“Your⸺” Marsh tried to assume a superior air, but failed. He had imbibed too many drinks.
“C’mon, kid,” said Van Deen. “Don’t be a damn fool.”
“Oh, all right, Butch. But for you⸺” He turned and glared at Blaze.
“Just what for me?” asked Blaze coldly.
“Drop it, Marsh!” snapped Butch. “Let’s go and get a drink.”
“All right,” and Marsh followed Butch across the street, where they entered the War Dance Saloon.
“Somebody’s goin’ to knock his horns off some day,” declared Bad News. “Gits worse every day. I dunno what his old man thinks about, lettin’ him run wild around here. I heard that he had to git him out of the city. Stays out at the Triangle X, along with Butch Van Deen and his gang, which won’t help his morals much.”
“That was Van Deen with him, wasn’t it?”
“Oh, shore. Bad man from South Texas. Blaze, that Triangle X gang are shore salty. There’s Hank North, Mac Rawls, Terry Ione and Butch, along with Alden Marsh and a Chink they call Chihuahua. Prob’ly smuggled him across the line from Mexico to do their cookin’; I’ve heard that Kendall Marsh bought the Triangle X. Ain’t it hell? When a sheepman buys into a cow country? And I’ll tell you another thing,” said Bad News, lowering his voice, “I heard that Kendall Marsh owns the bank.”
“What if he does?” queried Blaze.