“So does the Stumblin’ K,” said Roaring thoughtfully.
“Huh!” Moran stared at Roaring. “Is that so! I suppose that squirt of a kid will claim the carcasses, eh? Swear he owned ’em, eh? But you and Clayton saw ’em, Slim. You can swear they had Big 4’s, can’tcha?”
“Shore,” nodded Slim thoughtfully.
He remembered that he and Clayton had told Jimmy about it last night. Now he wished that he had kept his mouth shut.
“What are you thinkin’ about?” asked Moran.
Slim jerked slightly and adjusted his Stetson carefully.
“I was just thinkin’ how much gall some folks have.”
“Oh, Conley’s got plenty of it, Slim. He always did have. Well, what about it, Roarin’? Goin’ to arrest Conley?”
“When you swear out a warrant, Moran. Pers’nally, I don’t see anythin’ to arrest him for. Eight dead steers without any brands don’t mean nothin’ to me. Lotsa folks around here has white-faced cattle. If you swear out a warrant for Mose Conley, I can’t help servin’ it.”
“I can prove ownership of these dead steers.”