His eyes were a faded gray, narrowed and aware.  He didn’t seem to present a rough kind of trouble, but definitely there was an air about him that suggested some kind of trouble.

“My turn first.  Are you Charlotte Duchesne?”

Something in Charlotte turned cold.  So this was how it would be.  Ever since Ellis had brought it up, she’d been thinking about it.  She was prepared.  She was her father’s child.

“I am.  But now I need to know who’s asking.”

She saw him suddenly glance to his right.  Her eyes followed his and there was Chace, sitting on the gray much like the first time she’d seen him.  He wore the shirt now, but his knee was up over the saddle horn, the rifle across his lap.  The bow was gone but the knife had reappeared.  His eyes were steady on their visitor, easy, neutral.

“Abner Cross,” the visitor said, turning back to Charlotte.  “Federal marshal.  And if you don’t mind my asking, who is he?”

“How do I know that’s really who you are?” Charlotte said, ignoring his question.

Abner Cross started for his shirt pocket, then thought better of it.  “I’d show you but I don’t feel the need to get shot doing it.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

He took the badge out of the pocket and reached down to show her.  She nodded.

“And what have you come all this way to talk to me about?”

Abner Cross glanced again at Chace, who hadn’t moved.

“Let’s get straight who this other party is first.”

“Chace Bridger Yellow Cloud.”

“And what is he to you?”

Everything.  “My protection.  If you want to offer me your guns for the duration of the time you’re here, I imagine that would make things easier.”

“No, thank you.”

“Then this is where we are.”

“You know why I’m here.”

“I don’t until you tell me.  I don’t count many federal marshals among my acquaintances, so that’s not it.”

“It’s about Conner Mathis who was shot dead in his own kitchen.”  Charlotte was silent.  “If I could sit down and just talk with you, it would be a help.”

“Leave your guns and you can do anything you want.”

Abner looked one more time at Chace and made a calculated decision.  He slowly removed his revolver from its holster, turned it handle forward and handed it to Charlotte.  Then he got down off his horse, leaving the rifle where it was.

Charlotte sat down at the fire.  Abner Cross sat down as well.

“Do you have anything to say about that?” he said.

“I don’t.”

“Did you shoot him?”

“Everyone knows I did.  You didn’t need to track me over hell and all creation to find that out.”

“Why did you shoot him?”