“How much longer are we goin’ to stick around here?” asked Sleepy, as they rode back toward Turquoise City.
“Not long, I reckon. It kinda looks as though the Conley family killed those steers.”
“Well, that’s what everybody else thinks; so why not you?”
“I hoped they hadn’t, Sleepy, that’s all.”
“As far as ownin’ a twenty-two is concerned—there must be more twenty-twos in this country.”
Hashknife grinned at Sleepy.
“You do have an idea once in a while, cowboy. But how much easier it would have been if Conley didn’t.”
“I suppose it would. But what do we care? Let’s figure on pullin’ out tomorrow.”
Hashknife frowned thoughtfully. There were still things that puzzled him greatly, and he hated to leave things unsolved. The jury would find Pete guilty, and he would be sentenced to hang; that was almost a certainty. If Conley died, Jimmy Moran might get off with a sentence. It would all depend on the jury, and a Black Horse jury would give Jimmy the benefit of a doubt.
But Jimmy wanted to marry Dawn Conley, and nothing except complete vindication would ever give him that chance. Hashknife did not believe English Ed Holmes. He had a feeling that Holmes merely wanted to know whether Hashknife was going to work on the case.