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said. “Since when do you have to ask permission to—” He stopped in mid-sentence when he saw that Cindy and Hawke were looking directly at each other. He saw too the concern in Cindy’s face.
    “Of course you can join us,” Hawke said, getting up to pull out a chair for her.
    “Hawke, I—” Cindy started, but Hawke reached across the table and put his hand on hers.
    “You came to my rescue last night, and I am grateful to you for it,” he said, interrupting her.
    “Would you mind telling me what you two are talking about?” Harder asked.
    The expression on Cindy’s face eased, and she smiled in relief. “Oh, I’m so glad to hear you say that,” she said. “I have to go upstairs and wake him up now, but I wanted to just make sure that you understood.”
    “Wake him up?” Betty Lou said. “Lord, child, you still have someone in your room?”
    Cindy nodded. “He was too drunk to…uh…” She looked pointedly at Hawke. “Well, he was just too drunk last night, if you know what I mean. So I figured that, at the very least, I owed him a place to sleep.” She laughed. “I’ll just tell him how good he was last night, and he’ll never know the difference.”
    Harder and Betty Lou laughed with her as she started up the stairs.
    “Well, I’d better get back to the kitchen,” Betty Lou said.
    “Bob, how do we stand on liquor?” Harder called over to his bartender.
    “Too many more nights like last night, and we’ll be dry as a bone,” Bob replied.
    “I’ve got a new shipment coming in by train. I just hope we don’t run out of whiskey before it does get here. If you think the Bar-J cowboys are hard to handle now, wait until you see them with a thirst and nothing to drink. They are the worst of the lot.”
    “Are they really the worst of the lot? Or are there just more of them?” Hawke asked.
    Harder stroked his chin. “Well, they are the biggest outfit,” he said. “But it’s not just that. The owner of the Bar-J is a fella by the name of Major Clint Jessup, and he doesn’t do much to keep his men reined in.”
    “Major?”
    “Yeah, that’s what his men call him. He was a Rebel, I know that. And I think he was a cavalry commander. I just don’t understand why he doesn’t control them more.”
    “Maybe he just got a bellyful of command and decided he doesn’t want to give any more orders,” Hawke suggested.
    “Could be, I suppose,” Harder said, though it was obvious he didn’t buy Hawke’s explanation.
    Their conversation was interrupted by a scream from upstairs.
    “No! No!”
    Looking up toward the landing immediately above them, Hawke and Harder saw Cindy running from her room, trying to make it back to the head of the stairs. Shorty was chasing her.
    “I wonder what’s going on up there?” Harder asked, concern in his voice.
    “Come back here, you bitch!” Shorty demanded. He caught up with her just as they reached the top of the stairs.
    “Stay away from me! Leave me alone!” Cindy screamed out in fear.
    “What did you do with my money?” Shorty demanded.
    “Shorty, leave her alone!” Hawke shouted, starting up the stairs.
    “You stay out of this, piano player. I’ll leave her alone soon as she tells me what she done with my money.”
    “Shorty, I didn’t take your money,” Cindy insisted.
    “Oh yeah? Well, if you didn’t take it, who the hell did? And where the hell is it?” Shorty shouted angrily. He grabbed Cindy and began shaking her hard. “I said I want my money!” he yelled.
    Cindy started scratching his face, and he pushed her away from him. Cindy fell back and called out in shock and fear as she tumbled down the stairs, her sharp scream cut short halfway down. She tumbled the rest of the way, then lay sprawled at the bottom of the stairs, right in front of Hawke. Her head was twisted to one side, her eyes open and glazed, and her mouth open, though the scream was now silent.
    “Cindy!” Hawke shouted. But even before he bent down to examine