“And the outcome of it might be–and I doubt even that–that Miss Gates would lose her homestead,” Slavens supplied.
“You don’t know the Federal judge in this district,” Boyle grinned. “Jail’s what it means, and plenty of it, for the judge has to approve a bond, if you know what that means.”
“Why don’t you pay Dr. Slavens for his homestead, as you were ready to pay that man Peterson if you could have filed him on it?” Agnes asked.
“Because it’s mine already,” said Boyle. “This man stole the description of that land, as I have told you before, at the point of a gun.”
“Then you lied!” Slavens calmly charged.
Boyle hitched his hip, throwing the handle of his pistol into sight.
“You can say that,” said he, “because I’ve got to have your name on a paper.”
“I’ll never permit Dr. Slavens to sign away his 268 valuable claim to you,” declared Agnes. “I’ll not allow––”
Slavens lifted his hand for silence.
“I’ll do the talking for this family from now on,” said he, smiling reassuringly as he held her eyes a moment with his own.