"Cross T in Redstone County."
Tom Walton nodded. "Turberville ranch? Left ribs cattle, left
shoulder and jaw horses?"
"No, Tasker's," corrected John Dawson. "Left hip cattle and horses, no
jaw brand."
"I know," said Tom Walton gently. "I knew it was Tasker's. I had
to--be sure."
"Whatsa use of this gassing?" demanded Rafe. "I tell you, Tom, we
caught this feller branding one of my calves, and I'll gamble he's the
boy been doing all the rustling on your range too."
"You might be right. I don't know. But he tells a straight story."
"They all do. He's a rustler. Take my word for it."
"But he said in the beginning," objected Tom, "that he never was near
that split draw."
"We saw him, I tell you!"
"All right. Soon as we eat, we'll all ride over to the draw and take a
squint at the evidence."
"What for? Ain't my word enough?"
"I don't believe in gamblin' with a man's life," said Tom smoothly.
"Better be sure than sorry," said Billy.
"I won't be sorry none to hang him, the cow thief!"
"If I had my gun I'd argue that with you," remarked the prisoner
pleasantly.
Rafe was understood to damn all creation. Oh, he was wild.
"Dinner!" called Hazel from the kitchen door.
"Too bad the sheriff ain't here," grumbled Rafe, on the way to the
house.
"It is too bad," Tom Walton flung over his shoulder. "But I sent Roy
for Sam Prescott. He'll meet us on the Hillsville trail."
Roy was the half of his outfit. The Walton ranch was a little one.
Even in big seasons Tom could not afford to employ more than three men.
In winter he let them all go. What little work there was to be done he
managed to do himself. Small rancher though he was, Tom Walton was not
a nonentity in the community. Folk trusted him. He was known to be
honest.
After dinner the whole party, excepting Hazel, took horse and rode down
the draw to the Hillsville trail. Rafe and his outfit would have
ridden to the trail at once. But Billy Wingo carefully shepherded them
from it.
"We'll keep off the trail," said Billy. "This Dawson man says he's
never been off the trail till he got chased off by you fellers. We may
want to examine that trail for tracks later."
The Tuckleton men muttered and swore, but they kept away from the
trail. Soon after the party reached the vicinity of the trail, Roy,
Sam Prescott and two of his men trotted into sight. Billy rode to meet
them and turned them from the trail before they reached the spot where
John Dawson said he had left it.
Sam Prescott listened in silence to the respective stories of Rafe
Tuckleton and John Dawson. He seemed unimpressed by either. When he
had heard all they had to say, he dismounted and examined the hoofs of
Dawson's horse. Then he and Riley, closely followed by the others,
rode along the edge of the trail scrutinizing the tracks upon its dusty
surface.
"Here's where he says he left the trail all right," observed Bill.
"You can't mistake the point of that near fore shoe. He says Tuckleton
and his boys rode at him from over yonder, but if they chased him
all-away from that split draw like they say they did, there wouldn't be
a single track here. They'd all be on the other side of those
cottonwoods."
He jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward said cottonwoods growing
about a hundred yards to the south.
"Let's go over yonder where he said they came from," said Sam Prescott.
They all went over yonder. There they found the tracks of five horses.
Not only that, but in a near-by depression behind some red willows they
found where five horses had stood a considerable time.
Sam Prescott picked up in turn the hoofs of every Tuckleton horse.
"These five horses were standing here at least two hours," remarked Sam
Prescott, staring at Rafe.
The latter said nothing. Really, there was nothing to say.
Led by Sam Prescott and Billy, the party followed the tracks of these
five horses back to the trail and into the draw leading to the Walton
ranch.
"You see," said Billy to Sam Prescott. "Those horses were coming on
the dead jump. It's just like Dawson says. They were chasing him."
Although Billy's voice was loud enough for all to hear, none of the
Tuckleton outfit took it upon himself to deny the statement. It may be
said that they were growing a trifle discouraged.
"Le's go to the split draw," resumed Billy, when Sam Prescott had
openly agreed with him. "Maybe we'll find that calf and the fire and
the running-iron. But I expect that fire will be out by this time."
"I guess likely." Thus Sam Prescott, and turned his horse.
But they did not find the calf and the extinct fire and the
running-iron. There was nothing in the split draw even remotely
resembling any of these.
"Come to think of it," said Rafe, weakly attempting a last defense,
"maybe it was another draw."
"Maybe it was," admitted Sam, turning to young Dawson. "Maybe it was,
but I'm satisfied it wasn't. It was a good thing for you, young
feller, that Billy Wingo and Riley Tyler were on the spot when your
horse fell."
"I know it," responded young Dawson heartily. "I'm not forgettin' it.
And maybe I can return the favor some bright and sunny day. Now if I
can have my gun, I'll just have a word or two with the man you call
Tuckleton."
"No words," said Sam Prescott firmly. "Not a word. This thing has
gone far enough. There'll be no shooting round here. Rafe and his
outfit are goin' home now, and you're riding with me back to Tom's
ranch. And to-morrow morning I'll see you off to Jacksboro. Rafe, I
don't want to hurry you----"
Rafe Tuckleton and his outfit took the hint.
"And you mean to tell me they can get away with a deal like that?"
demanded John Dawson.
Sam Prescott smiled wearily. "What could they be arrested for--always
supposing you could get the sheriff to arrest 'em, which he wouldn't."
"Well----"
"There y'are. Of course you could call it attempted assault. What's
that? Under the statute, a week in jail. And who'd convict 'em?"
Tom Walton laughed bitterly. "You don't know this county, Mr. Dawson.
Anything can happen here."
"Seemingly it can," said Mr. Dawson in frank disgust.
"You see," said Rafe, "I'd figured we'd have to find somebody to lynch
for rustlin' so that infernal Tom Walton wouldn't be suspectin' us alla
time. Shindle ran across this Dawson party in Hillsville and guessed
he'd fill the bill, he being a stranger and all."
"So Skinny rode ahead and let you know he was coming, huh?" queried Sam
Larder.
"Yeah. Oh, damn the luck! Who'd have expected Wingo and Tyler to be
at Walton's?"
"They did put a crimp in your plans, sort of," assented Larder.
"And now Tom Walton is more suspicious than ever," contributed Tip
O'Gorman.
"I can fix that Wingo, though," snarled Rafe Tuckleton. "He'll never
get elected sheriff now."