guard. That wouldn't stop a determined thief, though."

"It's such an awful thing. I can't help thin kin' it was a lot likeFranklin's death."Louie nodded."Thought of that, myself.""Course," Ott continued."Franklin had some enemies."Winn spoke for the first time."Enemies?""Well, let's just say he made some folks mad." Ott was clearly hesitant to say what he had been thin king. He added hastily, "None of 'em would hold agrudge 'against Mrs. Franklin.""It's hard to tell. If someone's mad enough he might," Winn said."If you know anything, it could be important.""I think a lot of Mrs. Franklin," Ott said."She don't take to me, but that don't matter."He was quiet for a moment as if considering what he should say.

"Well, several of us around here found ourselves needin' money," he began. "And Victor Franklin seemed like the one to go to. His rates were reasonable and here he was a family man and all. Well, we all took our money and wentto work, pa yin'

it off like we should. Only thing was, after a while,Franklin sends Dempsey out to run us off."

"Exactly what did he do?" Winn asked.

"Well, he come out to my place and talks like this wasn't a healthy place tostay. You know, no thing real threatening, but there just the same." He leaned closer to his companions and lowered his voice. "Now I know for a fact that he threatened Merlin out there 'cause Merlin told me. Weren't longafter that, Merlin was dead."

"Peter's father," mumbled Louie.

"But that can't have nothin' to do with this. Dempsey was workin' forFranklin. He didn't come back to bother me after Franklin died."

Louie shrugged.

"I ain't good at figurin' other people's doin's. Kinda makes my head hurt."

Winn said, "I think Dempsey threatened Franklin."

' "How would you know that?" Ott asked.

"Something Greg said. I've got a gut feeling Dempsey's into this up tohis... cigar."

Louie laughed.

"And the fact that he's courting Mrs. Franklin doesn't have anything to dowith your gut feelin's."

"Not a bit," he said, and knew it was a lie.

The waitress brought their plates and Louie told Winn where everything was.He offered to cut the pheasant into smaller pieces and Winn accepted, feelinga little foolish but reminding himself that spilling all the food in aneffort to cut it himself would prove even more embarra.s.sing.

Winn wanted to hear more about Mr. Franklin and Dempsey but Louie and Ottconfined their conversation to local politics and Winn had to concentrate onthe meal. He could tell that the cafe was filling with customers and wasglad when they were ready to leave.

Ott walked with them to the wagon and bade them good luck. When they reachedthe west side of the river, Dempsey was waiting to take the ferry into town.

"Afternoon, Mr. Dempsey," Louie said.

Dempsey didn't speak, but walked his horse past them with no more than aglance and a tipped hat.

Winn helped Louie hitch the wagon and when they had traveled a half mile fromtown he said, "Take me out to Dempsey's place."

Louie could think of a lot of arguments against it. In the time it took to travel to Dempsey's small cabin, he came close to mentioning three or four ofthem. Each time, though, he would look at Winn and decided to keep hismisgivings to himself.

Finally he said, "It's just ahead here. What do you expect to find?"

"I don't know, a bunkhouse full of hired guns, maybe."

"I hope you're kidding," Louie said.

"If he's into something this bad, he'll keep any hired men a long way from

here. If they were out here, people like Ott would know about it, which is

the last thing he would want."

"I hope you're right." Louie stopped the wagon well away from the group of buildings.

"Doesn't look like there's anyone around."

"h.e.l.lo, the house!" Winn called. Louie jumped

enough that Winn could feelthe seat shake. "We're just being neighborly," Winn explained calmly.

While they waited for an answer, Louie eyed his companion skeptically. Finally he decided it was safe to move in closer. As he set the brake in front of the house, Winn said, "Tell me what you see."

"Well, there ain't much to recommend it, that's for sure. There's a slap-together cabin, a lean-to shelter what pretends to be a barn, and oneshed."

"Let's start with the shed," Winn said, climbing out of the wagon.

"Start with the shed," Louie mumbled, coming around the wagon to lead Winntoward it. "The best thing I could do right now is fire you. You keep forgetting who's boss."Winn just grinned."You want to find something here as much as I do.""Now that's where you're wrong," Louie said, leading Winn forward."I want the sheriff to find something' here."The shed was dark inside. Louie struck a match but found no lantern.Leaving the door wide open brought in enough light for him to see a little."What are we lookin' for?""Let's start with branding irons. Could he turn the Franklin brand into his own?""Nope, won't work. Franklin's a rocking F. Dempsey uses a lazy K, which isseemin' more appropriate all the time." Louie was loo king into the shadows of the little shed. Most of the tools stored there looked as if they hadn't been used in a while.

"Could he have another brand registered that you haven't seen?"

"We won't find out here," Louie said.

"We will if we find a second iron."

"Here they are." Louie found the irons hanging on the wall behind the door.

"This one's the K. Here it is. Circle P."

"Would it fit?"

"I'd bet on it. But Winn, this ain't exactly proof."

Winn was thin king the same thing.

"If we could find a re branded cow, the hide would show it."

Louie shook his head.

"Never seen a circle P cow. Chances are he brands 'em and heads them straight to market."

Winn wasn't discouraged.

"At least we know who to watch."

Louie hung the irons back where he had found them and led Winn out of the

shed, eager to be away. In the wagon, he asked, "You want to be the one to

tell Mrs. Franklin what we found?"

"It'd be a pleasure," Winn answered.

Louie shook his head and mumbled, "You're crazy." He turned the wagon out of the yard and started toward home.

Louie's mention of proof was bothering Winn. He wanted to confront the man,

force a confession from him. He was hardly in a position to do that.They had traveled barely two miles from Dempsey's when he felt Louie tensebeside him. It was all the warning he got. A moment later there was a buzzof a bullet over his head and the report of a rifle.

Louie whipped the horse into a run and Winn held tightly to the wagon seat.

He felt Louie slump against him as the rifle cracked again.

Winn bent forward to find the reins in Louie's slack

fingers. Another shot buzzed over his head, with the rifle report an instant later. Was it his imagination or was there a fraction more time between the whine of the bulletand the sound of the discharge? Perhaps the rifleman wasn't following. He kept himself low, holding the reins but let ting the horse run.

Between the sounds of the running horse, rattling wagon and his ownheartbeat, Winn couldn't tell if a rider might be coming behind him.

When the horse was growing tired and there had been no more shots, he sat upenough to check the man beside him. The front of his shirt was warm and wet.

"Louie," he said.

"Hang on." But he was afraid it was already too late.

He hoped the horse would have sense enough to run for home. He had slowed some but, even at this speed, a wheel could hit a rock or hole and overturnthe wagon. There would be no help for Louie if that happened. He pulled onthe reins and brought the horses to a trot.

"Home," he yelled and dropped the reins.

He took out his handkerchief and pressed it to the sticky hole in Louie'schest. He felt the wagon swerve and hoped it was the right direction. His sense of distance had been confused by the run. In a few minutes he heard a shout and the wagon was slowing.

"Peter?" he called, praying that the horse had brought him home.

"Here." Peter had brought the rig to a stop and was climbing up beside Louie.

"Oh, G.o.d! What happened?" It was Cynthie's voice. She had seen the wagoncome in and was running from the house.

"Get Dr. Gordon, Peter," Winn said.Peter didn't bother to answer. He ran for the corral to saddle a horse.Cynthie was already beside the wagon. She felt quickly for a pulse.Winn was still holding the handkerchief against Louie's chest. Blood was seeping between his fingers. "Is he...?""Not yet," Cynthie answered."Can you help me get him inside?"Winn climbed down from the wagon."The bunkhouse is closer."Cynthie helped Louie into Winn's arms and led the way. Inside, they laid the man on his bunk. Winn had felt no sign of life and wondered if Cynthie knewfor sure the man was still alive. He couldn't help but think that this hadbeen his fault. He had underestimated his enemy, and now Louie was dying.

"Sit here beside him," Cynthie instructed. She took his hand and pressed itto the wound."I'll get some water."In a moment she was back. She moved Winn's hand away."The bleeding's slowed," she said."Where's Greg?" Winn asked softly."He's asleep upstairs." Cynthie's mind was racing around in circles.

She wanted Betts called in from the herd; it was too dangerous now.Should she have told Peter to bring the sheriff, as well? No, the doctor wasthe most important thing. Greg could wake up any minute.

G.o.d, Louie looked awful!

"What happened, Winn?" she finally asked.

"Who did this?"

Winn took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Cynthie, I can't be sure, but I think it was Dempsey.""That's impossible! He'd have no reason!""Louie and I went out to his place to look around," Winn started to explain."You what! Why?""Cynthie, there are things that you don't know. Things that Louie and Ott...""Ott! Did he put you up to something? I'd bet he did this.""Cynthie, please. You need to listen to me.""You couldn't see who did it."Winn didn't need to be reminded. Louie had seen someone, he was sure of that, but Louie might not live to tell.

"I didn't mean for this to happen," he said softly.

Cynthie didn't want to fight with Winn. She didn't want Louie to die.

She didn't know what she should be doing to try to save him.

"Greg could wake up any minute," she whispered, her voice shaking.

Winn knew Cynthie was crying and he wanted to take her into his arms and

promise to protect her. It wasn't a promise he could keep.' "I better wash the blood off my hands and go to the house. I'm afraid I can't help you much here." He got up and left the bunkhouse while Cynthie's soft sobs tore at his heart.

He was opening the front door when he heard Greg's hurried footsteps on the