over raised
shotguns.

"Came to talk to you," Jerry said mildly.

One of them--he thought it was Ed--spat.

"Ah, now," Jerry went on in an aggrieved tone, "that's a fine way to
treat a son of Jack Bronson."

The Carver brothers glanced at one another, then the shotguns lowered.
"Come along," they said gruffly. In the littered yard by their cabin,
they pointed to a bench and squatted down before it on their thin old
shanks.

"New people in Dark Valley."

They nodded.

"They've bought it from the bank. They own it clear to the ridge line,
including your place, here."

"We been here forty years," said Ed.

"If I owned it you could stay forty more."

"They send you?" the voice was sharp, suspicious.

Jerry shook his head. "I just thought you'd like to know about it."

For a couple of minutes the Carver brothers chewed tobacco in unison.
They stood up, reached for their guns. "We'll see," they said.

Jerry nodded. They walked beside him, kicking thoughtfully at the
leaves. The brother named Mike rubbed his whiskers. "Get much of a look
at 'em when ye passed through?"

"Some."

"They furriners?"

Jerry sighed inwardly. "Maybe. They look like hard workers."

The Carver brothers cackled suddenly. "They better be! To farm that
land."

Jerry passed back through the valley. A man knocking out stumps waved to
him. A woman in a barnyard swished out her big skirts, shooing chickens.
At that first farm, a trickle of water still ran from the pump....

* * * * *

Wide Bend was a normal community. Along with its natural curiosity there
was a genuine feeling of neighborliness--heightened by the conviction
that these hardworking strangers had thrown their money away on a
hopeless venture. So, one way and another, a fair percentage of the
town's population found excuses in the next few days to get out to Dark
Valley. Bit by bit the reports filtered back to Jerry, and they all
added up about the same.

Joe Merklos and his people were incredibly industrious. Already they had
cleaned up the yards, repaired sagging barns and roofless sheds.
Curtains fluttered at the windows. Cows had appeared, and sheep, even a
few horses. Somehow, perhaps from accumulated seepage, they were still
bringing water from the rusty pumps. And--though it was surely an
illusion--Dark Valley seemed to have taken on a tinge of green again.

Wide Bend's womenfolk brought gifts of home-made preserves, jelly,
ca