pliers over the handle of the iron to hold it steady.
Denise whispered, “Oh, no!”
Mallory said, “Now you know how far you’d get rubbing up to Graef.”
“I had to try something,” she whispered miserably. She stood up abruptly and started for the tent.
Graef said, “Don’t leave yet, Mrs. Lawton.”
“I won’t stay and watch this!” she said furiously.
“You will stay—because I say so.” He moved his head, fixing his eyes on the soldering iron in the fire.
“Leave her alone,” Mallory said. “Maybe you need me to help you, but you haven’t any use for her. So leave her alone.”
“But I do have a use for her,” Graef said. He smiled emptily at Mallory.
Then he switched his attention to Blalock. “Wouldn’t you say that Mrs. Lawton is an exceptionally beautiful woman, Blalock?”
Denise reached out blindly and put her hand on Mallory’s arm. “Cliff!” she whimpered.
Mallory was watching Blalock. The man was turning slowly toward Denise. Firelight flickered over her bold figure outlined by the skin-tight clothes she wore.
Denise put her hands over her breasts and turned her back to Blalock. Mallory squeezed her arm. He said, “Go to the tent.”
Graef said, “What about it, Blalock? You get to keep half the money and you get a bonus—you’re looking at her—if you tell me now.”
Denise hadn’t moved. She whimpered, “Cliff, help me.”
Mallory whispered to her savagely, “What’s the matter with you? You’ve got guts. You already showed that. Use them!”
She stared at him. Her face was white in the firelight.
She put a hand to her mouth and made a sick noise. She turned and ran across the meadow toward the tent.
Graef called, “Don’t try to go out the gap, Mrs. Lawton. I can see it plainly from here and I could shoot you very easily.”
She kept running. Mallory saw her stumble, right herself, and then disappear into the tent.
Mallory bent down and wrapped his fingers around the thin end of a knobby fir branch. He lashed the branch through the air, snapping it to make sure it had no rotten spots. Satisfied, he walked toward Nick Thoms.
Graef said wearily, “Stop playing boy scout, Mallory.”
Thoms was on his knees, blowing on the coals. The tip of the iron was cherry red from the bellows of his breath. He glanced at Mallory and then indifferently away.
Mallory swung the club down, knocking the pliers and the iron completely into the fire. He jumped back as Thoms grabbed for him with one long arm. Thoms missed and started to his feet.
Mallory feinted the club toward Thoms. He pulled the blow up sharply, pivoted on his toes, and flung the club at Graef.
Graef was struggling up from the boulder where he sat. He was trying to get his gun out of his pocket. He shrieked as the club hit him viciously on the forearm. Mallory followed the club. He chopped his hand against Graef’s elbow. They fell together into the trampled grass. Graef curled up like a hedgehog, protecting his face.
Mallory grabbed a handful of silver-gray hair. He pulled Graef’s head around. He was trying to get Graef’s face where he could smash it with his fist. He was excited and he could think of only one thing—to pound Graef until his sleek, smooth viciousness was whimpering pulp.
Mallory forgot Thoms until he felt Thoms’ big hands on him, and then it was too late. He was lifted and thrown aside like a stuffed toy. His breath gushed out.
Mallory crawled to his knees. Thoms was helping Graef sit up. He was making soothing sounds deep in his throat. Mallory could hear Graef’s sobbing breath.
Graef got to his feet. He pushed Thoms away and started for Mallory. His face was working. In the light from the fire, his eyes glittered like ice under a winter moon.
Mallory got to his feet. He made no effort to run. Graef had his gun in his hand now. Running would only be asking for a bullet.
And Graef might beat him, but he wouldn’t kill him. Not yet, Mallory thought. Because Graef
Denise whispered, “Oh, no!”
Mallory said, “Now you know how far you’d get rubbing up to Graef.”
“I had to try something,” she whispered miserably. She stood up abruptly and started for the tent.
Graef said, “Don’t leave yet, Mrs. Lawton.”
“I won’t stay and watch this!” she said furiously.
“You will stay—because I say so.” He moved his head, fixing his eyes on the soldering iron in the fire.
“Leave her alone,” Mallory said. “Maybe you need me to help you, but you haven’t any use for her. So leave her alone.”
“But I do have a use for her,” Graef said. He smiled emptily at Mallory.
Then he switched his attention to Blalock. “Wouldn’t you say that Mrs. Lawton is an exceptionally beautiful woman, Blalock?”
Denise reached out blindly and put her hand on Mallory’s arm. “Cliff!” she whimpered.
Mallory was watching Blalock. The man was turning slowly toward Denise. Firelight flickered over her bold figure outlined by the skin-tight clothes she wore.
Denise put her hands over her breasts and turned her back to Blalock. Mallory squeezed her arm. He said, “Go to the tent.”
Graef said, “What about it, Blalock? You get to keep half the money and you get a bonus—you’re looking at her—if you tell me now.”
Denise hadn’t moved. She whimpered, “Cliff, help me.”
Mallory whispered to her savagely, “What’s the matter with you? You’ve got guts. You already showed that. Use them!”
She stared at him. Her face was white in the firelight.
She put a hand to her mouth and made a sick noise. She turned and ran across the meadow toward the tent.
Graef called, “Don’t try to go out the gap, Mrs. Lawton. I can see it plainly from here and I could shoot you very easily.”
She kept running. Mallory saw her stumble, right herself, and then disappear into the tent.
Mallory bent down and wrapped his fingers around the thin end of a knobby fir branch. He lashed the branch through the air, snapping it to make sure it had no rotten spots. Satisfied, he walked toward Nick Thoms.
Graef said wearily, “Stop playing boy scout, Mallory.”
Thoms was on his knees, blowing on the coals. The tip of the iron was cherry red from the bellows of his breath. He glanced at Mallory and then indifferently away.
Mallory swung the club down, knocking the pliers and the iron completely into the fire. He jumped back as Thoms grabbed for him with one long arm. Thoms missed and started to his feet.
Mallory feinted the club toward Thoms. He pulled the blow up sharply, pivoted on his toes, and flung the club at Graef.
Graef was struggling up from the boulder where he sat. He was trying to get his gun out of his pocket. He shrieked as the club hit him viciously on the forearm. Mallory followed the club. He chopped his hand against Graef’s elbow. They fell together into the trampled grass. Graef curled up like a hedgehog, protecting his face.
Mallory grabbed a handful of silver-gray hair. He pulled Graef’s head around. He was trying to get Graef’s face where he could smash it with his fist. He was excited and he could think of only one thing—to pound Graef until his sleek, smooth viciousness was whimpering pulp.
Mallory forgot Thoms until he felt Thoms’ big hands on him, and then it was too late. He was lifted and thrown aside like a stuffed toy. His breath gushed out.
Mallory crawled to his knees. Thoms was helping Graef sit up. He was making soothing sounds deep in his throat. Mallory could hear Graef’s sobbing breath.
Graef got to his feet. He pushed Thoms away and started for Mallory. His face was working. In the light from the fire, his eyes glittered like ice under a winter moon.
Mallory got to his feet. He made no effort to run. Graef had his gun in his hand now. Running would only be asking for a bullet.
And Graef might beat him, but he wouldn’t kill him. Not yet, Mallory thought. Because Graef
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