Quentin listened to Turk, nodding occasionally as he recounted what he knew. "You have the gist of things. Shade's brother and my sister first owned the place until they were murdered..." Quentin held up a hand as he saw the question coming. "...No, we're not sure if it was the Steelgraves, but we sure do suspect them. Taking this spread to add to theirs would make them pretty much an empire in this part of the country. That's why they're so hot to have it." Quentin took another sip of the coffee. "Thanks for the compliment. It's a whole lot easier with actual coffee."

Quentin stared at the wall for a few moments, then looked at Turk. "Things have been tense for a long time, but something has changed recently. I don't know what's made them start trying harder, but I figure things may start getting more dangerous around here..." Quentin took another sip. "...Most of your duties will be staying around the main ranch area. Consider it a garrison detail. You watch who comes and goes and be ready to greet anyone who does anything unfriendly. Here on our land, not many people will ask a lot of questions, but we're not murderers nor are we trigger happy. You savvy?"

Shade dismounted from his big smoky buckskin stallion, having just barely reined the horse in. As he led him into the barn, he took note of a horse he did not recognize that was tied in one of the saddling enclosures, contentedly munching on some hay. He hooked a thumb at the strange animal as he handed the reins over to one of the stable hands.

“Who does that one belong to?” Shade asked, more curious than alarmed.

“Don’t know the man’s name. Think I heard him tellin’ Mr. Cantrell he was lookin’ for work,” the young man said as he took hold of Lakota’s reins.

“Give him some extra grain,” Shade said with a grin. “He earned it.”

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Although everything seemed perfectly quiet with no need for worry, Shade was still glad he was wearing the tall moccasins instead of his usual boots. The different footwear made moving quietly effortless…well, the shoes and his years of being taught woodcraft by his Navajo kin. It was easy enough to make his way around to the front of the house and through the patio doors into his room. Pausing, he took off his heavy winter coat and hung it up, leaned his bow and quiver of arrows against the wall. Shade stood another moment longer debating on whether or not to carry his rifle with him. Finally, he decided against it. He was wearing his fast gun, something he had taken to doing again as tensions heated up between Lost Lake and the Steelgraves.

Logic told him that if Quentin was talking to a potential new hand, he had probably taken him to his study. Making his way down the hall, he paused just out of sight of the doorway, going very still to listen in for a moment before making his presence known.

"...Most of your duties will be staying around the main ranch area. Consider it a garrison detail. You watch who comes and goes and be ready to greet anyone who does anything unfriendly. Here on our land, not many people will ask a lot of questions, but we're not murderers nor are we trigger happy. You savvy?"

Shade eased into the doorway as Quentin finished speaking and coughed, clearing his throat to alert the two men inside of his presence. He nodded to the stranger, his dark blue eyes taking in the man’s affable looking appearance. Reading strangers quickly was an old habit. He turned his eyes to Quentin, “Sorry to interrupt. Thought I’d let you know we were back.”

Shade eased into the doorway as Quentin finished speaking and coughed, clearing his throat to alert the two men inside of his presence. He nodded to the stranger, his dark blue eyes taking in the man’s affable looking appearance. Reading strangers quickly was an old habit. He turned his eyes to Quentin, “Sorry to interrupt. Thought I’d let you know we were back.”

Quentin waved Shade on in and then pointed to the man sitting across from him. "Come on in, he was looking for you, anyway. Cabot Flagg, this is Shade Thornton. Shade, meet Cabot Flagg. He would like to be called Turk." Quentin let them greet each other then he pointed at the stove. "There's coffee on if you want some, Shade. I was just speaking with Turk about a job. He already knows some of our troubles and would like to take a hand if he could. He's...not a cowhand."

Any lingering confusion within Shade’s mind cleared when Flagg mentioned Caroline’s name. Over the last few months, since returning from Arizona with Warbow, Shade had dropped in at the Stardust to listen to her sing and they’d formed a light and easy friendship. He smiled and took the hand that Flagg offered, giving it a firm shake.

“Glad to meet you, Turk. Most everyone around here just calls me Shade,” he said as he released the other man’s hand. “Sorry for the trail dust. Please give my regards to Miss Caroline next time you see her.”

Shade hated to admit it, but he figured there’d be more than hard words between the two ranches by spring. He trusted Quentin’s judgement so if he felt okay about hiring Flagg, Shade was more than willing to back him. They pretty much had the unspoken rule that they’d back one another and if either of them had an issue, they would take it up in private.

“Don’t expect much trouble over the winter, but you never know. Main thing to know is that our wards are the real owners of Lost Lake, and they are to be protected at all costs,” Shade’s voice was firm and a bit grim as he spoke. Even Harriet now carried a gun or two with her when she was out and there was always someone that could be trusted with the twins. Shade had lost all the family that he intended to lose. He paused to allow Quentin to add anything or for Turk to speak up if they wanted to.

"I will protect whoever you want me to. Once we agree it's a done deal, you give the orders and I'll do as I'm told," Flagg pledged.

Shade chuckled, his blue eyes lighting up with humor, "We'll remind you of that after you've spent a day wrangling our six-year-old twin niece and nephew." He paused and turned to look at Quentin, "I'm good if you are."

"We'll remind you of that after you've spent a day wrangling our six-year-old twin niece and nephew." He paused and turned to look at Quentin, "I'm good if you are."

Quentin spread his hands and clapped them down on the chair arms before he stood. "Well, that settles it..." Quentin got to his feet and stuck out his hand. "...Welcome to Lost Lake. Do you have to fetch your gear? When you're ready we'll get you settled in and introduce you to the rest of the family."