The sheriff edged his horse away so that he could obtain a good view of Lady Jezebel. And he gazed at her with so much intentness that Tresler felt he must call attention to it.
“She is a beauty,” he suggested.
And Fyles answered with a sharp question. “Is she yours?”
“No. Only to use.”
“Belongs to the ranch?”
“Jake told me she is a mare the blind man bought from a half-breed outfit passing through the country. He sets great store by her, but they couldn’t tame her into reliability. That’s three years ago. By her mouth I should say she was rising seven.”
“That’s so. She’d be rising seven. She’s a dandy.”
“You seem to know her.”
But Fyles made no answer. He swung his horse round, and, raising his hand in a half-military salute in token of “good-bye,” called over his shoulder as his bay took to the water—
“Don’t forget the river.”