“I wonder.”
The eyes of the two men met in the direct, level fashion of the country.
“Going anywhere in particular in those glad rags, Mac?”
The sheriff’s question was dropped lightly, but McCoy did not miss its significance. He knew that for the sake of Norma’s reputation he must remove all doubt from the mind of the officer.
“Why, yes, Aleck. I’m going to Cheyenne,” he assented.
“A cattle deal?”
“Not exactly—object-matrimony, Sheriff.”
Matson shot a direct, stabbing look at him. “You’ve told me too much or too little.”
“The young lady is named Trovillion. She spent two months at the Dude Ranch this summer.”
The sheriff rose. “Nuff said, Mac. I wasn’t elected to do Tait’s dirty work for him. I get off at this crossing. So long, old scout—and good luck to you on that object-matrimony game.”