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“Do you have time to join us for a drink?” Max asked

Quint’s hesitation was only slight, but deliberately calculated “Sure,” he agreed “Whiskey Seven”

“Pour Quint a whiskey Seven, Boone,” Max ordered “And I’ll havehis wheelchair toward a conversational grouping of chairs and swept out his hand in an inviting gesture “Have a seat”

“Thanks” Quint crossed to a cowhide-upholstered chair and laid his hat on its wide armrest as he folded his tall frame onto the seat

“How’s Chase these days?” Max positioned his wheelchair in the open space within the grouping

“Doing ree”

“Your grandfather is a remarkable man in many ways”

“I agree,” Quint said and sh naturally I am prejudiced”

“As you should be” A saunt cheeks Then a small line furrowed his brow in a faint show of puzzle over the Cee Bar What happened to the ranchit? What was his na look to Boone for the anshen he arrived with their drinks

“Evans, I think it was”

“He’s gone now” Quint took his drink from Boone’s outstretched hand

“Help is always a probleood ones are too often lured away by better offers And the bad ones—well, you don’t want to keep them anyway”

“Very true” Quint raised his glass in a toast “To finding good help and keeping them”

Boone and Max acknowledged the toast with a slight lift of glasses The gesture was followed by the lass sides as each took a sip Boone drifted off to the side and hooked a long leg over the high armrest of a leather sofa, but Quint was conscious of the heavy bore of his gaze If, as he believed, the Rutledges were orchestrating the current spate of trouble at the Cee Bar, the son was likely the muscle behind it, and the father, the brains And it was on the latter Quint centered his attention

“It just occurred to an, “did your mother come with you?”