"Why not? He'll do it sooner or later anyway. It's in his blood."
"I suppose it is."
"I got an idea. There's a young gent in town named Larrimer, ain't there?"
"Sure. A rough kid, too. It was him that killed Kennedy last spring."
"And he's proud of his reputation?"
"Sure. He'd go a hundred miles to have a fight with a gent with a good name for gunplay."
"Then hark to me sing, Joe! Send Terry into town to get something for
you. I'll drop in ahead of him and find Larrimer, and tell Larrimer that
Black Jack's son is around—the man that dropped Sheriff Minter. Then
I'll bring 'em together and give 'em a running start."
"And risk Terry getting his head blown off?"
"If he can't beat Larrimer, he's no use to us; if he kills Larrimer, it's good riddance. The kid is going to get bumped off sometime, anyway. He's bad—all the way through."
Pollard looked with a sort of wonder on his companion.