“Somebody’ll recognize that knife, Sleepy,” he said as he mounted. “We’ll give ’em somethin’ to quarrel about.”
They rode into town and up to the front of the Greenback Saloon, where they dismounted and tied their horses. Lon Belly was in a poker game, sitting across the table from Baldy Kern. Cloudy Day leaned against the bar, talking with two of the men from the K-10. The other games were fairly well patronized, and the two-piece orchestra was dispensing music to three couples of dancers.
Hashknife went to the poker game and spoke directly to Lon Pelly.
“You better step out here a minute, Sheriff,” he said.
“I’ve got a dead man.”
“You’ve got a what?” blurted the sheriff, half-rising.
“Dead man,” repeated Hashknife. “Found him beside the road between here and the Tumbling H.”
“F’r gosh’ sakes!”
Lon Pelly upset his pile of poker chips in getting to his feet. The table was deserted in a moment, as all the players wanted to see who the corpse might be. They filed outside and helped Sleepy untie the body and take it into the saloon.
Baldy Kern swore softly as he looked at Blair’s body. There was little doubt in his mind that Torres or Garcia had killed Blair.