“Is Mr. Jenks there?” she hailed clearly.
“Damn’ if I ain’t,” he mumbled. He glowered at me. “Yes, ma’am, right hyar. You want to speak with me?” 170
“By gosh, it’s Montoyo’s woman, ain’t it?” were the comments.
“I do, sir.”
“You can come on closer then, ma’am,” he growled. “There ain’t no secrets between us.”
Come on she did, with only an instant’s hesitation and a little compression of the lips. She swept our group fearlessly—her gaze crossed mine, but she betrayed no sign.
“I wish to engage passage to Salt Lake.”
“With this hyar train?” gasped Jenks.
“Yes. You are bound for Salt Lake, aren’t you?”
“For your health, ma’am?” he stammered.