“Don’tcha know me, Whizzer?” he asked gently.
But the child only whimpered, his eyes filled with fear.
“My , I’ll betcha they’ve treated him tough,” declared Silent. “But how in did he happen to be here? Can yuh figure it out, Brick?”
Brick shook his head, his jaws shut tight. The half-breed woman was coming slowly toward them now, her shoulders drooped, her face set in lines of deep grief. She stopped in front of Brick, but would not look at him, as she said—
“My man dead—shot.”
“Yeah, I know it,” said Brick. “I reckon he had it comin’.”
“He dead,” she repeated.
“Where did you get this child?” asked Brick, not unkindly. He thought he could get more out of her by not adopting a threatening attitude. She looked blankly at him.
“Where did you get this boy?” he asked again. “You tell me where you get him.”
“Don’t know,” she said slowly, blankly.