The owner of the Circle B R broke into excited threats. “He’ll never take his sheep back again—never in the world. I’ll not stand for it; none of the boys will. Right now is when he gets all the trouble he wants.”
“That your opinion, too, Sam?” asked Rowan quietly.
The faded blue eyes of the Texan had a far-away look. His fingers caressed a chin rough with gray stubbles. He was thinking of his young wife and his year-old baby. Their future depended upon his little cattle ranch.
“I reckon, Mac. We got to fight some time. Might as well be right now.”
“To-night,” agreed McCoy decisively. “We’ll settle this before daybreak. We don’t want too many in this thing. Five or six are enough.”
“Here are three of your six,” suggested Rogers.
“Larry Silcott is four. We’ve got to take Larry. He brought me the news.”
“How about Dunc King? He’s a good boy—absolutely on the square.”
Rowan shook his head. “Let’s keep Dunc out of this. You know what a good old lady Mrs. King is. We’ll not take her only son into trouble. Besides, Dunc talks too much.”
“Well, Jack Cole. He’ll go through and padlock his mouth, too. I’d trust Jack to a finish.”