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his saddle when he saw Roy Ponders coming stiffly down the sidewalk. Clay finished his tying and then rolled a cigarette while he waited for the sheriff to reach him.
    Ponders stopped on the edge of the sidewalk and studied the full pack. “Leaving us, Clay?”
    Despite what Judge Lyles had said, Clay didn’t feel sure enough of the sheriff to confide in him. He said warily, “I have business to attend to.”
    Ponders pushed out his lower lip thoughtfully. He said in a reluctant voice, “I’ve been told you didn’t start that fight with Damson today.”
    Clay swung into the saddle. “That’s one way of looking at it, Sheriff. Damson rushed me as soon as he got off the stage.” He looked down, meeting Ponders’ gaze steadily. “But I didn’t give him much choice, did I? And that’s another way of looking at it. Take your choice.”
    Ponders flushed. He said, “Either way, Damson didn’t lick you. But you’re leaving.” His voice was sharp with suspicion.
    Clay said with quick anger, “We all have work to do, Sheriff. I believe in getting mine done as quick as possible.”
    The flush on Ponders’ face deepened. “I warned you before about riding me.”
    Clay leaned forward. “I own a piece of land in this valley, Sheriff, and every year I’ve mailed in my tax money for it. I always thought that gave me as much right to protection as the next man.”
    “If you need protection, you’ll get it,” Ponders answered.
    “You were quick enough to try to keep Damson and me from fighting,” Clay said. “But I haven’t noticed you riding into the mountains to check on the sniper who tried to kill me last night.”
    The color drained from Ponders’ cheeks, leaving them a dirt white under their tan. “If there was a sniper,” he said angrily.
    “You could have tried to find out before he had a chance to get back up there and brush out any signs he left,” Clay retorted.
    Clay saw the anger glitter in Roy Ponders’ eyes. It faded slowly. “Maybe I made a mistake,” Ponders said. His gaze moved beyond Clay as if he were commenting on something removed from the subject at hand. He turned away suddenly and walked stiffly on down the sidewalk toward the hotel.
    Clay started the dun down the street. He noticed little as he rode. His mind well out into the valley before he became aware of his surroundings.
    He looked back as some one called his name. He saw Tonia coming toward him on a sleek sorrel. She rode at a wild gallop, but she sat the horse as if she were part of it.
    Clay reined in and waited, watching in admiration. The wind had whipped color into her cheeks and a glow into her eyes. For a moment he was content to stare in wonder at the beautiful woman she had become.
    She was dressed in a split riding skirt and a colorful shirt. She wore a wide-brimmed hat crammed down over her dark hair. Her clothes hadn’t changed in five years but she filled them out quite differently. He kept his eyes on her as she came abreast and slowed her horse to a walk.
    She glanced at the pack behind his saddle. “Dad told me you were going to bring his stock down,” she said. “But you’re hoping to find the sniper too, aren’t you?”
    “That’s right,” Clay said.
    “And you think Bick Damson or that man Vanner is behind the sniper. You’re hoping to prove that.” Her voice was stiff.
    Clay gave her a puzzled look. “What are you trying to say, Tonia?”
    “I don’t want you to go up there,” she said simply.
    Clay could only stare at her in surprise. She spoke quickly now, the words rushing out of her. “Things have changed here since I was visiting on the coast,” she said. “I can’t explain it but everybody is different — even dad and Roy Ponders. It’s that man Vanner. He’s using Bick Damson and his money to get control of the valley.”
    “He might want to,” Clay said dryly, “but he’s got a long way to go yet. If there was any sign of that, your father would stop it.”
    “That’s