Kate frowned.
“No—the damned poor trash hang on like grim death. I’ve done everything but kill them, and they’re still there.”
“That’s too bad,” said the man, “I guess maybe you need a little help. What have you done?”
“Everything. Used all the arts of intimidation I know—and destroyed their livelihood.”
“H’m,” said Arnold, “must be a pretty courageous outfit. Who are they?”
“Old Missouri mother—boy—and a big slab-sided girl who’s the whole backbone of the family. Impudent baggage. You remember when the old man—ah—fell down Rainbow a couple of years ago?”
Arnold nodded again.
“Well, they’re trash—trash,” said Kate, “and stick to the flats like burrs. The girl’s religious. Talked some drivel about the hand of God being before her face, and came out flat-footed and said—before a crowd at the store, too—that those flats would feed a lot of cattle through, and that maybe I had a—hope—concerning them.”
“The devil she did!” said Arnold, sitting up. “I rather think you do need another head to handle this.”
“And that isn’t all,” said the woman. “Sheriff Selwood is knocked out at present, but he watched the boys drive this last bunch into the Pot. He rode to the very Flange itself. We’ve got to get these cattle down the Pipe and out before he comes round—though from what we can hear, it don’t seem likely he’ll come round. Sud shot him in the head. I think he’ll die myself, or I’d have driven out by now.”