That settled it. Terror drove Mary Hope into the Devil’s Tooth trail at Rab’s best pace, which was a stiff-legged lope. Her last glance backward showed her Belle Lorrigan taking her six-shooter belt off the buckboard seat and buckling it around her waist so that the gun hung well forward. Mary Hope shuddered and struck Rab with the quirt.
Belle had led Rosa from the stable and was cautiously fastening the neck yoke in place when the sheriff and Aleck Douglas rode around the corner of the stable. Rosa shied and snorted and reared, and Belle used the rein-ends for a whiplash until Rosa decided that she would better submit to authority and keep her hide whole. She stood fairly quiet after that, with little nipping dance-steps in one spot, while Belle fastened buckles and snaps and trace chains. Subrosa, having had his tantrum, contented himself with sundry head-shakings and snorts. When the team was “hooked up” to 72 Belle’s satisfaction, she tied them both firmly to the corral with short ropes, and finally turned her attention to her visitors.
“Howdy, Mr. Douglas? Fine day we’re having,” she greeted the dour Scotchman amiably.
The sheriff coughed behind his hand, looked sidelong at his companion, rode a step or two nearer to Belle, swung a leg over the cantle of his saddle. Perhaps he expected Aleck Douglas to introduce him, but he did not wait for the formality.
“Mrs. Lorrigan, I’m sheriff of the county,” he began ingratiatingly, when his two feet were on the ground.
“You are?” Belle flashed a row of very white teeth. “You sure don’t look it. I’d have taken you for a regular human being.”
“Mr. Douglas, here, would like to take a look at some hides Mr. Lorrigan has got curing. He thinks possibly––”
“’Tis useless to cover the truth wi’ saft words, shuriff,” Douglas interrupted glumly. “’Tis stolen cattle we are tracing, and ’tis here we wad look for the hides of them. I hae guid reason––”
“You’ll find my husband at the round-up. Before you do any searching, you had better go and have a talk with him. When he’s gone strangers don’t go prowling around this ranch.”
“We’ll have our talk with him after we’ve taken a look around,” the sheriff amended, grinning a little. “It’s just a matter of form––nothing you 73 need to object to, one way or the other. I don’t suppose we’ll find anything––”