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He knew that if he examined carefully enough Fred Thurman's body he would find the mark of a bullet. He was tempted to look, and yet he did not want to know. It was no business of his; it would be foolish to let it become his business. "He's too dead to care now how it happened and it would only stir up trouble," he finally decided and turned his eyes away.
Good-by." Lone nodded and watched him climb the steep slope of the gulch on the side toward Thurman's ranch. Swan climbed swiftly, seeming to take no thought of where he put his feet, yet never once slipping or slowing.
Thurman and demanded for the petition of more than 10,000 women at least the courtesy which would be given to any other.... Then the craven Senate declared Thurman's motion, which was only an insult, carried.
What you think, Lone?" "Hell, how should I know?" Lone scowled at him from the saddle and rode away, leaving Swan standing there staring after him. He turned away to find the sheriff and almost collided with Brit Hunter, who was glancing speculatively from him to Lone Morgan. Swan stopped and put out his hand to shake. "Lone says I should tell the sheriff I could look after Fred Thurman's ranch.
"I could lick you good," he admitted in a stage whisper. "I'm a son-off-a-gun all right only I don't never get mad at somebody." Brit Hunter smiled at that, it was so like Swan Vjolmar. But when they were halfway to Thurman's ranch Brit on horseback and Swan striding easily along beside him, leading the blaze-faced horse, he glanced down at Swan's face and wondered if Swan had not lied a little.
At the bottom Swan stopped her so that he might shorten the rope and take more of the weight on his shoulders. She protested half-heartedly, but Swan only laughed. "I am strong like a mule," he said. "You should see me wrestle with somebody. Clear over my head I can carry a man in my hands. This is so you can walk fast. Three miles straight down we come to Thurman's ranch, where I get the horses.
"We followed the girl's horse-tracks almost to Thurman's place and lost the trail there." Warfield turned in the saddle to look at Lone riding behind him. "We made no particular effort to trace her from there, because we were sure she would come on home. I'm going back that far, and we'll pick up the trail, unless we find her at the ranch. She may have hidden herself away.
With Lorraine's assistance he carried Brit into Thurman's cabin, laid him, stretcher and all, on the bed and hurried out to catch and harness the team of work horses. Lorraine waited beside her father, helpless and miserable. There was nothing to do but wait, yet waiting seemed to her the one thing she could not do. "Raine!"
Just now Lone was stirred beyond his usual depth of emotion, and it was not altogether the sight of Fred Thurman's battered body that unnerved him. He wanted to believe that Thurman's death was purely an accident, the accident it appeared. But Lorraine and the telltale hoofprints by the rock compelled him to believe that it was not an accident.
"I could lick you good," he admitted in a stage whisper. "I'm a son-off-a-gun all right only I don't never get mad at somebody." Brit Hunter smiled at that, it was so like Swan Vjolmar. But when they were halfway to Thurman's ranch Brit on horseback and Swan striding easily along beside him, leading the blaze-faced horse, he glanced down at Swan's face and wondered if Swan had not lied a little.
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