"As you see."
"But not on that roan of yours, I notice."
"You notice correctly, seh."
"Now I wonder why." Healy spoke with a drawl, but his eyes glittered menacingly.
"I expect you know why, Mr. Healy," came the quiet retort.
"Meaning?"
"That the roan was stolen from the pasture two nights ago. Do you happen to know the name of the thief?"
The cattleman laughed harshly, but behind his laughter lay rising anger. "So that's the story you're telling, eh? Sounds most as convincing as that yarn about the pocketknife you picked up."
"I'm not quite next to your point. Have I got to explain to you why I do or don't ride a certain horse, seh?"
"It ain't necessary. We all know why. You ain't riding it because there is a bullet wound in the roan's flank that might be some hard to explain."