“Miz Basset ’lowed she’d acted plumb or’nary towards yuh and ’lowed that Hank should ride after yuh and bring yuh back. I knowed Hank was tuckered out and a-feelin’ a heap upset about Pete, so I took the job off his hands. They want that I should bring yuh back.”
This last statement came to the nimble-witted Tad as a happy after thought. If the sheriff returned with him, Fox would ride his homeward trail without being shot.
“No need uh me ridin’ plumb back there, Ladd. I done told her and Hank I didn’t bear no hard feelin’s. I got business in Alder Gulch that should be tended to.”
“’Twon’t do, Kipp. I give my word that I wouldn’t come back till I brung you along. Don’t make me go follerin’ yuh around fer a week er so.”
Tad’s tone was that of light banter. Yet there lay an undercurrent of determination that did not escape the sheriff.
“All right, if there’s no other way to it, let’s git goin’.”
He led his horse from the brush and mounted. Together, they headed back for the Basset ranch.
For some time, they rode in silence. Tad, from the shadow of his wide-brimmed hat, studied the sheriff’s features. Kipp was staring fixedly at his saddle horn, deep in brooding thought. The reaction was setting in now and he was shaking like a man with palsy. Then this passed and the old sheriff’s shoulders straightened.
“Ladd,” he said abruptly. “You don’t know it, but yuh saved my life tonight. I wisht I could tell yuh about it, but I can’t. There’ll come a day when I will, though.
I come —— nigh doin’ somethin’ that would uh made life a livin’ hell. I come nigh bein’ a low down, or’nary coyote. I’m plumb obliged. I hope, some day, I kin pay yuh back in full.”