I looked and then looked again, and my heart sank. It was the guy I’d had the run-in with back in Miles City. The one who thought I’d stolen his suitcase.

He didn’t seem to like how Reese had introduced him. He gave this stiff-necked nod of acknowledgment as his gaze swept across us. I was relieved when it had passed by with no sign he’d recognized me.

I turned back to the work at hand and to the fellows I was getting to know.

Already guys were splitting into groups as we milled around, unpacking, going back and forth to see how Reese’s footlocker was arranged.

Of course some fellows had arrived already knowing each other. There was a good number that hailed from various parts of Montana, and a half-dozen Carolina guys who’d arrived on the same train with Eddie Durgan—or Apple, as everyone already called him.

The guy who’d hassled him about the time was one of a pair. He kept with another who spoke in the same fast, sharp, Yankee accent. “The Bronx,” one of them answered shortly, when someone asked where they were from, “if it’s any of your business.”

Rudelike, but I likely wouldn’t have marked them ’specially, except that I accidentally kicked over some clothes one of them had piled on the floor.

The guy who’d said he was from the Bronx was in my face in an instant, acting like I’d done it on purpose. “Pick ’em up,” he said. “And fold ’em while you’re at it.” He jabbed at my shoulder.

I jabbed back. “Knock it off!” I said. “I’m sorry I kicked your stuff, but you got no cause—”

He jabbed harder, and this time I hit his arm away.

“Back off!” a voice commanded. “Now!” Compton stepped between us, shoving us apart. “What are your names?”

“Klein,” the guy muttered in a sullen voice.

“That’s it?”

“Joe Klein.”

“Moss Trawnley,” I answered.

“This incident will be noted. Consider yourselves warned. Fighting is not tolerated. Is that understood?”

He got a grudging nod from Klein, and I said, “Yes.”

“All right then,” Compton said, his gaze on me suddenly intent. “Haven’t I see you someplace before?” His expression sharpened. “I did. In the Miles City depot the other day. You took my bag.”

“No, I—”

Reese came over just then. “Is there a problem?”

Compton’s eyes locked on mine. “There’d better not be,” he said. “I’ll be watching you extra close, Trawnley.”

“What was that all about?” Nate asked.

“A misunderstanding,” I answered. “Compton and me got off on the wrong foot.”

“It’ll blow over,” Sam said. “Or, if it doesn’t, at least you can say good-bye to him when we leave for work camp.”

I didn’t answer. I wasn’t used to practical strangers asking about my problems or commenting on them.