The Settling of the Sage

by Hal G. Evarts

Such days, however, inspire plans for spring and Billie rode with Harris through the lower field as he pointed out the various fence lines and the lay of the ditches and laterals which would carry water to irrigate the meadow, all these to be installed as soon as winter should lose its grip.

As Harris outlined his plans his words were tinged with optimism and he allowed no hint of possible disaster to creep into his speech. But the girl was conscious of that hovering uncertainty, the feeling that the months of peace were but to lure her into a false sense of security and that Slade would pounce on the Three Bar from all angles at once whenever the time was right.

She found some consolation in the fact that Lang's men no longer rode through her range at will, but skirted it in their trips to and from the Breaks. She attributed this solely to Harris's precautions in the matter of outguards, for of all those within a hundred miles she was perhaps the single one who had not heard of the sinister rumor that was cutting Lang and his men off from the rest of the world.

Men were discussing it wherever they met; in Coldriver they were speculating on the possible results, the same in the railroad towns; across the Idaho line and south into Utah it was the topic of the day. And the single patron of Brill's store found the same question uppermost in his mind.

Carson was one of the many who were neither wholly good nor hopelessly bad, one who had drifted with the easy current of the middle course. And he was wondering if that middle course would continue to prove safe. He played solitaire to pass the time. His horse and saddle had been lost in a stud-poker game just prior to his catching the stage to Brill's, where his credit had always been good. He rose, stretched and accosted Brill.

"Put me down for a quart," he said.

"Whenever you put down the cash," Brill returned.

"What's the matter with my credit?" Carson demanded. "I've always paid."

Brill reached for a book, opened it and slid it on to the bar. He flipped the pages and indicated a number of accounts ruled off with red ink.

"So did Harper," he said. "He always paid; and Canfield—and Magill; these others too. Their credit was good but they've all gone somewheres I can't follow to collect. And they was owing me." He tapped a double account.