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intensity.
    When Grady Hawks ignored her question, she told the sheriff, without dropping her eyes from the staring match they were in, "I didn't stab Frank or see who killed him, but I'm not sorry to be free of him."
    For some reason, Rancher Hawks wanted to play stare-me-down. She dropped her eyes, although his familiar appraisal of her raised her hackles and brought on defiance.
    She clenched her hands, willing her anger deep . Playing meek will get me free sooner.
    When the sheriff didn't comment on her words, it irritated her. It was as though the entire room waited breathlessly for something. She had a schedule to keep and no time for foolishness. Clearing her throat, she spoke to Grady Hawks.
    "Please excuse my poor manners. I'm sorry I didn't say thank you the night of the social." In spite of her efforts, she couldn't keep the dry sarcasm from her voice, "My husband needed my attention after your conversation with him."
    Frank had beaten her afterward until she'd forgotten about escape and prayed for survival. Appeasement, while she learned defense against his brutality, became a way of life.
    She was jerked from her reverie when the Indian rancher stepped closer. Before she knew his intent, Grady Hawks cupped her face, holding her chin in strong fingers.
    "Mister Hawks, I don't care who you are, or who you think you are. You'd better get your hands off of me." Jewel tried to jerk her head free, but his hand tightened while he explored her once-again bruised cheek, turning her face into the light to study her profile.
    Then he grunted and stepped back, releasing his grip.
    "Will she do?" The question came from Hamilton Quince, who was also standing now.

Chapter Three
    The woman named Comfort watched silently; a frown of disapproval marred her beautiful features. "Mrs. Rossiter, perhaps I could get you something to eat. Or, if not, at least a cup of coffee."
    Jewel's stomach rumbled. She hadn't eaten since the evening before. But, it was more important to be on her way. She took her cue and answered socially, as though they were enjoying an evening of pleasant discourse.
    "No, thank you, Mrs. Quince. I will return your clothing as soon as I am able, but I need to be on my way. Now."
    She'd had a familiar feeling, of disaster about to happen, hearing the exchange between Grady Hawks and Hamilton Quince. The sound of voices cut through the air, and Jewel eased over to the window as Comfort Quince moved toward her front entrance that faced the only street in Eclipse.
    Sheriff Potter was outside. Jewel hadn't seen him leave, but now, on his return, he was followed by a mob. They crowded across the walk and would have shoved through the door, but Comfort blocked the way until the sheriff stepped inside, towing Judge Conklin behind him.
    She could tell from the tension in the room that trouble was expected. Escape through the front was now impossible, since the porch was surrounded and overflowing with angry people. It will have to be the back door, and soon. Jewel readied herself to make a run for it.
    "I didn't kill Frank Rossiter, Sheriff Potter. Am I under arrest?" At the negative shake of his head, she asked aggressively, "Can I go now?"
    She tried to hide the tinge of fear in her voice, forcing her tone to sound reasonable.
    "I'll go out the back way and slip out of town." But she could see from the grave expressions on the other inhabitants of the room that those weren't the plans in play.
    Will she do? What now? All she needed was for the respectable citizens of Eclipse to decide they could use her somehow. She'd already met most of the unsavory sort, and these people didn't impress her as being much better.
    Grady Hawks hadn't spoken again, leaving Jewel wondering about his presence. She had a feeling that he was more of a threat to her than the lawman or the judge. She could still feel the place on her jaw that his callused fingers had gripped.
    From across the room where Hamilton Quince stood next to his wife,