“Listens good to Billy,” he said, and stayed not on the order of his coming.
She found him a plate of cookies and a stool. “Sit there. And tell me what’s new in the hills. Did you pass the dam as you came down? And what d’you know about the tunnel?”
The ranger stopped a cookie halfway to his mouth. “Say, that fellow—the one drivin’ the tunnel—he’s been shot.”
“What!”
“Last night—at Don Black’s cabin.”
A cold hand laid itself on her heart and stopped its beating. “You mean—on purpose?”
He nodded. “Shot through the window at dark.”
“Mr. Hollister—that who you mean?”
“Yep. That’s what he calls himself now. Jones it was at first.”
“Is he—hurt badly?”