“Well,” sighed Tharon, “she’s gone, an’ there ain’t no use cryin’ over spilt milk. What you ben a-doin’ sence I helped you hang th’ picture?”
“Won’t you sit down?” Kenset stepped aside. “It is uncomfortable to stand through a visit––and I mean to have a long talk-fest with you, if you will be so kind.”
Tharon flung herself down at the spring’s edge, eased the right gun from under her hip, leaned on her elbow and prepared to listen.
“Fire away,” she said.
Kenset laughed.
“For goodness’ sake!” he ejaculated, “I said visit. That takes two. What have you been doing?”
“Well, everythin’, mostly. Made a new shirt for Billy, for one thing. An’ I showed Courtrey th’ picture o’ this.”
She patted the blue gun that lay half in her lap, its worn scabbard black against her brown skirt.
Kenset sobered at once. As ever when he let his mind dwell on that dark shadow which sat so lightly on this girl, he had no feeling for mirth. 173
A very real chill went down his spine and he looked intently into her eyes.