“Kipp, these two men are now on my payroll. The charges against them are dropped. Give ’em their guns and let ’em go. They’re wasting LF time here and they have a long ride ahead. If you have any message for Hank Basset, carry it yourself, understand? My men are paid to carry out my orders, not to deliver your messages. I think, Kipp, that you savvy what I’m driving at, even if these men don’t.”
“I savvy, Fox,” returned the sheriff evenly, as he handed Tad and Shorty their guns. He ushered them outside.
“Boys,” he said, ignoring Fox, “I loaded both yore guns. Five shells in each six-gun, leavin’ a empty chamber under the hammers. When yuh ride away from Alder Gulch, jest remember this; them is good, honest ca’tridges, bought with clean, honest money. So-long and good luck.”
Kipp nodded a brief farewell and reentering the jail, swung the door closed behind him.
Tad and Shorty gave each other a puzzled look, then followed the scowling Fox toward the livery barn.
In the corral adjoining the barn were their private horses, saddled. Also six more horses and a pack mule, the latter bearing a bed covered by a new tarpaulin.
“That gives you three mounts apiece beside your privates,” Fox explained. “You’ll help Basset gather those steers. Use your own judgment about any difficulties that come up, the same as any regular ‘rep’ would do. One week from tomorrow, I’ll meet you at the lone cottonwood on Rock Creek and receive the cattle. I don’t want either of you to forget that you’re drawin’ LF pay, and top wages at that. You’ll govern yourselves accordingly.”
“Uh-huh,” grinned Tad. “Top wages, Fox, but not fightin’ wages. Me and my pardner is peaceful fellers lessen we gits tromped on. We don’t travel none on our shapes ner lead-slingin’ qualities. We ain’t wanted no place fer no crime and we don’t figger on leavin’ this country with a posse follerin’ us. We’ll gather them steers, but we won’t fight none tuh hold ’em. I bin punchin’ cows long enough tuh know that there’s a nigger in the woodpile somewheres on this deal er you’d either gather them steers yorese’f er send some uh yore regular hands tuh do the job. We taken the sheriff’s say-so about hirin’ out and we’ll see the play through to the last card, but we ain’t doin’ no dirty jobs fer no man, mister.”
Tad had swung aboard his horse and sat slouched in the saddle, watching Fox.
“Get the cattle and I’ll be satisfied,” replied Fox. “Yonder’s the trail. Basset’s home ranch lays at the foot of that hazy peak. You should make it by daylight tomorrow. Follow this trail till you come to the lone cottonwood, where the trail forks. Take the right hand trail.”