"Well, there is and there isn't." He pushed the hat further back, scratched his head, looked at her again.
"How is he? Feeling all right?"
"He doesn't say very much, you know. I think he has a good bit of pain sometimes. But I can't keep him quiet."
"No," he said. "No, Tom's always been restless, Tom ever say who he was holding responsible?"
"No. It was an accident."
He considered that. Every one in town but this girl apparently knew that Tom claimed to have been shot by Little Dog, and that he was only waiting for the Indian to come back to clear up his score against him. But after another look at Kay he put on his hat and turned to the door.
"There's no message, then?"
He hesitated. "Well, you might say this to Tom. Tell him I was here—my name's Allison—and that I'm planning to handle certain little problems without any help from him."
She was no less mystified by the message than by Tom's reception of it.
"He's got nerve!" he said angrily. "Coming here and handing you a thing like that! For two bits I'd knock his teeth down his throat."
But he did not explain, and she asked no questions.
Her other visitor was Mrs. Mallory. She made an uneasy call soon after their arrival, sitting on the edge of a chair in the bedroom and eying Kay with frank interest.
"You certainly have lost flesh, haven't you?" she said, her surprise breaking down her earlier formality. "Well, don't you let Tom McNair wear on you. I know Tom, and he's right uncertain at times. But he's every inch a man, and I've a right to know if any one has."
She grew more expansive after that. Nellie was in school and taking piano lessons. They were making out all right; she had a couple of roomers now. The stock was in good condition too, although her nephew was not a real cattleman, like Jake or Tom. She sighed over Jake's name, and smoothed her black dress with her work-hardened hands.
Before she left she had relaxed sufficiently to straighten
