But she swept his remonstrance aside.
“No—No—No!” Her voice gathered strength with each repetition of the word. “I won’t have it. What are you thinking about?”
To the boy with the rope around his neck she was an angel from heaven as she stood there so slim and straight, her dark eyes shining like stars. Some of these men were old enough to be her father. Any of them could have crushed her with one hand. But if a thunderbolt had crashed in their midst it could not have disturbed the vigilantes more.
“He’s a rustler, Miss Kate; belongs to Soapy Stone’s outfit,” Sweeney answered the girl.
“Can you prove it?”
“We got him double cinched.”
“Then let the law put him in prison.”
“He shot yore paw,” Buck reminded her.
“Is that why you’re doing it?”
“Yes’m,” and “That’s why,” they nodded.