June was still lying where they had dropped her. Silver closed the front door and came back to her. It was a simple task for him to take the gag and ropes off her and help her to a chair, where she sagged wearily. The gag had cut her lips, and there was blood on her wrists, cut by the ropes. Silver said nothing. His face was bruised and one sleeve of his shirt was almost torn off. June stared at him, panting nervously, as he calmly rolled a cigaret with steady fingers. “Why don’t you say something?” she asked, almost hysterically. He looked at her, a half-smile on his lips. “I dunno,” he said simply. “Don’t seem to be much to say.” “Well, what is it all about? Oh, why don’t you get excited? You sit there and roll a cigaret just as though nothing had happened. Who--which one did you shoot?” “I didn’t shoot,” he said slowly. “Bell shot McLeese. Mebbe he thought it was me. He didn’t have any cause to shoot Mac, that I know about. The door over there was too thick for me to hear much that was said, and I’m wonderin’ why they had you tied up.” June shook her head. She didn’t know. “Didn’t they tell yuh why?” “Oh, I don’t know what they talked about. Everything is so mixed up.” “Yeah, that’s right.” He lighted his cigaret and inhaled deeply. “It seems to me,” he said smiling quietly, “that you’ve kinda had a hard time gettin’ started on yore new job.” “Why did you have me kidnaped?” she asked. “Me? Lord love yuh, I never did.” “I’d like to believe you, but--” “Why should I?” “Well, I--I--you hate Park Reber.” “Yo’re not Park Reber.” “I--I work for him.” “Lotsa folks work for him, ma’am, and I never kidnaped any of them.” June bit her lip and studied Jack Silver, who looked at her frankly. He did not look like a man who would kidnap a woman. There was nothing of the sneak about him. “What do you do for a living?” she asked bluntly. “Trappin’, mostly. I had a small herd of cattle a few years ago, but Park Reber’s men killed ’em off. He didn’t want me to get a start. In the winter I trap from here over into the Clear Valley side of the range. I make a good livin’.” “What do you do with the cattle you steal from Park Reber?” It was a very blunt question. Jack Silver’s eyes did not shift, but narrowed slightly, and for several moments he did not speak. Then-- “I’ve never stolen a cow from Park Reber.” “That doesn’t check up with what I’ve heard, Mr. Silver.” “Probably not, ma’am, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve eaten Diamond R beef. He killed off my cattle, didn’t he? When I needed a piece of beef real bad, I took it. Reber hates me. He says he hates me because I steal his cattle, but he’s a liar.” “Is it because he wants all the valley?” “No, it’s because I’ve got Cheyenne blood in me. You’ve heard his story?” “About the Indians killing his wife?” “Stealin’ her, ma’am. Nobody knows how she died--if she did die.” “I’m sorry,” said June simply. “About my blood?” Silver smiled bitterly. “I can’t help it.”