“Jimmy and Al said they thought it was you. They said there was four in the bunch.”
“Cactus Cañon is on the Circle Dot Range, too,” says Windy, serious-like, and the judge nods.
“Yes.”
“We don’t know who done it, judge,” says Hashknife. “It’s a cinch that we didn’t. Somebody ripped my saddle all to pieces the other day, when I rides on to Bar 20 land.”
“Tell me about it.”
Hashknife gives him the details.
“I don’t know,” says the judge. “Of course there has been bad blood between these outfits for years. Each accuses the other of rustling, but neither has any evidence. This shooting is getting serious. Lost any stock lately, Windy?”
“I dunno. I do know that I seen seven cows with young calves down by the old salt springs, and the next day I finds seven bawlin’ cows and nary a calf. It ain’t reasonable to reckon that them cows all deserted their offsprings.”
“The Bar 20 is boiling,” states the judge. “Snag Thorn is keeping cool, but he’s cool just like his father used to be. The sheriff wanted to arrest all of you, but Snag told him to keep out of it and let him attend to you. They had quite a quarrel. I met Bowers as I came out, and he told me he lost some more cows and a couple of young horses. I guess Bowers is just about cleaned out.”
“Well,” says Hashknife, “we ain’t honin’ for trouble, but if they comes out here I reckon we’ll do like they do in Spain when it rains.”