Corliss and Wingle turned from looking at Sundown and gazed at each other. "If that's right—" And the rancher hesitated.
"I reckon it's right," said Wingle. And he stooped and together they lifted the body and laid it across the cowboy's horse.
Sundown watched them with burning eyes. "We'll ride back home," said Corliss, motioning to him.
"Home? Ain't you goin' to do nothin'?"
Corliss shook his head. Sundown slowly mounted and followed them to the Concho. He watched them as they carried Sinker to the bunkhouse.
When Corliss reappeared, Sundown strode up to him. "This here hoss belongs to that leetle Mexican on the Apache road, Chico Miguel—said you knowed him. I was goin' to take him back with my hoss. Now I reckon I can't. I kind o' liked it over there to his place. I guess I want my own hoss, Pill."
"I guess you better get something to eat and rest up. You're in bad shape, Sun."
Sundown shook his head. "I got somethin' to do—after that mebby I can rest up. Can I have me hoss?"
"Yes, if it'll do you any good. What are you going to do?"
"I got me homesteader papers. I'm goin' to me ranch."