It's a white cat over there that comes to meet me and rubs
my leg and purrs like it's lonesome. That's a nice ranch he's got, too.
Now what becomes of that ranch? What you think, Lone?"
"Hell, how should I know?" Lone scowled at him from the saddle and rode
away, leaving Swan standing there staring after him. He turned away to
find the sheriff and almost collided with Brit Hunter, who was glancing
speculatively from him to Lone Morgan. Swan stopped and put out his hand
to shake.
"Lone says I should tell the sheriff I could look after Fred Thurman's
ranch. What you think, Mr. Hunter?"
"Good idea, I guess. Somebody'll have to. They can't----" He checked
himself. "You got a horse? I'll ride over with yuh, maybe."
"I got legs," Swan returned laconically. "They don't get scared, Mr.
Hunter, and maybe kill me sometime. You could tell the sheriff I'm
government hunter and honest man, and I take good care of things. You
could do that, please?"
"Sure," said Brit and rode over to where the sheriff was standing.
The sheriff listened, nodded, beckoned to Swan. "The court'll have to
settle up the estate and find his heirs, if he's got any.
Pages:
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74