“What ranch?”
“Fake a name.”
“Every one knows everybody else for miles around.”
“It’s up to you. Can you do the Eastern lingo?”
She tilted her head to one side and gazed upon him with naive astonishment.
“‘Lingo,’ Mr. Carrigan?”
“Good Lord!” breathed Carrigan.
Her laughter was low and filled with hints of many things. It made him distinctly uncomfortable.
“I’ve read books,” she said. “I’ll do my part. But you?”
“I’m simply a cow-puncher you’ve pressed into service to bring you here. Right? Now who do you want to dance with? Watch their eyes!”