"That'll do, Racey. Stop this rowing. I won't have it." It was Molly Dale pushing past Racey and standing with arms akimbo directly in front of his gun-muzzle. Racey let his gun and holster fall up-and-down, but he did not remove his hand from the gunbutt.
"Who do you want here?" Molly inquired of Lanpher.
Lanpher's rat-like features cracked into an ugly smile. "Is yore paw home?" he asked.
"Father's gone to Marysville."
"When'll he be back?"
"Day after to-morrow, I guess."
"Yeah, I kind of guess he'd want to spend the night so's he could do business in the morning, huh?" The Lanpher smile grew even uglier.
"He has some business to attend to in the morning, yes."
"I kind of thought he would. Yeah. You don't happen to know the nature of his business, do you?"
"His business is none of yours, and I'll thank you to pick up your feet and clear out, the pair of you."