“I’ll tell yuh what we’ll do,” suggested Hashknife. “We’ll pack the body in close to Pinnacle and swear that we met him and he started shootin’. That’ll let you folks out of it.”
“That’s it,” agreed Sleepy. “They’ll believe us.”
But Big Medicine shook his head quickly. “Since when did the Tumbling H shift a responsibility to a guest?” he demanded. “If Baldy Kern wants battle, he’ll get it.”
“Suits me,” said Musical joyfully. “I’ve been kinda——”
“Just a moment,” begged Hashknife. “We’re not askin’ to take any responsibility off the Tumblin’ H Ranch. There’s somethin’ wrong about this whole thing, folks. If Torres threw that knife, what did Blair have to do with it? Torres ain’t connected with the K-10, is he?”
“No, he sure ain’t,” declared Ike.
“Find Blair’s horse,” said Hashknife. “He didn’t walk here.”
Musical, Cleve, Ike, and Sleepy went horse-hunting, while Big Medicine watched Lucy draw most of the swelling from Hashknife’s injury. The hilt of the knife had bruised the scalp a little, but it would not be noticeable after the swelling was out.
“Torres probably threw that knife, saw you fall, and headed for the border,” said Big Medicine. “It isn’t often that he misses. Possibly he hurried his throw and misjudged the distance in the dark.”
“Always somethin’ to be thankful for,” grinned Hashknife. “It always seems that things might ’a’ been worse.”