‘Whatever put that idea in yore mind?’
‘Oh, I dunno. Mebby it was that tenderfoot. His name’s Morgan, and he came here tryin’ to find out who sent a check to his mother. It came from Mesa City, he says.’
‘He’s crazy,’ laughed Dave. ‘Anyway, he’d have a hell of a time provin’ anythin’. His mother’s dead and Pete’s dead, and how in hell could he prove anythin’? Let’s have another drink.’
‘I guess you’re right, Dave. No, thanks. I’ve had enough. Better grab a little sleep.’
‘What does Hartley think about it, Lem?’
‘Well, he don’t say much, except when I get an idea, and then he shows me where I’m all wrong. If I had his brains I wouldn’t be sheriff of no damn county, I’ll tell yuh that much.’
Lem left the saloon and took his horse to the livery-stable.
Hashknife rode straight back to the ranch and stabled his horse. Sleepy was still awake and anxious to know what Hashknife had found out; so he came down to the stable.
‘But where can they be?’ wondered Sleepy.
‘I’m shore stuck,’ said Hashknife gloomily. ‘This is the worst danged case I ever worked on. I can’t seem to get goin’. But, by golly, I’m—’ Hashknife hesitated. The moon was high up over the hills, illuminating the old buildings and corrals.