‘Sheriff ain’t caught young Lane yet, has he?’ asked Bunty.
‘Na-a-aw, and he never will,’ flared Red. ‘I think he’s stuck on that girl.’
‘Shows damn good taste,’ said Briggs. ‘I’ve only sheen her once, but I was shober enough to r’lize that she was pretty nice for to gaze upon.’
‘The sheriff,’ said Hashknife, anxious to switch the subject away from Nan, ‘seems of the opinion that this young Lane shot in self-defense.’
‘All right,’ said Red, ready for an argument. ‘If he did, why did he take Ben’s horse and gun? I’m not tryin’ to stick him for killin’ Ben, if he had to do it; but he took the horse and the gun.’
‘Yes, that looks bad. But he was drunk.’
‘Not too drunk, Hartley. Remember he shot straight.’
‘That’s true. And what evidence have yuh that old man Lane killed Peter Morgan?’
‘None,’ said Red honestly. ‘Lane swore he’d kill him, if he came to his ranch. Peter Morgan is dead, and his body came from toward the Lane ranch. That’s all we’ve got.’
‘Lane was heard to say that he’d kill any of the 6X6 that came to his ranch, wasn’t he?’