He looked into her drawn face in astonishment.
"Look here, honey," he advised rather sternly. "Man-talk is man-talk, and man-ways are man-ways, and a girl like you can't understand. You keep out of this mess. It's bad enough without having your hand added."
She saw there was nothing to be gained in this direction. She turned to the rest of the men; they watched her with blank faces. Not a man there but would have done much for the sake of a single smile. But how could they help?
Desperately she ran to the door, jerked it open, and followed Terry to the stable. He had swung the saddle from its peg and slipped it over the back of El Sangre, and the great stallion turned to watch this perennially interesting operation.
"Terry," she said, "I want ten words with you."
"I know what you want to say," he answered gently. "You want to make me stay away from town today. To tell you the truth, Kate, I hate to go in. I hate it like the devil. But what can I do? I have no grudge against Larrimer. But if he wants to talk about his brother's death, why—good Lord, Kate, I have to go in and listen, don't I? I can't dodge that responsibility!"
"It's a trick, Terry. I swear it's a trick. I can feel it!" She dropped her hand nervously on the heavy revolver which she wore strapped at her hip, and fingered the gold chasing. Without her gun, ever since early girlhood, she had felt that her toilet was not complete.
"It may be," he nodded thoughtfully. "And I appreciate the advice, Kate— but what would you have me do?"
"Terry," she said eagerly, "you know what this means. You've killed once.
If you go into town today, it means either that you kill or get killed.
And one thing is about as bad as the other."
Again he nodded. She was surprised that he would admit so much, but there were parts of his nature which, plainly, she had not yet reached to.