Baldy accepted this with a grain of salt. He knew that Cloudy was prone to exaggerate, especially when drinking; so he found Lon Belly in the Yellow Stamp Saloon, bought Lon a drink, and swung the conversation around to the baptism of Torres.
Lon hadn’t seen it either.
“Must be strong,” commented Baldy. “Torres ain’t no little kid. They tell me that this stranger picked Torres up and packed him to the blacksmith shop.”
“He’s tall, but don’t look very strong,” said Lon. “I dunno anythin’ about him, except what I got from talkin’ with him a little. They was on the stage when it was held up. The tall one said they was goin’ over to Hawkworth’s for him to take baths for his rheumatism.”
“Must be badly crippled,” mused Baldy aloud.
“He did limp a little,” offered Lon. “Mebbe he got so mad at Torres that he forgot to limp. A feller over in the restaurant seen it, and he said that Torres was bowin’ and scrapin’ to Wanna Hawkworth when this feller picked him up.”
Baldy smiled softly and bought another drink. Did Lon know what this tall feller’s name was?
“Name’s Hartley. Short one is Stevens.”
Baldy considered the names, but they meant nothing to him.
“How much of a haul did the robbers get?” he asked.