Ike Marsh rode in from Pinnacle and turned his horse into the corral. Ike had suffered another session of poker, which was one of his chief vices, but this time the Greenback Saloon took most of his previous winnings.
He came up to the house, where he found Hashknife and Big Medicine in the living-room.
“Wasn’t no mail,” he told Big Medicine. “Torres and Garcia came to Pinnacle last night, and Lee Yung came in on the stage yesterday mornin’. And that’s all the news.”
“That’s quite a lot,” observed Hashknife thoughtfully. “I wonder what will happen now, Hawkworth. Both parties have been gone quite a while.”
“That’s hard to tell. If Baldy Kern thinks that Torres killed Blair, he will probably try to kill Torres. If Torres did try to kill you, and finds that he failed, he will probably try again.”
“Sounds reasonable,” grinned Hashknife. “I reckon I’ll ride to Pinnacle this evenin’. If Mr. Torres wants another chance, I’ll sure give it to him, unless Kern beats me to it.”
“I’m goin’ back,” said Ike quickly. “I’ve got enough left to buy a couple stacks of white chips, and I ain’t so sure but what I profited by my lesson of last night. I reckon Musical and Cleve intends to go in tonight.”
Ike knew that neither Musical nor Cleve had any idea of going to Pinnacle that night, but he was paving the way for the Tumbling H to be well represented in case of trouble.
“This is not our trouble,” Big Medicine reminded him.
“Oh, sure not.”