saw the buckboard top the distant edge
of the mesa. Pete immediately secluded himself in the barn, while Andy
hazed Blue Smoke into a box stall and hid Pete's saddle.

Ma Bailey, alighting from the buckboard, heard Andy's brief explanation
of his absence with indifference most unusual in her, and glanced sharply
at him when he mentioned having shot a wild turkey.

"I suppose you picked it and cleaned it and got it all ready to roast,"
she inquired. "Or have you just been loafing around waiting for me to do
it?"

"I et it," asserted Andy.

Ma Bailey glared at him, shook her head, and marched into the house while
Andy helped Bailey put up the horses.

"Ma's upset about somethin'," explained Bailey. "Seems a letter came for
Pete--"

"Letter from Pete! Why, he ain't comin' back, is he?"

"A letter for Pete. Ma says it looks like a lady's writin' on the
envelope. She says she'd like to know what female is writin' to Pete,
and him goodness knows where, and not a word to say whether he's sick or
broke, or anything."

"I sure would like to see him," said Andy fervently.

"Well, if somebody's writin' to him here at the Concho, looks like he
might drift in one of these days. I'd sure like to know how the kid's
makin' it."

And Bailey strode to the house, while Andy led the team to the corral.

Later Andy appeared in the kitchen and asked Mrs. Bailey if he couldn't
help her set the table, or peel potatoes, or something. Ma Bailey gazed
at him suspiciously over her glasses. "I don't know what's ailin' you,
Andy, but you ain't actin' right. First you tell me that you had to camp
at the Blue last night account o' killin' a turkey. Then you tell me
that you et the whole of it. Was you scared you wouldn't get your share
if you fetched it home? Then you want to help me get supper. You been
up to something! You just keep me plumb wore out worrying about you.
You ought to be ashamed of yourself."

"For why, Ma? What have I done?"

"I don't know, but it'll come to the top. There's the boys now--and me
a-standing here-- Run along and set the table if you ain't so full of
whatever is got into you that you can't count straight. Bill won't be in
to-night. Leastwise, Jim don't expect him." And Ma Bailey flapped her
apron at him and shooed him out as though he were a chicken that had
dared to poke its inquisitive neck into the kitchen.

"Count straight!" chuckled Andy. "Mebby I know more about how many's