“But it was there. Sanchez found it there. He taken it and put it in Anita’s carreta. It’s there now. We declare that to you. It was missing from the house. It was found in yore wagon. Yore wagon was going back home. That was right where some men was laying up in the brush when you left. You didn’t let me foller them. You didn’t show up when them same men—we proved by the split-hoof track—was trying to cut our herd. Only the Rangers saved that. Ef you’re a Ranger, why wasn’t you there?”
“I’ll not have any man ask me such questions.”
“Don’t tell us what you’ll have or won’t have. You’ll have what we give you, no more, no less. Explain how come that trunk in your wagon. Not a man on Del Sol except you and me knowed what was in it or where it was. Now who done put it in yore wagon? It looked right easy to sneak that south while we was going north, huh? And it with half a million acres in it.”
“How come him to bring ary wagon up here anyhow?” demanded Cal Taney, a top rider on Del Sol.
“I wouldn’t ask him that,” said Del Williams quietly.
“But I do”—retorted Nabours.
“Well, I had some supplies, you know,” answered McMasters. “A wagon goes better than a cart. You said you didn’t want my wagon.”
“A wagon carries trunks or boxes better.”
“Yes.”
“Shore! Was you planning fer a load both ways—what you’d kerry in a wagon from Del Sol?”