“What was he before he came here?”
“I couldn’t even surmise that—he don’t talk about his past. From the way he waded into you, I should judge he was a prize fighter before becoming a cow-puncher.”
Corrigan glared at the banker. “Yes; it’s damned funny,” he said. “How did he get his land?”
“Proved on a quarter-section. Bought the rest of it—and bought it mighty cheap.” Braman’s eyes brightened. “Figure on attacking his title?”
Corrigan grunted. “I notice he asked you for cash. You’re not his banker, evidently.”
“He banks in Las Vegas, I guess.”
“What about his cattle?”
“He shipped three thousand head last season.”
“How big is his outfit?”
“He’s got about twenty men. They’re all hard cases—like him, and they’d shoot themselves for him.”