“Did, eh?” Snag looks off across the hills, like he was thinking real fast.
“I’ve lost a lot of cows,” complains Bowers. “Jist vanished.”
“This range needs cleanin’ up,” opines Hashknife, “and it’s time to get busy. I ain’t accusin’ the Bar 20, Thorn. I think that Baldy was lookin’ for somethin’ in the right place. The Bar 20 is welcome to ride the Circle Dot from now on. Sabe? If the answer is on the Circle Dot Range—find it.”
“Where yuh goin’ now?” asked the sheriff.
“Goin’ to find the lady first,” says Hashknife, “and after that I’m goin’ to give you a few prisoners to feed, or a job for the coroner.”
“I’ll run my office!” snaps the sheriff, but Hashknife looks weary-like at him and then turns away.
We went out of there and headed for the home ranch. Bowers rides with us as far as his place and then swings into his own gate. We didn’t do any talkin’ and he, for once in his life, didn’t harp about losing cows. It’s dark when we reach the ranch, but Mary Jane hasn’t showed up yet. Sing gives us a bite to eat and then we changed horses and hit into the hills toward Devil’s Dooryard. There’s a big moon coming over the hills. Not one of them flat-looking moons, but one what is round, like a big yaller ball hanging up there.
Sudden-like, Hashknife stops his horse and points toward the moon. Along ’a jagged ridge above us, sharp-cut against the moon, appears a figure on a horse. It’s there for several seconds, and then passes on.
“Mary Jane!” gasps Windy.