Despite the soft drawl of his voice, he spoke with bitterness, as did the others. Every day the feeling was growing stronger that the rustling must be stopped if they were going to continue to run cattle. The thieves had operated with a boldness and a shrewdness that fairly outwitted the ranchers. Enough horses and cattle had been driven across the line to stock a respectable ranch. Not one of the established ranches had escaped heavy losses; so heavy, indeed, that the owners faced the option of going broke or of exterminating the rustlers. Once or twice the thieves had nearly been caught red-handed, but the leader of the outlaws had saved the men by the most daring strategy.
Healy, until lately foreman of the Twin Star outfit, had organized the ranchmen as a protective association. In this he had represented Weaver, himself not popular enough to cooeperate with the other ranchmen. Once Brill had led the pursuit of the rustlers and had come back furious from a long futile chase. For among the cattle being driven across to Sonora were five belonging to him.
Other charges also lay against the hill outlaws. A stage had been robbed with a gold shipment from the Diamond Nugget mine. A cattleman had been held up and relieved of two thousand dollars, just taken as part payment for a sale of beef steers. The sheriff of Noches County, while trying to arrest a rustler, had been shot dead in his tracks.
Brill Healy leaned forward, gathered the eyes of those present, and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Boys, this thing has got to stop. I’ve sent for Bucky O’Connor. If anybody can run the coyotes to earth he can. Anyhow, that’s the reputation he’s got.”
Yeager nodded. “Good for you, Brill. He’s ce’tainly got an A-one rep. as a cattle detective, and likewise as a man hunter. When is he coming?”
“He writes that he’s got a job on hand that will keep him busy a couple of weeks, anyhow. After that we’ll hear from him. I’m going to drop everything else, if necessary, and stay right with him on this job till he finishes it right,” Healy promised.
“Now you’re shoutin’, Brill. Here, too. It’s money in our pocket to stop this thing right now, even if we pay big for it. No use jest sittin’ around till we’re stole blind,” assented Slim.
“It won’t cost us anything. Buck, he pays the freight. The waddies have been hitting him right hard lately and he figures it will be up to him to clean them out. Course we expect help from you boys when we call on you.”
“Sure. We’ll all be with you till the cows come home, Brill,” nodded one little fellow called Purdy. He was looking at a dust patch rising from the Bear Creek trail, and slowly moving toward them. “What’s the name of this new nester, Jim?”
Budd, by way of being a curiosity on the range, was a fat man with a big double chin. He was large as well as fat, and, by queer contrast, the voice that came from that mountain of flesh was a small falsetto scarce above a whisper.