"The story went all over Galveston. The husband swore he'd kill the man who attacked his wife, and the newspapers called on the police to discover the ruffian."
There was a protracted silence; then Law controlled his voice sufficiently to say: "It's fortunate he didn't recognize you to-night."
"Maybe he did. Anyhow, his wife is the new dressmaker Paloma's hired. I 'ain't got a chance, Dave. That story will ruin me in the community, and Paloma will turn me out when she learns I'm a—a lady-pincher."
"What are you going to do about it?"
Blaze sighed. "I don't know, yet. Probably I'll end by running from those scorpions, like I did before."
The next morning at breakfast Paloma announced, "Father, you must
help Dave hunt down these cattle thieves."
"Ain't that sort of a big order?" Blaze queried.
"Perhaps, but you're the very man to do it. Ricardo Guzman is the only person who knows the Lewis gang as well as you do."
Jones shook his head doubtfully. "Don Ricardo has been working up his own private feud with that outfit. If I was the kind that went looking for a fight, I wouldn't have paid freight on myself from the Panhandle down here. I could have got one right at home, any morning before breakfast."
"Ricardo Guzman is something of a black sheep himself," Law spoke up.