“You’re allowed three guesses.”
Gwinne puffed unhurriedly at his pipe, and after some meditation delivered himself of a leisurely statement between puffs.
“About a year ago, near as I can remember, this man Caney—Big Ed Caney—deputy sheriff in Dona Ana—did you know that? Thought not. Well, he went out beyond Hatch with a warrant for a fellow. He found another man—old Mexican sheep herder—cut down on him with a rifle and ordered him to throw ’em up. The old Mexican was scared or else he remembered something, I don’t know which; he was perfectly innocent of this particular charge, whatever it was; they caught the other man later. Anyhow the old gentleman made a dash for his gun—it was leaning up against a tree not far away. And Caney killed him.”
“So you think maybe Caney wanted to start something. Ambush, maybe? So I’d go after my gun?”
“I don’t know anything about what Caney wanted to do or didn’t want to do. All I know is—he didn’t.”
“And the Garfield boys wouldn’t stand for it?” persisted Johnny.
“Lull and Charlie See won’t stand for any crooked work—if it’s them you mean. Lull was the only Garfield man. Charlie See is from Dona Ana, where they grow good and bad, same as they do here.”
“Yes. I see. I know Jody and Toad Hales, myself. I met Lull and See yesterday evenin’, just out of Garfield. Say, Mr. Gwinne, could you rustle me a razor?”
“I can too. Anything else on your mind?”
“Why, no. Only I wish I knew where the John Cross outfit is holding forth, and when they are likely to get word about me being in a tight. They may hear to-day, and it may be a week.”