DESPERATE MEASURES
Nightfall found the quartet established in the S Bar bunk house. The joyful thanks of Ma Thomas was enough reward for any of them. She hadn't expected to see Kid Wolf again, she said, and to have him return with help was a wonderful surprise.
She was a woman transformed and had taken new heart and courage. The supper she prepared for them, according to Kid Wolf, was the best he had eaten since he had left Texas.
All four of them were exceedingly hungry, and they made short work of Ma Thomas' enchiladas, crisp chicken tacos, peppers stuffed, and her marvelous menudo—a Mexican soup.
"With such eats as this," sighed The Kid, "I know the S Bar is saved."
They were gathered now in the long, whitewashed adobe bunk house, and had finished their sad task of burying Thomas, victim of an assassin's bullet.
The Kid obtained the bullet that had taken the old rancher's life. It was a .45 slug, and while the others believed it useless as evidence, The Kid carefully put it away in his pocket.
"It's hard to say who done it," Fred Wise said doubtfully.
"Yes," The Kid agreed. "I believe Ma Thomas was right when she said the hand of every one in San Felipe seemed to be raised against her. How much do yo' suppose the S Bar is wo'th, Anton?"
"Well, with five good springs—two rock tanks and three gravel ones, she's a first-class layout. The pick of the country. I'd say twenty thousand."