“Where did it happen?” asked Haines, hitching his gun belt forward.
“Marks said it was at the mouth of Wolf coulee, wherever that is.”
Joe Haines nodded.
“That’s a bad place. Come on, boys. We’re riding for Dirty Water.”
Slim spoke quickly.
“Just a minute. I had a talk with your boss before I left town. He wants you to stick at the ranch and watch the cattle. Maybe this is just a ruse to get you all away so the rustlers can clean out the place.”
Pausing, the foreman turned back toward Slim. “Who in thunder are you?” he asked.
“Name’s Evans--Slim Evans. I’ve been riding over on the Flying Arrow. Been hired and told to report to you for work. My pardner, Chuck Meade, is staying in Dirty Water and he’s camped right beside your boss, so you won’t need to worry about anything happening to him there.”
“How do I know you’re telling a straight story?” countered the range boss.
“You’ve got my word for it and people don’t question my word,” said Slim quietly. He straightened up in his saddle and his right hand slipped along his leg.