“The only one,” quietly, “unless the J R on that red steer when he got up was an original one.”
“J R? Who could J R be?”
“I couldn’t say, but the man was—Jesse Black.”
“Jesse Black!”
The repeated words were fairly spit out.
“Jesse Black! I might have known. Who else bold enough to loot the Three Bars? But his day has come. Not a hair, nor a hide, not a hoof, not tallow enough to fry a flapjack shall be left on the Three Bars before he repents his insolence.”
“What will you do?” asked Williston.
“What will you do?” retorted Langford.
“I? What can I do?” in the vague, helpless tone of the dreamer.
“Everything—if you will,” briefly.