There was a dead silence. Taggart had not moved. Calumet's gaze went from the two fallen men and rested on his father's enemy.
"Didn't work," he jeered. "They missed connections, didn't they? You'll get yours if you ain't out of town by sundown. Layin' for me for a week, eh? You sufferin' sneak, thinkin' I was born yesterday!" He ignored Taggart and looked coolly around at his audience, not a man of which had moved. He saw the sheriff standing near the door, and it was to him that he spoke.
"Frame-up," he said in short, sharp accents. "Back Durango way Denver an' the little guy pulled it off regular. Little man gets your gun. Denver gets you riled. Sticks his hip out so's you'll grab his gun. You do. Gun's empty. But you don't know it, an' you try to perforate Denver. Then he pulls another gun an' salivates you. Self-defense." He looked around with a cold grin. "Planted an empty on him myself," he said. "The little guy fell for it. So did Denver. I reckon that's all. You wantin' me for this?" he inquired of the sheriff. "You'll find me at the Lazy Y. Taggart—" He hesitated and looked around. Taggart was nowhere to be seen. "Sloped," added Calumet, with a laugh.
"I don't reckon I'll want you," said Toban. "Clear case of self-defense. I reckon most everybody saw the play. Some raw."
Several men had moved; one of them was peering at the faces of Denver and Garvey. He now looked up at the sheriff.
"Nothing botherin' them any more," he said.
Calumet stepped over to Denver's confederate and took up the pistol from the floor near him, replacing it in his holster. By this time the crowd in the saloon was standing near the two gunmen, commenting gravely or humorously, according to its whim.
"Surprise party for him," suggested one, pointing to Denver.
"Didn't tickle him a heap, though," said another. "Seemed plumb shocked an' disappointed, if you noticed his face."
"Slick," said another, pointing to Calumet, who had turned his back and was walking toward the door; "cool as ice water."