“I’d give a lot for a bite to eat and something to drink. Anything. Water, even.”
The stranger gave a short, sharp laugh. The laugh made plain a deep, white scar starting near the right temple and disappearing into the stubble of his beard.
“Come in,” invited Teagler, and motioned to the steps, composed of two ends of logs.
Once inside, the stranger’s shifty eyes rested on the picture of a slim, young girl in a velveteen gown and braids.
“My daughter,” said Teagler, who had been following the fellow’s roaming glance.
“Oh,” remarked the stranger. “Good-looking kid. Where’s she now?”
“School,” replied the prospector, “back East.”
“Fine.”
The guest’s gaze swerved to Teagler’s preparation for lunch. He licked dry lips.
“Set in,” invited Teagler.