He sent discreet inquiries back to New Orleans. He learned that his wife was dead and his daughter was living with her mother's relatives.
He sent her a telegram and received one in return, saying that she would arrive at Fort Worth on the fifth of March.
Max stood looking down the platform at the disembarking passengers.
"You know what she looks like?" Mike asked.
"Just what Jim tol' me and it's been ten years since he saw her."
Little by little, the passengers walked away until the only one left was a young woman, surrounded by several valises and a small trunk. She kept looking up and down the platform.
Mike looked at Max questioningly.
"You reckon that might be her?"
Max shrugged his shoulders. They walked down to the young woman. Max took off his Stetson.
"Miss Reeves?"
A smile of relief appeared on the young woman's face.
"I declare, I'm glad to see you," she said warmly. "I was beginnin' to think Daddy never received my telegram."
Max returned her smile.
"I'm Max Sand," he said.
"Your father sent me to meet you."
A fleeting shadow crossed the girl's face. "I half expected that," she said. "Daddy's been too busy to come home for ten years."
Max guessed that she didn't know her father had been in prison.
"Come," he said gently. "I've got a room for you over at the Palace Hotel.
You can clean up and sleep there tonight. We got a two-day trip home, so we won't start till morning."
By the time they reached the hotel, twenty minutes later, Max was in love for the first time in his life.
Max tied his horse to the hitching post in front of the Reeves ranch house.
He climbed up the steps and knocked at the door. When Reeves's daughter opened it, her face looked tired and strained, as if she'd been weeping,
"Oh, it's you,' she said in a low voice. "Come in."
He followed her into the parlor. He reached for her, suddenly concerned.
"Betty, what's wrong?"
She slipped away from his hands. "Why didn't you tell me you were an escaped convict?" she asked, not looking at him.
His face settled into cold lines. "Would it have made any diff'rence?"
She met his look honestly. "Yes," she said.
"I'd never have let myself get this involved if I'd known."
"Now that you do know," he persisted. "Does it matter?"
"Yes," she said again. "Oh, don't ask me. I’m so confused!"
"What else did your father tell you?"
She looked down at her hands.
"He said I couldn't marry you.
Not only because of that but because you're – you're half Indian!"
"An' just because of that, you stopped lovin' me?"
She stared down at her twisting hands without answering.
"I don't know how I feel," she said finally.
He reached out and pulled her toward him.
"Betty, Betty," he said huskily. "Las' night at the dance, you kissed me. You said you loved me.
I haven't changed since then."
For a moment, she stood quietly, then pulled herself away from him.
"Don't touch me!" she said quickly.
Max stared at her curiously.
"You don' have to be afraid of me." She shrank from his hand.
"Don't touch me," she said, and this time the fear in her voice was much too familiar for Max not to recognize it.
Without another word, he turned and left the room.
He rode straight into town to the bank and walked into the back room that served Reeves as an office.
Reeves looked up from the big roll-top desk.
"What the hell do you mean bustin' in here like this?" he demanded.