The merriest, idlest, most careless moment might in the flash of an eye end in ruthless and tragic action.

In an assemblage of desperate characters it could not be otherwise.

The terrible thing that Duane sensed was this.
The valley was beautiful, sunny, fragrant, a place to dream in; the mountaintops were always blue or gold rimmed, the yellow river slid slowly and majestically by, the birds sang in the cottonwoods, the horses grazed and pranced, children played and women longed for love, freedom, happiness; the outlaws rode in and out, free with money and speech; they lived comfortably in their adobe homes, smoked, gambled, talked, laughed, whiled away the idle hours--and all the time life there was wrong, and the simplest moment might be precipitated by that evil into the most awful of contrasts.

Duane felt rather than saw a dark, brooding shadow over the valley.
Then, without any solicitation or encouragement from Duane, the Bland woman fell passionately in love with him.

His conscience was never troubled about the beginning of that affair.