“We don’t know, King. There ain’t a cowman in Lo Lo named Ed. Jack hasn’t the slightest idea where she is.”
King straightened up, his jaw shut tight, his big hands clenched at his sides.
“By ——, I’ll find her,” he said painfully. “She’s had all the —— I’ll ever let her have in this ——ed valley. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to come down here and sheep ’em out. Just to show ’em, that’s all.”
“And that ain’t all,” said Hashknife slowly. “While you and your sheep have been holding the attention of the cattlemen, a bunch of rustlers have been quietly liftin’ every head of stock in Lo Lo Valley. And yo’re goin’ to be blamed for it all, King.”
“Wait a minute,” breathed King, squatting down on his heels. “Say that again, Hartley, will yuh? Rustlers cleanin’ out the——”
“That’s what I said, King. Do you know the JN outfit?”
“Jack Noonan? Sure I know him.”
“Their horses carry his brand.”
King slowly turned his head and looked at Steen, who was staring at him.
“And that ain’t all,” said Hashknife. “You could ’a’ shoved yore sheep through that line any old time yuh wanted to. There ain’t over twenty men on that line at any time.”