irrigated by water off the Highbinders. Not much erosion in there, an' I don't run enough cattle to keep it fed down. I don't aim to get rich, just to make enough to get along pretty well.'
'Sounds all right,' Nick said.
None of them seemed to notice Cobb. Several times he started to say something, but Finn Mahone continued to talk, calmly, easily.
Suddenly, Ringer got up, jerking to his feet so hard he tipped over his almost empty cup. Then he wheeled and rammed through the door and was gone. Finn reached across the table and straightened the fallen cup.
Judge Collins looked at Nick James, and James mopped the sweat from his brow. 'You backed him down!' Nick said. 'Just out nerved him!'
'Better than a shootin', don't you think?'
'Awful close to a shooting, Finn,' the judge said. 'Awful close.'
Finn filled a cup, took the cake, and, holding both under his slicker, went out the door and headed for the print shop.
Nick James looked at Collins. 'Judge,' he said, 'how could anybody ever figger him for a rustler?' Then his eyes widened a little. 'Suppose he an' Sonntag ... ?'
'Don't get anxious, son,' the judge said. 'I'm sure Finn's good, but you don't want to be out of a job, right?. If those two fight, very likely both of them will die!'
Dan Taggart was a slow-thinking man. He sat in the bunkhouse on the Spur and smoked his pipe. The other hands had turned in, but Dan sat there, all through the pounding rain. On his return he had gone in to see Abe, but Mclnnis was still unconscious, although better. Mrs. Mclnnis had her sister with her now. Her sister was Mrs. Harran, wife of the storekeeper.
Unable to ask the advice of his boss, the foreman had gone back to the bunkhouse and stayed there except for a few minutes to eat. He was vastly disturbed, afraid he had done wrong, and wanting desperately to repair the damage he had done.
That the fault was not his alone he did not see. Brewster had voted as he had, and so had Logan. When Logan's name came into his mind he remembered Nick's peculiar attitude. What was it Nick said? That they had lost some cows after he had been ordered out of Sage Canyon? That didn't make sense. Would Logan have his own cows rustled? Taggart stirred uneasily, afraid he was out of his depth, but worried and uncertain of what to do.
He glanced around at the sleeping hands, but there was none of them he could turn to, nor who would have been able to give the advice he wanted. Taggart felt the need of advice from a superior, of leadership. His job as foreman was still too new. Only one thing he knew: The voting-in of Sonntag as range detective had been a bad thing. It had put the rustlers in the saddle.
He got up and pulled off his shirt, his pipe still in his mouth. Then he stood for a moment, scratching his stomach. He would ride over to Kastelle's in the morning. Abe Mclnnis set powerful store by Texas Dowd's opinion, and that of Remy Kastelle.
Pierce Logan was sitting at his desk in a bright, rain-washed world when the door opened and Byrn Sonntag walked in.
He had seen the man fifty times, talked with him nearly as many, and yet the man always did something to him, something he didn't like. There was something in Sonntag's very physical presence, his enormous vitality, the brash, raw health of him, and his deep, somewhat overpowering voice that made Logan feel less than he liked to feel.
Sonntag was in rare form this morning. He stamped into the office and threw his big body into a chair. He tossed his hat to the wide, low windowsill, and stared across at Logan.
He was a big man, weighing all of two hundred and forty pounds, with a leonine head covered with thick, dull red hair. His sleeves were rolled up, and red hair curled on his brawny and powerful forearms.
'Heard the news?' he demanded. His voice was harsh and rang with authority.
Logan looked at him carefully. 'What news?'
'Roberts is dead. Somebody killed him when he tried to git Dowd. It wasn't Dowd. Range folks figger it was Finn Mahone. Dowd ain't talkin'. Mahone must've spotted Roberts an' trailed him down. Anyway, he 'got two slugs through the heart.'
Logan scowled. He had been depending on Roberts to do another job for him, too. A job on a man much closer, and eventually more dangerous than Texas Dowd.
'Anything else?'
'Yeah, Cobb went over to that paper an' pistol-whipped Armstrong last night. That was my order. Then , he went into the eatin' house, an' Mahone was there.'
'Mahone? In town?' Pierce Logan was incredulous. 'Where were you?'
'I was busy. I can't be everywhere!' Sonntag growled. 'Anyway, Ringer wanted him, an' he went after him.'
'Yes?' Logan leaned forward, eagerly.
'An' nothin' happened. Mahone made a fool out of him. Bluffed him out of it. Told him to set down an' have some coffee, an' if he drew a gun he'd kill him. Ringer sat down an' drank the coffee!'
'The devil!' Logan got up angrily. 'Only two men blocking this thing and your men muff both of them! I tell you, Sonntag, those men have to be out of this!'
'Don't get riled up,' Sonntag replied deliberately. 'We'll take care of them. Anyway,' he added, 'it's all in the open now, anyway. That girl of Kastelle's spilled the whole thing. Started people thinkin'. I knowed it was too plain you could fool 'em only so long as they didn't know there was any rustlin' goin' on.'
'Get Dowd and Mahone out of the picture, and I don't care how wild you go,' Logan said. 'I mean that. You can run off every cow on the range!'
Sonntag sat up and his eyes gleamed suddenly. 'Say! That's all right! The boys would like that!' He looked up at Logan who was pacing the floor. 'By the way, Mahone was over to Rico. He promised Ed Wheeling a shipment of cattle.'
'Good! That's the only good news you've given me! Get some altered brands among them, I don't care whose or how. Nobody will see them over here, anyway. All we want is the story of some funny brands!'
'Fine with me.' Sonntag got up to go. 'Got any money? I gave Roberts three hundred out of my own pocket.'
Logan hesitated, then drew out a billfold and handed over several bills.
'Better make it four hundred,' Sonntag said. 'I can use it!'
Pierce Logan looked up, but Sonntag wasn't even looking at him. Logan's eyes were ugly when he counted out the other hundred.
Sonntag was getting too big for his boots, Logan decided. Yet, he needed the man. Only Sonntag could keep the Rawhide bunch in line. Ringer Cobb's failure irritated him, and he got to his feet and paced the length of the office. He would have to do some of these jobs himself.
What had frightened Cobb? The man was reputedly dangerous, and he could sling a gun, but he had backed down cold for Mahone. Roberts was dead. That meant something would have to be done about Dowd immediately. Too bad they couldn't all do their jobs as neatly as he did. He, Pierce Logan, would do the job on Dowd, if necessary.
He turned and walked out of his office and down the street toward the Longhorn. Judge Collins sat on his step, tilted back against the wall. He waved casually at Logan. 'Old fool!' Logan muttered. 'I'll have all that self- importance out of him in a few days!'
Impatience was driving him, and he realized its danger. Yet inefficiency always irritated him, and he wanted this over and done with.
He saw a roan horse at the hitching rail, and Logan stared at it. What was James doing in town? There was plenty for him to do out on the range.
Logan pushed open the door and strode into the Long-horn. Nick looked up when he came in, and shoved his hat back. 'Howdy,' he said briefly.
'How are you, James?' Logan said. 'Got a message for me?'
'No,' James said, 'only that I'm quittin'.'
'Quitting?' Pierce Logan turned his head to look at Nick again. 'Why?'
