"Socorro's bad man," said Webster, sententiously. "Wasn't a bit of good in him. Gamblin', shootin', outlaw. Best job Buck ever done."
He found Mary Jane in the kitchen, singing over the supper dishes.
"Texas Rankin is dead over at San Marcial," he said, with the importance of one communicating delectable news.
Mary Jane continued with her dishes, looking at her father over her shoulder with a mild unconcern.
"At San Marcial?" she said wonderingly. "I didn't know he had left Socorro!"
"A week now," returned Webster with much complacence. "Fired him from Socorro for doin' that express job. Socorro's bad enough without Texas——"
His mouth opened with dumb astonishment as Mary Jane whirled around on him with a laugh on her lips.
"Why, dad! Texas Rankin didn't do that job! It was Buck Reible. Texas told me the night it happened. We were walking down near the station and we heard some shooting. I wasn't close enough to see plainly, but Texas said he could recognize Buck by the flash of his gun. And so Texas is dead!"
"I thought," said Webster feebly, "that you was pretty sweet on Texas."
"Sweet!" said Mary Jane, blushing with maidenly modesty. "Socorro is so dull. A young lady must have some diversion."