They were waiting, their horses tied to the hitch rail in front of the sheriff's office, the next morning when the salty old law dog appeared. One look at their faces told him that big trouble was afoot. He fumbled for a moment with the lock on his office door, then swung it open and waited while they stepped in.
Lon sighed as he indicated a couple of dusty chairs and seated himself behind his cluttered desk. "Who have you killed now, men? Guess you wouldn't be here unless it was somethin' serious."
"It is serious, Lon." Kirby talked. He told about their missing beef, about the other cows that had been rustled, and how their suspicions had led them to the Lazy B meadow. The sheriff's eyes hardened as he finished.
"So I guess you'd better ride out there with us and look over the ground. Like I say, we don't want to implicate anyone without proof, but we're almost sure the answer lies in Hub Dawes' spread."
The sheriff gave the sigh that was as characteristic of him as the worn Frontier Colt in its sagging holster. "No, if you don't mind, boys, I'll have a look by myself. If too many of us ride out together, someone might get wise. Wait till I saddle my bronc, and I'll ride with you as far as Wagon. From there on, I'd like to scout around on my lonesome." The sheriff went for his horse. "I'll have to tell the old lady where I'm goin'," he told them when he rode up to where they were waiting at the hitch rail. "Won't take but a minute." The sheriff went into his house. His wife followed him to the door and greeted Kirby and Josh pleasantly, but her eyes, too, were worried. Reckon he told her about Bill, thought Kirby, as they headed for Wagon.
Peters left them on the river trail, again refusing their offer to ride with him. "You fellers wait here," he said. "I'll snoop around a little and come by here on my way back to town."
It was late in the evening before he returned. For both Josh and Kirby the wait had been interminable. They had tried to busy themselves with ranch work, but they found their minds weren't on what they were doing. They were sitting on the ranchhouse porch in glum silence when Lon got down from his horse and shambled up to the steps.
He sighed. "You were right, fellers, all the way. There's a heap of cows in that meadow, none of 'em wearin' the Lazy B burn. I scouted the crick you told me about, and it does open up on Dawes' place. There's a place or two where only a couple of critters could get through at a time, but that's the rustler's trail without a doubt. From the sign, I'd say it has been used just recent." He blew out a gusty breath. "Didn't spot a soul today… don't think no one saw me. Them fellers is danged sure nobody will find them cows; so danged sure that they're likely to pay with their lives."
Josh asked: "What do you plan to do, Lon?" The sheriff's voice was tired. "Nothin', tonight. Tomorrow I'll have to get together a posse. The ranches that have been losin' stuff will have to be in on this. Sure hope I can keep things from gettin' out of hand, but this range don't hold with jailin' rustlers. I'll do what I can. See you first thing tomorrow in town." He ambled back to his horse and disappeared into the gathering dusk.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Long before daylight the next morning, Wagon was abuzz with activity. Every member of the crew was saddled and waiting long before Kirby and Josh were ready to lead their men to join the sheriff's posse. Two of the grimmest punchers on the spread were the two men Josh had chosen to stay at Wagon. Even when he promised them extra time off, they still threatened to draw their time because they had to stay behind and would miss the forthcoming battle. Kirby placated them with the warning that the battle could easily fall back to Wagon, and their position as guards was an important one.
The foreman had seen to it that each man carried a Winchester in addition to his sidearms, and that each carried extra ammunition in his saddlebag. Once again he stopped them as they were about to hit leather.
"Don't want to hurt anyone's feelings," he told them, "but I've got to tell you that I'm asking no man to make this ride. Anyone feels this is not his chore is welcome to stay here at Wagon." He tried a wry grin that didn't come off. "Didn't think I'd have any takers. Just didn't want your death or injury on my conscience. Let's ride."
Maria and Manuel watched from the kitchen door, fear on their faces, as the grimly silent group of horsemen left the yard.
Josh held up his hand to catch Kirby's attention, his words lost in the thunder of hoofbeats. He pointed up the trail ahead, and Kirby, following his pointing hand, discovered the dust that told of a rider coming toward them as if a pack of prairie wolves were nipping his horse's heels. They could see a mass of glowing red-brown hair fallen loose and blowing in the wind. The rider pelting toward them in mad flight was Jen.
Kirby halted his party with an upflung arm and watched with anxiety as she slid the sorrel back on his haunches in a shower of dust and rocks.
"Thank heaven I found you," she cried, sliding from her heaving horse. Kirby swung to the ground, and she flew into his arms, tears streaming down her cheeks. She was trembling in every muscle.
"It's Bill," she sobbed. "I've done an awful thing, I've killed your brother."
Kirby tried to stop the flow of incoherent words, but hysteria was having its way. He pulled off his gloves and slapped her face in a stinging blow with his bare hand.
"Oh," she cried, stepping back and staring at him. As she held her hand to her stinging cheek, sanity returned. "I'll have to talk fast; there isn't much time. Sheriff Peters' wife told me yesterday about what you and Josh found on Lazy B, and how Lon had ridden out there to check up. She said your face looked like that of a man condemned. I couldn't sleep all night, thinking about it, and I was up before daylight. About an hour ago I heard a rider out on the street and wondered who could be out so early. It was Bill, riding home from Galeyville. He had been drinking all night."
"Before I knew what I was doing, I called him and warned him that he'd better get out of the country. I told him about your cows being rustled, about other brands losing stock, and how you and Josh found them on his Lazy B meadow. I don't really know why I did it… I guess I thought if I told him you wouldn't have to punish your own brother."
"He went all to pieces. I got him into the house, and after I got some coffee down him he pulled himself together."
"He said then, and I knew he was telling the truth, that he had nothing to do with the rustling, had never even had a hint that people were holding him responsible. He said that somehow he'd gotten himself into a mess and that Hub Dawes was holding something over him. He felt he'd talked too much, I guess, for he asked me to tell you that he was sorry. Then he rode away."
"Where did he go, Jen?" Kirby asked and, knowing his brother, dreaded her answer. "Did he intend to head out of the country?"
Sobs again began to shake her slender shoulders. "Oh, no! He was going to find Hub Dawes. He said it wasn't too late to clear the name of Street from the rustling stigma, and that he was going to kill Dawes, then clean out the rest of the den of rattlesnakes he'd brought to Lazy B."
Once again she was nearly caught in the grip of hysteria, and he thought that he would have to slap her to bring her to her senses. But she controlled her sobs and begged, "Do something. Those gunmen will shoot him down like a dog if he tries to take them on alone. He must be nearly out to Lazy B by now."
"Josh, you, Curly and Ringo, side me. The rest of you take Jen to town; then put yourself under the sheriff's orders. Did you tell anyone else about this, Jen?"
She shook her head. "There wasn't time."
"Then tell Lon he'd better get out to Lazy B quick. Are you all right now?" he asked her as he started to his horse.