“Nothin’ of the kind,” denied Uncle Hozie. “Honey’s in love, and a man in love ain’t more’n half a man. Anyway, there’s Wong Lee.”
“A heathen Chinee!”
“He’s a Chinaman, but I’ll betcha he’s as much of a Christian as any of us.”
“Anyway,” declared Aunt Emma, “I’m goin’ to spend all the time I can with the girls.”
Aunt Emma was one of those who believed that Jim Wheeler had not died from an accident. She talked with the old doctor about the bruises on Wheeler’s skull, and he told her that they were caused by Jim Wheeler’s head striking the rocks.
“But how did he fall off?” queried the old lady. “Jim was a good rider, Doc. The saddle never turned with him.”
The doctor shook his head.
“I’m sure I don’t know, Mrs. Wheeler. I am not a detective. His leg was broken from being hung in the stirrup, I suppose.”
“He wasn’t hung to the stirrup when Joe found him.”
“Wasn’t he? Perhaps Joe Rich knows more about it than we do, Mrs. Wheeler.”