The foreman nodded. “He left the ranch half an hour before sunset and packing quite a roll of cash with him.”
“I didn’t see any cash when he was brought into the doctor’s office.”
“Probably not. The rustlers must have reached him after they had wounded him and taken the money. Adam was afraid to keep the money on the ranch and he was going to go around Dirty Water and drive all night to get to Mopstick where he could catch a train and take the money to the bank at Brighton.”
“If the money was in your boss’s clothes when he reached the doctor’s office, it’s safe, for Chuck’s on the job,” said Slim.
There was a warning whir of rattles and Joe Haines called out sharply.
Slim leaped backward, his gun spouting flame. Two shots echoed across the coulee and the body of the rattler slipped off the rock.
The foreman looked incredulously at Slim.
“Where you carrying your gun, in your hand?” he asked.
“No,” replied Slim, feeding fresh shells into the six gun and sliding the weapon back into his holster.
Joe Haines asked no further question but in his own mind he cataloged Slim as the fastest man he had ever seen with a gun. The weapon had been drawn with a skill so fast and smooth that it defied the eye. It was almost like magic, the sweep of that long arm and the accurate spurt of the weapon.