Scott watched as the little girl took measure of her situation, studying Val out of those huge brown eyes, trying to determine just how

provoked he really was.

Val sat down near Scott, and said brusquely, "What's your name?"

"I didn't swipe that man's money."

"We've determined that," Val said, sounding vastly irritated. "I'm asking your name."

"Can't I go? I didn't commit any crime," she insisted.

"To go where?" Val asked her. "You got off the train here today, with no family or adults present with you. Where is it you plan

to go?"

The little girl looked Val over, and then looked at Scott.

Scott kept his expression neutral, serious.

"My name is Charlie," she said, reluctantly.

At both Val and Scott's puzzled looks, she sighed. "It's short for Charlotte," she explained.

"Charlotte what?" Val persisted.

"Just Charlotte."

Val sat back in the straight-backed chair, and gave a sigh.

"Okay, Just Charlotte," he said mockingly. "Where are you from?"

When he got no answer, Val looked at Scott, and then shrugged lightly, standing up.

"Well, then, I've guess I've got no choice," he said, in a slow drawl. "Right, Scott?"

"I guess you don't," Scott said, in apparent agreement.

"No choice but what?" the girl asked, looking wary.

"To keep you here," Val said, "until you're ready to tell us your name, and where you're from, so we can contact

your parents."

Unable to hide how horrified she was, the girl said, "You mean lock me up? Back there?" as she pointed towards the

jail cells.

"Well, I don't want to, you understand," Val said, going over to his desk, and rustling thru some papers, in apparent nonchalance. "But

we can't just let you wander out of here, without somebody to look after you. And since you won't tell us any information about yourself,

well, that just seems to be the only choice."

Just when it seemed as though Val's strategy was successful, and the little girl was ready to be forthright with them, she stood up,

and went over to the front of the one of the cells.

Then, to the obvious shock of Val, and Scott, too, she went inside, pulled the iron door closed, and sat down on the not-so-clean cot, crossing

her arms, and giving them both a mutinous stare.

"Now listen," Val said, beginning to bluster.

Scott waved a cautionary hand at him, and motioned him outside, pulling the door shut behind them.

Val looked as though he were ready to explode, and Scott said lightly, "Good try."

"I don't have time for this nonsense. I haven't even had any lunch yet, and it's near onto two o'clock. She'll have to tell me what I need to know."

"How are you going to accomplish that?" Scott asked him.

"I'll give her a good tanning and make her tell me," Val said.

"Hmm," Scott said, in answer, and Val gave him an irritated look.

"I suppose you have a better idea," he snapped.

"I don't know about better, but I've got an idea, yeah."

"Well, if it involves me getting to go to the Longhorn for some lunch, then I'm listening," Val said.

L*

After outlining his plan of action, Scott sent Val on his way across the street to the restaurant. When he stepped back inside

the jail, and closed the door, the little girl stood up from her seated place on the cot. Scott didn't say anything at first. He found a piece of wood

in the wood box, a small piece, and sat down, with his feet on the desk, and pulled a pocketknife out of his pocket.

And then he began to whittle at the wood, letting the shavings fall to the floor.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that she had come over to the door of the jail cell, putting her hands on the bars, and looking at

him.

"Where's the sheriff?" she asked.

"He went to have his lunch."

"So you're my jailer, huh?" she asked then, sassy-like. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

Scott didn't much care for the tone of her voice, but he kept his temper. It wasn't the time yet.

"I'm not your jailer," he said calmly, still whittling. "I'm just sitting here until Val gets done at lunch."

"And then what?" she asked.

"And then I'll be on my way. Like you suggested, I do have some better things I need to be doing."

The little girl seemed to take that in, and then she said, sounding not-so-tough, "What kind of things?"

"Like stringing some new fence along a creek line. And then sitting down to supper with my family."

"You a rancher?" she asked.

"That's right."

There was a moment or two of silence, and then she asked, "You have a wife? And kids?"

"No."

"Who's in your family?" she asked then, sounding curious.

"My father. And my brother. And a few others who're like family."

"Oh," she said, and the subsided into quiet.

Scott bided his time, and when she kept standing there, at the door of the cell, watching him, he put the knife back into his

pocket, and stood up. He walked over to the window, lifting the curtain to look out, as if interested in the goings-on out in the street. Then

he went over to lean against the wall opposite the cell.

He didn't introduce conversation, though. He just stood. And waited.

"I guess you probably think I'm a bad kid. don't you?" she asked.

"I don't know you well enough to say," Scott answered.

"Well, I'm not!" she said, with spirit. "I've just had some bad luck lately, that's all."

"Yeah?" Scott asked, keeping his tone casual.

"Yeah." She sighed a little. From where he stood, Scott could hear her stomach rumbling with hunger.

He ignored that for the moment, though, and said, thoughtfully, "Val's a good man. He's just trying to help you, is all."

"Putting me in here?" she asked, sarcastically, and waving her hand around the dirty cell. "This is helping me?"

"Now just a minute, there," Scott said. "You put yourself in that cell. He just asked you some questions that you didn't want to

answer. If you're going to tell a story, make sure you tell it right."

The little girl's eyes took him in, and Scott could tell she was discomforted by the authority in his voice.

The door opened, and Val came in.

"Pork chops and fried potatoes for the special today, Scott," Val informed him. "You'd better get over there

before it's all gone."

"Sounds good," Scott said, and didn't miss the look of longing on the face of the child. No doubt about it. This was one

hungry kid.

Scott pushed himself off the wall, and turned his attention towards Val. "Well, I best be getting along. Johnny's not going

to be happy about stretching all that fence wire by himself."

"Right," Val said. "Tell him to come in town and have a beer with me sometime."

"I'll tell him," Scott promised. He flicked a glance toward the little girl. "I hope things work out for you," he told her.

She opened her mouth as if to say something, and then closed it again just as promptly.

Scott headed to the door of the jail, nodding just slightly at Val to let him know that the plan was still in place.

L*

After indulging in a cold beer, and a game of cards at the saloon, Scott went back over to the jail. When he went inside, Val

looked up from his paperwork at the desk, and then stood up, taking Scott to a far corner of the room for privacy.

"Been sitting in there cryin'," he said, in a low tone.

"Hmm," Scott said thoughtfully. "Well, let's see if she's ready."

He went over quietly to stand in front of the jail cell. The little girl was sitting cross-legged on the cot, her back towards

Scott. He could hear the sniffling as she tried to control her tears.

He didn't say anything right off, and the little girl turned to look back at him. For a moment her face brightened at the sight of him.

"I thought you left," she said, and then masked her emotions again.

"I thought I'd come back once more. See if you're ready to parley."

She swiped at her wet cheeks, twisting to look at him. "What's that mean?"

"It means talk. Discuss things. Answer questions."

"Oh," she said, and Scott was struck again by how slightly built she was.

She stood up, and slowly came over to the cell door, which Scott took as an encouraging sign. He decided to up the ante.

"Let's say that you were willing to do that. Answer questions, and all. Well, then, I figure that we could

go over to the restaurant and get something to eat," he told her.

"You mean you and me?" she asked, hopefully.

"That's what I mean." He paused, and then said, "Or, if you're not ready to talk, then you can wait for the supper Val brings you, and sleep here

tonight."

"Will I have to sleep here, even if I answer the questions?" she asked then, sounding worried.

"Well, that depends. It might be that you could come home with me for the night, to my family's home."

"Do you mean it?" she asked, looking shocked.

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't," Scott said.

A range of vast emotions crossed over her face. Scott was quiet. Waiting. Letting her pride wage battle with her hunger, and her distaste at being in

the cell.

"Okay," she said then, quietly.

"Okay," Scott echoed, and turned to call to Val. "Val, you want to open up the cell?"

L*

Once seated, Val began the questions.

"How about your name?" he asked her. "Your entire name."

"It's Charlie. Charlotte Bays."

"Where's your folks?"

"I don't have any folks."

Val looked at her skeptically. "You have to have some people."

"I don't have anybody. I've been living in the orphanage."

Scott broke into the conversation. "What about the other kid? The one that hopped the train."

"Just a girl I met there," she said vaguely.

"So you two ran off from the orphanage, then?" Val asked, sitting back in his chair a little. "How long ago?"

"Maybe a couple of weeks."

"Did your friend take the wallet?" Val asked.

"I don't know," she said, and then at Val's stern look, she amended, "Well, probably."

When both Val and Scott were quiet, she said, "We wouldn't have gotten off the train here, but that man started hollering, and so we

jumped off and started running."

"What's her name?" Val asked.

Charlotte hesitated. "Why do I have to tell you that?"

"Because I'm asking you," Val said, his patience worn.

"Lila," Charlotte said reluctantly. "I don't know her last name."

"Okay," Val said, and stood up.

"What now?" she asked, looking up at him.

"I'll send a wire to the orphanage. Let them know you're here, so they can send somebody to pick you up," Val said.

"Oh," she said, and Scott thought that he could practically see the wheels of thought turning in her mind.

"Scott's agreed that you can stay at Lancer until I hear back something. And now, Scott, I'm going to leave you to

it," Val said, with obvious relief, and a gesture towards the little girl.

Once they were seated at a table across the street at the restaurant, Scott asked her what she wanted to eat.

To his surprise, she looked suddenly shy. "Whatever you think," she said. "I don't want to ask for anything that costs too much."

"Well, but I don't know what you like or don't like to eat," he said.

"I like just about everything," she told him, as the waitress came to take their order.

"We'll take two roast beef dinners, with mashed potatoes, and green beans," Scott said, and then looked at Charlotte. "Sound alright?"

The child nodded happily.

"And a glass of milk, and coffee," Scott added.

When the waitress had bustled away, Scott settled in his chair, looking across the table at the little girl. He wondered just how thin she

really was, under the too-large pants and shirt that she wore.

He himself was being regarded with just as much scrutiny by her, Scott saw.

"I don't know your name," she said.

"It's Scott. Scott Lancer."

"So when the sheriff said Lancer, he meant the name of your ranch?" she asked.

"That's right."

"And your brother's name is Johnny?" she asked, and Scott thought that she must have really been paying attention to the conversation

between he and Val in order to remember that.

He nodded.

"What's your father like?" she asked.

"Oh, Murdoch," Scott said. "Well, he's steady, and when he says something, he sticks by it. He loves his land, and his home."

"And he loves you? And your brother?" she asked, sounding wistful.

Scott didn't miss that tone of longing in her voice.

"He does," he agreed, simply.

"That must be nice," she said, and then sighed a little. Scott was tempted to ask questions, but he kept himself in check. It was too soon.

After that, Charlotte asked questions about the ranch. How big it was. Did they have cattle? And lots of horses?

"I like horses," she said, with a breathy sigh. "It's almost like they can talk to a person. I mean, it seems that way."

"My brother feels that way about horses, too," Scott told her.

The waitress brought their plates of food to the table then, and after that there wasn't any talking for a while. Charlotte tucked

into the meal, eating heartily and cleaning her plate. Observing without notice, Scott saw that she had table manners, and used them.

She didn't, he pondered, act as though she'd been residing in an orphanage. There was no quick stuffing of food, even though he knew

that she'd been extremely hungry.

As she finished, she pushed her plate away, and then finished her glass of milk.

"That was good," she said.

"Did you get enough?" Scott asked. "Or would you like dessert?"

"Can I?" she asked, looking hopeful.

"They have good pie here," Scott said, motioning to the waitress.

After a couple of minutes of thought, Charlotte decided on blackberry pie, and drank another glass of milk.

As she ate the pie, she spoke up quietly, "How come you're doing this for me? Helping me like you are? And letting me

stay at your home?"

Scott was quiet for a moment, contemplative. She seemed to be genuine in her desire to understand.

"Well," he said in honesty, "I don't really know. You just seemed as though you needed somebody."

For a moment, Scott thought he saw the glimmer of tears in those brown eyes.

"But you didn't have to help me," she persisted.

"No. I didn't," he said simply.

She studied him, still looking a bit emotional. "What if you find out something about me? Something that's not so good?"

Realizing what she was getting at, Scott decided to make her spell it out.

"What if I do?" he asked.

"Well, maybe you won't want to have me at your house then," she said, avoiding his eye.

"I guess that's a possibility," he acknowledged. "It seems as though there's an easy enough answer to that, though."

"What?" she asked, looking up at him again, all eyes.

"You could just tell me anything that you think I might need to know. That way I'd hear it from you."

At her frightened look, Scott decided to back off for the time being. "I'll tell you what," he said, giving her a half-smile. "Let's just go on as we are for

a bit. Talking might get easier for you, once you realize that I'm really a pretty nice guy."

"I already know that," the child said. "I knew it as soon as you stepped in to help me at the train depot."

They regarded each other silently for a moment or two, and then Scott said, "Well, let's head to Lancer."

*L*