Blakely had gone, and Ben was giving his latigo a final tug when two horsemen galloped briskly out of the bosque and drew rein at the stockade gate.
Ben recognized in them the sheriff of the county and a deputy.
"Howdy," he nodded.
"Glad to see you're saddled up."
Ben's eyes widened.
"What for?"
"Reckon I'll have to ask you to take a little ride with me, Ben."
Ben's jaw dropped.
"Me?"
The sheriff fumbled in an inner pocket.
"This here paper 'll refresh your memory more'n likely." He owed his nomination and election to Spiser and was therefore pleased to serve him.
Ben listened dumfounded while the sheriff read the warrant charging him with altering the L.X. brand on a two-year-old steer to Blakely's and his own.
"It's a lie!" flared Ben.
"You might as well wag along to Hope-
