He wanted to believe that Thurman's death was purely an accident,--the accident it appeared.

But Lorraine and the telltale hoofprints by the rock compelled him to believe that it was not an accident.

He knew that if he examined carefully enough Fred Thurman's body he would find the mark of a bullet.

He was tempted to look, and yet he did not want to know.

It was no business of his; it would be foolish to let it become his business.
"He's too dead to care now how it happened--and it would only stir up trouble," he finally decided and turned his eyes away.
He pulled the twisted foot from the stirrup, left the body where it lay, and led the blaze-faced horse to a tree and tied it securely.