I've raised him to go straight."

Waring laughed. "Of course you have! What name will I sign, Annie?"

"Folks here call me Mrs. Adams."

"So you're Annie Adams again! Well, here's your husband's name, if you
don't mind." And he signed the register, "James Waring, Sonora, Mexico."

"Isn't that risky?" she queried.

"No one knows me up here. And I don't intend to stay long. I'd like to
see the boy."

"Jim, you won't take him away!"

"You know me better than that. You quit me down there, and I won't say
that I liked it. I wondered how you'd get along. You left no word. When
I realized that you must have wanted to leave me, that settled it.
Following you would have done no good, even if I had known where you had
gone. I was free. And a gunman has no business with a family."

"You might have thought about that before you came courting me."

"I did. Didn't you?"

"You're hard, Jim. I was just a girl. Any woman would have been glad to
marry you then. But when I got sense enough to see how you earned your
money--I just had to leave. I was afraid to tell you--"

"There, now, Annie; we'll let that go. I won't say that I don't care,
but I've been mighty busy since you left. I didn't know where you were
until I hit Nogales. I wanted to see you and the boy. And I'm as hungry
as a grizzly."

"Anita is getting supper. Some of the folks in town board here. They'll
be coming in soon."

"All right. I'm a stranger. I rode over. I'd like to wash up."

"You _rode_ over?"

"Yes. Why not? I know the country."

Mrs. Adams turned and gestured toward the stairway. She followed him and
showed him to a room. So he hadn't come in on the Overland, but had
ridden up from Sonora. Why had he undertaken such a long, weary ride?
Surely he could have taken the train! She had never known him to be
without money. But he had always been unaccountable, coming and going
when he pleased, saying little, always serene. And now he had not said
why he had ridden up from Sonora. "Why not?" was all that he had said in
explanation.

He swung out of his coat and washed vigorously, thrusting his fingers
through his short, curly hair and shaking his head in boyish enjoyment
that was refreshing to watch. She noticed that he had not aged much. He
seemed too cool, too self-possessed always, to show even the ordinary
trace of years. She could not understand him; yet she was surprised by a
glow of affection for him now that he had returned. As he dried h