The sheriff stares at her for a long time and then looks at us.
“Yuh figure she had anythin’ to do with the killin’ of Baldy?” asks Windy.
The sheriff sort of starts to reach up to his hat but his hand stops and rubs his chin. Then he turns his horse around and starts for the gate. He just says one word, and that is kinda like he was speakin’ to himself——
Mary Jane looks at us and then at Hack Allen, who is poking off down the road. Hashknife steps up beside her and then grins at us.
“The boss was sure heeled,” says he, and then he took her hand from the folds of her skirt, and I’m a liar if she didn’t have the .45 Colt. In the other hand she’s got a small bottle. Hashknife peers at the bottle and then kinda grins back of his hand.
“I—I—Mr. Woods said it needed oil, so I—” says she.
“Uh-huh,” says Hashknife, serious-like. “But yuh hadn’t ought to—uh—ma’am. I reckon a gun has feelin’s and mebbe—well, I’ve took that kinda stuff myself, and I sure mixed her plentiful with lemon juice, and even at that—uh——”
“I thought that oil was oil,” says she.
“Oh sure,” nods Hashknife. “It sure is, but—uh—that old six-shooter ain’t sick. Sabe? I’ll get yuh some gun-oil.”
“Would yuh have shot at the sheriff?” asks Windy.