Free Paper Sheriff by Luke; Short

pleasantly. “Saw your R-Cross brand.”
    Reston lowered his hands, crossed them on the saddle horn and looked down at this lanky, pale-eyed stranger. His glance shifted to Buddy and seeing the family resemblance, he assumed this was a son. Neither of them looked truculent, but they did look curious.
    â€œIt’s a Texas brand,” Reston said.
    Orville nodded. “Seen it before.”
    Reston regarded him carefully. “Now that ain’t likely, but where did you see it?”
    â€œI got a place over east, borderin’ the brakes. Me and my boy got a cow outfit over there. Yesterday—no, day before it was—I seen some R-Cross branded steers mixed with mine. It ain’t a local brand and I couldn’t figure it out. Then I seen your brand just now and figured I’d wait and tell you.”
    â€œThat’s mighty kind of you,” Reston said. “How many steers of mine did you see?”
    â€œI seen three,” Orville said. He looked over his shoulder at Buddy. “How many’d you count, Buddy, after I left you?”
    â€œOnly two more.”
    â€œHow do I find your place?” Reston asked.
    â€œWell, it ain’t easy,” Orville said. He thought a moment, “Tell you what. Me and Buddy got a few fool errands to do, then I got to pick up a horse other side of town. Why don’t we meet you at the bridge in half an hour and we’ll show you where we seen ’em.”
    â€œIf it ain’t out of your way, I’d appreciate that,” Reston said. “Half an hour at the bridge.”
    Orville nodded and turned. “Well, Buddy, come along and we’ll get our buyin’ done.”
    Reston sat motionless a moment, watching the two men tramp down the boardwalk. This was certainly a friendly act, he thought, especially to a stranger. If the older man had identified his horse’s brand, he needed only to keep his mouth shut to gain five double-wintered steers. What was it that the Sheriff had said? These were average people here, better than average maybe. Well, he’d have to agree with that, Reston thought.
    True to his word Reston was waiting at the bridge over Lime Creek when Orville and Buddy arrived a half hour later. The three set out east toward the distant brakes.
    Orville, whose small outfit lay to the south, had set the appointment at the bridge because he didn’t want to be seen in company with Reston. Staying clear of the stage road and the few wagon roads leading to ranches, they rode steadily for four hours. In that time, by careful circumlocution, Orville learned that Reston, during the half hour wait after their meeting, had not been curious enough about them to ask anyone their names. Now that he was sure that Reston hadn’t discussed them with anyone in town, Orville finally introduced himself and Buddy. Presently, Reston was talking about the stampede. Orville listened with sympathetic interest as Reston told of his conviction that some of his cattle had been stolen and that they were either in Sutton County or had been driven through it. Orville asked him then with only the mildest curiosity if he had any notion of who composed the gang that had caused the stampede. Reston didn’t answer immediately, wondering what he should say. If these Hoads, friendly as they were, took back the word that cattle thieves had got clean away with his cattle, it would encourage further raids in the future. Why, then, not pretend that he did have some information which he was in the process of tracking down.
    Accordingly, he said in answer to Orville’s question, “Why, yes. One of my men got thrown in the stampede and stomped some. He can take care of himself but he was too crippled up to head up the trail right away. He heard names and saw a man by lightning flash that he’d recognise if he saw him again.” He paused. Then to underline his point, he added, “Soon’s he can ride, I’m going