“I don’t think so, Jake,” said the sheriff quietly, “tell me—were those two steers branded?”
“’Course. Plain as day. J. C. on right hip, swaller-fork in left ear. One was roan an’ t’other a bay-spot.”
Selwood turned without a word, left the store, mounted and rode away.
“Jest like him!” said Conlan bitterly, “goes a’ridin’ off all secret-like an’ snappy—’s if he knowed somethin’ or wanted us to think he did.”
“Mebby he does,” said Barman.
Sheriff Selwood rode straight up to Sky Line Ranch. It took him a good three hours, going fast, and it was far after noon when he pulled rein at Kate Cathrew’s corral gate and called for her.
She came, frowning and inhospitable.
“What do you want of me?” she asked coldly.
“Nothing,” said Selwood, “except to tell you I’m going to take a look around your place.”
“Look and be damned!” she flared. “What do you think you’ll find?”