“Maybe you could use a couple of extra hands,” said Slim hopefully.
“I could if they were good, honest men.”
“I’m one of them and I’ll vouch for my pardner. I’m off the Flying Arrow and he’s from the Circle Four. We want work.”
“There’s more than work at my ranch. There’s apt to be fighting soon. I’m being stolen blind and the day I catch up with the rustlers there’s going to be bloodshed.”
“I’ll work and fight for an honest boss.”
The cattleman seemed to be mulling something over in his mind. Then he asked, “You say you’re off the Flying Arrow?”
Slim nodded.
“Fellow named Evans used to own that outfit. Maybe you know him.”
“My name’s Evans. I’m his son.”
Marks’ eyes twinkled beneath the heavy bandage.