“I see. Well, you’re here, Mrs. Conley.”
“I here,” stolidly. “I mos’ always here. Too fat to ride.”
Ryker laughed cautiously.
“Well, you’re good and healthy, Mrs. Conley.”
“Pretty good. What you want?”
“That depends, Mrs. Conley. Peter’s in jail, you know.”
“I know very well.”
“And they might hang him, Mrs. Conley,” he said heartlessly.
The Indian woman’s eyes flickered for a moment, as she shifted her gaze past Ryker. He watched her face closely, but beyond the flicker of her eyelids there was no emotion.
“And you don’t want that to happen,” he said softly.