It was then that Toma noticed the policeman’s anger. His lips were pressed together tightly, his hands were clinched. The nails of his fingers dug into his palms.
“How it happen you get tie up in that room?” Toma asked, his sober dark eyes gravely regarding the policeman.
“Burnnel and Emery.” The answer came short and terse, with no attempt at elaboration.
“How they do that?”
“I had them locked up here,” Rand pointed to the room, “when that woman came.” He paused, while a slow flush of shame mounted to his bronzed forehead. “It was she, MacGregor’s wife, who did it, Toma. Came riding into the corral, just as I was preparing to start. I led my horse back into the stable and went over to question her. You see,” Rand explained, “I knew her—‘Rat’ MacGregor’s wife. Wondered why she had come here, Toma. Surmised, of course, that she was up to some mischief. But I was wholly unprepared for her treachery.”
The corporal paused again and the flush deepened.
“What she do?” inquired Toma.
The policeman’s mouth set in a straight hard line.
“Pulled a gun on me without warning and without provocation. I didn’t have a chance. I knew she’d use it. Fontaine and Le Sueur came out of the house and she got the drop on them too. Marched us back to the road-house and forced us to release Emery and Burnnel.
“As soon as Emery and Burnnel were released, they took charge. We were thrown into the room, bound, gagged, and the door was locked.”