‘You goin’ to the ranch with me, Lem?’ asked Hashknife.
‘I think I’ll stay here, Hashknife. I’ll get a room at the hotel, and be out to yore place early.’
‘All right.’
Hashknife went back to his horse, mounted and headed for the ranch, while the three men at the bar had another drink.
‘You ain’t takin’ an after-midnight ride just for yore health, are yuh, Lem?’ queried Morgan.
The sheriff rolled a cigarette, shaping it carefully, before replying:
‘Nan Lane and that young tenderfoot started for Cañonville late this afternoon, and they never arrived.’
‘Never arrived? What do yuh mean, Lem?’
‘Never arrived, thasall. Her horse came back to Lane’s ranch, and Hashknife killed it.’
‘Killed what—the horse?’