Sutherland didn’t answer that question directly.
“I expect Mark feels dead safe,” he muttered. “He hasn’t run his iron on anything this spring. I guess we couldn’t make out a clear case if it come to a trial. I thought—I kinda—an’ we got to connect him up with shootin’ Tex Matthews yet.”
He stood in a brown study.
“If he stands pat on what he’s got, an’ walks a chalkline, we can’t do nothin’,” he said at last. “Your word alone, an’ circumstantial evidence, won’t put him where I want him, Tyler.”
“He won’t stand pat,” Robin prophesied. “I won’t let him, for one thing. I’ll never be safe on this range with him holdin’ out at Mayne’s. I’ve troubled Shinin’ Mark too long an’ too much. He’ll try to get me one way or another. I can see that in his eye every time I look him in the face. He’ll never give up the T Bar S. And I’ve got ’em. My hunch is to keep ’em. I’d run the Block S on every hoof, an’ see what he’d do about it. Do you want me to hold those cattle? Two-thirds of ’em he stole from you. Are you goin’ to let him get away with them—and more?”
Sutherland ripped out an oath.
“I won’t let him sit like a wolf in his den at the Bar M Bar,” he declared. “I’ll buy Mayne out. I’ll give him all his outfit is worth. If he won’t sell I’ll freeze him out. An’ Steele won’t have no hold out or herd to cover up with. But about these T Bar S’s—I don’t know. Law’s law—when it comes to property. You can’t just grab ’em.”
“But I have grabbed ’em,” Robin declared. “The original idea in my mind was to prove to you that he was a darned thief. Then I went ahead an’ gathered those cattle, gathered and held them on my own responsibility as boss of the J7—just to make Mark show his teeth. He will—he can’t help it if he thinks I’m out to beat him at his own crooked game.”
A queer gleam showed in Sutherland’s eyes.
“That’s up to you,” Robin added. “I’ve run the outfit in your interest. If you don’t want me to use my own judgment, tell me what you want done. Say what you want me to do with those stolen cattle.”