An Apache will give plenty silver for a magazine rifle .sx And somebody is seeing that they get 'em .sx We've been alerted .sx " Brock said , " Looks like I got here at the right time .sx " The Major's smile was grim .sx " May need every man we can get .sx " " Count me in .sx I'll keep an eye on Parkhurst- Slocum , if that's what he wants to be called- while I look into other things .sx " " Like what ?sx " " Well .sx . Carlyle , for one .sx Just don't like him .sx Look , Pete .sx Didn't it strike you funny , the way he clammed up on the shooting ?sx " Shaking his head , Ahrens said , " No , it didn't .sx I told you he was a cold fish .sx Asked a few questions on the way back yesterday , but nobody opened up .sx Didn't expect them to .sx Reckon we'll just have to let the matter solve itself .sx " " I'm not waiting .sx " " Now look , feller .sx It's none of your business .sx " " I'm making it my business .sx " " What in blazes got you so- " His eyes sparked with understanding .sx " Ahhhh !sx I see , I see !sx " He slowly nodded his head , smiling .sx " I told you she was a beauty .sx I told you .sx " " You're crazy .sx " Brock felt a sudden warmth prickle his face .sx " Go climb your horse .sx Don't know who you're talking about .sx " " I'll bet you don't .sx Very well , Sure-shot .sx You're a big boy now .sx Should be able to look after yourself without- " Brock waved the grinning Ahrens out of the shack .sx " Go play with your Indians , will you !sx " " That's just what I'm going to do .sx Came up this way to look for Indian signs .sx Got patrols cutting the country .sx Our friend Carlyle should be grateful since his wagons will soon be back with supplies .sx Might be he'll need a little Cavalry protection .sx " " You're taking those dispatches seriously .sx " " Darn right I am .sx Anything about Indians I take seriously .sx And they'd like to get their bloody hands on the beef and whisky and beer and stuff he hauls back .sx " " He ships out unbroken ore and brings back supplies ?sx " " Takes about a month .sx Due back in a few days .sx Goes south someplace .sx Anyway , much as I hate to do him a turn , it's my duty to keep an eye out for him .sx " The troopers had been joshing with a starry-eyed Toma@2s .sx They snapped to rigid silence as the Major approached and mounted his roan gelding .sx The boy ran to the gate , scraped it open , and waved the trotting detail on its way .sx " Mister Brock , " Toma@2s asked , watching the riders through the haze of kicked up dust , " How long before I can be a soldier ?sx " Brock rumpled the boy's hair .sx " Don't be in a hurry .sx Enjoy what you have around here while you can .sx " " Oh , I do , Mister Brock .sx I do a lot of things here that I like .sx And I can ride the mules very well , too .sx " Pondering , he tipped the curly head to one side .sx " That is , Juanito I ride well .sx The other one , Diablo , does not like for me to get on the back .sx " " Then stay off .sx " " Oh yes .sx But not Juanito .sx He is a good mule .sx Sometimes I ride him almost as far as where the Sheriff lived .sx When I am a soldier , I will ride and ride and- " " Hold on , now .sx A soldier has to walk too .sx Walk far .sx " " Oh , I can walk far , Mister Brock .sx I can walk all the way to the mine .sx " " You keep away from the mine .sx No place for boys to play .sx " The suggestion of a pout puckered the boy's face .sx " You talk like my mother talks .sx " " You listen to your mother .sx " " I have to .sx " Brock said , " A soldier must learn to take orders , do as he is told .sx Your mother is your commander- like the Major .sx See ?sx When she tells you not to go to the mine , that is an order .sx " The brown eyes rolled slowly upward , searching Brock's serious gaze .sx Softly , the boy said , " It is ?sx " " It is .sx How about it ?sx A good soldier , or a bad boy ?sx " A tough decision to make .sx Half the fun of being a boy was in doing the things you were forbidden to do .sx On the other hand , to be a soldier .sx .! The picture of snorting horses and blue uniforms and sheathed sabres was too fresh in his mind .sx " A soldier , Mister Brock .sx " " Promise ?sx On the honour of a soldier ?sx " The large eyes lit up .sx " I can do that ?sx I can promise- like a soldier ?sx " " You can .sx " " I do it , Mister Brock .sx I promise , like a soldier .sx " " No more going to the mine , then .sx " " No sir , Mister Brock .sx Soldier's promise .sx " Chapter Eight .sx It was late in the afternoon before Magdalena returned the cleaned and mended clothes .sx Saddling Rusty as soon as he was dressed , Brock cut eastward in search of the Stevens' place .sx As long as he felt compelled to look into the shooting of the Sheriff , he might as well visit the victim's late home .sx Maybe Stevens' niece could furnish a clue , he told himself , as the proud chestnut stretched limber legs across the rocky soil .sx His interest was purely in the shooting !sx Nothing else !sx Topping a slight rise , he looked down on a squat white-painted frame cottage- a square box dumped in the middle of the drab desert with a white slat fence girdling it in uneven lines .sx Two low stringy shrubs afforded the only touch of green within sight .sx A weathered unpainted stable stood about fifty feet behind the cottage , and a man came out of it , carrying a shovel and bucket , and walked unhurriedly around the side .sx A dull orange shirt hung loosely over dust brown pants ; a red band circling long black strands of hair clearly identified him as an Indian .sx Touching Rusty , Brock guided the horse down the slope to the white picket gate , dismounting as the cottage door opened .sx She stood framed in the doorway , a formal full-length portrait with hands clasped before her , head high .sx The soft violet eyes- well , they were neither soft nor violet at the moment .sx " Just what do you want here , Mister Taylor ?sx " Whatever it was , he was not being invited to find it .sx " Why .sx . " He hesitated , hat in hand .sx " Just dropped by to say hello , Miss Stevens .sx We're neighbours , y'know .sx " " Mister Carlyle told me .sx " He had been certain the eyes were more violet than grey .sx Could it have been the black dress of mourning that brought out such warm lights last evening ?sx Surely , the gown she now wore- corn-flower blue , waist-tight with full skirt- should complement tender violet tints instead of accentuating the cold impersonal grey stare that challenged him .sx " Just thought I'd say hello , " he repeated awkwardly .sx " See if there's anything I can do to- " " I assure you , sir , there is nothing worth spying on !sx " " Spying ?sx " " Mister Carlyle told me !sx " " Told you what , ma'am ?sx " He forced a smile on his lips , even though it had left his voice .sx " Of your- profession !sx I was compelled to tolerate Yankee subjugation back home , sir .sx I hoped to be free of it out here .sx At least I could evade them when I saw blue uniforms .sx " " Sorry you feel that way , ma'am .sx But I don't see what that has to do with calling me a spy .sx " " Please don't try to brazen it out , Mister Taylor- if that is your name !sx Your companions have the questionable decency to show their colours , but you .sx . " " Yes .sx .? But me ?sx " She leaned forward , small fists clenched white at her sides .sx Sparking each word with bitter contempt , she accused him with shaking vehemence .sx " You pose as something you never were !sx Trying to win your way into Mister Carlyle's confidence , just to spy on him for your Yankee masters !sx " " Now just a minute , young lady !sx " His face reddened , darkening the welts and bruises , and emphasizing the purple bulge under the right eye .sx " I don't like being called a spy !sx " " Call it what you will !sx There's a nastier term for it !sx " She stepped back , slamming the door shut , leaving him fuming as he gripped the white picket fence .sx Mister Carlyle told me !sx Oh , he did , did he !sx Jamming the hat on his head , Brock leaped to Rusty's back , swung him towards the mine .sx He'd look there first and find out just what in the blazing hell Mister Carlyle had told her !sx A thin freckled-faced youth sauntered from around the far side of the loading platform as Brock drew Rusty to a rearing halt at the mine .sx The boy's black hat sat far back on his head ; his thumbs were hooked in a wide cartridge belt .sx The hog leg butt of a long pistol stuck out from a holster that was tied to his skinny thigh .sx " Mister Carlyle around ?sx " Brock asked .sx " What you want 'im fer ?sx " The boy tried to make the age-changing voice sound hard , and it might have sounded ludicrous had it not been for the reckless chill shimmering in cat-yellow eyes .sx " Want to see him , " Brock said .sx " Know where he is ?sx " " Maybe .sx Who are you ?sx " " Neighbour .sx Is Carlyle here ?sx " The boy spat between his teeth- just like O'Shay- and pressed his thumbs down on the pistol belt- just like Clanton .sx He tried to squint his eyes like Beeman when he said , " Don't see 'im , do yuh ?sx " Brock looked the boy over from shabby boots to over-sized hat .sx " What are you trying to do , sonny ?sx Play like you're a man ?sx " A freckled hand flashed to the hog leg butt .sx The gawky frame tensed .sx Brock said , " Better be careful who you play with , sonny .sx " He swung Rusty around and toed him into a run without seeing the black-haired man waiting motionlessly behind the opposite side of the platform .sx Gimpy Beckett limped up to the youth as Brock disappeared down the grade .sx " See him before ?sx " he growled .sx The boy shook his head .sx " I shoulda give it to him !sx " Gimpy glared at the boy .sx " Listen , Kid .sx Just 'cause you shot one man , don't feel like you can shoot 'em all !sx " " You don't need to tell me .sx " " I am tellin' you !sx Get snotty with me , youngster , and I'll take back that hog leg and warm your skinny butts with it .sx Carlyle told me to learn you , and by God I will !sx " He turned away and limped to the shade of the mine office .sx Arkie was standing next to the saloon's hitching rail , minding the red-wheeled chaise , when Brock rode up .sx The black stallion reared in the shafts as Rusty drew close , and Arkie had to hang on with both hands .sx " Heck all !sx " Arkie scolded Brock over his shoulder , " You know better'n to bring a horse that close to Jet !sx Mister Carlyle sure give it to yuh , he finds out !sx " From the saddle , Brock said , " You just tell me where Carlyle is and I'll see that he finds out .sx " Arkie gaped up at him .sx " You talkin' 'bout Mister Carlyle ?sx " " Where is he ?sx " Brock nodded towards the saloon .sx " In there ?sx " Stunned , Arkie gasped , " You mean you gonna tell Mister Carlyle ?sx " Dismounting , Brock slip-knotted the reins around the end post of the hitch rail .sx " Keep that black devil away from Rusty or you'll have a sick horse on your hands , " he warned , and leaped to the wooden sidewalk .sx About to push open the swinging doors , he stopped as a woman touched his arm .sx A gaunt little creature , her pinched face seemed more eyes than anything else .sx A faded blue sun-bonnet hid most of the face and all of her hair , and she clutched a thin grey shawl as though the sun's rays were streaks of penetrating sleet .sx Her long full skirt , a worn drab plaid , swept the boardwalk in uneven folds .sx " I must see you , Mister Taylor , " she whispered , leaning close .sx " Just for a minute .sx Please .sx " Brock glanced impatiently inside the saloon .sx " Yes , ma'am ?sx " " Over here .sx " She led him to the second building past the saloon .sx " Look , ma'am .sx " He tried to sound patient .sx " I have business to attend to .sx I'll be glad to listen if- " " You don't remember me Mister Taylor ?sx " The interruption caught him by surprise .sx Remember this frail little old woman ?sx He'd never seen her before in his life .sx