“I just stopped to rest my horse and make a little coffee,” Hawk answered, amused by the old man’s bluntness. “And I wanted to get a little way up the creek, instead of stoppin’ here where everybody else has camped.” He grinned at the old man then. “Why did you go so far back in the bushes to do your business?”

“’Cause it ain’t fittin’ to do it where everybody camps.” He looked at Hawk as if he couldn’t believe anyone had to ask that question. “Which way you headin’, north or south?”

“Figured I’d ride down to Wolf Creek,” Hawk answered. “Looks like you fellows are headin’ in the same direction. How far is it from here, say, to Rufus Bodine’s place? That is, if he’s still there.”

“I hope to hell he is,” the old man replied. “We ain’t been there in a couple of months, and it’s the only place we can buy flour and salt and such as that. Ain’t that right, Thomas?”

“That’s right, Grandpa,” Thomas replied. Up to that point, those were the first words spoken by the young man. But like his grandfather, Thomas had looked Hawk over, from the hawk feather in his hat, to the toes of his boots. He and his grandpa most always saw drifters hanging around Bodine’s store, and most of them looked to be someone the law might be interested in. He wondered if Hawk was another of the typical saddle tramps who gathered there. Answering Hawk’s question, he said, “Bodine’s is about eight miles from here. And I expect we’d best get goin’, if we’re gonna make it there in time for Mr. Pressley to take care of that loose shoe.”

“It’s been a long time since I was in Wolf Creek,” Hawk said. “Who’s Mr. Pressley?”

Thomas seemed reluctant to answer Hawk’s questions, but he politely responded. “Reuben Pressley, he’s the blacksmith. One of our horses is tryin’ to throw a shoe and we was figurin’ on gettin’ Mr. Pressley to fix it while we’re here. Our farm is too far for him to come out there, so we have to come to him. But he don’t charge much, so he might just let us owe him till we get some money.”

From the look of confusion on the old man’s face after Thomas’s answer, Hawk realized what the young man was thinking. “Thomas, are you concerned that I might be gettin’ ready to rob you and your grandpa?” Judging by the look of alarm on Thomas’s face, he figured he had hit the nail on the head. Thomas didn’t have an answer for him, so Hawk said, “You’ve got nothing to worry about from me. Robbin’ folks ain’t my callin’. I’m a scout for the army, workin’ outta Fort Ellis, down on the Yellowstone.”