“Yes. It went with the land, said Eddie John. I’ve no use for it, except this tall pine right back of here. If you want the rest, you can have it.”
“I don’t,” said Matt. “You’re none of the island Callahans?”
“No. New York State.”
“So are we, out of County Tyrone. All the same stock.” Matt puffed over that for a bit. “Ye done a bad day’s work, fallin’ foul of Hughie Dunlevy.”
“That’s as may be. Sooner him than you.”
Matt turned and swept Hardrock with his slow gaze. “Why?”
“Because,”—and Hardrock stretched himself out more comfortably,—“because I expect to marry your daughter.”
“I don’t like jokes,” said Matt Big Mary, after a moment. “Not that kind.”
“I’m not joking,” said Hardrock coolly. “Danny Gallagher showed me a picture of her, and that’s why I came here, partly. Now that I’ve seen her and talked with her, I know. I’m fair with you. If she’s in love with nobody else, and I can win her, I’ll do it.”
“Hot head, queer heart,” said Matt, a gathering rumble in his tone.