“They—they’ve killed Tait and Gilroy.”
“Who?”
“Raiders.”
“When?”
“This morning—two hours ago.” A shiver shook the fellow like a heavy chill. “My God—it was awful!” he gasped.
The sheriff let fall a strong brown hand on his shoulder. “Tell me about it, Purdy. You were there at the time?”
The man nodded assent. He swallowed a lump in his dry throat and explained: “I been herding for Tait. We bedded at Bald Knob last night. Joe was aiming to go to Thunder Mountain. They—shot up the camp and killed Tait and Gilroy. Jim and me just escaped. We got separated in the brush.”
“Just where was the camp?”
“Right at the foot of Bald Knob.”
“Did you recognize any of the raiders?”