At the ranch house they laid Jefferson Billings on his bed and covered him with a sheet, and then “Smooth” Kreff went to Wichita and told her of his deductions and the premises upon which they were based.
“I don’t believe it,” said the girl. “Shoz-Dijiji has always been friendly to us. I ran across him by accident in the hills yesterday, and he rode home with me because, he said, there were other renegades around and it might not be safe for me to ride alone. It must have been some other Indian who did it.”
“But his cayuse is gone,” insisted Kreff.
“He may have taken his pony,” admitted the girl. “I don’t say that he didn’t do that. It was his; and he had a right to take it, but I don’t believe that he killed Dad.”
“Your Paw didn’t have no use fer Injuns,” Kreff reminded her. “He might have taken a shot at this Siwash.”
“No; his guns were both in their holsters, and his rifle was in its boot. He never saw the man that shot him.”
Kreff scratched his head. “I reckon thet’s right,” he admitted. “It shore was a dirty trick. Thet’s what makes me know it was a Siwash.”
The girl turned away sadly.
“Don’t you worry none, Miss,” said Kreff; “I’ll look after things fer you, jes’ like your Paw was here.”
“Thanks, ‘Smooth,’ ” replied Wichita. “You boys have been wonderful.”