“And them other two jiggers got plumb away, too,” declared Allen disgustedly. “The tall one knocked Sudden cold, swiped one of the Bar 77 broncs from the Totem Saloon hitch rack and hit for the hills.
“We caught the other one and threw him into a cell. But he had a gun inside his shirt, and when Sunshine brought him a cup of water he stuck the gun into Sunshine’s ribs and made him unlock the door. They’re kinda bad medicine, them two, Marsh.”
“I wonder if they are workin’ for King?” said Marsh.
“I’ll be danged if I know. If they are, King’s got two danged capable men, Marsh. Jist think of them two hangin’ around all the time, with most everybody ready to take a shot at ’em. I’d sure hit for the timber, if I was them.”
Mrs. Hartwell and Mrs. Brownlee had heard Allen’s story. It was the first time that Mrs. Hartwell had known that Jack had been arrested. After Allen’s departure, Marsh and the two women sat in the living room of the ranch house; Marsh puzzling his mind over what to do; the two women waiting for him to speak.
“Well,” he said slowly, bitterly, “I suppose that Jack is on the other side of the dead-line now—to stay.”
“Could you blame him, Marsh?” asked Mrs. Hartwell softly.
“Blame him? Why not?”
“After the way he has been treated, Marsh.”
The man sighed deeply, as he humped over his chair. He was physically and mentally tired, weary of the struggle. Just now he did not care if the sheep engulfed the whole valley.