An answering grin twisted the lips of the Texan: "Keep pretty well posted—don't you, Cass?"
"Where'd I be now, if I didn't? But about this woman business—I told Purdy to let the women alone—but you can't tell that bird nothin'. He knows it all—an' then some. Is she your woman, an' how come Purdy to have her?"
"No, she ain't mine—she's the wife of the pilgrim—the one we didn't lynch, that night——"
Grimshaw shook his head: "Bad business, Tex—mixin' up with other men's wives. Leads to trouble every time—there's enough single ones—an' even then——"
Tex interrupted him: "It ain't that kind of a mixup. This is on the level. She an' I was on Long Bill's ferry, an' the drift piled up against us so bad I had to cut the cable. We drifted ashore this side of Red Sand, an' while I was gone to get some horses, Purdy come along an' made off with her. I followed an' lost Purdy's trail here in the bad lands—I was half crazy yesterday, thinkin' of her bein' in Purdy's clutches—but, today, it ain't so bad. If I find her quick there's a chance she's safe." He paused and drew from his pocket the folded hand-bill. "The pilgrim offered a reward, an' Purdy aims to get it."
The other glanced at the bill: "I seen one," he said, gruffly. For a moment he puffed rapidly upon his cigarette, threw away the butt, and looked the Texan squarely in the eye: "There's a couple of things about that bill I've wanted to know. You've told me about the woman part. But the rest of it? What in hell you be'n doin' to have a reward up fer you? You spoke a mouthful when you said we'd be'n friends—we're friends yet. It's a friend that's talkin' to you now—an' one that knows what he's talkin' about. You're a damn fool! A young buck like you, which if you'd stay straight could be foreman of any outfit on the range—an' mebbe git one of his own started after while—goin' an' gittin' hisself outlawed! Fer God's sake, man—you don't know what you've gone up against—but—me—I know! How bad be you in?" The Texan started to speak, but the other interrupted. "If it ain't bad—if a matter of a thousan' or so will square it—you go an' fix it up. I've got the money—an' it ain't doin' me no good—nor no one else, cached out in an old iron kettle. You take it an' git straight—an' then you stay straight!"
The Texan laughed: "There ain't nothin' against me—that is nothin' that amounts to anything. I got a few drinks in me, an' cleaned out the Red Front saloon over in Timber City an' because I wouldn't let Hod Blake arrest me an' shove me in his damned little jail, he stuck up the reward. I'll just ride over when I get time, an' claim the reward myself—an' use the money to pay my fine with—that part's a joke."
As Grimshaw joined in the laugh, the Texan leaned over and laid his hand on the man's shoulder: "But, I won't forget—Cass."
The man brushed away the hand: "Aw, hell! That's all right. You'd of made a hell-winder of an outlaw, but the best of 'em an' the worst of 'em—there's nothin' ahead of us—but that." He jerked his thumb in the direction of the body of Long Bill that lay sprawled where it had fallen and changed the subject abruptly. "The woman's safe, all right—she's over to Cinnabar Joe's."
"Cinnabar Joe's!"