"Good-bye, Jennie," interrupted her husband, fearing she might innocently complicate matters.
"Don't let the train-robbers catch you all," she laughed as they headed across the street, where Alpaugh was taken to a room in the hotel, to be held in custody until the Sheriff from Tombstone, the County seat, should arrive.
Limber and Graham walked together from the hotel. "Got to get our horses," said the officer.
At the Cowboy's Rest they were joined by other men who were waiting. Limber flung the saddle on Peanut, adjusted the headstall of the bridle and mounted.
Out on the street Graham rode up to him, and Limber's eyes met his. "Who else, Tom?"
"Glendon," was the reply.
The cowboy twisted quickly in his saddle, his face filled with consternation. "How did he get in?"
"Don't ask me," was the moody answer. "Three-fingered Jack made a dying statement and accused them both; so I've got to arrest him. 'Tain't a pleasant job when you've known the men for years and have slept with them, shared chuck and worked together. It's bad enough mess when there ain't any women, but Alpaugh and Glendon have decent wives. What business has a man with a family getting into such a mess, anyhow?" he growled, voicing the thoughts of the man who rode beside him.
Limber wished heartily that Powell were home at the Springs, now. In imagination he pictured Glendon's wife alone at the Circle Cross with only Juan and the dog to sympathize with her in this new trial; he regretted that Graham had selected him as one of the posse, but it could not be helped now.
It was a very quiet quartette which rode up to the gate of the Circle Cross. Glendon came down the front walk.