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Anger whipped his face。 〃Why； you dirty … ！〃 He leaped his horse at her but； even as the horse sprang； Maria Cristina whipped up the heavy Colt； firing as it lifted。
The blast and flash of the gun made the horse jerk aside his head and almost fall； but a bright spot of red showed on Button's ear and blood began to well from it in slow crimson drops。
She held the Colt poised； her expression unchanged。 〃You go。 Next time I no miss。〃
Unbelieving； Jack Sutton touched his ear and brought his hand away covered with blood。 His face was white with shock。
Hindeman's eyes were glinting and he studied Maria Cristina with new attention。 〃If your horse hadn't shied；〃 he told Sutton； not without an edge of satisfaction； 〃you'd be dead。〃
〃Why； yes； Ben。〃 Button's voice was low。 〃She would have killed me。 That dirty sheepherder would have lolled me。〃
Hindeman turned his horse and the rest followed。 Jack Sutton turned in his saddle to look back。 〃Keep that gun handy。 Ill be back。〃
As they crested the knoll one of the riders lifted his hand in farewell。 It was Jacob Lantz。
Prom a pocket in her skirt she took a cartridge and reloaded the Colt。 If Lantz had tracked the man this far there was danger。 He was a queer； stoop…shouldered old man； more bloodhound than human。 He never bathed and prowled around the hills like a strange cat。
What could the man have done？ To make them hunt him so； he must have killed a Sutton。 Twice during the morning hours riders paused near the spring and she gathered from talk she overheard that they were working all the canyons with care。
Juanito walked toward her； swinging a stick。 〃Who do they look for？〃 he asked。
She looked at him； her eyes warm。 When she had turned back from her facing of Sutton she had seen Juanito get up from behind a rock。 Only eleven； he was already like her father。 He had been large…eyed and pale but he had the rifle。
〃A man；〃 she said。 〃They look for a man。〃
〃I don't want them to find him。〃
〃Maybe they won't；〃 she said。
A rider came down the canyon in worn buckskin breeches and a patched vest。 He rode a ragged paint pony。 It was her brother Vicente； a tall too…thin young man with a weak face。
She stared at him； feeling no kinship； wondering how a son could be so little like the father。 Vicente could draw a gun faster than any man she had ever seen； as fast as Jack Sutton； probably； who had killed eleven men。 But Vicente had killed no one； nor was he likely to。 He was a weak man； without courage。
〃What do they do here？〃 he demanded。 〃For whom do they look？〃
〃You afraid？〃 she asked contemptuously。
〃I am afraid of nothing！〃 He spoke loudly； glaring at her。 〃Why should I be afraid？〃
〃Why？ Why； I don't know。 Only you afraid。 You always afraid of everything。〃
Juanito could not hold back the story。 〃Maria Cristina shot Senor Sutton。〃
Vicente was shocked。 〃You shot him？〃
She shrugged。 〃In the ear； only。 His horse jumped。〃
Vicente stared at her。 She would be the death of them all！ They had little enough but here they were left unmolested。 Why could she not leave well…enough alone？ The business of gringos was the business of gringos。
Vicente remembered finding the body of his father。 He had worshiped his father and his father had been a strong man and yet for all his bravery and strength they had hunted him down like a crippled wolf and left him dead upon the rocks。 What chance then for Vicente？
He stared gloomily at the ridges； wishing they would find the man and go away。 Maybe he was a coward。 But he was alive and the sun was warm and there was music in the wind。
〃I wish they would find him；〃 Vicente said。 〃Then they would go away。〃
Maria Cristina stared at him； her eyes black and scornful。 〃You are a fool。〃
He started to reply angrily； then rode away； his back stiff with outrage。 Did she not know he was the man of the family？ To speak so to him！ But he could not maintain the outrage for it was she who ran the family affairs and he was afraid of her。
Maria Cristina stared after him but she was already thinking of the other problem。 Where could a man hide and not be found by Jacob Lantz？
Yet even if there had been a safer place； to move now was a danger。 A man cannot be trailed who leaves no tracks and as long as he could lie quiet on the shelf； he might be safe。 But she must be careful 。。。 very careful。
It was Maria Cristina who led her family to this valley after the death of her father。 She had learned of the shelf long ago and went there sometimes to be alone。 So far as she was aware it was known to no one else。 The Indians who once lived there had chosen the site with care。 It was not an easy place to find。
She had bought their first sheep； she tended them and saw to their shearing and the sale of the wool。 It was she who insisted upon the strong well…built adobe where they now lived。 And she had sent to San Francisco for the few furnishings left after her marriage。
She had married a gringo cowhand when she was fifteen and after her father was killed and with him she had gone to Virginia City in Nevada。 There he struck it rich in the silver mines and they went to San Francisco； but drink and gambling broke him and he died in a gun battle while drunk。 Maria Cristina returned to her family with all the fine pride of her Mexican heritage and the memories of brief days of glory in Virginia City and San Francisco。
When she came the second time to the rock shelf it was sudden。 A rustle of petticoats and a brush of moccasin on a stone and she was there。 She had e up some trail from behind the ruin。 She knelt beside him in one swift graceful motion； placing a pot on the ground。 It was a stew； still hot。
〃Eat。。。 there is no time for talk。〃
He ate hungrily while she removed the bandage and examined the wound。 It looked little better。 She bathed it and replaced the bandage with a clean cloth。
When he had finished the stew she took the pot to the spring and washed it； then returned with a piece of cotton cloth wrapped around some tortillas and some strips of jerked beef。 〃No fire；〃 she warned； 〃they look for you。〃
She started to rise but he caught at her skirt。 She looked down at him； her face sullen； revealing nothing。
〃Who are you？ Where do you e from？〃 he asked。
〃Do I ask this of you？〃
〃I want to know whom to thank。〃
〃Tornado。〃
〃At least your name。〃
She said nothing； standing patiently until he released her skirt。 She arose with a lithe movement and turned away but he craned his neck to look after her and said suddenly； without conscious thought； 〃You 。。。 you're beautiful！〃
〃I think you talk too much。。。 you sleep。〃 Yet when she reached the ruined wall she stopped。 She did not turn her head but when she had stepped over the fallen stones she said； 〃Maria Cristina；〃 and was gone。
He listened for some further sound of her going but heard nothing but the trickling of the water。 She was risking her life to e here。 To most of the Sutton…Bayless crowd the fact that she was a woman would mean nothing beside the fact that she was an enemy。
Jacob Lantz was the man he feared。 Lantz was a man with a reputation。 He had been one of the mountain men； had scouted for the army agains