“Margie, I don’t want to pry into yore private affairs, but I’d like to know if Sam Keenan ever made love to you?” Margie Edwards’ laugh sounded forced, but she said, “It wouldn’t be anything new--if he did, Skeeter.” “Wanted to marry yuh, eh?” “Yes. But I wouldn’t marry him, Skeeter. I told him I was waiting for Hooty to come back, and he said--well, he said I’d have a mighty long wait. I told him I’d get along all right.” “Were Hooty and Sam Keenan good friends?” “Well I don’t know if they were good friends, but they certainly weren’t enemies, Skeeter. But what is all this about? You ask questions like a lawyer.” “I’m tryin’ to make two and two equal six, Margie. I kind of feel that I’ve woke up some sleepin’ dogs in Road-Runner Valley, and they ain’t happy about havin’ their sleep interrupted. I’ll be on my way to the ranch, I reckon, but I’ll be seein’ yuh again, I hope.” “Be careful,” she warned. “I don’t know what you are trying to do, but it is probably something dangerous.” “I like it,” he said, smiling at her. “Don’t worry, Margie; this is only Tuesday.” He closed the door behind him, leaving her wondering what he meant about this only being Tuesday. It was very dark out at the old fence, and Skeeter Bill almost had to find his horse by feel rather than by sight. As he slid the reins over the horse’s head, something told him that danger was near him. There had not been a sound, but some sixth sense warned him. Instantly he ducked low, intending to slide under the horse but a hissing rope slashed across his face, jerking tight over the bridge of his nose, and he was yanked backwards into the dirt. The horse whirled in against the fence when Skeeter Bill went down, and a voice snapped a curse. Skeeter came down on one hip and elbow, and for a fraction of a second the rope slacked. In that fraction, Skeeter Bill drew his gun and shot blindly, trying to use that tightening rope as a guide. A man yelled sharply, and the rope fell away. Quickly Bill jerked the rope from his eyes, going flat, gun ready. A shot blasted out, and the whirling horse went completely over Skeeter Bill but did not strike him. He heard a man running away along the fence as he got to his feet and caught his horse. Margie called from the doorway: “Skeeter Bill! Skeeter, are you hurt?” “I’m all right, Margie,” he called. “Somebody was just foolin’. See yuh later.” The two kids crowded in behind their mother, questioning her about the shooting but she was unable to tell them what happened, except that Skeeter Bill said he was all right. “I’ll betcha he’s a ring-tailed wolf in a fight,” declared young Bill proudly. “Look at them shoulders! Man, I hope I grow up to be as good a man as he is. Mom, I bet dad would like that.” “Yes, I believe he would, Bill. Now go back to bed and forget it. Skeeter Bill can take care of himself.”