too. There had been plenty of time for her to tell him about a letter when they were sitting up the night before.
"I didn't give the letter to her until after the shot. I wasn't home then. Reckon I could've taken care—"
"She could have forgotten," Paul said, trying not to sound dubious. "Tell her I'll come down in the morning for it."
"What's wrong with tonight at supper?" Uriah asked, his gray eyes questing.
"I'm quitting my job, Uriah," Paul said. He went on to explain how Hornaby had ruled him off the post. "If I can't enter the post, I can't deliver hay. It's that simple. Hornaby would still like to pin the murder on me."
"Look," Uriah said, his craggy face pleading, "I like you—like you a lot, Paul. Work for me here at the store."
The older man's friendship warmed Paul.
"I'd rather not say right now, Uriah," Paul told him. "There's two or three things I want to get settled."
"Such as?"
"For one thing, I'm going to try and find out who paid Big-head to shoot at me. Maybe it was Finch; maybe it wasn't. I have other enemies here, and, knowing about my reason for being here and the quarrel between Finch and me, they might figure they can get away with murder and let Finch take the blame."
"If I can help you in any way, let me know," Uriah offered.
"Thanks, Uriah. Tell me something. Where would Eglund come on five gold pieces?" Paul asked.
Uriah rubbed his graying hair across his head and said, "I reckon he's got a sideline. I ain't a man to interfere in other people's business, so long as they leave me alone. Eglund, backed by another party, is smuggling whiskey where it ain't wanted."
"Who's back of him? Finch?"
"Nope. He was doing it before Finch came here."
"Addie?"
"I reckon Addie ain't after that kind of money. Neither am I, in case you're thinking of asking me."
Paul showed Big-head's purse. "Big-head got five double eagles, too. I reckon the coyote who's back of all this has a fixed price for anything: a hundred bucks flat rate for bullets or booze."
"Might be no connection," Uriah grunted. "I'll see what I can worm outa Eglund. He's right simple once you know how he ticks."
It was getting on into the afternoon. "I've got to go now," Paul said without explanation. Then, thinking of the coming meeting with Hornaby, he added with a grin, "I may be back for some arnica later on."
When Paul entered the Lone Chance dining room the evening rush was over, and he felt a lift as he saw Addie hurrying toward him from the door leading into the saloon. He had washed the blood off his face, but it was still cut and sore, and he saw hurt and dismay come into Addie's eyes when she noticed this.
"Paul—another fight?" she asked softly as she followed him to the rear of the room and sat across from him at a table.
"This was an affair of honor, Addie," he said, and grinned at her.
"You talk as if you'd had a duel."
"I did, sort of. Hornaby made a remark this morning when he was questioning me, and I didn't like it. I slapped him across the mouth, and he invited me out back of the stables after retreat."
"You mean to tell me Hornaby did that after the way you beat up Stebbins and Miles?"
"Oh, he's not really a coward," Paul said; "he just don't know when to be brave." Then he added, "I'm starved, Addie. How about some dinner?"
"Didn't you eat at the Youngs'?"
"I don't live there or work there any more."
Because the girls were through in the dining room and were out in the bar by now, Addie went to the kitchen and ordered food for Paul. When she came back, she said:
"Tell me about the fight."
Paul shrugged. "There isn't much to tell. The major's a good man with his fists—scientific," Paul said, rubbing his jaw reflectively. "He knocked me down a couple of times. That scientific fighting can tire a man out. Too much traveling."
"What did you do to him? You act as though you enjoyed the fight," Addie said.
"Could be," he acknowledged. "Let's say the fight ended in a draw. Leastways, I
"I didn't give the letter to her until after the shot. I wasn't home then. Reckon I could've taken care—"
"She could have forgotten," Paul said, trying not to sound dubious. "Tell her I'll come down in the morning for it."
"What's wrong with tonight at supper?" Uriah asked, his gray eyes questing.
"I'm quitting my job, Uriah," Paul said. He went on to explain how Hornaby had ruled him off the post. "If I can't enter the post, I can't deliver hay. It's that simple. Hornaby would still like to pin the murder on me."
"Look," Uriah said, his craggy face pleading, "I like you—like you a lot, Paul. Work for me here at the store."
The older man's friendship warmed Paul.
"I'd rather not say right now, Uriah," Paul told him. "There's two or three things I want to get settled."
"Such as?"
"For one thing, I'm going to try and find out who paid Big-head to shoot at me. Maybe it was Finch; maybe it wasn't. I have other enemies here, and, knowing about my reason for being here and the quarrel between Finch and me, they might figure they can get away with murder and let Finch take the blame."
"If I can help you in any way, let me know," Uriah offered.
"Thanks, Uriah. Tell me something. Where would Eglund come on five gold pieces?" Paul asked.
Uriah rubbed his graying hair across his head and said, "I reckon he's got a sideline. I ain't a man to interfere in other people's business, so long as they leave me alone. Eglund, backed by another party, is smuggling whiskey where it ain't wanted."
"Who's back of him? Finch?"
"Nope. He was doing it before Finch came here."
"Addie?"
"I reckon Addie ain't after that kind of money. Neither am I, in case you're thinking of asking me."
Paul showed Big-head's purse. "Big-head got five double eagles, too. I reckon the coyote who's back of all this has a fixed price for anything: a hundred bucks flat rate for bullets or booze."
"Might be no connection," Uriah grunted. "I'll see what I can worm outa Eglund. He's right simple once you know how he ticks."
It was getting on into the afternoon. "I've got to go now," Paul said without explanation. Then, thinking of the coming meeting with Hornaby, he added with a grin, "I may be back for some arnica later on."
When Paul entered the Lone Chance dining room the evening rush was over, and he felt a lift as he saw Addie hurrying toward him from the door leading into the saloon. He had washed the blood off his face, but it was still cut and sore, and he saw hurt and dismay come into Addie's eyes when she noticed this.
"Paul—another fight?" she asked softly as she followed him to the rear of the room and sat across from him at a table.
"This was an affair of honor, Addie," he said, and grinned at her.
"You talk as if you'd had a duel."
"I did, sort of. Hornaby made a remark this morning when he was questioning me, and I didn't like it. I slapped him across the mouth, and he invited me out back of the stables after retreat."
"You mean to tell me Hornaby did that after the way you beat up Stebbins and Miles?"
"Oh, he's not really a coward," Paul said; "he just don't know when to be brave." Then he added, "I'm starved, Addie. How about some dinner?"
"Didn't you eat at the Youngs'?"
"I don't live there or work there any more."
Because the girls were through in the dining room and were out in the bar by now, Addie went to the kitchen and ordered food for Paul. When she came back, she said:
"Tell me about the fight."
Paul shrugged. "There isn't much to tell. The major's a good man with his fists—scientific," Paul said, rubbing his jaw reflectively. "He knocked me down a couple of times. That scientific fighting can tire a man out. Too much traveling."
"What did you do to him? You act as though you enjoyed the fight," Addie said.
"Could be," he acknowledged. "Let's say the fight ended in a draw. Leastways, I
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