“And I tell you if I don’t prove to you who killed Ranger Fyffe, I’m ready to go in court tomorrow and plead guilty!” Otis was standing in the living-room of the Footstool ranchhouse, facing a silent and grave-faced assemblage of more than a score. It included Sterling Carr, stern and impassive; Sheriff Ogden, who thus far had made no move to place Otis under arrest again; his deputy, Seth Markey; Jess Bledsoe, resplendent in white goatskin chaps; the forest supervisor from Jackson; Margaret Carr and Mariel, whispering in one corner of the room; Simple Sample and Spider and Slim and Curley and Pink and Tex and possibly a dozen others from the Footstool, Flying A and other outfits, all solemnly curious, awkward and embarrassed. Otis, unaware of the dramatic setting arranged by Mariel for the denouement, had taken the bull by the horns and now was determined to bulldog him to a fall.
“And what’s more,” he went on, gazing intently at the Sheriff, “I’m going to tell you, Lafe, just who’s responsible for the rustling that’s been going on here, and just how it was done.”
The Sheriff stirred uneasily. “Fire away, Otis,” he remarked. “Between you and me, if you’ve found that out, I’ll give it to you that you’ve done more’n I could.”
“All of you boys know how this rustling has been going on here for months,” Otis commenced. “All of us have reported losses from time to time—the Lazy Y, the Flying A, the Footstool and others—but mostly it was the Footstool calves that seemed to be the favorites of the rustlers.
“Now, most all of us seemed to hold a grudge against Joe Fyffe because he was in the Government service. We seemed to think the Government wanted to run us off the range. We couldn’t see that the forest service is keeping us from ruining our own range by overgrazing. We couldn’t see that it’s keeping the sheep on the sheep range, and keeping the nesters where they’ll be better off and we’ll be better off. We thought all a ranger was good for was to fight forest-fires.
“I’ve kept my mouth shut up to this time, principally because I knew how Dad felt about these things. But now I’m going to talk straight, and I’m going to say a mouthful.
“You thought you could run Joe Fyffe out of the country, and that would be all there’d be to it. You didn’t realize the Government’d keep sending in rangers, and that another one’s due to take Fyffe’s place at the Red Rock station now.
“The other night you got together, and decided you’d scare the ranger out. You drew lots, and picked me for the job. I told you I wouldn’t do it, and I didn’t.
“When he was killed, you thought I’d changed my mind, and done it. That’s why you yanked me out of jail last night. Even then you wouldn’t believe me when I told you I hadn’t killed him. Boys, you’re the best friends a man ever had, but you’ve got the wrong slant on things.
“After I left you the other night, I tell you I was feeling pretty mean. I wanted to get out alone. I started up the river, figuring I’d lay out and have a look for the rustlers. I ran into Gus Bernat, and he asked me to stay at his cabin overnight. If Gus hadn’t been drowned in the flood, you’d never have had to get me out of jail last night.