"Seems somebody run off a bunch of Senator Steve's horses, last week. Thought mebby you'd heard."
"No."
"Well, thought I'd just tell you. I seen one posse ride through yesterday. They'll be lookin' for strangers along the road."
"Thanks. I bought this horse--and I happen to know Senator Brown."
"No offense, stranger. If I'd 'a' suspicioned you'd stole that horse, you wouldn't take him out of here. Like I said to Cheyenne, last week; he could fetch a whole carload of stock in here and take 'em out again without trouble. He was tellin' me how he lost his horses, and we got to talkin' about some folks bein' blind when they're facin' a brand on a critter. Mebby you heard tell of Cheyenne Hastings?"
"I have traveled with him. You say he stopped here a few days ago?"
"Well, not just stopped; he kind of looked in to see how I was gettin' along. He acted queerlike, for him. I've knowed Cheyenne for years. Said he was feelin' all right. He ast me if I'd seen Panhandle Sears down this way, recent. Seemed kind of disappointed when I told him no. Cheyenne used to be a right-smart man, before he had trouble with that woman of his."
"Yes? He told me about it," said Bartley, not caring to hear any more of the details of Cheyenne's trouble.
"'Most everybody knows it," stated the smith. "And if I was Sears I'd sure leave this country."
"So should I. I've seen Cheyenne handle a gun."