‘Well, this ain’t gettin’ us nowhere, Sleepy. You take care of the ranch; I’m headin’ for Cañonville.’
‘Why don’t we both go?’
‘Try and see yourself in the glass,’ retorted Hashknife, picking up his hat. ‘You stay here, cowboy. If anybody comes foolin’ around here, use that shotgun on ’em. I’ll be back as soon as I can find out somethin’. I may meet ’em on the road.’
But Hashknife did not meet anybody on the road. He forced the tall gray over the Coyote Cañon road as fast as he dared in the dark, but he had the road all to himself. He tried to believe that everything was all right with Nan and Rex, but down in his heart he knew something had gone wrong.
It was late when he drew up at the sheriff’s office in Cañonville. He knew Lem slept in his office, and had little trouble in arousing him.
‘Hello, yuh old son-of-a-gun,’ greeted Lem sleepily. ‘Come on in. Wait’ll I light the lamp. What brings yuh here this time of the night?’
‘Have Nan Lane and Rex Morgan been here this evenin’?’
‘No-o-o, I ain’t seen nothin’ of ’em, Hashknife.’
‘Well, they started for here, accordin’ to a note they left for us. After we left you, we went to Mesa City, Lem. They must have started out between the time you left us and the time we got back to the ranch. And while we was eatin’ supper, somebody shot through the kitchen window and almost got Sleepy. The bullet lifted a can of milk and slammed Sleepy between the eyes with it.[’]
‘I ran outside, and I thought I seen a man goin’ away; so I shot twice at the object, which turned out to be Nan Lane’s saddle horse, still wearin’ her saddle. I killed it too dead to kick. Now, what do yuh make of that, Lem?’