In one hand he’s got a six-gun and in the other is a package. He turns his head away from the open door and just then comes the thump of a pistol-shot. The feller kinda jerks around, drops his gun and package and falls against the side of the building, where he slides to the sidewalk.
He ain’t no more than went flat when out of the store come a man, bareheaded and in his shirt sleeves, with a gun in his hand. He stoops over, picks up the package and then looks down at the man. Bassett steps in past us and says:
“What was the matter, Cale?”
“Well—” the man licks his lips and then wipes the back of his hand across his mouth—“well, I tol’ him I wasn’t ’lowed to sell him nothin’. He gits kinda uppity and drags his gun. Then he he’ps himself to a bottle of medicine, flings the money on the counter and backs out. Yuh notice he didn’t git away with it, don’t yuh?”
Bassett nods and turns the man over. He’s been drilled dead-center. The storekeeper is staring at me and Hashknife.
“Mind tellin’ why yuh killed him?” asks Hashknife soft-like. “Where I came from, buyin’ medicine is a necessity—not a killin’ matter.”
“None o’ yore—” begins the feller, but Bassett stops him.
“Hol’ on, Cale. Lemme tell him.”
“I can run my own——”
“You shut up!” snaps Bassett. “This feller askin’ questions is the feller who inherited the Godfrey ranch that time. This other feller is his pardner.”