“There's only one side of the law for me,” said the detective. “I'm old-fashioned. I still believe a man is only what he holds himself to be.”
Sam nodded, liking what he heard. He looked over to where Chester Cannidy had worked himself up onto his feet and stood wobbling in place. In the distance, Antan Fellows rode away fast at the head of a long stream of dust. “Help me . . . please,” Cannidy pleaded, clutching his bloody chest with both hands. “I'm shot . . . I need some water. . . .”
Sam, Maria and Longworth watched the wounded drovers walk over to the wounded ranch foreman and sit him down carefully out of the sun against the front of the cabin.
“Let me look at that wound, Chester,” Brewer said, opening the wounded man's shirt. To Harper he said, “Tadpole, go get a canteen and a bandanna. Give him some water . . . I'll clean this bullet hole up some and see what it looks like.”
“Look at them,” Maria said softly. “They let their own wounds go, yet they help the man who led trouble to their door.”
“What can you say?” Sam replied.
“It looks like the good guys won,” Longworth commented, watching the drovers take care of Chester Cannidy.
“The good guys will always win if I can have my say in it,” Sam said. He dropped his gloved hand to the dog's head as the big cur loped over and sat down beside him. The dog had quickly made his rounds, sniffed and examined and probed until he found the area to his satisfaction.
“Yeah, me too,” said Longworth.
The two lawmen watched Maria walk over to the drovers and bend down to help them attend to Cannidy. She took the canteen from Harper's hands and lifted it to the wounded ranch foreman's bloody lips.
“I owe you an apology for shooting you, Longworth,” Sam said between the two of them. “I saw no other way to go at the time.”
Longworth didn't look at him. Instead he watched Maria closely for a moment. Finally he let out a breath and said, “I understand, Ranger. I would have done the same.”