Not long after the architect left, Frank came galloping into camp. He yanked his gelding to a sliding halt and stared around. “Where’s Bart?” He sounded tense.
“Here I am.” Bart strode up to him. “What’s going on?”
“I rode into town to look into renting a house, remember?”
“Yes, I do. Any luck?”
“Huh? Oh, yes. I told the landlord we’d come by tomorrow to sign the papers. As long as you like the house.”
“I’m sure we will. Now tell me what’s going on?”
“Well, while I was getting ready to ride back to the valley, the telegrapher found me and asked if I was the man who’d ridden with you.”
“And…?”
“I told him I was, and he said he had a telegram for you from back east.”
“From Ma?”
“Yeah.”
Bart looked sick. Sharps didn’t need to exchange glances with Steve. Everyone knew telegrams wer
