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stupid.”
    Jordan felt his blood heat up. “Knight isn’t stupid, Lester! And if you don’t take it back right now, it’s your face that’s going to get pounded!”
    Lester bristled. “Oh, yeah? And just who’s gonna pound it?”
    “I am!” Jordan made a fist and drew it back.
    “Hold it right there!” came the booming voice of George Crum as he hastened from the door toward the boys. “Don’t you hit him, Jordan!”
    Fist still clenched, Jordan looked at Crum with fire in his eyes. “He insulted Knight Colburn, and I don’t like it!”
    “Now just calm down,” said George, drawing up. “What do you mean he insulted Knight?”
    “Lester said Knight was stupid for being a Christian, and that somebody ought to pound his face for being so stupid.”
    George glanced at his son. “Lester is entitled to his opinion.”
    “Yeah? Then tell him to keep it to himself! I’m not going to stand here and listen to him insult my friend.”
    “Well, don’t stand there,” said George. “Load up your sacks of grain and take ’em home. They’re already on your father’s bill.”
    Jordan’s impulse was to pound George’s face, but he resisted the temptation. Turning away, he went to a small cart and wheeled it to the spot where the grain sacks were piled. Father and son stood and watched while he piled a dozen sacks of oats on the cart, then wheeled it outside and loaded them into the wagon.
    Jordan was still struggling to maintain control of his temper when he returned with the cart to pick up the second load. While he was putting the sacks on the cart, he could hear George speaking in a low voice to Lester, and what words he could pick up were like fiery darts, for George was telling Lester he agreed that Knight Colburn was a fool for being one of those “born-again” types. George added that Knight’s parents were also fools, and a lot of good his religion did Buck when he was facing the stampede.
    Jordan’s breathing was erratic with fury as he wheeled the cart out the door and loaded the sacks onto the wagon. When he was climbing into the seat, father and son appeared at the door, and George said, “You shouldn’t treat Lester like you did today, boy. Don’t you ever threaten to hit him again.”
    Jordan’s eyes turned to the color of slate. He spoke from his built-up anger in a knifelike tone. “If you don’t want him to get punched, then tell him to keep his mouth shut about Knight!”
    George’s eyes widened and his face flushed. Shaking a fist at Jordan, he rasped, “Get outta here! Go on! Get outta my sight!”
    Jordan snapped the reins and turned the wagon around. When he looked back at the spot where George and Lester had stood, they were gone. He put the team in motion again, and as he headed toward the street, red-hot fury was welling up in him. It showed in the lines of his mouth and the flush of his face.
    Suddenly Jordan’s attention was drawn to the pile of dirt and rocks that ran parallel to the ditch that was being dug on the adjacent property. At the moment, the ditch diggers were absent. Pulling rein, he jumped out of the wagon, hurried to the dirt pile and picked up a fist-sized rock.
    Returning to the wagon seat, he guided the team back onto the street, then angled the wagon toward the front of the feed andgrain store. As he hoisted the rock to throw it, he was aware that there were people on the street who could see him, and he had a flash of memory about the trouble he had gotten into when he had thrown the rock through Ben Slayton’s window. But he was so angry, he didn’t care.
    Teeth clenched, the sixteen-year-old hurled the rock into the window, shattering it.
    When Jordan Shaw arrived back at the Bar-S, he was still fuming over the incident at the feed store. He pulled the wagon inside the barn and began unloading the sacks and piling them next to the feed bin. He was almost finished when he heard two male voices outside. One of them was his father, but he wasn’t sure