“Renda’s coming,” Karla said tonelessly.
Bowen moved to the door. He looked out, then to Karla close to him in the doorway. “You didn’t see anything, did you?”
She shook her head.
“Listen,” Bowen said urgently. “I want to say a lot of things, but there isn’t time. Just promise me you won’t-”
“You’d better hurry,” Karla said. Her eyes moved from Bowen’s. She felt him brush past her. Then, when she turned, she saw him out beyond the two horses, walking across the yard toward the stable, glancing toward the gate as Renda entered the compound.
Lizann said, “Is he there?” She moved closer to the door in time to see Renda ride over to stop Bowen. There was a silence in the adobe as they watched the two men: Bowen standing in front of Renda’s horse looking up at him and they could see Renda was speaking. In front of the barracks, the convicts were watching and now the yard was quiet. They saw Renda step out of the saddle. Bowen’s hand went to the front of his shirt and the hand scratched at his stomach idly. Renda was speaking. Bowen nodded. A minute passed, not more than a minute. Then, Bowen nodded again and turned away, going on toward the stable, as Renda caught up his reins and led his horse toward the adobe quarters.
Close to her, Karla heard a soft, exhaling sigh from Lizann. Karla’s gaze remained on Bowen. She did not turn, not even when Lizann spoke.
“You and Corey have met before.”
Karla nodded. “Did you give him the gun?”
“What gun?”
“That’s not the way to help him!” Karla turned as she spoke.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I saw the gun-”
“You told Corey you didn’t see anything.”
“As far as anyone else is concerned.”
“Why do you think I gave it to him?”
Karla glanced through the doorway, seeing Renda approaching, then back to Lizann. “Tell him not to use it. Please tell him that. Not now. Something has come up.”
“You make very little sense,” Lizann said.
“You don’t have to understand it. Just tell him! If you wanted to help him enough to give him a gun then tell him!”
“Tell him what?”
“That the lawyer has found new evidence. Important enough to warrant a new trial. He’s already filed the motion and it’s only a matter of weeks-” Karla broke off hearing Renda’s voice.
“Well…Miss Demery.”
Lizann turned back into the room. She went to the canvas chair and sat down. Karla stepped back from the doorway as Renda entered.
“Why don’t you come in?” Lizann said. “Make yourself at home.”
Renda looked at her. “What’re you edgy about…something this girl told you?”
“She hasn’t told me anything.”
He turned to Karla. “You change your mind about causing a fuss?”
“I told you what I’m going to do.”
“You want me to tell Lizann?” Renda asked.
“If you don’t,” Karla said. “I will.”
“You could be a damn sight easier to get along with.” He looked at Lizann again. “I opened a couple of Willis’s letters by mistake, but Karla thinks I done it on purpose.”
“You know he did,” Karla said.
“So Karla thinks she’s going to make trouble for me,” Renda went on. “Going to tell her father about it. And claims he’ll call in a federal marshal. So if Karla’s going to go to all that trouble, I’m not about to admit reading the letters. Am I, Lizzy?”
“You’re admitting it right now,” Karla said. “In front of Mrs. Falvey.”
Renda’s gaze moved to Lizann. “Did you hear me admit anything?” Lizann said nothing and Renda’s eyes returned to Karla. “If a federal marshal stopped by here, Lizzy wouldn’t know anything about it.”
Karla began, “When I tell Mr. Falvey-”
“And Willis,” Renda broke in, “will tell the marshal that he read the letters and threw them away when he was finished, and if some girl out for a ride happened to find them, that’s no concern of his. All Willis will know is that he threw the letters away. You see how it is, honey?”
Karla looked at Lizann who returned her gaze almost without expression, telling nothing, least of all offering assistance. Then, to Renda again, “I don’t see how you have the nerve to admit what you just did.”
Renda shrugged. “You’re the only one hearing it. You got no witnesses. I got a man who’ll admit reading the letters and throwing them away for you to find.”
“You’re very sure of yourself,” Karla said.
“Honey, when you’re minding thirty convicts you got to be sure of yourself.”
“I’m still going to tell my father.”
“You go right ahead…And tell him for me, I want to know the day my supplies come in this week. I don’t want them laying around for some stage passenger to drop a cigar butt on. You hear me? Soon as they come in, I want to know about it.”
“You’ll notice,” Lizann said mildly, “he’s worried about his investment and not your station.”
“I’ll hear from you in a minute,” Renda said. He looked at Karla again. “You run home now. And remember what I said. Soon as it comes in I want to know about it.”
“I’m dismissed now?” Karla said.
“You’re double dismissed. Ride directly through that gate and don’t let me see your face around here till my stuff comes.”
“Mr. Renda,” Karla said, “you’re a real gentleman.”
Renda smiled pleasantly. “Thank you, Karla. Now get out before I kick you the hell out!” He saw her about to speak and he yelled, “Go on!” then kept his eyes on her until she had left the adobe, mounted her horse and ridden off toward the gate.
Lizann asked, “What did all that prove?”
“When somebody talks like that,” Renda said, “I get sick to my stomach.”
“Maybe it’s your conscience backing up on you.”
“A sermon now?”
Lizann shook her head. “Not even if I thought it would do you good.”
Renda moved to the table. He half sat on the edge of it, hooking his leg over one corner, and leaned his weight heavily against the table. Watching him, still sitting in the canvas chair, Lizann said, “Don’t make yourself too comfortable.”
“I thought we’d have a talk,” Renda said.
“About what?”
“Willis’s letters.”
“I’m not interested.”
“You want me to think you’re not,” Renda said. “You’re bustin’ to know what was in them.”
“Then keep it to yourself,” Lizann said, “and see if I bust.”
“They were from Washington.”
“I told you, I’m not interested.”
Renda came to his feet. “I’m interested! You understand that? I’m interested and we’re going to damn-well talk about them whether you want to or not!”
“As usual,” Lizann said calmly, “you’ll be talking to yourself.”
The table creaked as Renda leaned his weight on it again. “Let’s find out,” he said mildly, and noticed the look of momentary surprise on Lizann’s face. “We don’t have to yell at each other, Lizzy. Pretend you’re in Washington and you’re talking to one of Willis’s political friends. Like Mr. Everett C. Allen.”
“The letters were from him?”
“That’s better,” Renda grinned.
“Were they?”
“They were from him.”
“What did he say?”
“He was answering Willis.”
“I didn’t know Willis had written him.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I don’t care what you believe!”
“You should. It makes a difference.”
“I didn’t know Willis had written to him,” Lizann said evenly. “You can believe that or not.”
“Let’s say I don’t. Who is he?”
“Everett? He’s with the Department of the Interior.”
“High up?”
“High enough.”
“High enough to get Willis away from here?”
Lizann nodded. “What did he say?”
Renda’s leg, hooked over the corner of the table, began to swing slowly back and forth. He stared at Lizann and for perhaps a full minute he said nothing. Then, “What’re you so anxious to know for? You don’t even know what Willis said to him first.”
“Does it matter?” Lizann asked.