Longtree lit a cigarette and exhaled in the wind. "Did he say what he wanted?"
"No, sir," Cal Shannon told him, "he just said how he wanted to see you right away. That it was important."
"I see."
"If you ask me, Marshal, something strange is going on up there. Mr. Ryan's got men walking guard, twice the number of riders with the herds…peculiar, if you ask me. Don't tell him how I said so, though."
"Course not."
"His race horses got slaughtered last night. Boys are saying how maybe it's that beast folks are talking about."
"Could be."
Shannon shrugged. "Anyway, he said to ride up there right away."
Longtree nodded. "I will. Thanks, Shannon."
Shannon jumped up on his wagon and rode off, leaving Longtree outside the livery barn alone. He never made it up to the Blackfeet camp. After the masked gunmen had attacked him and rode off, Longtree found his horse nearly a mile up the trail and returned to town. He'd been planning on searching out Lauters, but that could wait…the sheriff's wound wouldn't heal for some time.