“There’s got to be four or five pounds of meat there,” said Cain. “Do you mean to tell me that one man is going to eat it all?”

Moonripple nodded. “Oh, yes, sir. And the chocolate cake that’s in the oven.”

Cain stared at the roast again. “Is he doing it on some kind of a bet?” he asked, curious.

“No, sir,” answered Moonripple. “He has the same meal every day.”

“He wouldn’t happen to be eleven feet three inches tall, with orange hair, would he?” asked Cain, only half joking.

The girl laughed. “No, sir. He’s only a man.”

“If he can pack that much food away, there’s nothing only about him,” replied Cain. He paused. “By the way, how long has Billy Three-Eyes been dead?”

“Four or five months, sir.” She paused. “Oh!” she said suddenly. “I forgot the potatoes!”

“You ought to change your sign out front,” commented Cain. “I thought this place was just a tavern.”

“It is.”

“But you’re serving food,” he observed.

“Only to Father William. He’s kind of a special customer.”

She turned to go to the kitchen, but Cain grabbed her arm.

“Father William’s on Safe Harbor?” he demanded.

“Yes, sir. He’ll be by in just a few minutes.”

“How long has he been here?”

“I’m not sure, sir,” said Moonripple. “Maybe a week.”

“I didn’t see his tent on my way into town.”

“Tent, sir?”

“He’s a preacher.”

“I know, sir, but he says he’s on vacation.”

Cain frowned. “Did he ask about Billy Three-Eyes, too?”

“No, sir.” She looked uncomfortable. “You’re hurting my arm, sir.”

“I’m sorry,” said Cain, releasing the girl. “You’re sure he didn’t say anything about Billy Three-Eyes?”

“Not to me, sir.” She began walking to the kitchen. “Excuse me, but I have to get his potatoes.”

“Did he mention Santiago?” asked Cain.

“Why should he do that?” asked Moonripple, stopping a few feet short of the kitchen door.

“Because he’s a bounty hunter as well as a preacher.”

“What does that have to do with Santiago?”

Cain stared at her, amazed by her ignorance. “He’s the most wanted outlaw on the Frontier.”

“You must be wrong, sir,” said Moonripple, leaning forward so that the door could sense her presence and slide back to admit her. “Santiago is a hero.”

“To who?” asked Cain.

She laughed as if he had just told a joke, and before he could question her further she was inside the kitchen, leaving him to sip his beer thoughtfully and stare at the door that quickly hid her from view.

She emerged a moment later, carrying a large serving dish filled with potatoes au gratin.

“Tell me about Santiago,” said Cain as she walked over to Father William’s table.

“I don’t know him, sir,” said Moonripple.

“What makes you think he’s a hero?”

“Everybody says so.”

“Who’s everybody?” persisted Cain.