Chuck had his own plate heaped high and Slim soon had his filled with food. There was little conversation. That would come later when appetites were satisfied and they sat back and waited for the pie to be brought on.
The man Slim had met in the hall was making slow work of his supper, for he was greatly handicapped with the use of only his left hand. He paused and looked at Slim.
“Don’t believe I know your name or did I miss it coming downstairs?”
“I didn’t mention it. Name’s Evans, Slim Evans. My pardner’s Chuck Meade.”
“Glad to know you. I’m Maxie Denkman. Meet the rest of the outfit here.”
He turned to his left and introduced the group at the table. There was Pike Carberry, who ran the general store, and his clerk, Jim Ferris, who also did the barbering for the whole valley. Next was Leo Kovec, whose star on his vest proclaimed him to be the marshal and beyond him sat Newt Bemis, whom Denkman introduced as an assistant cattle buyer. The man at the end of the table drew Slim’s attention. He was well groomed in spite in the heat of the day, immaculately shaved, and his linen was fresh and white. His dark hair was slightly curly and he had a pleasant smile.
“I’ll introduce myself,” he said. “I’m Hal Titzell, cattle buyer.”
“Glad to know you,” said Slim, and Chuck echoed the words. Just then the pie was placed on the table and conversation died.
Between mouthfuls of pie, Slim mentally gauged the group at the table.
Pike Carberry, genial, white-haired and sixty, was just what he appeared to be--the town storekeeper. Jim Ferris, slightly bald and about thirty-five, was talkative.