“Uh-huh,” he said softly. “Rustlers got him on Porcupine Creek, boys. Help me carry him in the house. That’s more of Park Reber’s work.”
They placed the body of O’Steen on a cot and covered it up with a bright-colored blanket.
“Saddle up,” ordered Priest. “Take yore rifles along. We’re goin’ to Tomahawk and talk to Park Reber with the only language he understands. He’s goin’ to pay for killin’ O’Steen.”
“That’s the talk,” said Rowdy. “We’ll wipe his town off the map.”
“Four men may not be able to do that, Rowdy,” said Buck Priest wearily, “but we’ll do what we can.”
Ten minutes later the four men galloped from the S\ Bar\ P, heading for Tomahawk town. The sun was almost down, and they wanted to get there before dark. About two miles from the ranch the road intersected with the main road, and as the four riders swept around the point of a hill they saw a team and light wagon coming from the south.
They were close enough to see that the driver was Nelson, one of Reber’s men. They drew rein and waited for the wagon to reach them. Priest swung his horse across the road ahead of the team, forcing them to stop.
“Hyah, Nelson,” said Priest coldly.
“Howdy, gentlemen,” nodded Nelson. “I’m sure glad to see somebody. I stopped at the Half-Wheel, but there wasn’t nobody at home. Me and Sam Herd was takin’ that girl to the Two Bar X and we got held up. Sam tried to draw a gun, and they killed him. And they put the girl on a horse and took her away. Sam’s in the back of the wagon.”
Rowdy spurred his horse around the wagon and looked in.