“I’m glad,” May smiled. Then she sobered. “What happened to Mark Steele? Did you meet him?”
“Yes, I met him,” Robin answered truthfully. “Nothing happened. Maybe something’ll happen later. I don’t know. Don’t care.”
“I wonder why he said he shot himself by accident last winter?” the girl murmured.
“To save his face, I reckon. He’s proud. He don’t like to be beaten. I did beat him that time.”
May stirred uneasily.
“A girl can stir up a lot of trouble sometimes,” she said.
“It wasn’t a girl. I told you that before.”
“There was a girl, wasn’t there,” she whispered.
“There was, but there isn’t no more.”
Robin crinkled his brow. He looked at May intently. He had refused to discuss that matter even with Adam Sutherland, until he had some tangible proof of his assertions. Why should he feel a burning desire to tell Sutherland’s daughter all about the coil Mark Steele had woven around him? Yet that impulse was irresistible. “Can you keep things to yourself?”