“Does look kinda funny,” admitted Pelly. “Still there’s lots of queer things happen in this neck of the woods, Mac. I’ve got so I don’t believe anythin’ I hear, and only half what I see.”
“And that’s about fifty percent more than I do,” said McGurk. “Maybe that packhorse didn’t have nothin’ on but the empty sacks. Maybe somebody just didn’t want us to see who they were. There’s a lot of maybes about it, Lon, but somethin’ tells me that the pack sacks were loaded, and that somebody shifted the cargo on us.”
“You’ll get a lot of gray hairs worryin’ about it,” laughed Pelly. “I’d rather set back of some reds, whites, and blues on a green-covered table than to pack the red, white, and blue along that damn border. I could be knowed as a hell of a good sheriff, and die young.”
“I guess that’s right,” grinned McGurk. “But either one is a good game when yuh win. I had a good hand last night, but somebody stole all the aces.”
The revenue officers rode straight through Pinnacle, but the sheriff and deputy tied their horses at the Greenback rack and went into the saloon. The sheriff lost no time in getting a seat in a poker game, while Cloudy Day proceeded to regale his insides with his favorite beverage, which carried a high percentage of alcohol.
Baldy Kern, Two-Fingers Kohler, and Jack Baum rode in from the K-10. Baldy’s wrist was heavily bandaged, and he wore his holster on the left side, which proved that Baldy was ambidextrous—or tried to be. Kohler explained that his cheek was cut from accidental contact with a barbed wire, which cut it did not resemble in the least.
Cloudy was fairly well “organized” when the K-10 outfit rode in, and they were not averse to helping him imbibe a few more. Cloudy’s sense of humor grew greater with each successive drink, so it was not long before he laughed aloud at what McGurk had told them.
“What’s funny?” asked Kohler.
“A revenue officer chasin’ a empty packhorse.”
“Empty packhorse?” queried Baldy.