Kendall Marsh stared at Butch for several moments. Then, “You’re not making up any of this, are you, Butch?”
“Makin’ it up? Hell, no! I’m tellin’ you what she told me. That’s why I came out here.”
Marsh poured out a drink for each man in the room, and they came to the table to get it.
“Well, here’s luck,” grunted Hank.
“Luck! We-e-ell, I guess I deserve some luck. I’ve had a lot of it lately, and it’s all bad. They’ve checkmated me in this damn’ valley; so I guess I’ll get out while the getting is good. I paid a fine price for that bank, and it’s a junk heap. I’ll have to pay off the depositors, and that leaves me holding the sack.
“The War Dance will pay dividends, I suppose, and this ranch isn’t a bad investment, but outside of that, I might as well have thrown my money in the ocean. Now, about this Collins person. What else do you know about him, Butch? Where is he from, and what’s he doing here?”
Butch rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He could still feel the weight of Cultus’s right fist, and he wondered if he would ever have a chance to even the score.
“He’s from down on the border,” replied Butch. “The bartender knew him in Yuma. He says he came here to find a stolen horse.”
Kendall Marsh laughed doubtingly.
“All I know is what I’ve heard,” said Butch defensively.