Whispering was coming back, grinning widely.
“Feel better? Got everythin’ fixed up. Grant said he’d take a chance on yore cheque. Got some pen and ink, Jim? How much does that total?”
Nan’s hand shook as she made out the cheque, but the men did not notice it. They loaded the stuff in the wagon and drove away. Nan did not draw a full breath until they were out of town. The colour came back to her cheeks and Whispering nodded approvingly.
“Oh, yuh look a lot better,” he told her. “Gosh, yuh shore looked like you’d seen a ghost, when we pulled up at the store. This sun does fry yuh plenty.”
Whispering didn’t know how near he had come to the truth when he said she had seen a ghost. He told Len about it when they got back to the ranch, but Nan assured them that she was entirely recovered.
Hashknife and Sleepy were in the Oasis Saloon when Pollock came in. He shook hands with Cole and with several other men, drank with them, and then went back with Cole to his private office.
Hashknife was tilted back against the wall, with his hat over his eyes, and after the two men had entered the back room, he tilted forward, got to his feet, and walked outside with Sleepy.
“Recognise the black-coated gent who just came in, Sleepy?” he asked.
“Didn’t pay much attention to him. Who is he?”
“I dunno who he is now,” thoughtfully. “About three or four years ago a gambler by the name of Jack Evans shot a feller in the Golden Arrow Saloon in Redfields. They quarrelled over a poker game, and Evans shot him with a derringer. The man didn’t die, but he was badly crippled, and there was a warrant for Evans, who got away. Remember that, Sleepy?”