"You bet I'm not. He'll cut out that kind o' talk right now," he said. The eyes of Ramona met his, and she knew she was safe. This man had the respect for a good woman that was characteristic of the turbulent West in its most lawless days. He might be a miscreant and a murderer, but he would fight at the drop of a hat in response to the appeal of any woman who was "straight." "Playin' up to Clint, are you, Homer?" sneered the other man. "You better take her straight home like she wants, since you're so friendly to the family." "That's exactly what I'm goin' to do," retorted Dinsmore. "Any objections?" Gurley dropped his sneer instantly. His alarm voiced itself in a wheedling apology. "I didn't go for to rile you, Homer. O' course you cayn't do that. We got to stick together. The Indians is one reason. An' there's another. No need for me to tell you what it is." "You'll have to wait for me in the canon till I get back. It's not far from here to you-know-where. I'm goin' to take the horses an' see this girl back to her home." "You're good," Ramona said simply. "You're not figurin' on takin' my horse, are you?" Gurley burst out with an oath. "You've done guessed it, Steve. You'll have to hoof it into the canon." "Like hell I will. Take another think, my friend." The eyes of the men clashed, one pair filled with impotent rage, the other cold and hard as polished steel on a frosty morning. Gurley yielded sullenly. "It's no square deal, Homer. We didn't bring her here. Why cayn't she go along with us an' hole up till the 'Paches are gone an' till ... things kinda settle down?" "Because she's got no business with folks like us. Her place is back at the A T O, an' that's where I aim to take her. She's had one hell of a time, if you ask me. What that kid needs is for her home folks to tuck her up in bed an' send her to sleep. She's had about all the trouble a li'l' trick like her can stand, I shouldn't wonder." "You ain't her nurse," growled Gurley. "That's why I'm goin' to take her home to those that are. 'Nuff said, Steve. What I say goes." "You act mighty high-heeled," grumbled the other man. "Mebbeso," replied Dinsmore curtly. "Saddle the horses, Steve." "I dunno as I'm yore horse-rustler," mumbled Gurley, smothering his sullen rage. None the less he rose slowly and shuffled away toward the hobbled horses. 'Mona touched Dinsmore on the sleeve. Her soft eyes poured gratitude on him. "I'll remember this as long as I live. No matter what anybody says I'll always know that you're good."