Slim leaped backward, his gun spouting flame. Two shots echoed across the coulee and the body of the rattler slipped off the rock.
The foreman looked incredulously at Slim.
“Where you carrying your gun, in your hand?” he asked.
“No,” replied Slim, feeding fresh shells into the six gun and sliding the weapon back into his holster.
Joe Haines asked no further question but in his own mind he cataloged Slim as the fastest man he had ever seen with a gun. The weapon had been drawn with a skill so fast and smooth that it defied the eye. It was almost like magic, the sweep of that long arm and the accurate spurt of the weapon.
“Here’s where our bushwhacker made himself comfortable,” said Slim, pointing behind a rock where a half dozen cigarette butts were strewn. He leaned down and picked up an exploded rifle shell. Turning it over slowly in his fingers, he looked at the mark of the firing pin on the base. Then he slipped the copper cartridge into an inner pocket. It might come in handy later.
A few rods further back they found where the gunman’s horse had been tethered and there was evidence written in the dust there that the rider had mounted in great haste.
“He must have been afraid someone had overheard the shot and was coming after him. He sure tore out of here,” said Joe Haines.
“Maybe he started out to overtake Adam Marks and get the money,” said Slim.
“By golly, I’ll bet you’re right! We’ll get our horses and follow this trail.”
Slim’s hunch was correct, and a short distance further the tracks left by the lone rider merged into the dust of the main trail to Dirty Water. The gunman had been riding hard, but the team, spurred on by an unknown fear, had been too fast for him.
A mile and a half along the road to Dirty Water the trail of the solitary rider swung to the right toward the Three Soldiers.
“I’m more anxious about the money. That trail won’t cool off for a few hours. We’re riding to Dirty Water.”
It was mid morning when they reached the cow town. They splashed across Stony creek and tied their horses to the rail in front of Doc Baldridge’s office. Chuck emerged from the interior and Slim noticed that he was careful to keep his rifle in his hands.
“Something tried to happen,” said Chuck grimly. “This is no place for a sick man to try to get well. We’ve got to get Mr. Marks back to the ranch and get him there at once.”