“I reckon you better occupy Harmony’s old room,” said Len. “It’s the best in the place.”
Len led the way, carrying Nan’s valise. It was a rather small room, with one big window and a single bed. The floor was covered with Navaho rugs and on the walls were some old pictures. The top of an old dresser was covered with a piece of calfskin, hair-side up, and above the dresser hung two Winchester rifles, while twisted around a head-post of the bed was an old cartridge belt, supporting a holstered Colt.
“I suppose we may as well remove the guns,” said Baggs.
“Not on my account,” said Nan.
“But you won’t want that six-shooter at the head of your bed,” said Baggs.
“Leave it there, please,” replied Nan.
“Oh, well, if you really care for it.”
He turned to Len, in whose eyes was a glint of amusement.
“Miss Singer has decided to keep you, Ayres,” he said. “You will help her run the place.”
Len bowed shortly.