‘In the stable, eh?’ grunted Dave. ‘By Gad, you——’
‘In the stable!’ snapped Lem. ‘Now, shut up, Dave. I’ll send a livery rig out after the body to-night, if that will ease yore mind any.’
Dave shrugged his shoulders and turned away, muttering under his breath, while the boys prepared a place for Peter Morgan. One of the boys piled some hay in the bottom of the hack, and they fixed Noah up as comfortably as possible. There had been no hint of who had shot him, but Nan knew what they were thinking.
When they were ready to leave for Cañonville, Lem took Hashknife aside and asked him to stay at the ranch.
‘You and Sleepy stay, will yuh, Hartley? I’m darned if I want Nan to be here alone with that fool kid.’
‘Sure, we’ll stay. Intended to all the time. What’s yore idea of it all, sheriff?’
Lem shook his head. ‘I dunno; we’ll talk later.’
Nan had kept her nerve well, but after they had gone, she sat down and cried. Rex sat on the edge of the bed, looking at her gloomily. His head was aching again, and the bandage had assumed a rakish angle over his left ear.
Hashknife tilted back against the wall in a chair and smoked a cigarette, while Sleepy sat on his heels against the wall, also smoking. Finally Nan got to her feet and shook back her hair.
‘No use being a little fool,’ she choked. ‘Crying won’t make anything right. I—I’m going to get us some supper.’