"I'll fix that," he growled. He picked up the gun and emptied it of cartridges. "Now you c'n have the shootin' iron back," he said, handing it to her while he tossed the ammunition deep among the heavy brush. Penny took her weapon mechanically and put it, empty, in her holster.
Fear gripped her for a moment when she realized that she was practically helpless. To turn and race away on foot would be a futile gesture. She thought of fainting, but that wouldn't help matters any. She looked defiantly at Rangoon.
"What do you want to talk about?"
"Now, that's more like it. Yuh needn't be scairt of me; I don't aim tuh hurt yuh none." There was a definite sneer in both the voice and expression while the man tossed Las Vegas' reins about a tree and knotted them.
"Don't get the notion that you gotta fight fer yer honor an' all that sort o' tripe like in the readin' books. I don't aim tuh git shot up by men in the Basin fer makin' passes at you. I like my women without no killin' fights tied ontuh them."
Penny stubbornly refused to let her face indicate her feelings. She stood, chin up, listening.
"First of all," Rangoon said, "I hanker tuh know why yuh rid up here."
"It's none of your business."
"Goin' tuh be stubborn again, eh? Now you'll git home a sight quicker if yuh answer my questions."
"Why are you here?" countered Penny.