He picked up her valise and led the way out to the street.
“It’s only a little ways,” he assured her, as he switched the valise to his left hand and slid his gun loose. “She’s a nice night.”
A cowboy came out of a saloon, braced his legs wide apart, whooped loudly and emptied his gun in the air. The girl drew back in affright, but Easton laughed and assured her that the shots meant nothing.
“You’re goin’ to like this country after you get used to it, Jane.”
“I—I suppose so,” she faltered. “It is all so new to me, and the houses seem so small.”
Easton said nothing. They walked up the sloping sidewalk to the door of the stable and stopped. There was not a sound from the interior, except horses munching hay.
Easton looked up and down the street. He could see the hitch-rack in front of the Ten-Spot, but was unable to distinguish the color of the horses.
“Hey!” he called. There was no response. “I suppose I’ll have to harness my own horse,” he said to the girl.
He placed the valise on the floor and walked slowly inside. The door of the grain room was partly open, and he peered in.
Came the dull chuck! of a muffled blow and Easton disappeared inside. The girl was watching him, and wondered how he had managed to get inside by dragging both feet.