Janroe nodded to the table. “Sit down. You’re going to need this.”

Cable pulled out a chair and stepped over it. He watched Janroe sit down and pour the clear, colorless liquor.

“Does my needing this have to do with Vern Kidston?”

Janroe sipped his mescal and put his glass down gently. “Vern’s the one living in your house. Not Vern himself. Some of his men.” Janroe leaned closer as if to absorb a reaction from Cable. “They’re living in your house with part of Vern’s horse herd grazing in your meadow.”

“Well”-Cable raised the glass of mescal, studying it in the light of the window behind Janroe-“I don’t blame him. It’s good graze.” He drank off some of the sweet-tasting liquor. “But now he’ll move his men out. That’s all.”

“You think so?”

“If he doesn’t vacate I’ll get the law.”

“What law?”

“Fort Buchanan. That’s closest.”

“And who do you think the Yankees would side with,” Janroe asked, “the ex-Rebel or the mustanger supplying them with remounts?”

Janroe looked up and Cable turned in his chair as Luz entered from the store. Behind her came Martha holding Sandy’s hand and moving Clare and Davis along in front of her.

“We’ll see what happens,” Cable said. He rose, holding out his hand as Davis ran to him and stood close against his leg.

“Mr. Janroe, this is my wife, Martha.” He glanced at Janroe who had made no move to rise. “This boy here is Davis. The little one’s Sanford and our big girl there is Clare, almost seven years old already.” Cable winked at his daughter, but she was staring with open curiosity at Janroe’s empty sleeve.

Martha’s hand went to the little girl’s shoulder and she smiled pleasantly at the man still hunched over the table.

“Mr. Janroe”-Martha spoke calmly-“you don’t know how good it is to be back here again.” She was worried one of the children might ask about Janroe’s missing arm. Cable knew this. He could sense it watching her, though outwardly Martha was at ease.