“Yes—Cattle Kate would make it hard—if she had a reason,” he said and there was a note of bitterness in his low voice, “only God and I know how hard.” “Has she——” Nance asked and hesitated, “has she made it hard for—for you?” Somehow she dreaded his reply. It was long in coming, and then it was cryptic. “Vicariously. For one other she made it hard to the last bitter dregs—to that unfashionable but sometimes existent thing, a broken heart, and at last to death itself. To death in black disgrace.” Nance caught her breath in dismayed sympathy. “She is cold as stone,” went on the man, “brilliant, strong, and ruthless. She sets herself a point and cleaves straight to it regardless of who or what she tramples on the way.” “Yes—like wanting our land. She means to get it one way or another.” “Exactly. That rope you told me of was a bold stroke for it. Your father was gone—your brother was the only other male of your family. With him gone, too, you should have been easy.” “It was murder she meant,” said Nance, “no less. We’ve always known that.” “And what about your father’s death? Tell me about that—if it is not too painful.” “We don’t know much about it. Our Pappy was a mountaineer—born in the Kentucky hills, lived in Missouri, a man who loved the outdoors. He was a hunter and a woodsman. He was careful, never took chances. That’s why we’ve never been reconciled to the accident that killed him—he was found at the foot of Rainbow Cliff, as if he’d fallen down it. And no one in this country has ever been known to reach the top of that spine.” “Have you ever thought that perhaps he didn’t fall. That he might have been put there as a way to cover a—crime?” Nance shook her head. “Every bone in his body was broken,” she said sadly, “he was as loose as a bag of sand. He fell down Rainbow Cliff all right—but how it happened, that’s what we’d love to know.” “And probably never will,” said Fair. “No.” They sat for a time in silence. The little wind blew in their faces, sweet with its fresh and nameless suggestion of flowing water. Out in the shadows the big black horse stood perfectly still, his peaceful breath scarce lifting his sides. The Collie was silent, though his handsome head was up, his sharp ears lifted above his ruff. The child in Fair’s lap continued to sleep. It seemed to Nance Allison that the night had never been so calm before, the stars so bright, the unspeakable majesty of the heavens so apparent. She wondered how it was possible to feel so safe and at peace in the face of this last disaster, to look to the future once more with hope. The little smile was pulling at her lips again, her long blue eyes were soft with hidden light. And then, out of the stillness and starlight, from somewhere across the river, there came the clear crack of a high-power gun, the thud of a ball in wood. With one sweep of his right arm Fair flung Nance back upon the floor, himself and the child beside her.