“Cold-blooded, eh?”
“Y’betcha. Good cowman, too. He’s been here over two years. Bought the Turkey Track from Buck Fenner’s widow. It wasn’t much of a place at that time, but Slim has built it up pretty good. He’s from Texas.”
“Thasso?” Hashknife humped over and scratched his head thoughtfully. “Well, some folks do make a success. I dunno how they do it—I know danged well I can’t.”
He slid off the counter, drew a folded book from his pocket and said to Sleepy:
“You set here and rest yore face and hands while I take this brand registry back to the sheriff. I had it in my hand when they run me out last night.”
“All right,” grinned Sleepy. “Didja find out who owns that JN outfit?”
“Yeah, I found out. Feller by the name of Jack Noonan. Ranch is located on the other side of Sunland Basin.”
“I’ve heard of him,” said Jack. “They call him ‘Calamity Jack.’”
“Well, that’s a good name,” laughed Hashknife, as he went out on to the sidewalk.
He looked toward the Totem Saloon, but did not happen to notice that Steil and Curt were mounting at the hitch rack. They had seen him come out of the store, and as he started down toward the sheriff’s office, they swung into their saddles.