I looked sharply at the woman beside me. "My mother always said he was buried in Denver, near where we used to live."

"Maybe she didn't want you to know, what with all the trouble connected with that time. I guess Mrs. Morgan persuaded your mother to let her bury him here."

In spite of the sun I felt suddenly chilled in this unsheltered i68 place. Wind blew down the valley between the peaks, and I turned up my jacket collar.

"Can you show me which grave is his?"

She pointed. "Over there in the corner-the one that's been taken care of so carefully. She sends somebody over every week with flowers. And she has Jon keep the plot clear. Of course Jon has graves of his own here to look after."

As she threaded her way among the stones, I followed, with Red coming along beside me. My father's grave was near one of the retaining walls at the top of the little cemetery, where the mountain rose above, dwarfing it still more. Again the stone was of granite, and I bent over the inscribed lettering. It was simple enough. Just my father's name, the date of his birth, and the date of his death-the year of my eighth birthday. I touched the stone and it seemed icy in this shady spot by the wall-as though it somehow rejected me.

That was being whimsical, and I turned to walk among the other graves. So many old dates and forgotten names. No one cared anymore that some distant cousin who bore the Morgan name had been born in Wales. Perhaps no one even remembered how he had died or whom he had loved and fathered. It didn't matter anymore. None of it mattered.

"Makes you think, doesn't it?" Belle said beside me. "These over here are Jon Maddocks' family. His father and mother. And his wife."

I looked down at the three graves. "I didn't know he'd been married."

"It didn't last all that long. She was a wild little thing-like one of those chipmunks-and she didn't last much longer. The baby is buried with her."

Sorrow for the younger Jon rose in me, and for my fatherfor all of them. I wrenched my thoughts away from death. It was life I must deal with now.

169.

"You seemed different yesterday at Timberline," I said to Belle, drawn to her, however reluctantly.

"That's what I've grown into," she said, tipping her chin at me in slight defiance. "Mark's world. When I come out here, maybe I'm trying to find me the way I used to be. I think I had stronger feelings about everything then than I do now. But you'd better not tell Mark-he'd laugh at me. He only believes in the present and in the kind of future he wants to make happen."

"How do you feel about that? I mean about the future he plans for all this."

Under my eyes she seemed to toughen and harden a little. "I'm on his side-make no mistake. I owe him a lot, and what he tells me I'll do."

This was what I expected of her, but I pushed a little more. "I wonder what he was like as a boy."

"That's not something he talks about, and he doesn't enjoy questions."

Nevertheless, I wanted answers. "How did you happen to meet him?"

"I don't like questions much either," she said, and turned away from me.

I didn't want to let her go. She had shown me a softer side, and I wanted to know more about her-more about any of them over at the Timberline.

"I wonder why Mark Ingram bothers to fight an old woman like my grandmother. If he would just wait and let her alone, she might die quietly. Then perhaps everything would come his way. Why upset her now?"

"Mark's not given to waiting," Belle said. "He wants what he wants right away. And I can tell you he means to have it. He means to get things started up the valley soon. He needs time to clear the slopes and put up a lodge in Domino. And he's not going to let Mrs. Morgan hold him off much longer."

1/0.

"But he wants more than that, doesn't he? He wants to punish her in some way. Because a long time ago Noah Armand was his friend. What did my grandmother do to Noah Armand?"

The question didn't seem to upset her. "I don't know anything about that. I just know that Mark Ingram gets what he goes after. One way or another. And you'd better remember that. Sometimes it's just as well to be afraid."

She was entirely on his side, and her words carried a hint of threat. Just the same, an obstinacy that had its roots in anger was rising in me.

"I'm not going to let Mark Ingram scare me. It's not going to be all that easy for him to win this time. I think perhaps I'll stay and see this through." Suddenly the plan I needed was burgeoning.

Belle gaped at me. "You're crazy if you set yourself against Mark. He'll squash you like he'd squash a bug."

"Maybe not," I said. "What if the land comes to me when she's gone? I don't care about her money or any of her other property, but if she wants to leave me that house in Domino and the Jasper house as well, I might stay right here and hold out against Mark Ingram."

There! I was promising what Jon wanted. I was committing myself, and now I didn't want to turn back.

She looked a little frightened. "I don't think you're very smart."

"Why not? Why shouldn't I stay and live in Morgan House if I choose?"

"You're liable to find out why not," she told me. "If you lock horns with Mark Ingram, you're liable to find out." She started away from me, and then stopped and looked back. "How is she? Mrs. Morgan, I mean."

"Sometimes she seems fine. Sometimes not. Jon says that when you were there she wasn't kept sedated so much of the time."

171.

"Is that what they're doing to her-Caleb and that nurse? What is that woman up to, anyway?"

"What do you mean?"

"Last night she came sneaking up to the hotel real late."

"I've wondered if she could be tied up with Mark Ingram in some way."

If I expected to get a rise out of her, I was disappointed. She smiled at me, and it was a smile I didn't trust-a smile that hid too much that I wanted to know.

"I wouldn't put it past her," she said.

"I'm going to get rid of Gail Cullen if I can."

"Not a bad idea."

Of course she would be pleased if I rid her of a younger rival. But her next words surprised me.

"Look, Miss Morgan, if you get in a jam anytime with your grandmother, let me know. Mark wouldn't approve, but I could fill in in a pinch. Though not for long."

"Thanks. I'll remember that," I said.

She waved a hand at me and went off down the hillside. I watched her go, more than a little puzzled. If it hadn't been for Mark Ingram, I might have liked Belle Durant. There was a natural wisdom in her, and perhaps more generosity than she was always willing to show.

For a few moments longer I stood beside the grave where my father was buried, trying to evoke some memory of him. It ought to be possible, here of all places. But nothing came to me out of the past. Nevertheless, I was experiencing an oddly euphoric feeling because I had at last committed myself. I still had no power to back up my words. I didn't even know if Persis Morgan wanted this. Yet I had taken a decisive step in my own mind. I had stopped running. I wasn't hiding, I wasn't leaning.

I wondered what Mark Ingram would do when he knew.

i/a This wasn't going to be an easy road I had chosen, and it might even be dangerous.

Red had been roving among the stones in search of wildlife, and I called him to me and clipped on his leash. As we started down the hillside I kept him close to me, lest he be tempted to run off in all directions. When I came to an outcropping of rock that offered a sweep of all the valley and enclosing mountains, with Old Desolate commanding the view, I climbed upon it and stood for a moment searching for Belle Durant.

As I studied the land below, she emerged on the far side of the pine grove, skirting Morgan property the long way around, hurrying toward home-toward Mark Ingram. I wondered how much she was his captive.

One thing I was sure about. I would have to tell Persis Morgan quickly of my stand. I would have to admit to what was now mere boasting and let her know that I thought she was right in her resistance to Mark Ingram. Even if she was wrong, she must do what she most wanted to do-hold on to her house and the valley.

Euphoria still lifted my steps as Red and I followed the downhill trail to the gate I had come through a little while ago. I walked more slowly now, trying to gather my thoughts so that I could face Persis again and sound more sensible than I felt. I went through the gate and neared Jon's small cabin, wondering idly if he had put it up himself, as seemed likely. It was no primitive cabin. The roof had a good overhang of extended logs, and the windows were wide enough to offer a view of ranch and mountains.

Had he lived here with the "wild little thing" who had been his wife, and who now slept with their baby in a mountain cemetery? Again I felt a personal grief, as though his loss were mine. Yet it was difficult to think of Jon as married, since he always seemed so much a loner.

Though the cabin door stood open, I hesitated, not sure if I wanted to see him right now. My sense of his loss, so newly fresh in me, as well as the knowledge of the step I'd just taken, blocked my way. This was what Jon wanted of me, yet it mustn't be idle boasting when I told him. I sought to accomplish something real first. Nevertheless, I might stop and speak to him for a moment. About other things.

I approached the cabin door and looked inside. Warm, earth-colored Indian rugs lay on the floor, and an ocher and red weaving hung diagonally over the stone mantelpiece. Some of the furniture looked beautifully hand-hewn, and there were two pottery jars set at either side of the door. A rather Spanish touch.

"Jon?" I called, and then spoke his name again, more loudly.

There was still no answer, but now I heard sounds from the direction of the barn-a man's voice raised in a shout, the neighing of a horse. As I stood watching, two men on horseback came around the corner of the barn and went galloping furiously toward the far gate of the property. It had been left open, and they went through without stopping, dust flying beneath the hooves of their horses as they pounded away up the valley. Grotesquely, incongruously, both men wore ski maskssomehow ugly and inhuman when there was no skiing.

The two hadn't looked my way, and I didn't think they had seen me. Jon was nowhere in sight, and I began to run, with Red beside me. In moments we reached the barn, and I dropped his leash. The stool where Jon had sat when I'd seen him that first time had been knocked over, and his guitar lay on the ground. I ran inside and found him there, just within the door. He had risen to his knees, and there was blood on his face, more seeping through the shoulder of his torn shirt. Shocked and frightened, I ran to bend over him.

"Can you get up? Can you stand? Let me help you to your cabin."

He seemed dazed, uncertain, and I held his arm as he strug- .

gled to his feet. He put an arm about my shoulders, leaning heavily, and we moved slowly toward the cabin. Close as it was, it seemed a mile away, but we managed to reach it. I helped him up the low step and over to the couch by the fireplace before he sagged again. There weren't many rooms, and I found the bath, caught up a towel, dampened it, and ran back to him.

A lump was rising on his head, and several lacerations were bleeding. I wiped his cut cheek and saw that he was reviving.

"I'll call the house," I said. "Gail can help. Where is Sam?"

"He's gone to bring the horses in from the corral. There's a phone over there."

I found the telephone on a low table and sat beside it, dialing quickly. Caleb answered and summoned Gail. I told her that Jon had been hurt.

She wasted no time, sounding professional for once. "I'll be there right away."

"She's coming," I told Jon. I wanted to kneel beside him, put my arms about him-neither of which I'd dare to do. The shock of seeing him hurt had shaken me badly. "Can I fix you anything?" I managed.

"Coffee might help."

I left him holding the towel to his face and went into the small galley kitchen. When I'd started coffee in a percolator, I found cup and saucer and set up a small tray. Then I ran back to see how he was doing.

"I'm okay." His voice was stronger now. "Don't look so scared. If they'd meant to kill me, they could have."

"Of course I'm scared. I saw those men galloping away. Can you talk about what happened?"

He took a deep breath. "I think there were two of them. I had only a glimpse before they jumped me. Ingram's men, of course."

Belle's words up in the cemetery came back to me-that I'd '75.

better remember to be frightened. Now I was. Terribly frightened.

I went back to the kitchen for the coffee and poured him a cup, brought it to the couch where he lay, trying not to let it rattle in my hands. He sat up gingerly to sip the hot drink as I held it for him.

"Tell me what you saw," he said.

Now at least I could kneel on the floor close to him. "There were two men in Levi's and jackets. No hats, but they wore ski masks. One green and one blue. Both horses were roan, I think."

"Ingram has some of his own hands working around Jasper."

"But why would he have you beaten like this?"

"I've already been warned to stay out of your grandmother's affairs. Indirectly warned, of course. Caleb Hawes delivered a message from Ingrarn just recently. He likes a pretense of velvet gloves. Since I've paid no attention and have been throwing my weight against him, he seems to have taken off the gloves. He means business now." Jon moved his head angrily and winced. "G.o.d! I can't think. Why wasn't I more careful? But I suppose I didn't expect much more than threats. Not right off. But you'd better follow your hunch and get away, Laurie."

"I'm not leaving." I thrust back the depleting fear. "I don't want to see my grandmother being pushed around Now what they've done to you makes it all the worse. If it was Mark Ingrarn who ordered this, he can't be allowed to get away with it."

Jon managed a faint smile. "Hooray for us! But what's just happened makes a difference. This may be a lot nastier than I expected. So maybe it's better if you don't stay."

"I'm staying," I told him, I felt increasingly angry, and I was growing stubborn too, stubborn enough to overcome my fears.

The sound of a car reached us from outside, corning down the rough track from the house. I ran to the door and saw Caleb, Gail, and Hillary get out of the jeep and hurry toward the cabin. Gail ran ahead into the room, carrying a small flight bag.

"Let me see," she said, bending over Jon.

"What happened to him?" Caleb demanded.

I repeated my account of what I'd seen and what Jon had told me.

Caleb listened and nodded. "Yes, I can believe that Ingram might pull just this sort of thing. It's a threat. He's begun to put on pressure."

"You can't let him get away with it," I said.

"And just what do you think can be done?" He was frowning at me, his mouth corners turned down.

Hillary had been moving about the room, and I knew he wasn't thinking so much about Jon as he was admiring an interesting setting, a dramatic situation. But now he surprised me.

"You can throw Ingram out," he said.

Even Gail turned her head to stare at him. Jon had been lying with his eyes closed, but now he opened them and looked at me with a faint grin.

"The cavalry is moving in," I said. "If we all work together, perhaps we can throw him out."

Caleb had no patience with either Hillary's words or mine. "There isn't any cavalry."

"Sure there is." Jon winced under Gail's touch, and then went on. "She's standing right over there looking like Persis Morgan. Better tell them, Laurie."

I had nothing to tell, but I did my best in Jon's support. "It's just that I've decided to stay for a while and see if there is something specific that can be done to stop Mark Ingram's plans."