"No. Only McWhorter won't be goin' to town till after lambin', an' it looks like he could remember tobacco with one tellin', instead of six in ten days."
Purdy's anger flared up: "Keep pretty close cases, don't you? Whose business is it if I was over there sixteen times? I ain't in jail, am I?"
"No—not yet, you ain't." Grimshaw's voice was low and hard. The game had ceased, and the four others were watching the two. "An', by the way things is framin', I don't expect you'll ever git there." There was something ominous in the man's words, and Purdy shifted uncomfortably.
"I didn't s'pose it mattered what a man done—between jobs," he muttered.
"It don't—so long as he leaves women alone, an' don't do nothin' that puts this gang in bad."
"I never told her nothin' about the gang. I ain't goin' to marry her."
"I know damned well you ain't. She despises you because yer a horse-thief." Grimshaw's voice suddenly dropped lower, "an', if she know'd what I know—an' what all Wolf River knows she'd know that yer horse-thievin' is the best thing about you."
Purdy laughed nastily: "Cinnabar Joe spilled a mouthful, did he? I fell down on that job—maybe I'll have better luck, next time."
Grimshaw nodded: "Mebbe you will. But, McWhorter's like Cinnabar Joe, an' all the rest that's friends of mine—he's safe, an' his stock's safe, an' By God, his girl's safe!" The leader paused and allowed his eyes to travel slowly over the faces of his five companions, "That goes—an' whatever else I say goes." And Purdy, watching narrowly from the corner of his eye, saw that, of the other four only Bill's eyes stood Grimshaw's gaze unflinching, and in the dim shadow his lips twisted into a sardonic grin. What Purdy did not see was that Grimshaw had seen exactly what he saw, and not only that, he had seen Purdy's smile, but with a perfectly impassive face, the leader spread his blanket and stretched himself upon the floor.