She came closer to him, searching his tensed features.
“But you didn’t really kill him, Len; you couldn’t.”
“Couldn’t I, Nan?” He laughed shortly. Suddenly he sobered, his eyes thoughtful. “I forgot about the boy,” he said, as though to himself. “It’s tough for him—mighty tough, Nan.” He turned quickly. “Do yuh mind if we don’t ride this mornin’? I’d like to go to town—to Lobo Wells.”
“It’s perfectly all right, Len.”
“That’s kind of yuh. I guess I better go now.”
He turned toward the stable.
“I want you to know that I believe in you, Len,” she said.
He stopped, but did not look around.
“That’s mighty sweet of yuh, Nan—I’ll remember it!”
He saddled his horse quickly, rode away to Lobo Wells, arriving but a few minutes behind the sheriff and deputy. He tied his horse to the Oasis hitchrack, but did not enter the saloon. The sheriff had gone to the doctor’s office, but Hashknife and Breezy were in the sheriff’s office and saw Len ride in.