“Yo’ a practical cowman,” Sayre countered. “Yo’ know all the tricks of the trade. I don’t want no detective. What I want up there is a man that can size up what’s going on on a cattle range—a man that can’t be bought and is not easy fooled. I picked on yo’-all, for that reason.”
“Thanks. Just what would you aim for me to do?” Rock asked.
“Well, it’s easy to keep tab on what a man does with thirty thousand cattle if yo’ circulate in his vicinity,” Sayre observed. “You ain’t no fool, Rock. I don’t care how yo’ manage it—whether yo’ work for another outfit or get a job with the Maltese Cross. Don’t care whether yo’ work at all; yo’ll be paid direct by me. What I want is fo’ yo’ to linger around in that territory and use yo’ eyes and ears. Yo’ll know in one season whether the outfit is going up or down, and whether Buck is shootin’ straight.”
“You think maybe he isn’t?”
“Buck Walters is young, ambitious, high-handed with men, and powerful fond of women,” Sayre said frowningly. “He dresses flash. He’s mighty fond of stiff poker. He’s a smart cowman, I’ll admit. But he’s been drawin’ big wages fo’ ten years and never held onto a dollar. Yo’ put a man like that in complete control of three hundred thousand dollars’ worth of live stock, with nobody to check up on him——”
Sayre threw out his hands in an eloquent gesture.
“He had old Dave hypnotized,” he went on. “I think Dave was a damn fool to give him such a swing. I may be wrong about Walters. If I am, so much the better fo’ him. But I aim to play my hunch. I mean to see that the Snell estate don’t get the worst of it, no way. I feel more than ordinary responsibility in this. Dave was my friend. I can’t leave my business here to go up into Montana every few weeks to keep tab on Buck Walters. Next best thing is to send a man I can trust.”
“I’m young and ambitious,” Rock mused. “I don’t shy none from poker games; in fact, I horn into ’em deliberate because I frequently beat ’em. I’ve held down good jobs, too, in the last three years, without savin’ much of my wages. Gosh, Uncle Bill, are you sure I’m to be trusted?”
The old man gazed at him affectionately.
“I know yo’,” he said, “and I know yo’r breed. Will yo’ do this for me, Rock?”