While Murphy bit down on the wedding band, Shannon’s right hand dropped to her side. Her clothes, like her hands, were almost painfully clean. She rubbed her palm against her ill-fitting pants as though removing the feel of Murphy’s touch.

The Culpeppers saw, and laughed.

«Hey, old man. She don’t want your dirty paws on her,» one of them said. «How about mine, darlin’? I washed ’em just last week.»

«Your hands ain’t no cleaner than mine, Beau,» said another Culpepper.

«Shut up, Clim,» Beau said. «Go find your own rag doll to fondle. I done found mine. Ain’t I, darlin’?»

Shannon acted as though the Culpeppers didn’t exist.

But Whip could tell that she heard each word clearly. She was standing straighter than ever, and the generous lines of her mouth were drawn flat in fear or distaste.

I hope those boys have better manners than I think they do, Whip told himself grimly. I’d hate like hell to take on the four of them with only a bullwhip and a prayer.

Murphy bit the ring again, grunted, and tucked it into the pocket of his greasy flannel shirt.

«Your husband must’ve cleaned out his claims if this is all the gold you got left,» Murphy said.

«Ask him,» said Shannon. «If you can find him before he finds you.»

Murphy grunted and the Culpeppers hooted.

«The bit of supplies your ring fetches won’t see you through a fortnight, much less a whole summer,» Murphy said.

«My husband is a fine shot, no matter what the game.»

Shannon said nothing more.

Nor did she have to. The Culpeppers looked among themselves uneasily. Then Beau smiled like a Comanchero.

«Yeah, I keep hearing about what a fine shot your husband is,» Beau said. «But I ain’t neverseenhim shoot. Come to think on it, I ain’t never seen Silent John a’tall, and we been comin’ and goin’ from here nigh onto two years.»