“Oh, yeah,” Silent turned away, squinted at the ranch-house and nudged Brick on the knee.
A man was riding toward the ranch-house on the bluff trail, and both of them knew that it was Santel. They watched him ride up to the front door and dismount. But before he had time to go to the door, Mostano came out.
“Now what the is Santel doin’ there?” queried Silent.
“That’s a question,” grinned Brick. “I wish my ears were as good as my eyes, ’cause I’d sure like to hear what they’re sayin’.”
After a few minutes of conversation they walked around the house and back to the corral. Mostano, judging from his gestures, was doing most of the talking. They stopped at the corral gate and continued the conversation.
After a time Santel turned away and took several steps toward the house, as though going to leave, but turned. Mostano had stepped away from the corral, facing Santel. They were too far away for the two men in the brush to distinguish the detail of their movements, but just in front of Santel appeared a puff of smoke.
Mostano fell sidewise into the fence, trying to keep his feet. Another puff of smoke, and the closely spaced reports of two shots sounded. Brick and Silent could not see Mostano now, because he had fallen into the shadows of the pole corral.
Santel stood still for several moments, looking around, before he turned and hurried to the house. He knocked on the front door, but no one let him in. Then he stepped back, took a short run and hit the door with his shoulder. Brick grinned as Santel fell back. Brick knew that the oak bar was thick.
“He’s goin’ to smash the window,” observed Silent.
Santel had picked up a short length of pole, and now he proceeded to demolish a front window. He made short work of it, tore the curtain away and crawled inside.