Williams Cache

Sitting once in the Three Horses at Medicine Bend, Rebstock had talked with Whispering Smith. "I used to have a good time," he growled. "When I was rustling a little bunch of steers, just a small bunch all by myself, and hadn't a cent in the world, no place to sleep and nothing to eat, I had a good time. Now I have to keep my money in the bank; that ain't pleasant--you know that. Every man that brings a bunch of cattle across Deep Creek has stole 'em, and expects me to buy 'em or lend him money. I'm busy with inspecters all the time, deviling with brands, standing off the Stock Association and all kinds of trouble. I've got too many cows, too much money. I'm afraid somebody will shoot me if I go to sleep, or poison me if I take a drink. Whispering Smith, I'd like to give you a half-interest in my business. That's on the square. You're a young man, and handy; it wouldn't cost you a cent, and you can have half of the whole shooting-match if you'll cross Deep Creek and help me run the gang." Such was Rebstock free from anxiety and in a confidential moment. Under pressure he was, like all men, different.

Whispering Smith had acquaintance even in the Cache, and after a little careful reconnoitring he found a crippled-up thief, driving a milch cow down the Cache, who was willing to take a message to the boss.