“W’at you want here?” she demanded.
“I want to talk to Joe?”
“W’y you want Joe?”
“Mebbe I want to buy some cheap meat.”
She considered this thoughtfully. Brick thought he had made an impression, but this was quickly dispelled by—
“I think you liar.”
Then she turned, stepped into the house and shut the door. Brick laughed and swung back onto his horse.
“Mebbe that’s right, too,” he chuckled. “My reputation must ’a’ got here ahead of my winnin’ personality.”
He rode past the house and looked over the corrals. There was no sign of any one having butchered stock there, and Brick decided that Mr. Mostano must do the butchering in the hills. He was sure that Mostano had not come home, as there was no sign of himself nor of the pinto horse.
As he rode back past the house he noticed that the place commanded a fine view of the high bluff and trail. It would be impossible for any one to approach the ranch unseen in daylight from that direction.