The deputy again confronted Rathburn. “Had your supper?” he asked.
“Best steak I’ve had in two months,” Rathburn replied cheerfully.
“Horse taken care of?”
“First thing.” There was a note of derision in Rathburn’s tone. “Service at the hotel barn is high grade.”
Mannix’s eyes hardened before he spoke again. He hesitated, but when his words came they were clear-cut and stern.
“Then come with me an’ I’ll show you where to sleep.”
“You mean in jail?” queried Rathburn.
Mannix nodded coldly.
“Sheriff,” said Rathburn, in a peculiar tone, addressing the deputy but looking over his shoulder directly into Carlisle’s eyes; “if there’s one thing I’m noted for, it’s for being a good guesser!”