“Nigh sunup and yonder’s the ranch. I’m ga’nt as a coyote,” grinned the cow puncher.
“Kinda feel thataway myself, pardner,” smiled Kipp. “Don’t know when I’ve felt as hungry.”
VII
Surprise, consternation, and a trace of suspicion were written on Ma Basset’s face when she greeted Tad and Kipp at the gate.
“There’s—there’s nothing wrong, Sheriff?” she cried, her work-reddened hands gripping the gate pole.
“Figgered you and Kipp ’ud want tuh talk over this here Pete business, so I done brung him back,” Tad explained easily, wondering why Ma Basset looked at him so sharply.
Fresh in Ma Basset’s memory was Shorty’s fabrication regarding his partner’s absence at supper the night before and she was searching the big puncher’s rugged features for traces of his debauch.
Tad’s eyes flitted to the log barn fifty feet away. He smiled faintly as he saw six inches of blued rifle barrel protruding between the chinks of the logs. The gun was covering Kipp who had not seen it.
“Any sign of Pete?” asked Ma nervously.