“I dunno, Marsh. Somebody shot a horse—my horse—from under Hartley the night they came. I don’t think they had any idea who it was, and it may be that they’re tryin’ to find out. I’ve had an idea that they were hired by Eph King, but mebbe I’m wrong.”
“Well, we’ve got to find out what became of Molly,” said Marsh, “and we’d better start right now. Goin’ with us, sheriff?”
“That’s what I’m hired for, Marsh. C’mon.”
It did not take long for them to ride over to Jack’s place. The sheriff examined the house, looking for a possible clue, which he did not find. Then he loaded the body of the dead sheepherder on to his saddle.
“There ain’t nothin’ we can do,” he declared helplessly. “We ain’t got a thing to go on.”
“That’s true,” agreed Marsh.
Jack made no comment. He realized that it would be useless for him to go searching the hills for his wife. In fact, he was not sure that she had not gone of her own free will. He did not know any one by the name of Ed.
The sheriff mounted behind the dead man and they rode back to the Arrow, where Marsh invited Jack to spend the rest of the night. But Jack refused.
“I’m goin’ to town,” he decided. “I’ve got to find some trace of Molly. They’d know at the depot if she went away on a train. I’m not afraid of the cattlemen now.”
And so Jack Hartwell rode back to Totem City with Sudden Smithy, Sunshine Gallagher and the sheepherder who had not lived long enough to tell who Ed was.