with you," Eulalia replied. **Why don't you start?"

"There's something that has been bothering me,* Clarissa said. *Tm sure you're aware of the fact that Toby and I have been sleeping together, and I don't want you to get the idea that I'm that kind of a person."

Eulalia patted her on the shoulder. Tm not sure that I know what kind of a person you have in mind, but I can assure you I have only good thoughts about you."

**I—Fm glad," Clarissa said, and continued to speak bluntly, as she always did. "I was married once. Unhappily married, and my husband, who drank to excess, was killed in the war. For the first time in my life I fell in love after I met Toby, and that is why I have given myself to him.'^

Eulalia measured out the chocolate and stirred the nulk, which she had started to heat on the stove. *Tve had no doubt in my mind that you love Toby," she said. *lf I didn't know it, Fd realize it from the instant that I saw you looking at him."

Color rose to Clarissa's face, and she looked even more attractive. "I didn't realize I was that transparent.**

*Tou aren't to anyone except me, perhaps,** Eulalia assured her.

Clarissa was relieved, and even pleased, that Eulalia had taken such an interest in her.

**The big question, it strikes me, is whether or not Toby loves you. Does he?**

Clarissa took a deep breath and replied slowly. *Tm certain he does, Mrs. Holt. If I weren*t convinced of it, I wouldn*t still be sleeping with him. I believe with all my heart that Toby does love me. Unfortunately, he doesn*t yet realize it. He*s stiU a httle in love with someone else."

*What do you mean?**

**As I understand it, for many years you and the late Mrs. Blake campaigned quietly, but diligently, to promote a romance between Toby and Beth Blake.**

**I*m afraid I must plead guilty to that,** EulaHa said.

**They wanted nothing to do with each other, which was only natural, but after a time, Toby began to appreciate Beth*s good quahties. Only then it was too late, for Beth got married to Rob Martin. Still, I know he remains rather enamored of her.**

**What a pity!*' his mother said.

**Isn*t it?** Clarissa was as calm as she was realistic. Toby is endowed with great good sense,** she said. *'It*s one of his more attractive traits. So I have been waiting quietly for him to settle down to earth again and to realize that Beth means nothing to him. You see, Fm convinced that sooner or later—and I hope it's going to be very soon—hell wake up to the realization that I'm the woman he's wanted all along. When that happens, hell

many me—I hope." She forced a smile, but it was obvious that she was maldng a great eflFort

**I admire your perseverance, as well as yoiir honesty," EulaUa told her as she added the chocolate to the hot milk and stirred it ^TTou're in a thoroughly unpleasant situation, and you need to show a great deal of character and a lot of patience."

**I don't have too much choice, do I?" Clarissa said, and smiled without bitterness. *l*m neither a saint nor a martyr. It just so happens that I know my man. At least I'm convinced I know him, and I'll be very much surprised if my estimate of him is wrong and he turns away from me. It isn't easy to wait for him to see the hght and come to his senses, but I console myself with the thought that ultimately I can't lose."

Eulalia studied her and nodded, admiration in her expression and in her voice. **You won't lose," she said. *Tm sure of it, too."

Clarissa thanked her.

Eulalia filled their cups with the hot chocolate, and the other woman carried them to the kitchen table.

A generation separated them, yet Eulalia felt completely at ease with this young woman. **As long as we're talking in confidence," she said, "perhaps you can be of help to me."

Clarissa's eyes widened. *I can't imagme how," she said, *T3ut IH certainly be glad to try."

Eulalia took a deep breath. *Youre the first to know this," she said, "and FU be grateful if youll keep the information completely to yourself for the present. I'm going to marry General Blake,"

Clarissa remained calm and smiled quietly. *1 must admit I'm not surprised," she said. "Ever since I've

known you, Tve kept thinking how right you seem for each other.**

**Thank you. I take that as a compliment.*

**That's the way it was intended,'* Clarissa said. Tou both have qualities that I greatly admire, and surely those same fine quaHties are what drew you to each other in the first place.**

**We do have much in common,** Eulalia said. "But it is nice, all the same, to hear that someone else thinks so, too.** She hesitated for a moment. *'How do you think our children are going to react to the news?**

Clarissa paused before speaking. "You probably already know this,** she said at last, **but Beth Martin will be very antagonistic.**

The older woman nodded. *T do know, and so does General Blake. I just wish we could do something to alter her attitude."

Clarissa pondered the statement briefly. *T don't know if you can. Tm afraid Beth*s an unpredictable, unstable person just now. She misses her mother desperately, and even Rob, who should be first in her life, is unable to help her. It seems she just can*t understand the tragedy, can't imderstand why her father isn*t reacting exactly as she is. She doesn't see that for the very reason General and Mrs. Blake were so happily married, he'd want to be married and find happiness again. I think it's as simple as that.**

"You may be right," Eulalia said. "But for all of our sakes, I hope she starts to see reason.**

"I hope so, too," Clarissa said.

"I'm not in the least worried about Cindy," Eulalia said.

"Your confidence in her is justified, Fm quite sure,* Clarissa told her. "She's always been very close to you, I

gather, and in her opinion, you can do no wrong. If youVe elected to marry General Blake, she'U accept that without questioning it in any way."

Eulalia nodded, and in spite of her attempt to remain tranquil, she grew tense. "What about Toby?** she wanted to know. *Tm ^^Idng you because I believe you re better acquainted with him these days than I am."

Clarissa sipped her hot chocolate and stared at the nearest kitchen window, in which she saw the reflection of the logs burning in the hearth. *Toby,'* she said, *adores you, and he also worships the memory of his father. I also know he respects General Blake a great deal. But Im afraid I can't, for the life of me, predict how he'll feel about your news.**

1 was afraid of that," Eulalia murmured.

If he's troubled," Clarissa said, *1 think it's likely that he'll come to me and talk about the problem. If he does, rU do my best to set him straight and to convince him that your decision is by far the best and most sensible for both you and for General Blake."

The older woman moistened her dry lips. **Thank you. I just hope that Toby comes to his senses soon and realizes what he's missing by not being married to you. You have no idea how much I look forward to having you in the family as a daughter."

Major Isham Jentry was tired after his long journey across the continent from the District of Columbia, and he was relieved that he had at last arrived in eastern Oregon. In another day or two, he would reach the Holt ranch, outside Portland, and his long journey would come to an end.

He had traveled by train from Washington City to

Independence, Missouri, and then had gone on horseback from that takeoff point for the rest of his journey, following the by-now highly traveled Oregon Trail. Accustomed to traveling on his own for long distances. Major Jentry was nevertheless surprised to discover that, in his mid-thirties, he had somewhat less stamina than he used to have. Consequently, he hoped that Toby Holt and Rob Martin, to whom he had been assigned by General Grant on the personal directive of President Johnson, would consent to grant him a respite of a day or two before they took off wdth him for the moimtains of Montana.

He was looking forward to the survey for the railroad line. After devoting many years to a study of potential railroad routes, he was facing the greatest challenge of his life. It would be nice, all the same, to do nothing for forty-eight hours before setting out for the rugged wilderness of the territory where the railroad line would be laid.

Isham Jentry didn't know the name of the small Oregon community where he was spending the night, but that scarcely mattered. He had found a small, exceptionally comfortable inn^ and the proprietor and his wife, Jim and Nolane Brennan, had not only put him up in a very comfortable room but had also given him the best meal he had eaten in weeks. Now, feeling sated and at peace, he decided to take a brief stroll in order to stretch his legs after spending day after day in the saddle.

There was a genuine feeling of spring in the air, and Brennan and his wife were sitting on the porch of the inn, drinking tea, when the major emerged into the open.

^Going to see the sights o£ the town, mister?" the innkeeper asked, chuckling.

"Something of the sort,** Jentry repKed, as always slightly sinprised when people thought him a civilian. But he knew there was nothing else they could think since he was oa furlough and was not in imiform. He would be outfitted when he arrived at Fort Vancouver and his surveying assignment began.

**You can see just about all there is to see from here," Mrs. Brennan told him. "There's the post ofiBce, and next to it is the general store, and beyond that is the sheriffs office. Oh, yes, and the bank is just across the street on our side, with our dentist renting space on the second floor. And that's about it,"

The major chuckled and explained that he was just intending to get a breath of air before he turned in.

*lf you like flowers," the innkeeper's wife told him, **be sure you stop at the garden down at the end of the block. After the warm weather we've had for the past week, some of the crocuses are in bloom."

Jentry thanked her and started ofiE on his stroll. The night was clear, the sky was star-filled, and the moon was so bright that he could see the few buildings of the Uttle town in full detail. Reaching the comer, he paused dutifully to bend down and look at the little flowers that bloomed at the base of a thick evergreen hedge.

Major Jentry never knew what hit him. The burly, barrel-chested man loomed up behind him, a knife gleaming in one hand, and he plunged the blade into the victim's back. The blow was expertly directed, and Isham Jentry was dead before he crumpled to the ground.

The killer removed the blade, wiping it on his vie-

tim's clothing, then flipped Major Jentry onto his back and expertly, swiftly, rifled his pockets.

Taking no time to read the papers, the thief was delighted to see that the documents included identification, an important-looking letter from the War Department, and best of all, a considerable wad of paper money.

Jamming the booty into his own pocket, the man hurried off down the street, and moving with a speed that was not in keeping with his bulk, he soon disappeared from sight, to where his waiting horse was tied.

Jim Brennan and his wife, who had witnessed the entire incident, were almost paralyzed by the tragedy, which seemed to happen in an instant. They continued to gape as if in a trance, and finally the innkeeper grasped his wife*s arm. **Come on," he said. "We'd better report all this to the sheriff's office in a hurryl"

Reluctant to go to the scene of the crime themselves in the event the killer was lurking nearby, the couple headed directly down the street. Moments later they were seated iq the office of the deputy sheriff, who heard their story, managed to calm them, and inmiedi-ately sent two assistants ia search of the killer.

"Now then," he said, "you say you saw the man who put a knife into the guest at your inn?"

"Yes, sir," Brennan said. "The moonlight was nice and bright. Too bright, as a matter of fact. The dirty swine pushed a knife into our guest as cabn as you please."

The deputy sheriff picked up a quill pen and dipped it in a jar of ink. "Describe the man to me, if you please."

Mrs. Brennan started to reply.

The official shook his head. "Your turn will come,"

he said. *'One at a time. I want to hear what your husband has to say first"

Brennan described the murderer to the best of his ability. Then his wife did the same, and the deputy sheriff jotted down descriptions on which they concurred.

**That should give us enough to get a start on,** he said, "ril send someone to the nearest telegraph office to wire every post office in Oregon, Cahfomia, and the Washington Territory right off. You ve been very helpful, both of you, and I thank you for the information.*

Before the couple could leave, an assistant came to the door. *We found the body, sheriff," he said, "just where Mr. and Mrs. Brennan said it was, but we couldn't find any trace of the killer. We know it was a professional who did the job because of the way he kmf ed his victim and turned his pockets inside out."

The deputy sheriff shook his head and frowned. *^ou say you have no idea of the victim's identity?"

Jim Brennan shook his head. "No, sir," he said. *We only rent a few rooms at the inn, as you know, and we never require identification from our guests. The gentleman paid for his night's lodging and for his supper—and for his breakfast tomorrow morning, too, come to think of it. After I showed him to his room, I was talking with him when he unpacked his saddlebags, and there was nothing in them that could identify him, either. What do we do now with his horse?"

*Td advise you to keep the animal for the present," the deputy told him. **Very often when a person is missing for any length of time, his family makes inquiries, and we're able to trace him in that way. If you don't mind keeping the animal and feeding it, that is—"

"Of course, we will," Mrs. Brennan said, interrupting. "That's the least we could do for the poor fellow."

*ni keep 3^u informed of any leads we get,* the deputy sherifE told the couple. **Between now and then, if you should happen to think that you ve seen the murderer previously and can identify him positively, that would be very helpful."

*Tm afraid, sheriff, we've already told you all we know,** Jim Brennan repHed. **! don't know if the motive was robbery or what it was."

"Console yourselves with the thought that the whole situation will be clarified sooner or later,* the deputy sheriff replied. **The days when people were killed indiscriminately in this part of the world are ended. Oregon is a full-fledged state now, and we catch killers, and then we string them up.*

*Tf it's all the same to you,* the innkeeper said, 1 think rU load my pistol and keep it on my bedside table at night*

**Thafs a very wise precaution,* the deputy told him. *Td do that if I were you.*

Sixteen-year-old Cindy Holt, her hair in pigtails, stood before the wood-burning stove and turned the strips of bacon sizzling in an oversized frying pan.

Clarissa Sinclair, standing beside her, was even busier. She was toasting bread on the flat of the stove, keeping one eye on the pot in which the coffee bubbled, and deftly frying eggs, flipping them over gently at precisely the right moment

Toby Holt came into the kitchen, followed by his ever-present companion, his shepherd dog Mr. Blake. Seeing Clarissa and Cindy, Toby paused and grinned. **Well,* he said, **you make quite a team.*

Clarissa replied without looking up. *Trour mother is always cooking for us, and we figured the very least we

could do is to prepare a meal for her for a change. Will you go to her bedroom and call her, Toby? We re ready for her now."

**You bet," he replied, and hiuried off down the corridor, Mr. Blake choosing to wait in the kitchen for a possible handout from Clarissa or Cindy.

A few moments later, the family was seated around the breakfast table. 'This is a lovely surprise,** Eulaha said. *1 can t thank you enough for being so thoughtful.** She smiled at Clarissa, then at her daughter.

''It's about time you slept a little bit later in the morning, Mama,** Cindy said.

Eulaha shook her head. "Oh, I've been awake for a very long time. Tve been trying to figiu-e out how to broach something to you and Toby, and I finally decided to come straight out with it,**

Clarissa encouraged her with a sympathetic smile.

*Toby, Cindy,** Eulaha said, **there*s Httle need for me to tell you what I thought—and stiU think—of your father. He was the most extraordinary man I have ever been privileged to know, and I had twenty-six wonderful years of marriage to him. We had a few difficulties, it*s true, but we ironed them out before Toby was bom, and I don't think we ever had a serious disagreement from that period until his imtimely death.**

Cindy nodded gravely, but Toby looked perplexed, wondering why his mother was eulogizing his father.

"We met,** Eulaha continued, "when we crossed America together in the first wagon train that came to Oregon. Let me remind you that our closest friends on that long and perilous journey were Cathy van Ayl and Lee Blake.**

*We know all that, Mama,** Cindy said, a trace of

impatience in her voice. **You ve told us all about the wagon train lots of times."

Eulalia ignored the interruption. *As youVe seen for yourselves," she went on doggedly, *ljee Blake and I turned to each other for consolation when your father and Lee's wife were taken from us in that terrible rock slide last year."

Cindy listened intently, her face solemn. Toby, however, felt his nerves growing taut, even though he didn't understand why he was reacting as he was.

Clarissa nodded rather emphatically to Eulalia, Bracing herself, her tone imconsdously defiant, Eulalia went on. "Gradually, without oiu: realizing it, the essence of our relationship changed. Last night Lee Blake did me the honor of asking me to become his wife, and I accepted him.**

There was a moment of electric silence at the table. Then Cindy jumped to her feet, her bacon, eggs, and toast forgotten. Racing around the table to her mother, she threw her arms aroimd her and hugged her fiercely. *Tm so glad for you. Mama!** she cried. **GeeI This is wonderfull**

Toby realized he had to say something. He forced a smile, even though his face felt stiff and unyielding, and he said lamely, **My fehcitations to you and to General Blake, Mama."

If Eulalia was aware of the fact that her son was less than enthusiastic, she did not show it **We ve had time only to make a few very basic dedsions," she said. *Cindy, youre still in school, of course, so youTl live with us."

**! m glad, Mama," the adolescent girl replied sincerely. I

"General Blake's duty," Eulalia went on, "requires

him to Kve at Fort Vancouver for the present, and as he has a large house there, ample for all of our needs, that's where we'll make our home. I hope you'll come there often, Toby, and as for you, Clarissa, you'll always be welcome, too."

Though Toby remained silent, Clarissa said warmly, **Thank you, Mrs. Holt. I appreciate this more than I can tell you."

*1 have no intention of selling this ranch, however," Eulalia said emphatically. **This was your father s heritage to his children, and someday it will go to both of you. The horse-raising business is still very profitable, and well continue it."

"Good!" Toby said heartily. "That makes a great deal of sense." He knew that Stalking Horse, the Cherokee who was his father's dear friend and who had been the foreman of the ranch ever since the Holts moved there, would continue to run the ranch as he had done in the past. The hired hands all looked up to him, and the ranch had prospered under his and Whip Holt's supervision.

"Ordinarily," his mother said, "you'd be expected to take the reins here. But you have your own career to pursue, and you're going to be off in Montana with Rob for many months. So it isn't fair to ask you to give up your own life and tie yourself to the ranch. But you and Cindy will inherit it jointly one day, and when that time comes, you will be free to dispose of it as you please."

"Ill want to keep it always," Cindy said fervently.

Her brother smiled at her. "I anticipate no serious problems," he said. "I'm reasonably certain you wiU get your wish."

Eulalia glanced at the grandfather clock that stood in one comer of the kitchen and rose hastily to her feet.

*Youll have to forgive me,** she said, *biit I have so many things to do today. The general's gig is coming across the river for me in forty-five minutes, so Tve really got to hmry." She fled in the direction of her bedroom.

"Cindy,** Toby said, "you might want to take Mama her co£Fee. Even tiiough she's in a rush, she'll still want to drink it.**

"Sure," his sister said cheerfully, and balancing her mother s cup and saucer carefully, she went off toward the bedchamber.

Toby returned to his bacon and eggs and ate stolidly, his face revealing nothing. Clarissa studied him in silence for a time. "WellF* she asked at last

He forced a grin, *Tm as happy for my mother as Cindy is," he said.

Clarissa continued to regard him unblinldngly. *1 doubt that very much," she repHed. "You don t sound it, and you don't look it."

"All right, then," he replied at last, giving up the pretense of being interested in his breakfast and pushing his unfinished plate away from him. "I am jarred by the news, and I don't mind admitting it to you. Yes, I suppose I saw this coming, and I guess it was inevitable, but the fact remains that I am going to have to get used to the idea of my mother s remarriage."

Clarissa thought she could help him by speaking forthrightly on the subject "Here's how I view the situation," she said. "Yoiu: mother is still young and enjoys the best of health. Furthermore, she is still an exceptionally attractive woman,"

"That she is," Toby was forced to agree.

"In my opinion, it would be wrong of her to bury herself here at the ranch with memories of her late hus-

band. If she were to do that, she might as well be dead herself. She has many years of useful Hving ahead of her, and I think it's wonderful that she is planning to remarry. It certainly is what I would do if I were in her place and found a man as thoughtful and considerate and good as General Blake.**

Toby drank some coffee to hide his confusion and to give himself time to compose himself. He realized that he had to agree with Clarissa, even though he was highly uncomfortable with the idea of his mother's remarriage. It all seemed to be happening so fasti But if he opposed his mother, he knew he would be placed in the position of standing in the way of her happiness, and that was the last thing on earth he wanted to do.

Suddenly a feeling of panic assailed him, and unable to think clearly, feeling uncontrollably restless, he jumped to his feet and ran outside toward the stables.

Clarissa was astonished. She followed him to the door and called after him, *Toby, whafs the matter? Where are you going?**

He made no reply for the simple reason that he literally didn't know where he was going. All he knew was that he had to get away from the ranch and have some breathing space.

Clarissa remained standing in the frame of the kitchen door, her expression pained, her body trembling. She knew Toby was upset, but the way he had run from her, without so much as a Idnd word or gesture, suggested that perhaps he didn't love her after aU.

Saddling his horse quickly, Toby checked to make sure that his pistols were in their holsters and then rode off at a gallop into town. It seemed that all the events of the past year—his father's death, his mother's intended remarriage, the marriage of Beth Blake to Rob Martin—

had suddenly come to a head. He was badly disturbed, and he had to get away to sort out his thoughts.

Scarcely aware of where he was going, he rode through the rutted streets of Portland, which was now a bustling, sprawling city. He took no note of the pass-ersby, many of whom knew him and called out in greeting, and he didn't dismount until he arrived at Jack's Saloon, a place that he often frequented when he went into town for meals. Jack had been a cook in the army and prepared first-rate meals, though the place was deserted when Toby walked in, the breakfast crowd having already come and gone. Jack was behind the bar as usual, and his nephew, an eleven-year-old boy named Buddy, was clearing the last of the tables, taking the dirty dishes into the kitdien.

Toby and Jack greeted each other in monosyllables. Toby asked for a mug of black coffee, then took a table in the back of the dining area.

The proprietor realized that Toby Holt had come to work out a problem and had no desire to engage in conversation. So Jack got a mug of hot, black coffee from the stove in the kitchen, took it to Toby's table, and placed it in front of him, then left him alone.

Toby was so deep in thought that he failed to note the arrival of two cowhands with stubbles of beard on their faces. These men were strangers to town, having recently found jobs at a ranch in the area, and though it was still morning, they had already consumed enough liquor to be in a troublemaldng mood. They sat at the bar, ordered whiskey, and looked around for a victim at whom they could poke fun. They began to speak of Toby disparagingly, but Jack gave them a warning. *T wouldn't get him riled up, gentlemen," he said. *That there is Toby Holt, the son of Whip Holt, who's as good

a shot as his old man ever was. You don't want to tangle with liim."

One of the cx)whands laughed rudely, obviously not familiar with the Holt name. He spewed a stream of saliva at a spittoon on the floor, indifferent to the fact that he missed it. Whether a crisis would have developed was difficult to say, because at that moment Buddy returned to the main barroom from the kitchen, where he had just deposited some glasses. Now he assiduously began to sweep the floor.

One of the cowhands nudged the other. *Hey, look at that; he's wearing an apron 1 Do you suppose it*s a fellow or a girl?*'

**Can t rightly tell from the looks of things. The only way we can make sure is by seeing him or her dance. Hey, you," he called. "Start dancing for us.**

Buddy paid no attention. Drunks at the bar were no novelty to him.

But the pair were not to be denied their fun. They puUed out their six-shooters and pointed them at the boy's feet. *'Dance, damn you!** one of them called angrily. "Or else we'll make you dancel"

The sound of the shouts roused Toby Holt instantly from his reverie. His own six-shooters were in his hands as he took in the situation at a glance. A hard, grim line formed around his mouth, and he called out to the cowhands, "Put your guns on the bar.**

When the men hesitated, Toby called out again, **NowI" To emphasize his point, he fired his gun at a spot only inches in front of one of the cowhand's feet "Either you put your guns on the bar or I'll make you dance!"

The men slowly obeyed, their eyes never leaving

Toby*s as they placed their weapons on the bar behind them.

Toby looked at them hard-eyed. "Now slide those guns down to the end of the bar. Go onl" he shouted, and the two nervous cowhands did as they were told, "You just made a contribution to Buddy," Toby said, "as a way of paying him for the torment you subjected him to. He'll get a pretty penny for selling them.**

One of the men started to protest, but the expression in Toby's eyes stopped him.

"If I were you," Toby said, "I'd clear out of this bar and leave town. I'd leave it awful fast because I'm not feeling any too generous these days, and if I see either of you again, I might just take in mind to put a bullet between your mean eyes."

The two men had heard enough, and slapping some coins on the bar for their drinks, they quickly took their departure, not concerned with their dignity as they stumbled and fled.

"I warned you," Jack called after them, "not to monkey around with Toby Holt!"

Buddy, still stunned by the rapid developments, bent to the floor to pick up something that had dropped from his pocket.

Toby made an effort to be land to the lad. *What*s that you have there. Buddy?" he said, and took a grease-stained, much-handled photograph from the boy. It was a picture of a girl. "Hey," Toby said, "she's right nice-looldng. Who is it?"

The boy swallowed hard. "That's my sister," he said. "She went off to hve with a feller, and they went down to San Francisco way. The last I knowed, they busted up, and we lost track of her. We don't know what's be-

come of her, but we keep hopm that she's all right and she'll show up here one of these days."

"Sure she will. You just have faith," Toby said, hoping that he soimded suflSciently encouraging. Returning the photograph to the boy and paying Jack for his coffee, he took his leave, and as he mounted his horse to start back to the Holt ranch, his own situation was suddenly clarified.

Yes, his mother s coming wedding was a source of distress, since it would be difficult to see her married to a man other than Whip. But what was really upsetting to Toby was the reahzation that the soHdity he had felt in life was gone and that he had to depend entirely on himself now. It was up to him to arrange his life; it was up to him to create the relationship that he obviously wanted with Clarissa. He had been living with her, of course, and was responsible for her. If they quarreled and parted at this point, he had no idea of what would become of her, and he knew he could blame only himself. That was wrong, and he'd never forgive himself if anything bad happened to her.

He knew now what had to be done and spurred his horse to a much faster gait.

When he arrived at the ranch, he was vastly relieved to see that Clarissa was standing outside, leaning on a fence post. Her face was averted, and fortunately for his peace of mind, he didn't see the tears in her eyes or on her cheeks, her reaction to his abrupt leave-taking earher in the morning.

Dismounting rapidly, Toby tied his horse to a rail and announced, "You're just the person I want to see.*

"I'm here," she replied quietly.

"I want to talk to you," he said, sounding more bel-Hgerent than he intended.

Clarissa was a woman of spirit and was not daunted by his tone of voice. "What do you want to talk about?^ she demanded.

"Marriage!'* he heard himself say to her. "It's high time that you and I got married, don't you think? WeVe been sleeping together for long enough, and as I don t believe in affairs any more than you do, I think it's time we ended the whispering campaign that's bound to be going on around us."

Clarissa was shocked. She had sworn to herself, and had told him, too, that she would marry him only if he was very sure that was what he wanted, but the suddenness of his proposal suggested that he was motivated by reasons other than his love for her. Yet now that she actually faced the decision, her resolution weakened. She loved Toby, and the events of the morning had made her believe she might be losing him. Now that she had an opportunity to keep him, her thinking was colored, and she was helpless to reject his proposal.

Not trusting her voice, she nodded. Toby instantly took her firmly in his arms and kissed her passionately. Carried away in spite of herself, Clarissa returned his embrace and kissed him fervently.

At last he released her, conscious that they were outside the ranch house and could be seen by the hired hands. He allowed some space between them.

*This was—rather sudden, wasn't it?" Clarissa asked breathlessly.

Toby shook his head. *We don't have much time to hem and haw," he said. "Rob and I are going to Montana as soon as the weather permits, and I had to get my personal life straightened out first."

What he told her was the partial truth, but there was something else about his sudden decision he was

unwilling to admit: He was unsure if he had proposed to Clarissa out of his love for her or out of a sense of duty, a feeling of being obligated to her. Whatever the case, his decision was made, and the die was cast.

Toby's unexpected proposal to Clarissa, and her abrupt acceptance, took his mother completely by surprise. She was delighted, however. That evening after supper with the yoimg people, when she and Lee Blake were alone in the parlor of the ranch house, she was able to express her thoughts freely.

**I couldn't be happier for Toby than I am,** she said. **Clarissa is a marvelous young woman, and she's going to make him a wonderful wife. But I dislike—intensely—their idea of being married by a justice of the peace and then sneaking oflF to Toby's lodge in Washington for a quick honeymoon. In years to come, they'll regret what will look to so many people like a surreptitious wedding."

Lee nodded. **You favor a real wedding, then, I take it

Indeed I do! The problem is that Clarissa does not have a relative in the world. She's completely alone, and she doesn't know many people here in the Pacific region. The only way she can have a real wedding is if we give it for her,*

**I don't see that as a problem,** Lee replied, smiling. **In fact, it will be good practice for om* own wedding. If Clarissa wishes, Fll be pleased to give the bride away."

"Fm sure she'd love it, Leel" Eulalia said enthusiastically. *'She already thinks the world of you, and what I think of you—weU, I'm not going to tell you because I don't want to give you a swelled head. You're really so sweet and considerate to think of doing all of this.**

It's what you want, isn't it?" he asked simply.

Eulalia knew she was the most fortunate of women. She was going to have a second husband as kind and thoughtful as her first.

She threw herself with zeal into preparations for the wedding of Clarissa and her son, engaging the minister, inviting friends, and arranging for a buffet meal to be served at the ranch house following the church ceremony.

In the days immediately prior to the wedding, Toby saw very Httle of his bride, who was frantically busy with the wedding dress and trousseau that her future mother-in-law was giviug her as a wedding gift. He had to curb his annoyance, but his spirits improved when he received a letter from Tumwater, Washington. His partner, Rob Martin, was vmting to inform him that he and Beth would be returning from their stay at the lodge in Washington a scant twenty-foiir hours before Toby's wedding.

"I reckon Fm in luck,** Toby said to General Blake. **Rob is going to be showing up here just in time to solve the problem of who will be my best man. I assume he'll agree."

**I don't think there's much doubt of that," Lee told him.

"This is good news,** Toby said, "but I have no idea when m be able to pass it along to Clarissa. It seems like she and my mother are spending all their days at the dressmaker's."

Lee Blake chuckled. **Let me give you some paternal advice," he said. ^Weddings are strictly women's business. We're almost excess baggage, and we're wise if we keep our mouths shut, do strictly what we're told.

and stay out of the way. It's much easier on us, and the wear and tear is vastly reduced."

Toby laughed dutifuUy at the general's sense of humor, simultaneously realizing that Lee Blake was behaving magnificently, which was more than he could say for himself. He had yet to comment on the general's coming marriage to his mother, and he realized that the longer he delayed in bringing up the subject, the more difficult it would become for him to broach it. There was no time like the present, so he squared his shoulders, cleared his throat, and thrust out his hand.

*T haven't said anything about you and my mother, sir, because I haven't quite known what to say. I'm very attached to my mother, as I suspect you know^ and my father's memory will always be very important to me. But my mother believes she's going to be happy with you, and that's all that I want for her. So I wish you what I wish her—the very best of everything good."

After a lifetime of associating with yoimg officers, Lee well knew the efiFort that Toby had made and, for that reason, appreciated his words all the more. He gripped the younger man's hand hard, "Long before you were bom, Toby," he said, *1 knew that your mother was a very special person. I've never lost sight of that fact all through the years, and I'm siue not forgetting it now. You can relax in the knowledge that I'll be as gentle and as kind and as generous as I'm capable of being. I don't pretend that I'm going to be able to fill yoiu father's boots. Whip Holt was a good friend and was one hell of a fine fellow in every sense of the word. I have no intention of competing wifh. liim, either, for your mother's affection, or for yours and your sisters. You can rely on me, and so can your sister."

When Toby replied, his voice was surprisingly

husky. "You know, General,*' he said, "next to my father, I respect and admire you more than any other man I know." Ashamed of his show of sentiment, he turned away abruptly.

Lee Blake quietly rejoiced. Toby hadn't completely accepted his mother's forthcoming marriage, but at least he was opening his mind to her situation, and that was all to the good. Now if his own daughter reacted in the same way, he and Eulalia would have clear sailing.

The vacationing Rob and Beth Martin retimied to Fort Vancouver at noon on the day prior to the scheduled wedding of Clarissa and Toby. The Martins' trip to the lodge in Washington had been intended to ease Beth's distress over her father's courtship of Eulalia, and also to give the young couple a chance to spend some time together alone. In the beginning, as they rode high into the Washington mountains and made camp for the night before arriving at the lodge, it appeared their trip was going to achieve all that they had intended. Beth seemed to thrive in the fresh air and in the mountain heights, and she was as happy and vivacious as she had been when Rob had first fallen in love with her. Beth became totally enamored of Rob once again as he expertly led them through mountain passes, shot down game for the evening meal, and prepared for them a snug, comfortable little shelter out of tree limbs and pine boughs. That night they made love gently, tenderly, and they were relaxed, totally at peace with one another.

But when they arrived at the mountaintop lodge that Toby and Rob had built, their newly discovered happiness was shattered. Beth completely lost control when she saw the site where her mother and Whip Holt

had been buried in an avalanche, and running to the spot—near which Toby had erected a special monument—Beth fell to her knees and began to sob.

Perhaps Rob should have anticipated just such an outburst, for Beth had taken her mother s death very hard. She found it impossible to accept that her lovely, warmhearted mother had met an early death in a freak accident, and she was also unable to accept her father s apparent acquiescence to his wife's death, which was how Beth viewed the fact of his seeing another woman less than a year after the tragedy.

All Rob felt was frustration, for he didn't know how to talk to his wife anymore or how to make sense to her. He stood beside her as she wept, his hand on her shoulder, hoping Beth's irmer turbulence would eventually subside so they could have a normal married hfe, imcomplicated by outside matters.

Beth did indeed seem to calm down, and they stayed at the lodge for two weeks, but whatever rapport they had achieved on the ride up into the mountains had been lost. Beth became sullen and uncommunicative, and though she didn't engage in any new emotional outbursts, she nevertheless treated Rob like a stranger. That was what he was to her now, though she prayed that in some way her husband would reach out, even if it meant simply holding her in his arms as if he really cared. But he never did this, seemingly afraid that any such intimacy with his wife might make her become emotional all over again.

When they arrived back at the fort, they found no one at home at the Blake house, and they went to the nearby home of Beth's cousin. Colonel Andrew Brentwood, and his wife, Susanna. The sprightly, warm-

hearted Susanna promptly invited them to stay for dinner.

Andy Brentwood inspected his blond, blue-eyed cousin, Beth, and had to admit that she was exceptionally pretty, the spitting image of her late mother. He was also forced to agree with his wife's wise estimate that she had become highly unpredictable after her mother's death.

They went to the dining room table, and Susanna, who was ia the latter stages of her pregnancy, busied herself ladUng asparagus soup from a tureen iuto individual bowls. *'YouVe missed a lot of excitement around here," she said, smiling broadly. '^AU sorts of things have been happening."

**Like what?" Beth demanded imperiously.

**Let me guess," Rob said, and was silent for a moment. **JudgiQg from your expression. Sue, and from that siEy grin on Andy's face, I immediately conclude that yom* news is romantic. So Til take a wild leap into the dark and say that Toby Holt is finally goiug to marry Clarissa Sinclair."

Susanna clapped her hands together. "No wonder Beth married you, Rob," she cried. "You're too clever for words. Indeed they are marrying—tomorrow—and you're scheduled to be best man."

Rob was pleased and smiled broadly, but Beth smirked. "I never thought that Toby would marry the Sinclair woman," she said. "Men so seldom bother to go through a ceremony after they've been living with a woman."

No one replied to her snide remark, and Beth knew she had been unnecessarily cruel, but she found the news that Toby was going to be married unsettHng. It had pleased and somehow comforted her to think of him

as a bachelor who was quietly and privately pining away for her. Toby's marriage to the very attractive, red-haired Clarissa spoiled the image of him that she was cherishing.

Andy Brentwood privately hoped that his wife would mention that Eulaha Holt and General Blake were intending to be married, too. But Susanna was leaving that chore to her husband. She knew, as he did, that Beth would disapprove, and she reasoned that it was his duty as her blood relative to break the news to her.

Andy procrastinated, waiting imtil they had finished their soup and he had carved and served the meat before he broached the matter. The tall, thin young officer had faced enemy fire consistently and unflinchingly for four long years of the Civil War, and he did not intend to shirk his duty now. "Toby and Clarissa aren t the only romantic couple in the area," he said. Tour father and Eulaha Holt are going to be married, too, Beth."

Beth paused with her fork lifted partway to her mouth. Her jaw dropped, and she stared at her cousin in total disbehef. The color drained from her face, and Andy wouldn't have been siu^rised had she fainted.

The silence that followed was so tense that Susanna found herself talking rapidly and a trifle too loudly in order to fill the sudden void. "As we understand it," she said, "they are planning a very quiet wedding because they feel that, in view of last year's tragedy, any other kind would be inappropriate.**

Beth still did not speak, and Rob felt he had to say something. **When are they planning to marry?"

Susanna shrugged. "They haven't set a date yet,* she said. **We had dinner with them the other evening, and they wanted to wait until you two came home so

they could discuss the matter with Beth. They're anxious to defer to your wishes, Beth, just as they're taking the wishes of Toby and Cindy Holt into consideration, too/*

"That's very land of them, Fm sure," Beth said in a voice that was like acid.

Andy saw no reason to evade central issues. Tve been sorry for General Blake for the past year," he said. **He's been wandering around like a lost soul, and so has Mrs. Holt. I don't know what they've suffered, and I can only imagine the hell they've been through. But I know this much after spending several evenings with them: They're happy and relaxed together, and they deserve all the joy they can get in this life."

**Amen to that," Susanna said, taking a firm stand beside her husband.

Beth opened her mouth to say something, changed her mind, and, instead, devoted herself to her meal. She ate with single-minded concentration, and when she spoke, it was to relate amusing incidents that had taken place while she and Rob had been staying at the remote mountain lodge. She did not refer again to the subject of her father's marriage to Eiilalia, and when she and her husband took their leave after dinner, intending to return to her father's home, she was unnaturally bright But it was plain that her gaiety was forced.

When they entered the house, however, the sight of the furnishings, all of them selected by her late mother, robbed Beth of her self-control. She wheeled on Rob, her fists clenched, and cried in a choked voice, "How dare he do a thing like this?"

Her husband had been expecting a reaction of some sort, but her vehemence was so great that he was startled by it, and he didn't know what to reply.

**How dare he insult my mother's memory by marry-

ing that woman I" She was weeping now and shouting loudly through her tears.

Rob tried hard to answer her logically. **Mrs. Holt," he said, *Vas your mother s closest friend. As for her being *that woman/ as you called her, I don't think the attack is quite justified. She's been universally recognized as one of the first ladies of Oregon for many years.**

Beth was beyond reason. **She*s a temptress I** she screamed. "She took advantage of my fathers natural grief and snared him for herself."

Rob knew she wasn't being logical. **You seem to forget that Mrs. Holt was suffering from a great shock herself," he said. "She lost her husband. That couldn't have been very easy for her."

Beth faced him, her feet apart, her fists clenched, and her eyes blazing. "She was suffering so much," she said, sneering, "that she couldn't wait to set her cap for my father. She recognized a good catch when she saw one, and she couldn't wait until she could claim him for herself."

Rob realized Beth was making no sense, that she was driving herself into a state of unthinking hysteria. The problem was only aggravated by the fact that Beth had been unable to find sexual release in her marriage, that Rob loved and respected her so much that he instinctively and habitually treated her in bed like a lady. What Beth unconsciously craved was to be treated as a woman, far more passionately than Rob had treated her thus far.

"Please cahn down," Rob told her. **Your father may walk in at any moment, and you don't want him to see you in this state."

Her face was so contorted with rage that she lost all

vestiges of her natural beauty. **Let him walk in!** she screamed. **Yd love to confront him this very second. I want to tell him how contemptible and low he is to have forgotten my mother so soon after her tragic accident. He's been lusting after that woman so hard that he's lost his balance."

Rob felt sure she would be thoroughly ashamed of her outburst when she regained her emotional stability. He knew he had to silence her and somehow force her to become calmer, but he had no idea how to accomplish that end. **Please, honey,** he said. "You don't know what you're saying, and you can't possibly face your father in this condition. You don't want to hurt him, and you'd be inflicting a grievous injury on him if you spoke to him this way.**

"I hope I do hurt himl" She waved her arms fren-2dedly. **I hope I hurt him so badly that he'll bear the scars for the rest of his daysl**

Rob had tolerated enough, and unthinkingly, not bothering to weigh the consequences, he took a single step forward, raised a hand, and slapped Beth smartly across one cheek. The blow was not hard enough to do her any damage, but the impact stunned her.

They stared at each other in shocked silence. Rob was abashed, but he did not apologize for his sudden outburst of violence. He was afraid that if he did beg Beth's pardon, she would indulge in another emotional rampage. Thus, he said nothing.

Beth stared at him in wonder, and in some way that was mysterious to her, her anger drained out of her. She still felt contempt for her father and for Eulalia Holt, but certainly her rage had subsided, at least temporarily. She looked at Rob as though she were seeing him for the

first time, and in a sense, that was true. In the back of her mind, she wondered if perhaps after all, there was a passionate, forceful side to Rob. She certainly hoped there was.

SI

Yale Myers congratulated himself smugly and reflected that his good luck was continuing. He was wanted on charges of murder and of robbery in more states than he cared to remember, but he was safe from the authorities now, and it appeared that he would be untouchable for the foreseeable future.

His system, he decided, worked perfectly. He made it a practice, after he killed a man, to assume the identity of his victim, and he had found that a careful study of the documents, letters, and other papers that he stole from the bodies of those he murdered stood him in remarkably good stead. Once away from the scene of the crime, he was accepted without question, and he continued to play the role until he became bored or his wanderlust got the better of him. Then he repeated the whole process.

Myers had learned all he needed to know about the identity he was now assuming, that of the man he had killed in the eastern Oregon town. He was now Major

Isham Jentry, an expert on the building of railroads, and it mattered not to him that he knew nothing whatsoever about the subject. The letter he carried inside his coat pocket told him what he should do next. He was to report to Major General Lee Blake at Fort Vancouver in the Washington Territory and was to join Toby Holt and Robert Martin in determining a route for the new railroad line that would be built across the Montana Territory. Realizing that Montana was still a largely iminhabited wilderness, he knew he would be safe there for many months to come, and he was pleased, too, because he had heard that precious minerals, such as gold and silver, were abimdant in the high mountains of the western part of the territory. If his good fortune continued, he might find a vein of gold or silver and never have to worry again about the source of his next meal.

Myers had no idea whether the late Major Jentry had left a wife and children somewhere in the East. For his own practical purposes, it was easier to assimie the identity of a bachelor, beholden to no one. That gave him a freedom of movement that he would otherwise be denied.

Crossing the turbulent Columbia River by commercial ferry, he made his way toward Fort Vancouver. The sight of an armed sentry at the gate of the palisades gave Myers momentary cause for pause. Uncertain how to act in his role of the major, he was relieved that he was wearing civilian clothes, since he had never in his life saluted. He approached the sentry and, not deigning to dismount, took Major Jentry's identification from his inner pocket.

The sentry imfolded it, read it, and immediately stood at rigid attention as he saluted.

Myers was pleased by the man's reaction and raised

his own hand vaguely to the broad brim of his hat in response. Then he carefully took the identification document back from the sentry.

"May I ask where you re going now, sir?" the soldier asked respectfully.

**rm here to see a general, name of Blake."

The sentry took pains to remain formaL "The oflBce of the commanding general of the Army of the West is located in the headquarters building, sir," he said. "You see the fork in the road up ahead yonder? Take the left-hand route and follow it till you come to a two-story building painted white, with a flagpole in the yard in front of it. That's the headquarters where youH find General Blake."

Myers thanked the man and was surprised when the sentry again saluted as he started off down the road. Apparently, he thought. Major Jentry had been someone of importance. His mood improved still more, and he was in high spirits by the time he reached General Blake's headquarters building.

A short time later, Myers made himself at home in the general's ojEBce, slouching in an easy chair.

Lee Blake was somewhat surprised and dismayed as he studied Major Jentry. The man's white shirt was soiled and much in need of laundering. There was black dirt beneath his fingernails, and his dark hair needed to be cut. Furthermore, he had shaved carelessly that morning, and stubble showed here and there on his swarthy face. To say the least, he did not look like an officer who would enjoy the confidence of the army's high command in Washington. "So you're the expert in railroading whose arrival we've been so anxiously awaiting, Major," Lee said.

"Well, I don't like to blow my own horn, General,"

Myers answered jovially—far too informally for an officer of middle rank addressing a major general, **but that's what they seem to think in Washington."

His breeziness was so marked that Lee could not fail to note it and was not impressed by the man or his manner. *T11 introduce you to one of your new partners, who happens to be in the office this morning," Lee said, "and then 111 arrange to have you assigned to the B.O.Q. Tm sure youTl want to get cleaned up after your long journey."

Myers had no idea what B.O.Q meant, but a warning bell nevertheless rang shrilly in his mind. Ordinarily he paid scant attention to his appearance, but the general was exceptionally neat and so were all the other officers he had seen on his way into this private office. As a major, he assumed that he, too, held a rank of some significance, so it would be wise to make himself presentable at the first opportunity.

The general sent an aide for Rob Martin, who was spending the morning at headquarters studying maps and charts of the Montana mountains. His son-in-law soon appeared, and Lee introduced him to Major Jentry. "Im sure you two will have no lack of subjects to discuss," Lee said, **but don't poimce on him too quickly, Rob. Give him a chance to settle into the bachelor officers* quarters first."

So that's what B.O.Q. meanti Myers was relieved.

An aide conducted them to a nearby building, and Rob said he would return in an hour. Myers's instinct for self-preservation promptly asserted itself, and he took a bath, went to the post barber in the same building, and turned his dirty laundry over to an orderly. He was infinitely more presentable when Rob returned. His good fortune was even better than he had realized. For how-

ever long he would remain at Fort Vancouver, he would ? be given three meals a day in the mess hall on the i ground floor, he had a comfortable private room, and \ the orderly service provided him with free servants. His ! spirits buoyant, Myers wanted to celebrate. !

"I don't suppose you got a bottle of whiskey handy," he said. •

The surprised Rob shook his head.

**You happen to know where I can get hold of ] some?" the man persisted. **I feel like having a nip or i two to celebrate." j

"You'll find no hard liquor at Fort Vancouver," Rob i told him. "As I'm sure you realize, its use is forbidden here, except in the private homes of senior oflScers."

Myers hastily covered his tracks. "Oh, sure, sure," he said. *1 know all that, of course. I was just looking forward to relaxing a mite after coming here all the way : across the country. It's one hell of a long trip.**

*'So I've been told," Rob replied politely, hoping ! that his reaction to the man was mistaken. Major Jentry , appeared to be something of a boor. **The chief of oper- ; ations at headquarters," Rob said, tactfully changing the \ subject, "has some really first-rate maps and charts of ' Montana. In fact, I was studying them when you arrived ; here this morning. I'd think it would be very much worth your while to look over them." ^

**You bet," the man replied vaguely, without enthusiasm, teUing himself that he could examine maps until he was blue in the face but would glean nothing from them.

His lack of enthusiasm struck Rob as odd. "Of course," he said poHtely, "you probably know all there is to know about Montana."

The last thing that Myers wanted was to be re-

garded as an expert; there was no telling when he might be required to show oflF his alleged knowledge. "Fm sure I still have plenty to learn about Montana," he said vaguely. **It's like any place. You never really know it until youVe been there."

''Oh?" Rob hid his surprise and replied politely. "I had the notion that you were already familiar with the territory."

Myers chuckled. **I can't imagine where you got that idea," he said. "IVe never set foot in Montana in my Hfe. Never had any reason to go there, come to think of it. Until now." There. He'd said more than enough and called a halt before he went too far. One of the problems with impersonating a stranger was the danger that he would talk too much and give himself away.

Rob could scarcely wait to start talking business. "Do you have any special notions or ideas regarding the building or location of the rail line through Montana?** he asked.

Long practice in impersonation enabled Yale Myers to reply glibly and easily. *1 never believe in counting chickens until the eggs are hatched," he said. **! think we'd be smart to wait until we get there and see the land for ourselves. Then you and I and the third member of the team can analyze what we're inspecting, and it will be much easier and more realistic to make any decisions at that time."

Rob felt rebuked and knew that Major Jentry was right, but at the same time, he felt deeply disappointed. He and Toby had been expecting to be joined by an army officer who knew the territory well and was thoroughly conversant with the problems of constructing a railroad line there. Unfortunately, this was far from the case.

Not that it mattered. What really bothered him was the personality of the man with whom he and Toby would be so closely associated in the months that lay ahead. He had been looking forward to a speeding up of the entire process, but now it seemed hkely that they would be taking their time, plodding, putting one foot in front of the other.

Regardless of what Rob thought, he knew all too well that he and Toby held their commissions from President Johnson, acting on the authority of Congress. Apparently Major Jentry was operating under the same authority. For better or worse, they would be required to work together. Therefore, he would have to make the best of the situation.

Toby and Clarissa had agreed to Eulalia's wishes to have a formal wedding, but they still wanted to keep it small, with only family and close friends in attendance. Privacy, however, proved to be impossible; the Holt family was too well-known. The church was crowded with weU-wishers, and every pew was taken. Many of the guests, knowing that the bride had no relatives in the Pacific Northwest, deliberately elected to sit on Clarissa's side of the church. Also in attendance was Clarissa's close friend, the former Bettina Snow, who with her Httle daughter, Lucy, had crossed the continent with Clarissa when they had first come out to the Northwest. Bettina had married Frank Woods, and the three members of the Woods family had come down from Washington for the wedding.

Toby, standing near the altar with Rob Martin beside him as his best man, sur\^eyed the throng as he waited for his bride to come down the center aisle. Never had he seen so many familiar faces, and he esti-

mated that just about everyone he had known in the years of his childhood and adolescence was present. It wouldn't have surprised him had he been told that virtually the entire company of those who had crossed the United States in the first wagon train to Oregon had turned out to honor him and his mother.

Of all those present he was more conscious of Beth Martin than of anyone else. She was demurely attired in a tailored jacket and skirt, but they were a brilliant scarlet in color and caused her to be particularly noticeable. He was right when he guessed that she was wearing more makeup than usual, but he had no idea that this was dehberate on her part to conceal the ravages to her face of the crying spell she had suffered the previous night when she had thought again of her father s coming marriage to Eulalia.

Beth caught Toby's eye and smiled at him. He grinned at her in return and suppressed the sudden longing he felt for her. This was no moment to think of any woman except Clarissal

Beth continued to smile steadily. Toby became flustered. It didn't occur to him that she was flirting with him deliberately; he knew only that he had never seen her looking warmer or more desirable.

Then Clarissa appeared at the back of the church clad in a gown of ivory lace and satin, and he put everything else out of his mind. Clarissa was radiant, her eyes luminous as she moved slowly down the aisle on the arm of Lee Blake, who was wearing his full-dress uniform of a major general. When Beth saw her father, she stiffened, her mouth setting in a thin, hard line.

When Lee drew near to the front pew, his eyes met Eulaha's, and he smiled. Her own smile told him how pleased and proud she was that he had made this effort

for her son and new daughter-in-law. He told her silently in retimi that the gesture was the least he could do for her happiness.

As the clergyman led the young couple through the marriage rites, Eulaha raised a tiny lace handkerchief to her face and dabbed at her eyes from time to time. Lee, who had joined her after leaving Clarissa at the altar, moved closer to her, as if to give her added strength with his presence.

**I now pronoimce you man and wife,** the clergyman intoned at the ceremony's end.

Toby enthusiastically kissed his bride, and the grinning couple moved happily up the aisle, both of them appearing to be in something of a trance.

The entire party rode out to the Holt ranch, where a simple buffet meal of cold turkey, cold sHced beef, and cold salmon was served. Everyone drank to the health of the bride and groom with a punch that Ted and Olga Woods—Frank's parents—had mixed for the occasion.

Lee and Eulalia stood beside the bridal couple in the receiving line, and to an extent, this was their wedding reception, too. They were well acquainted with everyone present, from the older people who had made the monumental transcontinental journey with them, to the children who had been bom after the company had arrived in Oregon.

Eulaha and Lee were too proud of each other and of their relationship to dissemble, and when they admitted to the more discerning among the guests that they, too, were going to be married, word spread rapidly through the gathering.

Beth Martin created something of a stir when she approached the newlyweds to offer her felicitations. She shook hands with Clarissa, wishing her the best of ev-

erything, then paused in front of Toby, deliberately reached up her hands to his face, and kissed him soundly.

As the startled bridegroom was the first to discover, it was no token kiss but was impassioned and lingering. He became tense until Beth finally released him, and without moving on in the receiving line to his mother and her own father, she turned away abruptly, joined her husband, and demanded a glass of punch.

Clarissa, who had witnessed the unexpected incident, did not indicate by a word or a change in expression that she was aware that anything amiss had taken place.

Then the musicians who were hired for the occasion began to play a waltz, a dance whose popularity was spreading from Europe to the New World, and Toby promptly led his bride onto the floor of the parlor, from which the rugs had been removed. Soon the room was filled with dancing couples.

Eulalia stood with Lee, her hand on his arm, as they watched the couples whirling around the room. *1 told Toby that he and Clarissa have set us such a good example that we're going to do the same thing in ten days," she murmured. **I certainly didn't expect them to cut their honeymoon short, but he insisted that they're going to be here. He said that he'U soon be on his way to Montana in any event."

Lee was quietly pleased that Toby and his bride would attend his and Eulalia's wedding. Apparently his future stepson had meant every word he said when he wished the general well on his forthcoming marriage to Eulalia.

Eulalia's grip inadvertently tightened on his arm. "Did you speak to Beth?"

*1 did," he said grimly, his face growing taut.

*Well, how did she react?" Eulalia prodded.

"She didn't." He failed to realize he sounded cryptic.

She controlled her temper. *What did she say?*

^Nothing."

"She doesn t learn every day of the week that her father has set his wedding date/* she said with a touch of asperity, "Surely the girl made some sort of replyl"

"She didn't say a word," Lee replied, "not one blessed word."

Eulalia was silent for some moments. Then her faw jutted forward, and a stubborn, determined look came into her eyes. **You and I," she said in a quiet, even tone, "are being married in precisely ten days. Our children have been invited to attend as our only witnesses.**

"Exactly," Lee said, "and if Beth elects to absent herself from our wedding, that's her privilege, and well say no more about it!"

The wedding festivities became even livelier, and ; when they were at their height, Toby and Clarissa i sneaked away. He said good-bye to his dog, Mr. Blake, ' whom Cindy would be looking after while Toby and Clarissa were on their honeymoon, and then the young couple changed into traveling attire and went to the rear of the bams behind the house. There Stalking Horse had awaiting them two saddled geldings and a pair of pack horses with supplies and the clothing they were taking with them. Demonstrating his usual skill, Toby avoided detection as he guided his bride down the path that led from the Holt property to the river.

They crossed the Columbia by ferry and then set out for a small country ion where Toby had written for a reservation.

They arrived at the establishment shortly before

sundown, and after eating supper there, they went upstairs to their room, which was comfortably furnished and had a delightful view of the Washington countryside. There they shed their clothes unself-consciously and were soon in each other*s arms, Idssing each other him-grily. Then they went to the large, four-poster bed to continue their lovemaldng.

It was the first time they had slept together since they had become husband and wife, and as Toby said afterward, "I don't know why this should be, but I felt different."

"Of course," Clarissa replied. *'So did I. I was far more secure and soHd. I was no longer worried about what people might think of our sleeping together, and we were both able to relax totally, just concentrating on being ourselves."

The next day, they rode from early morning until dusk, and when they finally arrived at the lodge that Toby had built high in the moimtains, they prepared supper, using supplies they had brought with them. Tob}^ promised to catch some trout for their breakfast the following morning.

The next day, they went to the high nK>und of boulders and rocks that marked the final resting place of Whip Holt and Cathy Blake. Here, near the inscribed stone monument Toby had erected to the couple who had lost their lives so tragically, they stood in silence, each of them lost in thought.

*Tm fortunate/' Clarissa said at last, **to have known your father before he was taken from us. I hope he approved of me."

"I know he did," Toby replied. "He told me as much."

She was silent for a moment. "I never really knew Mrs. Blake. Is Beth very much like her mother?*

Toby shook his head. "Not in the least,*' he said. **Cathy Blake was a courageous, straightforward woman. Not that Beth isn t courageous,** he added hastily. That isn*t what I meant.** He groped in vain for words. ''I'm not sure just what I do mean."

Clarissa was sorry she had raised the subject.

Toby persisted. "Cathy Blake was calm and sweet and kind of shy, all things that Beth isn*t. I remember my father saying that he*d seen Cathy lose her temper only when she felt someone was the victim of injustice.** He shook his head, ran a hand through his hair, and seiid apologetically, *l*m making Beth sound like a spoiled brat or a monster of some kind, but she isn*t either of those things. Actually, she is very generous. She gave me Mr. Blake, my shepherd dog—he was just a puppy at the time—when I was recuperating from the wounds that I had suffered in the war. She didn't have to give me the dog, goodness knows, but it was one of those impulsive gestures. She just wanted me to have him, and Mr. Blake and I have been the best of friends ever since.**

Despite Toby*s assurance, Clarissa still vividly recalled how Beth had turned away from Eulalia and her father without even speaking to them in the receiving line at Clarissa and Toby*s wedding. "Will Beth be at yoiu- mothers wedding, do you think?**

Toby shrugged. *Tve known Beth Blake—Beth Martin, I mean—since we were both very small children, and a great many years ago I gave up predicting what she would or wouldn*t do next. I doubt if she herself knows what she*s going to do or how she*s going to act, and FU admit to you, just between us, that I feel a mite sorry for

Rob. He's living on the edge of a volcano that may erupt at any time/*

His analogy was good, and Clarissa agreed totally. *While weVe on the subject of Beth," she said slowly, "there's one thing I can't imderstand about her. Maybe you can explain it to me.**

**rm not very good at understanding her myself, but riltry."

**I must be honest with you," Clarissa said. **I freely confess that I was badly disturbed by the way she kissed you at our wedding. That was no token loss, no kiss of friendship. It was the way a woman kisses her lover. Tve been married twice now, and the only men Tve ever dreamed of kissing that way are my two husbands. Why did she do it the way she did—especially at our wedding reception?"

Toby reddened and instantly decided to be as forthright as he could in his response. **I wish I could answer your question, Clarissa, but I can't," he said. "She took me completely by siuprise, and I must admit to you that I wondered about her later. She's only been married a short time herself, and—well, it was my wedding, after all, and I didn't feel that her gesture was very appropriate. I'm afraid Fm completely in the dark."

Clarissa knew he was being sincere, and she slipped her hand into his as they started back toward the porch of the house. "I'm not all that well acquainted v^dth Beth Martin," she said, "so I could be mistaken about her, and if I am, I humbly beg her pardon. But it seemed to me that she kissed you as she did in a deUberate gesture. She was serving a warning notice."

"On whom?" Toby asked in bewilderment.

"On her husband, for one, and on me for another. She was saying, in effect, that just because she has a

husband and you had now acquired a wife was no reason to believe she couldn't have you for her own if she wanted to."

Toby unexpectedly found himself plunged deep into a whirlpool of strange, conflicting emotions.

Clarissa had naturally anticipated that her husband would be quick to deny the possibility that he might develop any special relationship with Beth and would say that he was a happily married man. To her astonishment, however, he remained silent and appeared lost in thought all the way back to the house.

Clarissa had loved Toby for a very long time, and now, at last, a miracle had occurred, and she had become his wife. She did not intend to allow anyone to come between them, to permit anything to spoil their marital happiness. If Beth Martin tried to interfere, the risk was hers alone because Clarissa would do anything to ensure that her husband devoted his attention exclusively to her.

**You're going to your father's wedding,** Rob Martin said grimly, "if Tve got to hog-tie you, throw you across my saddle, and carry you into the Holt ranch house over my shoulder. You can hate it, you can have hysterics after we leave the place, and you can rant and scream at me imtil you re hoarse. But you're going to be there and watch your father marry Mrs. Holtl"

Beth did not dare to argue with her husband. His display of strong feelings secretly aroused her, and she couldn't help wishing he would act this way more often, especially when it came to their lovemaking. But in that area he was unassertive and almost indifferent, and all she could do was sulkily agree to attend the wedding.

When the day actually arrived, she astonished Rob

by dressing in one of her more attractive gowns, putting on makeup, and going off with him in an extremely cheerful mood, as though she had been looking forward to the event for a long time.

He had no idea how much the effort cost her, but she appeared to be expending no effort whatever. On the contrary, she seemed to be behaving naturally, kissing Eulaha when she and Rob arrived at the ranch house, extending an exceptionally cheerful greeting to Toby and Clarissa, who had just returned from the lodge, and gossiping with Cindy as she froHcked with Mr. Blake.

The only other guests in attendance were Eulalia's brother and his wife, Claiborne and Cindy Woodling, whose property adjoined the Holt ranch. Beth was charming to them as well, and they could not help responding in Idnd to her.

The wedding went off without any problems. Toby stood v^dth a fixed smile on his face throughout the ceremony, looking straight ahead, and only Clarissa guessed that he was feeling turbulent emotions, which he was going to great pains to conceal.

Beth averted her face from the ceremony and closed her eyes when her father kissed Eulalia at the conclusion of the service. She clenched her fists so tightly that her knuckles turned white, but a moment later she was smiling, completely in control of herseff. She was the first to bestow hugs and kisses on the bride and groom.

Beth*s unexpected pleasantness gave the wedding party a new dimension, and everyone who came to the ranch house after the ceremony enjoyed the celebratory dinner.

In Toby's mind's eye, he could see his father sitting at the head of the oak table where Lee Blake now sat.

but he tried hard to dispel the image. It refused to disappear, however, so he was relatively quiet, but the others were enjoying such hilarity that only Clarissa noticed that he was somewhat withdrawn.

The impending departure of Colonel Andrew Brentwood's regiment for the Montana Territory made it impossible for General Blake to get away on a honeymoon. Therefore, in order to give him and EulaHa at least a few days of privacy, Cindy was staying at the ranch house with Toby and Clarissa, while Beth and Rob had arranged to move to the Portland house of his parents, Dr. and Mrs, Martin.

Eventually a Holt carriage took the bridal couple to the waterfront, where the general's gig waited to carry them across the Columbia River to the north bank. No sooner did they depart than Beth and Rob left, on horseback, for Portland.

The moment they left the Holt ranch, Beth's manner changed dramatically. Her cheerful effervescence seemed to drain out of her, and she appeared sullen and withdrawn. "Under no circumstances," she said, **am I going to stay anywhere in the vicinity of Fort Vancouver while you go off to Montana. Seeing my father and that woman acting like lovebirds would make me positively ill."

Rob was weary of her scenes and said nothing, hoping her sour mood would soon pass. She persisted, however. "IVe decided I'm going to Montana with you."

He had expected this and looked at her sharply. **Beth, I've given this matter a lot of thought, and I've decided that it's impossible for you to go."

"Why is it so impossible?" she countered. "Susanna Brentwood is going to Montana, and she'll even have her baby therel"

**Her husband,** Rob said slowly, '^happens to be the colonel commanding the regiment that's going to be stationed at Fort Shaw in Montana. Surely you know enough about the army to understand how that system works.**

"Indeed I do," she replied. **The wives of other senior oflBcers will be going to Montana, too. You can bet your last dollar on it. And the work that you and Toby are doing is every bit as important as the responsibilities that are carried by a battalion commander or a regimental staff officer. So if their wives can go, I can, tool**

Rob was afraid she failed to imderstand the situation. As the daughter of a major general, she had always been able to bend the rules and regulations in her favor, and she blithely assumed she could continue in that vein. He was convinced, however, that she was doomed to be disappointed. He and Toby were civilians, not commissioned officers, and they had no claim on quarters at Fort Shaw or the protection that the regiment afforded the wives of the families of its ranking officers. Rather than say anything to discourage his wife, however, he fell silent, preferring to avoid another scene if it was at all possible to do so.

Had he been able to see Beth's face, which she had averted, he might have been less sure of himself. Her chin jutted forward, and an obstinate gleam had appeared in her eyes. In one way or another, she was determined not to be left behind.

The following morning Rob went off to Fort Vancouver to meet Major Jentry, whom he was going to escort to a meeting with Toby Holt at the ranch house.

Beth insisted on accompanying her husband, saying that she had business to attend to at the army post. She seemed reluctant to go into detail, but once she had as-

sured him she had no intention of seeing her father and Eulalia, he asked no questions.

They parted at the headquarters, and Beth went straight to the house of her cousin, Andy Brentwood. There, Susanna greeted her and, pleased to see her, insisted that she come into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. They sat down together, and Beth smiled and nodded. *Tve been meaning to tell you how well you look. Sue," she said. "I think I envy you."

**The doctor assures me that Tm healthy," Susanna replied, "and he ^ees no reason why the baby should be anything but healthy, too, though he's fairly certain 111 deliver a few weeks late. Andy and I are looking forward to his arrival. Or her arrival."

**Do you want a boy or a girl?"

Susanna shrugged. **Both of us had definite feelings on the subject at first, but we've changed recently, and well be satisfied with a baby of either sex."

"That's very wise." Beth began to lead up to the subject that had brought her here. "I cannot help wondering whether you're going to be frightened or at least ill at ease having your child in Montana, so far from civilization."

Susanna shook her head. "Not at all," she said. "The commandant's house at Fort Shaw is very comfortable, from all that we gather, and the regimental surgeon will be at the fort. Hell have a fully equipped dispensary, so III be as well off there as Fd be if I stayed right here. The important thing is that Andy and the baby and I wiU be together."

"I envy you," Beth said tremulously, then sighed.

She rarely displayed any sign of weakness, and her cousin's wife looked at her curiously over the rim of her coffee cup.