In spite of his weakness, Reber jerked forward, staring at Buck Priest. Jack Silver stumbled forward, his eyes on the curiously twisted features of the old cattleman. Reber tore his gaze away and looked at Jack Silver.
“You lie, Priest!” he said.
“I don’t lie! He’s your son, Park. His mother died when he was born and he was nursed by a squaw. Ask him who his father was—he don’t know, I tell yuh!”
Jack shook his head.
“I kept track of him, Park,” said Priest. “I shipped him to school and paid for it. I wanted an ace in the hole. You’ve always wondered if there was a child. Look at him, Reber. He’s yore own flesh and blood—and you’re goin’ to hang him! Let’s get it over with, Reber. I want to see you hang yore own son.”
Reber shut his eyes, and after a few moments the tears trickled down his cheeks. The wound was sapping his strength. It was a long way to a doctor, and he knew he couldn’t live till one came.
One of his men came bustling into the crowd.
“Hey,” he shouted, “that fellow down by the stable is Bell, of this ranch, and the one on the hill up there is Bob Cliff, of the Lightnin’! What does it mean?”
“It means that Reber’s own men planned to clean him out,” said Jack Silver. “They kidnaped June Meline. I found her and brought her here. Last night Bell killed McLeese. He was on the porch and he’s burned up by this time. I think you’ll find that the Circle X, Lightnin’ and Two Bar X outfits were makin’ a big steal, but circumstances blocked ’em.”
Reber opened his eyes and stared at Jack.