“An’ all you have to do is ask,” he answered, taking a step toward her.
“I’m going to ask you for something, Roger,” she said without looking at him. “Maybe you’ll think it’s––it’s too much that I ask.” She glanced up at him doubtfully.
“What is it, Laura?” he insisted.
“I want your gun, Roger,” she whispered.
He straightened and stared at her in startled wonder. “But, Laura––a man in my position––why––why––where would I be at?”
“Maybe if you gave it to me it would help you find a way out, Roger,” she pleaded earnestly.
Rathburn looked into her eyes and thrilled. Then without a word he unbuckled his cartridge belt which held his holstered gun, untied the strap about his thigh and laid the belt with the weapon upon the table.
“Roger!” said the girl. The sob again was in her voice. She reached out and placed a hand upon his arm.
An elderly man appeared in the doorway from the kitchen.
“Father, this is Roger,” said the girl hurriedly. “He’s back.”