It was good to know that Jon wouldn't be spending tonight alone, and I wandered back to the house, still whistling now and then for Red. But I could give no more time to the search for him. He couldn't have gone far within the enclosure, and if he didn't show up I would look for him seriously tomorrow.

Right now I had to dress for dinner. My one short blue dress would have to do, since I didn't think a long gown was called for.

While I dressed I tried to suppress the thought about Persis Morgan that I'd been holding at bay. If she had fired that shot, killing my father, and this knowledge had lived with her all these years, it might explain her retreat, her inability to face my mother. I wondered what Caleb would say if I put this question to him.

Hillary arrived early, and as always, he was sensitive to my mood. We walked around outside to escape the forbidding presence of the house. Even the dark mountains closing us in made me less uncomfortable than the interior of the house itself. Hillary held my hand, as he'd so often done when I needed to be quiet-though that wasn't what I wanted from him now. What I needed was an understanding that would help me to wisdom and courage. He could fall into any role that was required of him, and his attention was exactly right. I wanted to cry, "Where are you? What are you thinking?" Perhaps the unexpected glimpse I'd had of my mother as a woman had turned everything around in my mind, so that now I even looked at Hillary in a different way.

I tried to shrug such thoughts aside so that I could concentrate on telling him everything. About the pictures in the 189.

alb.u.m. About wandering up to the cemetery and finding Belle Durant there among her withered wreaths. He whistled in surprise when I told him for the first time of the wreath hung on my door.

His reaction, however, was only to try to soothe and distract me. "Don't worry about all this, honey. Just try to stand it for a little while longer. Tomorrow you must come to the Opera House with me. I really want you to see it."

Being distracted and soothed wasn't enough at the moment, but he sounded so excited, so keyed up about the theater, that I tried to listen. Not until he had old me about his own afternoon did I voice my concern over Red.

"He'll be all right," Hillary a.s.sured me. "Tomorrow we'll ride around the fence enclosure and see if we can find him. He's probably enjoying his freedom, and he'll come in when he's hungry enough."

For the first time I found myself admitting that there might be a certain shallowness about Hillary. Something I'd never been willing to face before.

When we returned to the porch, Gail and Caleb were waiting for us. Gail looked slim in something yellow and shimmery, with gold bangles forming a cuff on one arm. My raw silk dress seemed understated, and that suited me well enough. For me this evening might be more a field of battle than a social occasion.

Caleb drove us over in the jeep, left it in the empty street outside the hotel, and ushered us up the steps.

I had an increasingly unsettled feeling about the prospect of dining with Mark Ingram. Sooner or later he must be made aware of our suspicions concerning the attack upon Jon. And there were questions about Noah Armand that I wanted to ask, since once Ingram and he had been friends. Now this man was more than ever my grandmother's enemy, and he was mine too-the man I had promised her to stay and fight.

190.

In the last half hour that we'd been together Hillary had grown a little restive. He could be marvelously considerate and sympathetic, but not for too long at a time. What worried me was that I still didn't feel concerned enough. Without any volition of my own I seemed to have turned some psychological corner, so that I was walking in a new direction. Where it led I didn't know, but only part of the time was I moving to Hillary's tune. Another part of me was back in the cabin with Jon.

When we entered the hotel lobby, Belle Durant came to greet us. She wore no Gay Nineties costume tonight, but was dressed in a generous creation that floated softly when she moved. Her own red hair was drawn back in a loose knot at the nape of her neck, and she had used makeup more adroitly than usual, so that I could see for the first time what a handsome woman she really was. The illusion of being glamorous and poised lasted until she opened her mouth. Then her rather harsh tones grated on the ear and she was the old Belle. Remembering our talk in the cemetery, I felt undecided about her. I wasn't wholly convinced that she had thrown away all loyalty to Persis Morgan because of Mark Ingram.

"Mark had to work late," she told us. "But he'll be down soon-and hungry."

An affair of masked riders that might occupy his attention? I wondered.

At least it was a relief to be away from Morgan House with all its tensions. Whatever happened tonight must be played by ear, and these tensions were different. For the moment I needed only to relax-and wait.

Gail and Hillary were obviously ready to enjoy the evening. Since their time together at the Opera House, they had lapsed into an easy, slightly flirtatious relationship that meant little or nothing. At least to Hillary. I knew it was a manner he adopted with most women. But did she? There were times when I igi glimpsed a certain edginess in Gail, and I continued to wonder what game she might be playing.

Besides me, Caleb was the only one to give any real evidence of uneasiness over this dinner. He had never wanted to come, and he wouldn't be here now if it had not been for Persis Morgan's insistence.

When he finally appeared, Mark Ingram seemed more of a dramatic figure than ever, with his silvery hair and his stylized Bill Cody beard and mustache. The silver-headed cane that helped to disguise his limp took nothing from the impressive effect he made. Again he wore the gray that suited him so well, with a turquoise bola tie, its black strings tipped in silver, and again he was warmly affable-the gracious host. What the affability concealed as he looked us over, there was no telling, and I found myself watching him with new eyes. We had evidence now of his being as dangerous as Belle had warned me, and I knew that I was afraid of him as I hadn't been before. There was in this man a willingness to be ruthless that would make him a formidable enemy. It would be very easy to let a growing fear of him defeat me, and I must not let that happen.

Dinner was served in one of the private dining rooms of the hotel. A small room, once more with crimson draperies, a dark red rug and red leather chairs, brightened with touches of gold and white and crystal. The linen was dazzling, the silver polished till it shone, and there were flowers on the table, as I'd once imagined. Hothouse, undoubtedly, brought up from Boulder, in an a.s.sortment of blue and gold and scarlet. All a little incongruous, all make-believe in this remote and unattended spot, but an indication of the wealth and power Mark Ingram had at his disposal.

One thing in particular I noticed, and that was his surprisingly courtly treatment of Belle Durant. His look seemed to soften and approve when it rested on her, and I wondered if this hard, powerful man was capable after all of some affection.

192.

Certainly Belle seemed comfortable, and of us all the least intimidated by him.

For me, however, all this was a matter of marking time. Sooner or later something had to happen, something must be said. The curtain must go up. I steeled myself by remembering Jon kneeling on the floor of the barn with blood running down his face. That was reality, against all this pretense.

It wasn't difficult for me to observe Mark Ingram, since he was easily the center of our attention. Even Hillary seemed to watch him intently, and I sensed a barely suppressed excitement in him, as though he, too, might be waiting for the explosion that had to come.

In particular I watched Gail in her att.i.tude toward Mark Ingram. She seemed clearly fascinated by him, and he flattered her now and then with some special attention. Perhaps Belle was the old love, of whom he was fond, but he would not be a man to overlook an attractive woman.

Only Caleb paid Ingram little attention, barely concealing his dislike. Nevertheless, he avoided any open offense.

A waiter in short white jacket and black tie-imported from where?-served us skillfully, aware of the critical eye of his employer. After smoked oysters we ate mountain trout, nicely boned, with parsley potatoes and a luscious mixture of herbed green peas and mushrooms. The salad, with its roquefort dressing, might have been just picked from the garden, and there was champagne carefully iced in a bucket. Jasper might be isolated, but Mark Ingram was already bringing in what was known as the civilized touch.

He was a considerate host, not monopolizing the talk, as he might easily have done, but drawing us out, even getting Caleb to discuss, however dryly, his father's days in the Denver law firm. All the while, an inner alarm was sounding for me. What was this pretense about? One of us had to break through into 193.

reality soon, and I knew it would have to be me. Never mind that this man frightened me-I would have to act.

Again the subject of the Forty-niners' Ball Ingram was planning came up. He had, he told us, already informed friends in at least three states, so they could be thinking about cqstumes.

"Those old seats have to come out of the orchestra section of the Opera House anyway, so we'll have a ready-made ballroom. And I'm going to bring in fiddlers for the occasion."

I listened to all this with a growing sense of anger. Everyone was behaving as though nothing at all had happened today. So what was I waiting for? It was past time to ring up the curtain.

"Have you heard what happened to Jon Haddocks this afternoon?" I spoke into a startled silence. "Jon was badly beaten and left in the barn by two men who attacked him."

I sounded much too abrupt, but Ingram gave me his sober interest at once. Belle murmured, "How awful!" Gail merely stared at her plate, while Caleb regarded me with a barely concealed horror.

I wasn't here to be polite and play this absurd game of host and guest. I was here to open the battle, and I only hoped that I would find the right weapons.

"My grandmother thinks you were responsible for what happened to Jon, Mr. Ingram," I said.

Hillary put a cautioning hand upon my arm, but Ingram remained calm, regarding me sadly, almost pityingly.

"The more I hear of your grandmother's condition," he said, "the more I am coming to feel that she's not much good anymore at managing her own affairs. Why should she make such an attack upon me?"

I kept my eyes fixed upon his face, lest I miss some nuance of expression. "Perhaps you're the one who can best answer that."

Ingram sipped champagne and waited for me to go on. No one else said anything.

194.

"This afternoon," I said, "I told my grandmother that I would like to stay and help her in any way I can. There are some of us who don't want to see Jasper and Dommo and the whole valley turned into just another cheap resort. Perhaps that will come someday, but not now."

"Well, good for you!" Belle applauded.

Ingram glanced at her and then back at me. He was still controlled, outwardly unperturbed. He would have long since faced the likelihood of my alliance with Persis Morgan.

Unexpectedly, Hillary came to my support. "Of course you can't let your grandmother down." He was watching Ingram with a certain bright anger that I wouldn't have thought he could feel.

Caleb put in his own dry words. "This is hardly a wise move on your part, Laurie. You will do nothing for your grandmother's state of health if you talk like this. She needs to get away."

"I'm beginning to think that there's nothing much wrong with her health," I answered heatedly. "Nothing but loneliness and discouragement and frustration."

"Hear, hear!" Belle remained undisturbed by another look from Mark Ingram. There was a light in her eyes as though she for one might enjoy the sound of guns in the street at high noon.

"You're in no position to know anything about her health," Gail said sharply.

Before I could answer, Ingram went on, his tone still gravely courteous. "I'm sorry you feel this way, Miss Morgan. It seems a rather narrow approach. When a lot of people should be able to enjoy this place, it's a shame to hold it back for the use of a few."

"Perhaps it's for the use of the land and everything that belongs to the land," I reminded him "I can't allow this argument to continue." Caleb seemed to '95.

come in on cue. But whose cue? I wondered. "I have wanted Mrs. Morgan to move down to Denver for some time. There she could be properly cared for, made comfortable, and we could look after her interests more conveniently. My firm has a certain guardianship, an obligation-"

"The move would kill her," I said flatly.

Our waiter came in to clear away dishes, and for a little while Belle took it upon herself to chat cheerfully in her hoa.r.s.e, slightly amused tones. I watched only Mark Ingram, and at last my concentrated attention began to get through to him. He must have been well accustomed to the looks of admiring women, but I was doing something that perhaps he hadn't experienced before. When he looked straight at me, I managed to stare back, and mine was no look of admiration. His eyes shifted, then came back, to find me still staring, and to my surprise a faint flush crept over his face.

Nevertheless, when the waiter was gone, he moved to a direct attack. It was as though Hillary, Caleb, Belle, and Gail no longer mattered at the table and we two were alone.

"I want to talk with your grandmother, Miss Morgan. I want to see her soon."

"I don't believe she wants to see you," I told him.

"I think she will change her mind. Perhaps you will give her a message for me. Can you do that?"

"It depends on what it is."

"You can tell her that I'm interested in learning what became of a man named Noah Armand when he left her house twenty years ago. You will tell her this, Miss Morgan?"

I was startled. This was the question I had meant to ask him. "What do you mean-what happened to him? I understand that he went away and wasn't heard from again. So how could my grandmother know what happened to him? I thought perhaps you might know-since you were once his friend."

"Just give her my message," he said.

196".

He had shaken and bested me, and I could no longer stare him down. Always the name of Noah Armand seemed to bring with it some vague and sinister threat. Something that I remembered-and didn't remember. Didn't want to remember?

When I glanced around the table, I saw that the others had each reacted in a different way. Caleb wore his usual mask of restraint, though now I knew there could be seething depths underneath. Gail seemed curiously expectant, as though she waited for something more from me. Hillary was watching Ingram with a fixed look, and he wasn't acting now. Only Belle still seemed at ease, still somewhat cynically amused, and quite sure of herself when it came to Ingram.

"You do love to drop bombsh.e.l.ls, don't you?" she said to him.

His smile was affectionate, and he seemed not to mind her occasional barbs. As he looked at her across the table, there was an instant when their eyes caught and something leaped between them. Something strangely deep and true. Ingram might be every bit the villain we believed, yet I had a feeling that he loved Belle Durant with whatever good and sound emotion was left in him. It was there for all to see, and I couldn't help but marvel a little at how infinitely complex any human being could be.

I turned to Belle. "Did you ever know Noah Armand?"

"Not as well as you did," she told me.

That was unpleasantly revealing. "What do you mean?"

She glanced at Ingram before she answered, and then shrugged. "After all, he was your grandmother's second husband. There were times when you lived in the same house with him."

I didn't want to touch that at all, or think about it.

"After all, Mr. Ingram," I said, "if you were Noah Armand's 197.

friend, aren't you the one most likely to know whether he is dead or alive?"

He looked at me distantly, as though his thoughts were elsewhere. "That's something I would very much like to know. His disappearance has always seemed thoroughly mysterious to me."

A new thought intruded in my mind. A thought so disturbing that I thrust it back. When the waiter returned with fruit and cheese, I was glad for the temporary distraction. This was something I would have to think about later, when I was alone.

Ingram remained the proper host, but I sensed anger in him now, though I was not at all sure of the direction in which it was turned. Toward me? Toward Belle for being outspoken? Or only toward my absent grandmother? My newborn courage began to seep away. How could Persis and I possibly stand up to a man who might turn vindictive and dangerous in the s.p.a.ce of a moment, even to the point of ordering a vicious attack such as had been made upon Jon?

Yet we sat at the table and toyed with grapes, drank chartreuse from fine crystal liqueur gla.s.ses, and then at last found excuses to escape a dinner party grown oppressive.

Mark Ingram stood on the hotel steps while we got into the jeep, bidding us a formal and courtly "Good night." Belle stood beside him, unperturbed. Behind the wheel, Caleb seemed lost in deep silence, and even Hillary and Gail had little to say.

When we reached the house, Gail left us quickly and ran inside, to go to my grandmother.

Caleb said he would take the jeep around and come in the back way, and he, too, took himself off hastily. I was eager now to run upstairs to report to Persis, as I had promised to do, but Hillary lingered on the steps.

"You showed a lot of courage tonight, Laurie," he said, the sober mood still upon him. "The fight's been opened now. So 198.

don't back down. You'll need to get your grandmother to change her will in your favor. As soon as that's been done, you can take charge and Ingram will be helpless to move any further."

I knew all these things were true, yet I didn't like his choice of words, and he quickly sensed my hesitation.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean that the way it sounds."

"I didn't think you wanted to take sides."

"I didn't. And I do want a chance at that theater. I could really do the job of fixing it up. Just the same, I don't like what Ingram is doing. If he comes to see your grandmother, I'd like to be there."

"Of course," I said, and let it go at that.

"What will you do tomorrow?"

I didn't mention the back parlor. That was something I must face alone.

"I'll have to look for Red if he hasn't turned up. He's been gone now since this afternoon."

"I'll come over when I can and we'll search for him together."

For a moment longer we faced each other, and there was a new uncertainty between us. Then Hillary kissed me lightly and went away. I watched him go, feeling both regretful and relieved.

Inside the house I climbed the stairs slowly. I had a promise to keep to my grandmother. But now the question that I'd been holding off ever since that moment in the dining room when it had come to me returned full force to torment me.

If Persis Morgan had shot her son, this surely would have been an accident. But if she had then killed Noah Armandthat was murder. Had his body been spirited away in order to hide a crime that my grandmother had committed?

I mounted the last steps reluctantly, not knowing how I could face her with this question in my mind.