“Claims he’s lost a bunch, but I wouldn’t take his word for anything. Unless we keep a close watch, he runs his cattle over on our range and they clean up some of our best grazing land.”
“Then it won’t be much use to see him tomorrow?”
“I don’t think so, but it will satisfy Nels, and if Cook has really been losing beef he may throw in with us. He has a lot of riders and they’re all tough birds. If the three outfits made a united stand, we’d sweep this valley clean of every undesirable hombre that’s come in here the last couple of years.”
When they reached the home place, Joe went at once to report the events of the day to the owner of the Box B while the cowboys hurried into the cookhouse, where Lee Wu had supper ready.
“Golly, but I thought there was going to be trouble when Joe called Nels Anderson a rustler,” said Walt Kelly, between mouthfuls of bread.
“There would have been if Al Bass hadn’t grabbed his hand,” put in jovial Pat Beals. “I’m telling you, my hair was standing on end.”
“We’re finally getting started on the right track,” said Walt, “even if it almost took bloodshed to get these outfits together. Believe me, it’s going to be tough for the rustlers from now on.”
Slim had been watching Doug Huston and he thought he saw the cowboy’s face twitch slightly. One thing, Doug had expressed no elation at the peacemaking with the Double O.
There was only the faintest tinge of light over the Three Soldiers as they left the cookhouse. Up at the ranch house, a light glowed in Adam Marks’ bedroom and Slim knew that the foreman was recounting in great detail the happenings of the day.
Slim walked down to the corral and whistled softly. Out of the shadows came Lightning, and Slim climbed up to the top rail and ran his hands through the sorrel’s thick mane.