"My gosh, Tommy, they acted funny. Have you done anything?" the cowboy asked in an undertone as they left the house.
"A lot, Two-Bits. I sure hope they don't go proddin' into my awful past! There's some terrible things they might find!"
He hooked his arm through the other's and laughed at the boy's apprehension.
But Beck knew that something of grave consequence impended the instant he set foot in the bunk house for the men, who had been talking lowly, stopped and eyed him in sober silence. Afterward he had a distinct recollection of Two-Bits slipping along the wall, looking at him over his shoulder with the freckles showing in great blotches against his white skin. Hepburn, Riley and Webb sat on one bed. The foreman was leaning back, hands clasping a knee, but he chewed his tobacco with nervous vigor.
"The Reverend about to offer prayer?" Tom asked easily.
There was no responsive smile on any face. Someone coughed loudly and sharply as if it had been an unnecessary cough. Tom halted.
"I'm here. What's up?" he asked quietly. "This is like a funeral ... or a trial."
At that Hepburn cleared his throat.
"Want to ask you somethin', Beck. I want you to tell these other men what you said to me this noon."
Tom hitched up his belt.