And so she had Buck Courtrey at her mercy. She could close the lessening gap and kill him in his saddle–––
But the icy blood still seemed to trickle down her back.
She––and Jim Last––they had always fought in fair-and-open. They were no murderers.... They did not strike in the dark––shoot a man from ambush––nor kill a man unarmed.... And Kenset––Kenset of the foothills––what had he said about the stain of blood––blood-guilt––clean hands–––
The girl caught her breath with a choking sob.
The game was up.
Neither Jim Last––nor Kenset––nor she––would shoot a man unarmed. 293
And Courtrey was riding toward the Bottle Neck.
He would go down the Wall to freedom.
And the crosses in Jim Last’s granite––they would be forever unredeemed, a shame, a sadness, a living accusation!
Nay––not that! Not that!