“I’m sorry I can’t see Cattle Kate in the proper light, McKane,” he said, “and that we’ve come to words and blows over her. Maybe I lack something fine which you possess—but she’s under my glass, all right, and I’m as sure as I stand here that some day its rays will show her up.”
“As what?”
“I’m not saying.”
“Men have died in their boots for less than that.”
“True—but I won’t.”
“Maybe not.”
“Look here, McKane—don’t mess into Kate Cathrew’s affairs. I’m giving you my hunch that the man who does is due for tragedy sooner or later—and you have no reason, for Kate don’t care for you.”
“No—nor for any other man.”
“Wrong,” said the sheriff succinctly.
“Eh?”