“Country’s gone to hell,” seriously. “Fact. Reformers got their hooks set in Broad Arrow. Ruined the place. Me and Buck opened an office up here, and I run it. Gotta foller crime, says Buck. Ain’t no crime in Broad Arrow no more.”
“Any crime up here?” asked Blaze.
“Plenty, accordin’ to Broad Arrow. C’mon down to my office, Blaze.”
As they sauntered down the street, two men came from a store just ahead of them. One was Alden Marsh, half drunk, and the other was Butch Van Deen, the new foreman of the Triangle X. Young Alden Marsh was good-looking, in a dissipated way, rather tall, slender, slightly over-dressed.
Butch Van Deen was a man of about thirty-five, a couple of inches less than six feet tall, heavily built, square-faced, with high cheekbones, round blue eyes and stringy blond hair. The eyes were slightly too close together, and his mouth sagged a little at the corners above a belligerent jaw.
Alden Marsh stared at Blaze Nolan. It was evident that Marsh didn’t know Blaze was out of prison. He shifted his eyes toward the deputy, as though seeking an explanation, which was not forthcoming; so he shifted back to Blaze and shoved out his right hand rather uncertainly.
“Huh-hellow, Nolan,” he said rather thickly. “I didn’t know you was back.”
Blaze ignored the extended hand and Marsh flushed angrily. It was rather embarrassing to have an ex-convict refuse to shake hands with the son of Kendall Marsh. Butch Van Deen noticed it, and the corners of his mouth twisted slightly as he eyed Blaze closely.
“Damn you!” said Marsh pettishly. “You don’t have to shake hands with me, if you don’t want to, Nolan!”
“I’m glad yuh recognise my rights,” drawled Blaze easily.