“Got the drop on you, Slim?”

“She shore did. Two-barrel shotgun.”

“Empty,” chuckled Clayton.

Jimmy took a deep breath and grinned widely.

“Well, can you beat that? What are you goin’ to do?”

“That’s up to your dad. He sent us to town after Roarin’ Rigby.”

“Well, I’ll be darned! Are you sure about them steers?”

“We seen ’em. Eight white-faced steers, with the Big 4’s pointin’ skyward. No mistake, kid. And the fence was cut.”

“Gosh, that’s bad, huh!”

“You headin’ up that way?” asked Clayton.