“Up in this country we ain't in mourning for Billy Faulkner. Old man Dillon told me what you done for him. I reckon we can find cover for you till things quiet down. My name is Speed.”
“Call me Fraser.”
“Glad to meet you, Mr. Fraser. I reckon we better move you back into the timber a bit. Deputy sheriffs are some thick around here right now. If you have to lie hid up in this country for a spell, we'll make an arrangement to have you taken care of.”
“I'll have to lie hid. There's no doubt about that. I made my jail break just in time to keep from being invited as chief guest to a necktie party.”
“Well, we'll put you where the whole United States Army couldn't find you.”
They had been walking across the field and now crawled between the strands of fence wire.
“I left my saddle on top of the stack,” the ranger explained.
“I'll take care of it. You better take cover on top of this ridge till I get word to Dillon you're here. My wife will fix you up some breakfast, and I'll bring it out.”
“I've ce'tainly struck the good Samaritan,” the Texan smiled.
“Sho! There ain't a man in the hills wouldn't do that much for a friend.”