A sodbuster lawman in a cattle town . . .?
YOU GOTTA BE KIDDIN’!
“Don’t try anything, Nate. There’s a couple guns on you, don’t forget.” He paused to eye the big homesteader. “Maybe you’re tellin’ the truth . . . I mean, about wantin’ to patch things up, although Ottoway said you looked more like a man ready to rip someone apart.”
“I already said he’s lying.”
“Mistaken, maybe,” amended Schrader. “But knowin’ Wilf Wetherbee, I ain’t so sure he’d be ready to come around to your way of thinkin’. Knowin’ him, I say it’s a damn sight more likely he started in to gettin’ square with you for dancin’ him across the street with a big audience enjoyin’ him lookin’ like a fool.”
“You’re making a lot of wild guesses, Sheriff,” Logan said coldly. “How about some evidence? You’ve been a lawman long enough to know that evidence is what counts . . . and witnesses.”
“You’re talkin’ crazy when you mention witnesses, Nate!” Schrader snapped. “You wouldn’t shoot down a man if there was anyone else around. As for evidence, there’s more than one kind of evidence, includin’ circumstantial evidence. You ain’t been a part-time lawman long, but I guess even you know that much.”
“I know an attempt to frame a man when I see one.”