Kirby told him. The planes in Josh's angular face grew more and more pronounced as he heard about the whole affair, with the exception of his conversation with Jen.
"Glad Muddy wasn't here to see it," he said at last. "Do you think Bill was bluffing?"
"That I don't know. Can't seem to figure him, he's changed so much. Can't figure either, where he thought to get the cash to buy Wagon, but he talked like a man with the money in his fist."
"There's talk about that, Boss. Maybe you heard some of it."
"About Bill's money," Josh told him. "He made a big deposit in the Streeter bank and another one in Galeyville. Said he got it when he sold some of his herd. Said he was goin' to sell out everything and restock with shorthorns. Big talk, blooded cattle and all." He paused thoughtfully. "Something's wrong, though. We know how many cows he got when Muddy divided Wagon. Hardly enough to account for the size of them deposits… seein' as how he's got a lot of cows left over."
Kirby felt cold fingers up and down his spine at the foreman's words.
"Where do you figure he got it?" he asked.
Josh took off his battered Stetson and scratched his head. "Well, boy, I hate to say it, but there's a heap of talk that cows missing from other brands could sort of get mixed up with the stuff Bill rebranded when he changed over from Wagon to Lazy B. He was in an all-fired hurry to get his new iron on the critters Muddy gave him. Now folks are wondering if missing Triangle, Rocking R, Acorn and other brands weren't with the stuff Bill sold and shipped out."
"My gosh!" Kirby got out in a gasp. "Josh, that's the same thing as rustling. My own brother. Surely no son of Muddy's could stoop so low. Josh, if it's true, I'll go across the Clear and gun him down like a yellow dog."
"Take it easy, boy. No one has made any charges. Maybe no one will. He could have gotten the money some other way. You know how people are: they add two and two and sometimes get six for an answer."
Kirby seized on Josh's words gratefully. "Give the devil his due. There are some things that don't really add up. For one, his crew would know about anything crooked. Would they stand for it? And how did other brands get mixed in without someone driving them in?"
"There are angles," Josh agreed. "But let's look at it like other men do. Four of the boys who went with Bill when Wagon broke up come askin' me for their jobs back. Wouldn't say why… just that they'd made a mistake. The crew Bill's got now are almost every one strangers to Streeter country. He's even hired some fancy guns… you seemed to bump into one of 'em last night."
"Maybe I'm talkin' too much, but we may as well look at this thing, since we've got it out in the open. Bill has been seen a lot lately with Hub Dawes. You know him; runs a small outfit up in the hills. Cowmen have been suspicious of Dawes for a long time, but no one ever tried to prove he was actually stealing. Anyhow, the Lazy B joins Dawes' spread in some pretty rough country. It would be easy to hold a bunch of stolen stuff in the hills, and then at the right time run 'em in with Lazy B critters; say about rebranding time. Before anyone could get suspicious, that part of the herd could be sold." Josh paused and looked at Kirby's drawn face. Taking a deep breath, he went on:
"Don't believe anyone has been curious, but they will be. Dawes has been flashin' a lot of money in poker games at the Nugget. Where'd he get it? The time may come when he'll have to answer some questions. I only hope Bill isn't mixed up in the answers."
Kirby felt sick. If Bill had actually sold stolen cows, even if he hadn't run them up the trail on a rainy night, the end result was the same. He was as guilty as if he had been caught with a running iron in his hand. If he was guilty, then there could be but one end. Sooner or later he would be taken. There would be a high limb, a tight rope, and the name of Street would be dragged in the dust of the range where it had always meant all that was fine and honorable.
There was nothing more he could say, and Josh, as if dismayed at the effect of his words, fell silent. At that moment Curly appeared, riding toward them on the trail. He was breathless with excitement.
"Josh," he yelled as soon as he got within hearing distance, "Mr. Street, our cows have plumb disappeared." He slid his horse to a stop in the mud.
"Gone," echoed Kirby and Josh together. "What do you mean?"
"I mean the critters has vamoosed. We went clean to the head of the flat, and there ain't a cow to be seen. And no tracks, either."
"How many head in the bunch?" Kirby asked the foreman.
"Two twenty-five, two hundred fifty head maybe. They just took to the hills. We'll find 'em scattered to hell-an'-gone."
"Wanta bet?" asked Curly. "I've been hazin' mossy horns all my life. When cows move they leave tracks. If this bunch took to the hills, they took wings and flew. Ask Ringo."
An hour later Kirby and his ramrod had to admit that Curly was right. There was plenty of sign that the cows had been grazing on the flat. But they searched all three sides of the rectangular meadow and found nothing more than the old tracks of an occasional stray. No herd of cows had left the flat. There was only one answer… the river.
"When was the last time you checked this bunch?" Kirby asked.
Curly answered, " 'Bout a week ago, Ringo and me brought up a couple blocks of salt."
Kirby thought a moment. "Josh, I seem to remember that the Clear shallows down about here. Didn't we use this as a ford a few years back?"
"Yeah. In normal times the river ain't deeper than a cow's shoulder, except maybe in holes. Your Dad used to ford here regular. Put a whole trail herd through oncet."
"Wish we could cross and look for sign on the other bank."
The four studied the muddy, churning stream. The Clear was rising to a height none ever remembered seeing this late in the season. Driftwood bobbed along in sucking whirlpools. Once they watched a dead cow go by, mute evidence of the extent of the cloudburst upstream. A normally quiet river, the Clear had begun to chuckle and grumble with the unaccustomed weight it carried.
Josh asked the question: "Did any of you ever know a steer to take to water without someone beatin' his rump with a lass rope? When our bunch crossed they weren't goin' for a swim… they was hazed across." A spasm of anger crossed his face. "There ain't but one answer. We been rustled. And I mean to see the skunks responsible twistin' at the end of a rope if it's my last act. Wagon is big, but not big enough to take that kind of loss… and not layin' down, neither."
Ringo had his say. "Me and Curly heard talk in the Nugget that rustlers were busy, but we never thought they'd hit Wagon. Me, I'm gonna start ridin' with a saddle gun."
Curly agreed. "I was just thinking that. And they sure got a break from the weather. Time the river goes down, there ain't goin' to be a cow track in ten miles. And unless I miss my guess, any tracks on high ground are goin' to be buried under a heap of snow by tonight."
Even as he spoke, great white flakes of snow began to flatten against their faces. In a little while the flakes were only half as big but increasing in intensity. The first real snowstorm of the year broke from clouds so low that it seemed a man could stand in his stirrups and touch them.
Josh was frankly concerned. "Let's ride, men. Can't hardly see the trail now, and ain't none of us dressed for a spell out here if this turns into a norther."
They made it in the nick of time. As the outlines of the pole corral loomed before them, the wind began to shriek with the wild, fierce keening of a real blizzard.
They unsaddled in the shelter of the barn. Josh counted saddles on the rack. "Mighty glad everyone's in. Sure hate to think of any of 'em bein' caught out in this. Hope they got everything down in the bottoms before this started. I'll go find out." He started for the bunkhouse, barely visible through the whirling whiteness. Kirby stopped him at the barn door. Shouting above the wind's roar, he called, "Better have a couple of boys put up some safety rope. Probably need them to get around by morning. And if you can make it, come up to the house for chuck."