“Holler when supper’s ready, Hank,” Tad told him. “Me’n Shorty wants tuh tack a shoe on one of our hosses.”
Hank nodded appreciatively. He knew that there was no horse to shoe and he thanked Tad with a look for the kindly lie that gave him and his wife a chance to discuss in private the escape of their son.
When Hank had gone in the house, Tad turned serious eyes on his partner.
“Shorty, I got a hunch that Joe Kipp’s a worryin’ over somethin’ besides this Pete gent. He’s sick inside as if he was gut shot and I aim tuh find out what’s eatin’ on him. Yuh seen how he flinched when Miz Basset lit on him?”
“Yuh don’t think the ol’ feller’s playin’ a double game do yuh, Tad?” Shorty’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“I hate tuh be thinkin’ he’s that ornary, but dang me if there ain’t some things about this deal that has me guessin’. I’m goin’ tuh foller Kipp and see what comes uh it. Tell Hank and Miz Basset some durned lie er another about why I rode off. Look fer me when yuh see me ride through yonder gate, sabe? This may be a hour’s job, er on the other hand, mebbe so it’ll take a week.”
“Why can’t we both go?”
“Because, my well-meanin’ but plumb onsenseless amigo, it’s a one man job, this trailin’ business. Stick around here, keep yore eyes peeled, and if the Pete boy shows up, tell him not tuh quit the flats till I show up and kin make a medicine talk with him. This deal has my curious bump a-itchin’ and we’ll see ’er through, no?”
“I’d tell a man. Taddie, ol’ war hoss, I’m rearin’ tuh tackle that river from yon side and——”
“Of all the plumb dehorned, knee-sprung, narrer-foreheaded idiots that ever dealt his pardner misery, yo’re the wust! We ain’t here tuh do no fightin’, dang it. And I don’t want tuh put in the rest uh the summer hangin’ around them sand bars waitin’ fer yore fool carcass tuh come floatin’ along. Haze that fool idee plumb outa yore system and start all over on some plan that listens sensible.