There would be no avoiding the Tetlows or their riders. In the first place there were too many of them, and in the second the town was too small. What he wanted now was to find out what had been done, if anything. He was standing on the street when he saw Sheriff Macy come from his office in company with a tall, rather stooped young man. That this was Phin Tetlow he did not know, but he did see the 4T brand. Why were the Tetlows calling on the sheriff? And Macy’s face was stern. Kilkenny watched them pass, then turned and crossed the street to the sheriff’s office and jail. An oldster with a handlebar mustache sat with his feet on the desk. He nodded at Kilkenny. “Howdy! What can I do fer yuh?” Kilkenny shrugged and smiled deprecatingly. “Nothing, really. Sort of loafin’.” He jerked his head to the east. “Macy looked some upset.” The old jailer spat at the spittoon and scored dead center. “Ain’t missed in ten year,” he said, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.
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