but the length of Jim's stay in her room, his mocking gestures to Rip when he left at last, now convinced the saloon owner that he would hear little else in the future but bad news. He didn't doubt that he'd seen the last of Monty Lewis. He only hoped that when he'd given her the word, he'd have seen the last of Lily Dupree, too.

"Stage coming in!" The yell ricocheted into the deserted morning bar where Rip was total- ing the evening's receipts as well as trying to keep down the black coffee served up by the restau- rant next door. There was no stage on a Saturday, but Hassell reacted to the call like everyone else. He charged out into the

street.

For some reason the stage went right past the landing dock. It didn't halt until it came to Lyle Cooper's Lucky Dollar Sa- loon. Lyle was standing out front a big smile on his face. As the door swung open, the reason for his pleasure became obvious. Each of the girls who jumped down lightly from the stage was brightly dressed and a good-look- er from the distance of the Good Times. Lyle Cooper looked up along the board walk and saluted to Hassell. The girls showed no inclination to leave the street and go into the Lucky Dollar. Unable to stand it longer, seeing the crowd grow larger and larger in front of the impromptu parade, Rip retreated back into his sa- loon. "What's all the fuss?” she asked. She was wearing the blonde wig still, with a dark striped dress, an ordinary dress. She looked so feminine with her soft curls and light touches of makeup that Rip had to struggle to remind himself that she was

a man.

"You're going to have to hust- le now, darling," he sneered. "Lyle Cooper just brought in a

stageload of girls, real girls, to the Lucky Dollar."

If Lily was upset by the news, she didn't show it. She went over to where he was totalling the previous night's take. She took a sip of Rip's coffee and then pulled a face. She actually had no lipstick on her lips, Rip was surprised to see, and her nails were clean. With the dark blue bow in her hair, she had re- vived the innocent look so absent from her wild performances at the end of the week.

"I'm sorry about the way I've behaved, Rip," she said very soft- ly, lifting and then dropping a bill from the top of one pile of money. "You've been so good and so patient with me.'

""

"No more," said Hassell harsh- ly, pushing one of the stacks to- wards her. "With this, we're through. You can leave on that stage when it goes back to South Bend, or you can go where you like. You've enough to hire a buckboard to take you anywhere even to the River Circle Ranch."

He was surprised by her dis- tress. "Never that,” she said, star- ing at him.

They were both surprised by the sudden arrival of customers into the bar. Lily's face quickly changed to a smile, which then faded. Rip didn't know if she knew the marshals, John Dun- ford or Bob Crockett. They were both big, powerful men. The young, red-haired woman in the black coat Rip didn't know.

"Rip," said Dunford, the first to speak. He gave Lily a nasty look. "Gotta lady here to talk to you. This here's Miss Becky Blake. I reckon you can tell her all about her brother."

Somehow Hassell got through the telling of the tale of Joe Blake's death without glancing at Lily who had withdrawn to be sheltered from the girl's direct view by the body of the tall Dun-

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ford.

"But where's Monty?" said the girl at last, her big, brown eyes watching Hassell closely. "He didn't come back to South Bend."

Hassell shrugged, "perhaps he went somewhere else," he said. "I think he had his share of the money I paid Blake and Lewis."

Becky Blake shook her head. "He wouldn't go anywhere with- out me," she said firmly. "Monty and I were to be married when he and Joe got the act working well enough. Besides, there were all the costumes they had. Most of them belong to me."

"To you?" Hassell was sur- prised.

"Of course," said Becky. "I inherit Joe's share and then there were all the other costumes we'd bought for me to wear when I joined the act on the riverboats. So you see, she reached up and took a pin from her hat, releas- ing it, "Monty would still have an act with me. He'd come and get me."

Dunford and Crockett were getting bored with the conver- sation. Neither had the applica- tion or interest to be a detective. "Look," said Dunford impatient- ly. "Do what you can for the lady, huh, Rip? And you check with us before you leave Cotton- wood, Miss Blake. It's an open town now, you know. Mr. Doug- las had the Company lift all its restrictions." He gave another nasty look to Lily Dupree. “We'll be talking to you again, Rip."

Rip answered with a nod as the two marshals left. Becky seemed to notice Lily for the first time. "Hi, she said with a smile. "You must be the girl they're all talking about. Lily Dupree?"

Lily nodded. Rip stepped for- ward. "Why don't I show you where Joe was buried, Miss Blake?" he began, but Becky was