“No,” he said thoughtfully. “I didn’t. I went to Los Angeles first.”
“And did yuh come by rail from there, Nolan?”
“From San Berdoo. I caught a ride from Los to San Berdoo.”
“Thanks.”
“Thanks for what?”
“Elimination. Have Mendoza’s two men been away from Painted Valley lately?”
“Not for six years; maybe more.”
“Mendoza?”
“Not for longer than that. Jules never travels. But what’s the idea of all this, Collins?”
“Curiosity, I suppose. A few weeks ago, down on the border, I was helpin’ some border officers grab a bunch of contraband. It was at night, and by all rights we should have captured ’em all, but there was a slip, an officer was killed and my horse stolen. I’ve been on that horse-stealin’ killer’s trail since then. And the tall gray horse you was ridin’ is the horse which was stolen from me, and he’s wearin’ a Circle M on his right shoulder, instead of the plain N he was originally branded with.”