“Yes, I missed the trunk.” Taisie was very pale, her voice a whisper. “Mr. Dan McMasters, did you ever see that trunk? I hate to ask you.” “Oh, yes; I did.” “What was in it?” “I don’t know. It was open, close to me, where I sat in the parlor. I saw some lace, some women’s gloves, or mitts. I didn’t look again.” “Did you see it after that?” “Yes.” “Where was it?” “Near the gate—outside the gate, in the edge of the brush. I thought it odd it should be there. I was sure I’d seen it up at the house, the only time I was in the house. You were there.” “Shore I was! She said all her father’s land scrip was in that box; we all said it’d be worth money some day to any cowman. You heard it. You knowed where the trunk was and what was in it.” “Yes; so did you.” “Then why did you put it in your wagon that was going back to Gonzales.” “I did not. That is either a mistake or a lie.” “But it was there. Sanchez found it there. He taken it and put it in Anita’s carreta. It’s there now. We declare that to you. It was missing from the house. It was found in yore wagon. Yore wagon was going back home. That was right where some men was laying up in the brush when you left. You didn’t let me foller them. You didn’t show up when them same men—we proved by the split-hoof track—was trying to cut our herd. Only the Rangers saved that. Ef you’re a Ranger, why wasn’t you there?” “I’ll not have any man ask me such questions.” “Don’t tell us what you’ll have or won’t have. You’ll have what we give you, no more, no less. Explain how come that trunk in your wagon. Not a man on Del Sol except you and me knowed what was in it or where it was. Now who done put it in yore wagon? It looked right easy to sneak that south while we was going north, huh? And it with half a million acres in it.” “How come him to bring ary wagon up here anyhow?” demanded Cal Taney, a top rider on Del Sol. “I wouldn’t ask him that,” said Del Williams quietly. “But I do”—retorted Nabours. “Well, I had some supplies, you know,” answered McMasters. “A wagon goes better than a cart. You said you didn’t want my wagon.” “A wagon carries trunks or boxes better.” “Yes.” “Shore! Was you planning fer a load both ways—what you’d kerry in a wagon from Del Sol?” “You may guess,” said McMasters, suddenly dull red. “Most of you have guessed.” “We have!” asserted Nabours. “Miss Taisie, ma’am”—he turned to the white-faced girl—“this here is hard for you. Del won’t talk and won’t vote. The rest of us thinks the trunk and wagon is not explained. Am I right, men?” Four men nodded. Del Williams, gentleman in rags, sat staring straight ahead. The gray eyes of Dan McMasters were fixed on the pale face of the woman whom now he knew he had loved since first he saw her, would always love. What price?