Page 62 of Wyoming Tough

“Yes, well, the cattleman was selling his stock to a newcomer from back east who’d just bought a ranch and was buying bulls for his new herd,” he replied. “He was furious when he found out what he’d lost.”

“God help us,” Tank exclaimed. “So the perp skipped and left his pigeon holding the bag. Tragic.”

“Perp? You still talk like a lawman,” Cane remarked.

Tank shrugged. It was painful to remember how he’d been shot up during the border incident. But it was getting easier to live with.

“Sorry,” Cane said gently. “I wasn’t trying to bring back bad memories. I forget sometimes.”

Tank smiled. “Me, too. No problem.”

Mallory was listening, but not commenting. He was seeing Morie in her beautiful gown, her black hair upswept, her creamy shoulders on view. He was seeing that handsome yahoo holding her waist and feeling the anger rise in him at the sight. She’d been his, if he’d wanted her. He’d kissed her, held her, touched her. She was innocent. Was she still? Or had she gone rushing into that playboy’s bed, full of grief and anguish at Mallory’s rejection and distrust?

“Damned pretty boy,” Mallory muttered to himself.

“Excuse me?” Cane replied.

“Morie’s fiancé,” he said coldly.

“I’m sure that she only likes him because he’s handsome,” Tank said with a wry glance at his brother.

“You can talk,” Mallory said irritably. “Both of you got the looks in the family. I favor our grandfather, God help me. He looked like his face caught fire and somebody put it out with an ax.”

They both practically rolled on the floor laughing.

“Well, we’re still stuck with lawsuits drifting in,” Mallory said heavily. “Brannt’s going to sue us for defamation of character.”

“He won’t,” Cane replied easily. “Morie won’t let him. She’s got a heart.”

“A big one,” Tank agreed. “She’s as innocent as Joe Bascomb.”

Cane was silent. Mallory stared at him pointedly. “You’re loyal to your friends. It’s one of your finest traits. But Joe beat his father’s mule senseless and almost killed it. Have you forgotten that?”

“Joe said it was his dad,” Tank replied tautly.

“There were witnesses, Tank,” Mallory said gently. “His mother was taken to the emergency room around the same time with a fractured arm. The talk was that she tried to stop Joe from beating the mule and he hit her with the tire iron.”

“She said she fell,” Tank replied doggedly.

“You don’t want to hear these things, but you already know that Joe got out of the army on a mental,” Cane reminded him. “He attacked two men in his barracks for making fun of him because he couldn’t spell. Put one of them in the hospital.”

“That might all be true, but he could still be innocent of deliberately causing the death of the man who was beating Laura Teasley.”

“I know,” Cane said. “But there’s a pattern of violent behavior going back a long way. It came out at the trial. Besides that, Laura testified that Joe already had a grudge against the victim for a blacksmithing job he did and wasn’t paid for.”

“We were talking about the Brannts,” Tank said, changing the subject abruptly. “And we still have the problem of who took that egg.”

“The only people who had access to this room were Mavie—and we know she didn’t do it—and us. And Gelly,” Cane added quietly.

“That’s not quite true, is it, Tank?” Mallory asked suddenly, and with a pointed stare.

Tank glared at him. “Joe was only in here once, just before he was arrested,” he said.

“Tank, he came on the place without even being noticed when he approached Morie at the line cabin,” Mallory reminded him. “He’s a woodsman. He can get into and out of anything. He’s a locksmith, in addition to being a blacksmith. He can open locks.”

“Isn’t it enough that he’s being accused of a murder he didn’t commit? Do we have to start accusing him of theft, as well?” Tank exclaimed, exasperated. He got up. “I’m going to bed. Arguing gets us nowhere.”

“Me, too,” Cane agreed. He got to his feet. “Dane Lassiter has one of his best detectives up here poking around. He’ll dig up something. I’m sure of it.”

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